Flooding Me

 

What you want to do to me...

  I get in tongued whispers, 

     images flooding my temple 

Electric sensations pulsing between my thighs, 

  from nowhere, 

From no place seen or determined...

  other than the obvious. 

What you think you have hidden in secrets, 

  I largely know, 

Yet still you cower from me so...

  seemingly afraid 

Of any such more coming to light. 

I spent all night, 

  Acquiescing to the hot throbbing flashes, 

Reeling in my head, and upon my skin. 

  I know how you want to wake me up in the morning. I know your plan. 

 What you send in air waves, 

I download often... with too much ease.

But it is not you, in front of me , now is it? 

 So what would you really have me say

    of it? 

What weight would it hold in pounds, compared to you looking me in the eyes...

  and finding out all you want to know, 

From parsed lips and smiles that leak but can not hide? 

  Yes....

I know what you want to do to me...

  and I abide. 

Perhaps that is partially why I could not sleep a wink last night. 

  All of you flooding me, 

Because no matter what...

  You can not hide. 

Masks you wear, shatter in my presence; 

  Have you not noticed the see-through in my eyes?  

  The flashes run and run 

In reruns and new episodes alike. 

All the things I knew you wanted of me then; 

  all the ways. 

The heavy wet of tongue...

   and all I could imagine was yours against mine. 

  Something so simple, yet inductive. 

Something innocent, and yet eruptive. 

Something so small. 

  Compared only then to the images reeling. 

Your Gargantuan stud imagined within me. 

  The tease of lure for rapture and rupture 

That you long to make use of and endure me. 

  I know what you want. 

Your secret between you and I. 

Possibilities. All uncertainties. 

  Like what would reality taste like 

Against all your fantasies?

  That is even not to mention, 

Of the visions I have for you. 

  Submissive and foul tongued

In all the appropriate ways. 

  Gut biting in the mind. 

Bent over. 

How I see myself before you. 

  Knee length. Wanting to engorge and devour of you the sensation and pleasure you wait for. 

  You have long....so done. 

I imagine the things you like. 

  Depraved some...

     

          and all. 

  And it is what guides my hand. 

Over and over, repeating, 

  "I love you"! "I love you"!

As if...right there...you were,

  On top of me. 

With me. Having me. 

  In every unconstraint. 

Even if only 

  For the night's experiment of it all, 

     between you and I. 

Do you think we could survive an experiment, Love?

  

Has this not already been? 

  And the next dawn, 

What if we pretended it never happened...

  So you might finally let me in? 

Pretend it never happened. 

  Just one night of body divulging sacred confessions, kept so long and tucked away? 

Then....

  We can see how we want to play? 

Reel it back. Take it slow. 

  Maybe even fucking talk. 

We've tried it so long, 

   doing it your way?! 

  But what if we just need to  Ph#%k*?!