I touched myself to the thought of you last night.
It felt so ******* good.
The thought of you above me,
Hand around my throat,
With your teeth clashing into mine.
It felt so *****.
Our spit and other ****** fluids mixing and creating the chemical reaction for love.
I could hear your voice edging me on.
‘Go faster, you ****.’,
‘I know you want me to make a mess of your innocence.’,
I can still hear the echoes of the filthy and twisted fantasies we have.
My fingers spin the most intricate and intense shapes over and over again.
In hopes of merely grazing the ******.
I can feel you,
Pulling my hair,
Digging your nails into me,
And slapping me senseless.
Everyone must think we’re sick—
But I don’t care.
I need you,
I need to ***,
I need you like never before.
If this is the image of true love,
Me with my hand down my *******,
Head thrown back,
And sputtering gasps of “Yes, Sir.”
Then this is a fairytale.
Growing wetter and wetter,
I’m soaking through my moans of pleasure.
Closer and closer,
I’ve almost reached the end.
With a happily ever after
You growl into me animalistically.
You spread me open to lap up each and every last drop.
You look at me—
“Who’s a good girl?.”