Temper

The temper of your fucking won't resolve
Itself, indifferent from all the thoughts
Rolling through my mind - they seem so bold
And resolute, until the idea's caught
And you hold it to ransom - it's repressed
With sweet discretion then - it risks offence,
Vivacity might entertain int'rest:
My kiss means your thrusts start - so I'll commence
To match the pace you urge upon me now;
I'll stop this sour distraction - I won't think,
But seek to please and illustrate just how
I'll be your pleasure pet - right to the brink,
Where I hold still and hear your ululation,
As you cum with a tempered celebration...