Do you remember those long make out sessions you had as a teenager. You know the ones where you kissed so much you thought your jaw was going to fall off, your lips got chapped, your breathing was heavy, the windows were foggy, but you just kept going because it felt so good. Your bodies grinding against each other, cocks were getting hard. Then because you're young and a prude (or at least I was) you stop it just before the good stuff could start. Sending him home with blue balls (again maybe that was just me). Do you ever crave that? Do you ever sit at your work desk wishing your partner, or some imaginary person for you single peeps, was there rocking your inner teens world. I recently had that. Mr and I went at it like teenagers whose parents were gone for the afternoon. We were kissing, our tongues doing the tango as I let out little moans. My legs wrapped around him, rolling my hips as I was grinding against him. Everything inside of me begging for more, hoping...
What a fab poem - love the layout of it too ;-)
ReplyDeleteI feel all these words SO DAMN HARD. Love it!
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