She stole a drop of my sweat that crept slow down the nape of her neck.
It was pushed by my heavy breath pressed against her cheek.
She is trembling thighs, rolled eyes, and knees left week.
I hold her tight.
She is not free to leave me tonight.
She is a bitten lip, and a white knuckle grip. She is slippery hips.
She is a carnal scream.
She is running streams.
She is thrust.
She is the culmination of all my seeded lust.
She must now fulfill her calling.
She is heated desire and clothes that keep falling.
She explodes, she breathes deep, and she collapses from exhaust.
She has known my passion, and now knows it’s cost.
And…………….then I cut the umbilical chord and the doctor let me hold you son. That’s pretty much what happened. Glad you asked.
Why are you crying? Don’t be a little bi….