Intro:
(I’m losing focus.
I could write about the past
About the present
About the future
I don’t wish to obsess about my next move, my next step.
If I do that too much I think, I lose the essence of today.)
Preface:
Today I am at home, illin’/
No one in this big old house/
Just me, the fishtank, digi cable and a dial up.
It’s been nice, I’ve been working hard lately/
Plus I am legitimately ill/
I made some soup and toast and asparagus/
Ghiradelli’s milk chocolate too.
It’s drafty though so I’m swathed in blankets/
And drifting off in a beam of sun/
Fresh from cum/
Act One:
If I were more ruthless I would know/
That the moment to move on/
Is the moment when you don’t care anymore/
When you sleep together or alone.
In that darkness, the inner freak wakes while we both sleep/
She crawls about, tearing down the walls/
A secret I keep/
Because I’m too weak?
I’d take you to visit her/
Hand in hand, walking down a long hallway/
Where she waits in smoldering silence/
Her twin freaks on leather leashes/
Waiting to tear us both into pieces.
- I’ve been waiting for you.
- Do you want to kiss me?
- Do you want to fuck me?
- Tell me how much.
- Now make me deserve it.
Phase Two
Pain makes me sensitive to beauty.
Beauty brings me pleasure.
Entre d’Acte
A. Imagination is divine.
I am a girl who wants to kiss a boy.
On the lips.
With tongue.
I am a teen who knows what happens when you go to the drive-in.
And I want it just as bad.
Intermission:
- yes baby yes oh shit yesss fuck it make me cum make me cum
- you like it like that? You want more?
- Yes deeper I want it deep, ooh fuck let me feel it, please feed it to me
- Time to feed the kitty. . .greedy little cunt. . .
Act Two
Side A
I am the girl behind the counter at the library;
sweater sets, wool skirts, boots, glasses.
Long ponytail.
The one you underestimate.
Who spent their whole childhood and adolescence seething
With a powerful sexual energy that wasn’t allowed.
Repressing, sublimating, years of desire.
And the shame that heightens desire.
Reading our romance novels and dirty books.
Crossing and uncrossing knee sock encased calves.
Hands between my legs upon finding father’s stashed porn.
With only my imagination to feed my hunger.
But I’m not a child woman anymore.
I’ll take my cum wrapped around you like a velvet glove.
Side B
I am also a woman who has provided comfort to a man;
with words, whispers, arms and breasts. A man can build a
home with his bare hands, but I can create a home in the circle
of my embrace, with my bare arms.
I can absorb pain and fill all the voids,
leaving me empty
With no strength for my own happiness.
I can absorb most cruelty too.
I am stronger than I admit.
I am afraid of my own effect,
Afraid of my own strength,
Afraid to unleash this freak.
When I get a taste of pleasure,
It is selfish and greedy.
I’ve felt parched for so long.
I was anhedonic.
Finale
I’m at home today and ten kinds of horny.
Slipping wet skin over wet skin in a tub of lavendar scented water/
Hard brown nipples and slippery taut tits teasing your face/
Your tongue slips into my tummy button/
Then I grind the kitty into your mouth/
And flood your fingers with honey cum/
Tight glove snatch takes it deep, full hilt/
Loving the throb of your hard pole/
I ride and work out a delicious rhythm/
I get the snap going in my hips/
And a bounce going with my tits/
Working out my sweet spot with your tip.
You set me to cumming/
And we both are watching/
Your pole disappear into my succulent little hole/
Gasping for breath and I’m on my way into the ether-world/
Short quick jabs forcing my mouth into an ooh/
Knocking my head from side to side/
When you stuff me full length.
This is fucking.
Wearing and tearing at each other’s skin
Lost in body contact, pheromones and sweat
Your tongue penetrates my mouth
And luscious dueling ensues.
Gasps and groans smothered by kisses.
Fin (for now)
(I’m losing focus.
I could write about the past
About the present
About the future
I don’t wish to obsess about my next move, my next step.
If I do that too much I think, I lose the essence of today.)
Preface:
Today I am at home, illin’/
No one in this big old house/
Just me, the fishtank, digi cable and a dial up.
It’s been nice, I’ve been working hard lately/
Plus I am legitimately ill/
I made some soup and toast and asparagus/
Ghiradelli’s milk chocolate too.
It’s drafty though so I’m swathed in blankets/
And drifting off in a beam of sun/
Fresh from cum/
Act One:
If I were more ruthless I would know/
That the moment to move on/
Is the moment when you don’t care anymore/
When you sleep together or alone.
In that darkness, the inner freak wakes while we both sleep/
She crawls about, tearing down the walls/
A secret I keep/
Because I’m too weak?
I’d take you to visit her/
Hand in hand, walking down a long hallway/
Where she waits in smoldering silence/
Her twin freaks on leather leashes/
Waiting to tear us both into pieces.
- I’ve been waiting for you.
- Do you want to kiss me?
- Do you want to fuck me?
- Tell me how much.
- Now make me deserve it.
Phase Two
Pain makes me sensitive to beauty.
Beauty brings me pleasure.
Entre d’Acte
A. Imagination is divine.
I am a girl who wants to kiss a boy.
On the lips.
With tongue.
I am a teen who knows what happens when you go to the drive-in.
And I want it just as bad.
Intermission:
- yes baby yes oh shit yesss fuck it make me cum make me cum
- you like it like that? You want more?
- Yes deeper I want it deep, ooh fuck let me feel it, please feed it to me
- Time to feed the kitty. . .greedy little cunt. . .
Act Two
Side A
I am the girl behind the counter at the library;
sweater sets, wool skirts, boots, glasses.
Long ponytail.
The one you underestimate.
Who spent their whole childhood and adolescence seething
With a powerful sexual energy that wasn’t allowed.
Repressing, sublimating, years of desire.
And the shame that heightens desire.
Reading our romance novels and dirty books.
Crossing and uncrossing knee sock encased calves.
Hands between my legs upon finding father’s stashed porn.
With only my imagination to feed my hunger.
But I’m not a child woman anymore.
I’ll take my cum wrapped around you like a velvet glove.
Side B
I am also a woman who has provided comfort to a man;
with words, whispers, arms and breasts. A man can build a
home with his bare hands, but I can create a home in the circle
of my embrace, with my bare arms.
I can absorb pain and fill all the voids,
leaving me empty
With no strength for my own happiness.
I can absorb most cruelty too.
I am stronger than I admit.
I am afraid of my own effect,
Afraid of my own strength,
Afraid to unleash this freak.
When I get a taste of pleasure,
It is selfish and greedy.
I’ve felt parched for so long.
I was anhedonic.
Finale
I’m at home today and ten kinds of horny.
Slipping wet skin over wet skin in a tub of lavendar scented water/
Hard brown nipples and slippery taut tits teasing your face/
Your tongue slips into my tummy button/
Then I grind the kitty into your mouth/
And flood your fingers with honey cum/
Tight glove snatch takes it deep, full hilt/
Loving the throb of your hard pole/
I ride and work out a delicious rhythm/
I get the snap going in my hips/
And a bounce going with my tits/
Working out my sweet spot with your tip.
You set me to cumming/
And we both are watching/
Your pole disappear into my succulent little hole/
Gasping for breath and I’m on my way into the ether-world/
Short quick jabs forcing my mouth into an ooh/
Knocking my head from side to side/
When you stuff me full length.
This is fucking.
Wearing and tearing at each other’s skin
Lost in body contact, pheromones and sweat
Your tongue penetrates my mouth
And luscious dueling ensues.
Gasps and groans smothered by kisses.
Fin (for now)
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