So Late

"Should you be up so late?" he murmurs when
He greets me coming home long after work;
I'm waiting, kneeling and I will not shirk
My master's proud erection: that hard stem
Needs my attention; so, I count to ten
And stroke his hardness gently; as I flirt
With him and feel his hands on me, the spurt
Of come can wait for now; I like how men
Or Sir, at least, sustains his powered thrust;
With push and press, he takes control of me
Before he tells me: "hold - I cannot wait,
I want your face, your hair, your lovely bust
To be covered in come. I want to see
And make it worth you being up so late."