There are some places that can't be touched and there are some places that can't be kissed and there are some places that need to be kissed and some of those places haven't been discovered. I'm a handbook. *** is like drivers ed. Am I crying, or shaking from pleasure? *****. Sometimes hands are there that aren't really. Sometimes fare fine linen fingers feel like brown bony paws that don't listen to "let go".
**** me. Even when my eyes get glossy and you're wondering if I'm still there. I'm there. Grab me. *** isn't always this way.

Sometimes I'm in charge, but it isn't freaky. Don't call me a freak, call me lovely. I can **** **** ****, but don't whisper that it's *****; it isn't "*****". Sweating and running make-up. Heavy breathing. Wheres my body, wheres my mind? Don't call it nasty. It's not "nasty". Grabbing, groping, grinding; it isn't lewd. Don't call me a ****.
Touch me and remind me that I'm pleasing. Touch me and remind me that there's only me. Touch me and enjoy it. Enjoy me.
I want the lights on. I want the lights off. I want you you you.

*** isn't always this way; sometimes I'm in charge.

It was one of those mornings, the cold winter air cutting through the silence of the apartment. Cars murmuring in the background, and warm dark coffee making our bellies warm and relaxed. It was time for a cigarette one exclaimed, another shouted " But the fools of cursing cancerous consumption accept your death now. All fell silent blankly staring wondering who will share thoughts next, a burst of laughter was heard in the other room facing the north east. A cute playful women of 34 and 1/4 runs in sharing her new found excitement of such ridiculous poems she has constructed.
                                            " ooh how the dark moon shined,
                                               indeed the lust has become full during my binge of wine
                                               desiring a man of 25
                                               he has been on my mind
                                               to use and Ploy as an intimate *** toy"
she screeched in laughter, the majority of the room was rather confused and yet excited by her "hilarious" Poem. She then pardoned her self and jolted out of the room in some sensationable creative lust.
All was calm and still, the Large old Victorian ceilings resonated the vibrations of silence. They  stood examining each other, forgetting the purpose of their presence.
"Pardon me" a tall slender man of 26 and 1/3,he wore  a tailored suit with a warm and welcoming smile. His words broke the quiet gazes among the  silent crew,All stared at him confused by his need of verbal communication, he was the only sober one of the 15 maybe 20 people who entered and exited the warm apartment with gleaming pleasure and bliss.

oh, drag
it's you again
i miss not having to see you
how i hate watching you move
the way you speak in that unsure, adorable manner
the way you grin and look down to avoid eye contact that I know you secretly desire
you always loved gazing into my eyes
but no longer
oh, how i hate you
im sorry but its true
the way you walk, confidently but with sincerity
the way your hair blows messily in the wind, its long and curly now (the way i like it)
all of it kills me
it was just so nice being away
i grew out of my heartbreak and found marvelous, interesting things and people to steal my time
but just when i make a new and wise revelation
you walk in
basically renewing all of the feelings that i had crushed and forgotten
and i think you know how much worse it is now
the fact that you sit right beside me
and the way we converse casually about our summer happenings so far
we act like were classmates
friendly, but with no history whatsoever
what we had
whatever we could have had
is gone
except for the hidden cravings that you attempt to hide and push away
because you think it must be better this way
because you believe that she
is the wiser choice
so now all we are is
"just friends"

you've got to be kidding me