It’s all about you
Come back to bed,
was it something I said?
I don’t think I uttered a word.
The smell of your hair,
and you touching me there
has my lust levels reaching absurd.
You planted the seed
that there’s things that you need -
all things I could easily give;
and sex so insane,
that alone it makes you want to live;
We’ll make music from moans
and rattling bones,
and sliding skin beaded with sweat;
Breath that can’t speak,
due to lips trapped by teeth,
and fists of hair matted and wet;
Long rhythmic swells,
that build deep in our wells,
such tension and ache for release,
but just as we’re set
I decide ‘not yet’,
and then dive below to feast.
You miss me down there,
but soon fail to care
and your eyes roll like you’re playing dead.
Your slow arching spine
proves there’s life so divine,
and your hand grips the back of my head.
Your silken love rose,
on my tongue and my nose,
is all kinds of heavenly sweet.
You whimper and purr
and your hip thrusts concur,
as your free hand claws at the sheet.
You weakly confide
that you want me inside,
and I tell you how I want that too.
But when I don’t rise
you soon realise
that this morning, it’s all about you.
Now that you’ve let go
the energy flow
builds up and explodes with haste.
You convulse, rock and strain,
while a thought fills my brain
that what you got to feel, I can taste.
So, there’s this girl… she’s young. Probably too young. But I don’t care.