Eclectically Sexual Poetry

I’m bent over the desk, not a thought to my exposed ass. Or am I inviting the firm pressed hand from the right man to be planted there? A sting to last?

Tingles permeate my clothing, the warm chill races up the right side of my neck, I think about the sex we made last night and I can’t wait until it happens next.

I lick my lips because I’m tasting you, remembering your “O” face as I cruised up with each basting of my tongue. The can’t stop, please don’t stop faces you make that keep me going on.

“Fuck“, each paddle to my backside makes fucking you worth it each pounding. Reddening each cheek, feelings from head to my feet, rubbing right after around and around.

He looks at me stand there, ass tooted out for another lash; I can’t decide if I want it now or if I can stave off for later, end of day better come fast. Damn that, I’m heading to a quiet spot to relieve my hunger and what’s due, nothing could ever replace the feel deep inside my She by the fullness of you.

I feel and I imagine, I rub and I grind. My hips pushing outward and rhythmic in its time. It’s coming and it’s coming, I don’t want it to stop right now, “Quiet” I tell myself, flushing sounds of the restroom drown out my orgasms.



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