greed is good

We sex talk fuck
sequestered
in our darkness

last bits
of pretense have long
eroded away

dissolving
in degrees
of forged desire
satiated via strict demand
and fearless obeying

oxytocin surges
from stem to stern
as my cum
clings to your face
fingers
and my own mouth

tasting myself
on your tongue
is how life should always feel—
free, alive and
imbued with complete
and utter satisfaction

droplets
still slick the inside of my thighs
skin chill-shivers to trembling
either from the ceiling fan
or from your expertise
at orchestrating my flesh
to transcend
upon your command

that thought
causes my nipples to harden
again
already aching
from hours of joyous abuse
yet still
voraciously
wanting more
needing more
becoming more
when acquiescing
on my knees
positioned silently
begging
 
for more.

Because
greed is good




and so am I.