Control

Your hands are in control as I await
The filling you have promised me; your thrust,
So certain and incisive, should create
A purpose where I'm centred; and I must
Accept that I am yours; when you are wrapped
Within my flesh, I will accommodate
Your inches as I crouch here, feeling rapt
And sensing all your movements; calibrate
The ins and outs with slaps of my soft flesh:
These could be body contact or your hand
That spanks me to encourage me to fresh
Initiative, that you had always planned
When you prepared this fucking as a goal
And filled me as you promised: such control...