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Click hereThe dryness was like sandpaper;
The quick taking of freedom
And the pounding of a
Rock-hard jack hammer
Created pockets of pain
As macho man sped faster
Than the last lap
Of an Indy 500 racer.
Once again humiliated,shamed:
The victim of a quick trigger,
Who had the nerve to ask,
"Babe, did you come?"
In a faked gasp of breathe,
"Yes, I did come, Luv."
Cinderella's dreams, as usual,
For a shared orgasm,
Were drowned in his come:
"Fake it until you make it",
Is a sad creed to cope with.