Yours To Own

Temptation etched into your skin,

The path we strayed for our piece of sin.

Hour after hour of wanton lust,

Not because we choose, but because we must.

You’re under my skin, I’m deep into yours.

Me your fantasy, your very own whore.

Take me, ride me, your dildo that bleeds.

Wring my cock dry for that bloom of seed.

And all I’ll ask, promise me one thing alone,

That you are mine, if I’m yours to own.

Your Cure

It builds so slowly,

Placid cool, to a simmering rage.

It builds in gradual increments,

Never once repeated, the same.

The need for flesh, the need to fuck,

The nagging want with which I’m stuck.

Only you know what will sate.

Only you can relieve what I need.

Only your mind and your body,

Will give me peace.

It’s building slowly,

Now, as I type these words.

It’ll soon be time for you to administer,

The requirement, your cure.

Poking Through

I see your clit poking through,

The white cotton panties now soaked in dew.

I can’t help myself, I need to touch,

I need to massage your aching crotch.

And as you smile in perfect bliss,

I break away from lingering kiss.

To take my place between your thighs,

To gently slip wet knickers aside.

There she glistens, there she waits.

For my loving tongue and lips to sate.

The perfect lil pussy fragrant and warm,

The perfect partner for my hardening horn.

So now I feed, with ravenous greed,

A pig in feast, a boar in need.

Til you cum cunvulsing with shaking legs.

Opened wide on the corner of the bed.

But I’m not done I’ve an erection to use.

And before me glowing a girl so enthused.

So sliding in I feel your heat,

I feel the feelings we both find so sweet.

Fucking in full flight over and over the same.

Shuddering I cum and you cum again.

The perfect pair now lay gazing above,

Holding hands talking of love.

That is until the spark ignites again,

Deja vu you might think or say,

Cos I see your clit poking through,

The white cotton panties now soaked in cum’s dew.

And I can’t help myself, I need to touch,

I need to massage your aching crotch.

I need to fuck you again and again,

And luckily you need it just the same.

More than ordinary

And there she was…
My mistress, my mind
Giving me something to believe in
I am but a slave
To her silent whispers
And her wicked demands
My involuntary compulsions
Encouraged, and at last celebrated
And she cuts me
Deeper than deep
Just to see if I’ll bleed
And when I do…
She says it’s the scars that define us
It’s the proof
That our life was more than ordinary