Summary of My Sexual Diary
When I close my eyes, fingers are just that,
digits that dial your exact sexual hotline.
Who are you asking for?
Tina the whore?
Searching for Lady Justine?
J.T to be shady with?
Mrs. Justine, your chesty teacher?
Just Justina in your office, preacher?
Are you a woman or a man?
Does not matter; you have soft skin.
Your sexual chatter tingles me from within.
Orgasms' uniqueness as none ever feel the same.
I could not tell whose name I shouted louder
or which sex made their gender prouder.
Female, shemale, male, lost or found
text me or send me that email.
Where are we meeting?
How am I greeting you?
Do I call you daddy?
Act baddy and call you, sir?
Bent over your desk again, pastor?
Woof woof, vent, treat me like a bitch?
You cannot degrade me,
see, I enjoy all these sexual encounters.
Yes, I will be your niece.
Cute, petite waist, forbidden piece.
Bent over, face pressed into the table
as you simulate force, "Oh, I am so unable."
Pretend I am struggling and seek council,
behind closed doors, your dick is giving counsel.
On all fours, arched back, making sure my lips
have you thirsting for every sip.
I will lie still, lost soul in the eyes, blink sometimes.
How long do I sit in the ice bathtub this time?
Am I your first girl experience? I will suckle from your flower.
I will empower you as a woman; I can also ravage your garden.
Kiss my cheek and romance my soul. I will say "I love you",
I beg for your fingers inside me, touch me all the way through.
Dusting diaries off the shelf to share myself,
I am Justina.
I really love the years of escapades on my shelf.