~ a poem ~

Can music make love to you?
Fuck you through the speaker?
Caress you via sound waves?

When I listen to him,
I feel his hands on me,
his lips on mine,
his dick inside of me.

We modulate
rough or slow,
sensuous and deep,
fast and frenetic
based on the song.

Does he know
I cum to his words?
His melodies pulse through me.
His rhymes and his wordplay
get me there every time.

Can he feel his effect on me?
Does he know?
Does he care?
Could real relations ever be as good?

Shit, it’d probably be better.
Listening to him
as he fucks me.
Is it narcissism if he likes it?
Damn if I care.

Fuck me baby,
oral and orally.

Categorised as: Poem | Writing

Comments are disabled on this post