Carnivore

I sink my fingers deep
It's not like you're going to fuck me

It's a slow thrum
Of a song only I know
Humming inside myself
Wet and wanton and wilting
Is it because I've always been willing?
It's sticky and sweet and resistible
Smeared heat on my thighs
My own fingers squeezing my throat
The haze of pleasure flushing my cheeks
The practiced snap of my hips thrusting me over the edge and into infinitesimal oblivion

It's not like you're going to fuck me