words across my skin

His pen crosses a line, each time he spills
Those words across my skin, only I sense,
Although he's sleeping, his notebook so thrills
My thoughts, I must kneel down and recompense
Him, for the ardour of each loving phrase
He'd utter, were he awake at this time;
I can amuse him, even if my gaze
Is focused on his groin, as I incline
My mouth to meet his need, and to explore
Intensities of pleasure I can gift
His manliness; I'll be the special whore,
Who wakes him from his dreams; and helps him lift
His need into perspective, as he wills
His words across my skin, before he spills...