Do You Remember

Do you remember?

My hard shaft in your grasp.

Lubed, as you were too,

As you guided me into your arse.

Do you remember?

You let out a cry of sweet pain.

You asked me please be gentle,

Asked that the beast remain chained.

Do you remember?

As pleasure rose to the fore.

So tight as you opened up to lust,

Now we want it more and more.

Do you remember?

The trust that it took to do.

The mutual respect offered up,

From both me and from you.

Guilty Pleasure?

Am I your guilty pleasure?

Your sordid erotic dream.

Do you think of me?

When your fingers set you free.

Am I the fuel that fires?

Heating your orgasmic core.

Am I the tempter?

That calls out your inner whore.

Am I what you need?

Do I give all you want?

Do I tear down the facade?

Destroy the guarding front.

Am I a vision of freedom?

A path to sexual liberation.

Or simply a guilty pleasure,

The prequel to masturbation?

Watching you

I like to watch you, I like to sit and see you play for me.

The way you open your legs and gently slide your fingers up your thighs.

The way you tease and open the petals of your sweet little vagina.

I like to see inside your soul as your stroke your sensitive swollen clit, eye on eye.

Nothing gets me off more than knowing that when you close those beautiful blue eyes, you envisage me.

That when you get off, you get off over me.

That gets me hard, that pushes my hand into my shorts and drives me to pull out and stroke.

That thought, that sight, that is what forces the cum up and out of my throbbing cock onto my belly.

You, you and what you do.

I don’t like, I love, I love to watch you.