My schedule is packed, it is true. I keep running, keep running. I want you.
I want you now, a moment to breathe, and I want you to meet my lust, grind into me beast-like, let me forget who I pretend to be when the shades are open, when the day is young and I awake all dewy, innocent. I am not.
You know me, rushing into semi-privacy at 5:05pm, at last at last, fire so wet, your cock about to burst, hours passing in the tension, my hair still caked with your morning come, the ben wa balls you shoved up my cunt and left there as I throbbed all day long, your fingers digging, bringing me almost home in the morning light, the growling promise of more later. I have ached with every movement today, wanting you to fuck me hard and fast, loud. I can think of only this.
You know what I know in the night, where my fingers wander, in me, in you, the black holes, the sublime. You know how the hours run on, the days, the weeks of wanting. And now, now, yes, now your fingers satisfy, you unbutton, yes I unbutton you, your glimmering eyes, your flash of white flesh, your raw need, my violent lust.