...?...

Running the tip of my tongue down his shivering boy, I believe i can make this man love me, make him stay.
I wear the clothes he wants me to wear, smile the way he likes, with one eyebrow up and my evil eyes.
My skin can sense that he wants me,
it can taste it, and he knows that I am too weak to say no.
I am his.
That hot firm body.
And those damn strong arms.
And the way he makes me moan when we make love.
But it isn't love making.
Because love shouldn't feel this dirty.
But oh, its the good kind of dirty.
The kind you hope will never wash away and you will remember forever.
But it only lasts days, and in those days you can't get his smell off your skin, his taste out of your mouth.
So I ride him again.
And I ride the waves of eternity
with demons at my back
whispering their little likes to me
that this is real
and he does exist
and he will always feel this good.