Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2010
The feel of you, it makes me hot,
To this, there's no denying.
You leave me aching little spots,
My hands,Β Β in knots, are tying.

You make me sweat, and want to come
You make my ******* thicken.
Reach, and flick them with your thumb,
So my pulse begins to quicken.

There's nothing that could taste as sweet
As you, rolling on my tongue.
I want to slap you viciously,
Instead, my hair gets wrung.

Your hands, they pinch and poke and slap
All my jiggly wobbly bits.
Your tongue it finds my softest folds,
My senseless mindless ****.

I scream and rake my nails into
the bedpost where I'm bound.
You laugh and pound me harder still,
**** me into mattress-down.

Harder, I will squeeze you tight!
Squeeze you till we burst!
I cannot stop my actions now--
You bring out in me, the worst.

I'll forgive you when you let me come.
I'll forgive myself tomorrow.
When I'm an aching little **** again,
And you've left me feeling hollow.
Sometimes, the **** must come out...
HB
Written by
HB
767
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems