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the light turns on, blinking an intense pink,
"is it recording?" you ask.
i check the brightly-lit screen.
"yep, in 4k."
you gasp, shuddering as
a shaky inhale shakes through you.
Your legs fall open.
I bite my lip.
With your smile, you look so welcoming;
your thighs rubbing together
revealing and concealing
an intense pink.
and I think to myself,
damn, I am going to get to fuck this woman,
and bring her to heights she has never before been,
how did I get so lucky?
Absently, I wonder
if I can get to 4k strokes,
varying the rhythm of course,
and the intensity.
I want to see how many strokes it will take to make you climb,
and if I can make it so you come with every stroke -
I present you to the camera,
opening your rose, that intense pink,
and watch as your deep, desperate pants
trade humidity for sweat on my skin.
"Say hi to our future selves," I say
and you bury your face in your hands,
until I pin your wrists to your sides,
and your eyes on the screen go blank.
Fuck, I am going to get to fuck this woman
on camera.
How did I get so lucky?
A/N: I really should just curb myself here, not allowed to be horny on my main poetry blog. Otherwise I'm going to end up writing like eight in a row.
~Grok
IT ATE MY FORMATTING AGAIN RAAARGH
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