My PTSD Makes Me Horny.

I'm back where you left me, frozen on the office floor.
Shivers crawling down my achy-spine.
Stranger's voices threatening the very thought of you.
Cold steel pressed firmly against your forehead.

And my PTSD makes me horny.

Maybe it's the irony of nearly losing you here;
in the same place you've had me many mornings.
In those early hours before the waking of open signs,
and helpless dragging of bodies across rooms.

Fucking flashbacks; flashbacks of fucking.

It's a terrible feeling; amplification of sounds...
The way a jar pops open and my hearts in my ass.
Wet panties from the loud vibrations
of your mom's echoing blast from her favourite defender.

Bang, Bang, bang... you enter me.

And you're just as hard as I always remembered you.
Arms pinned above my spinning brain,
just the sound of a gunshot fading
into the pounding of our eager hips.

Ready to squirt, too young to know how.

I grip you inside of me; such a tight fit.
Just like you held me outside that door,
it was the first thing you did and I've never forgotten.
What it feels like to finally be safe.

Unloading your whole clip ...

A time before sleepless nights, and paranoia.
Only heavy breathing and explosive climaxes.
Finishing just in time to open the doors for the day;
A reason for your service with a smile.

Because this place wasn't always the scene of a crime ...