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. Sex is like drivers ed. Am I crying, or shaking from pleasure? Dirty. 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".
Fuck me. Even when my eyes get glossy and you're wondering if I'm still there. I'm there. Grab me. Sex 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 fuck fuck fuck, but don't whisper that it's dirty; it isn't "dirty". 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 slut.
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.
Sex isn't always this way; sometimes I'm in charge.
I am not the dude who can give you
That superorgasm you want.
I am not the dude
Who can fuck you for ten hours straight,
But I'm not the dude
Who will beat you to a pulp
And send you to the Hospital
That you fell for
'Cause you were
A horny-ass bitch.
My sex drive would cause earthquakes,
but I can never find the time
to leave this place,
this bed-side lamp,
and away from poor attempts at rhyme.
Depression is a tired old topic.
But sex is forever at hand
to pin you down,
to win you round,
slinking off to the toilet in my dressing gown.
I know you feel a belonging
to the archives of music,
you drink in bed,
and sink on in,
to the restless call of another troubled head.
I will find restoration
held between your slender legs.
It is all we've got,
in this paradise lost,
in this sweaty reclaim,
to a feeling we'd forgot.
Going down is not an art,
but a way of keeping young.
How can you claim to love
what you won't dare to kiss?
How will you ever hear her siren song?
Through the naked crest of your back
The dips above your clavicles
And the way I lunge at your jaw.
Through pale hands and swollen lips
And heavy eyes
Resonates through thin air
And seeps into the cracks of the walls
The way it collides with your skin
And buries through the flesh
That moment, awakening, I got through
You know now how much I love you
In his arms,
feeling his embrace,
she felt safe.
The right words,
at the right time,
at the perfect place.
Her eyes captivated
by his handsome face.
His hands gently placed,
around her tiny waist.
eye to eye
as they come
face to face
as their mouths taste
each other for the first time
a memory that will last a life time
a flavor savored by his body soul and mind
he made her body his temple
and she made his body her shrine.