Sunday’s Sinful Suggestion

Please let me offer a suggestion.
A thought of what you might need.
I think it’d help release stress.
Help you feel good, perhaps fill you with glee.
Let me impart a little suggestion.
An idea for some time to yourself.
Be it in the shower, in bed, or behind a closet door.
Just go, I promise, it’s good for your health.
Let me assist you with a suggestion.
Just go wherever to find the real you.
Go and get off in the best way you can.
You’ll feel much better, I know it to be true.
Let me offer this glorious suggestion.
In good faith that it will always be.
That the best things we can do for ourselves.
Come with our own touch and sinful sexuality.

Touched

My touch soaks in, through your eyes to your mind.
Your hand conveys desires I write.
Self pleasure, self love, inspired by me.
The dreams I commit to the page set free.
Reading you create the scene within.
You and me envisaged in blissful sin.
Sighs of joy you stifle to hide.
Until you can’t til lust lets fly.
My touch now seems oh so real.
It courses to create the glow you feel.
And to think I lie a thousand miles away.
But somehow I still touched your soul today.

My Dream

Last night, you were in my dreams.
My princess of perv, between my knees.
You stroked, you sucked, you gagged on cock.
Having the time of our lives, when you turned, I fucked.
I rammed in from behind, fucking you hard.
Your head under my desk, face shocked, alarmed.
For I didn’t hold back, I gave every ounce.
By the end when I came, you looked battered, trounced.
You were as happy as I was exhausted, your face flushed with a smile.
And then you got back under the desk and I worked for a little while.
I wonder what the dream meant, what it says about me.
For you lived under my desk and I fucked you as hard as can possibly be.

True story…

Sweet Defeat

I taste your essence,
As my tongue slips in.
I taste your soul,
I taste its sin.
I lap it up greedily,
For it feeds my black soul.
If it were possible,
I’d eat you whole.
I taste wanton lust,
As you spill it and cum.
I taste satisfaction,
It tells me I’ve won.
I lick up every drop,
For this victory’s sweet.
The prize I now possess?
Your orgasm taken in sweet defeat.