~a whimsical poem~
I fuck on the blanket you gave me.
I sleep under it naked, too.
It’s super comfy;
I’m surprised you gave it up so easily.
Tossed it to me like it was nothing.
You were moving.
We all were.
I guess it was lost in the shuffle of your new life.
I touch myself under it,
tangle my limbs in its comfort
as I cum for me and my fantasies.
It’s become my favorite blanket.
I don’t think about you when I lay above and below it,
Instead I think about all the dick,
that’s not your dick,
it’s helped me get.
Sweat and semen in its stitching.
My screams muffled in the seams.
almost too perfect of a color choice
considering the amorous encounters it’s experienced.
Oh, the stories it could tell about the fun I’ve been having.
And oh, the dirty talk.
I kind of wonder if it’s really red
or if it’s blushing.
So yeah D,
thanks for the blanket.
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