Our Secret Needs

Tease me.

Breathe on me.
Give me sighs of passion.

Lick me.
Lick me as I harden for you.
Smell the odor of lust on my prick.
My moisture matches the juices at your fingertips.

Caress yourself.
And stroke me softly but firmly.
Feel what you have done to me, my addiction.
Addicted to the passion you bring.

To our secret rendezvous.
No one may know how you live for the joy I bring.
The simple elation I give you.
Sending a quiver into the center of your being.
Your tender circle of desire.

Mine.
It is mine when we meet.
Mine to use as I will.
All of you.

Your lips open wide to take me.
First to suck me in, and then to gag as I thrust.
Gagging and loving my loving.
Wanting me to fill you with my rod of certitude.
My shaft of benevolence, and of your desperate necessity.

My petulant flower of desire,
Needing all I can give,
And giving all you have.
In secret.

We must meet in secret.
And get what we need while others roam about,
Wondering,
Wandering along their own paths.

Not the paths we wish.
But the ones we are given.
But, but, but, we fill our own needs.

Your womanly treasures are open to me.
Open and beckoning me into your secret parts.
Groaning and calling your name,
Surreptitiously,
Calling your sweet, endearing name.
As you cry out and beg for me to fulfill your needs.

I do.
I always do.
Ramming my hardness deep into your receptive soul.
Your loving and needy, lustful soul.

Will it ever be our time.
Our time to shine in the meadows of summer,
While dancing along the lanes of freedom.
Freedom to love
As we will.
As we wish.

Still.
We live for this.
For this anxious and furtive fumbling.
This active extension of our joy.
At having met and become tentative, forceful, exultant lovers.

Lovers.

Tell me, tell me, tell me how you feel.
How you feel as you come for me.
Come for me once more, and once more, and once more.

Accepting the magic of my mystery.

My mysterious fulfillment of your veritable voracious lust.