deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Torture That is..
Morning.
The soft of my sheets.
The sink of my bed, then
This little beast in me...
Stirs me up.
Starts right there,
Where everything starts.
My hands are not my own.
Your words fuel fantasy.
Feeding thoughts,
Weight of you.
I am
Prone, back arching
Hips rising
Arms stretched
to the wall.
Your knees spreading
hands cupping
teeth sinking into
body crushing,
Fucking
Me
Deep.
The thought of you
Pushing inside,
Dialates pupils
Am pulsing
Rushing
Shaking
....cumming
So hard.
MORNINGS
The soft of my sheets.
The sink of my bed, then
This little beast in me...
Stirs me up.
Starts right there,
Where everything starts.
My hands are not my own.
Your words fuel fantasy.
Feeding thoughts,
Weight of you.
I am
Prone, back arching
Hips rising
Arms stretched
to the wall.
Your knees spreading
hands cupping
teeth sinking into
body crushing,
Fucking
Me
Deep.
The thought of you
Pushing inside,
Dialates pupils
Am pulsing
Rushing
Shaking
....cumming
So hard.
MORNINGS
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