Getting Fucked

In ways that ignite desire's spark,
Let me tell you about getting fucked,
In ways simple, yet leave a mark.

First, there's romance, sweet and tender,
With moans soft and lips biting,
Embracing each touch, every surrender,
Savoring each moment, delighting.

Next, coquettish, you play the game,
Innocence masking your deepest desires,
Whispers and questions ignite the flame,
As you bat your lashes, fueling fires.

Enthusiasm, wide-eyed and full of joy,
Expressing pleasure, praising every move,
Fingers gripping and bodies deploy,
Finding the rhythm we both groove.

Then, like serving on a plate,
Pounding hard, sweat gathering near,
Rubbing with fervor, pleasure awaits,
Enhancing delight and banishing fear.

Feeling stretched, pain and pleasure unite,
A deep thrust, knowing soreness will ensue,
Yet craving more, willingly taking the fight,
Longing for the pleasure that only you can do.

Forbidden, secret, hidden away,
Whispers silenced, locked in a room,
In clandestine acts, passion will sway,
Shared secrets, pleasure in full bloom.

Treated like a toy, hidden from sight,
Half-buried under the coffee table's shade,
Held firmly, told to stay quiet,
A game of pleasure, a naughty charade.

Soothing in the night, fulfilling a need,
Whispers of passion, his desires met,
Bringing solace, through pleasure, we feed,
On each other's bodies, no regrets.

A first or last time, full of thrill,
Playful, happy, or fueled by anger's flame,
Or lazy, not wanting to move, just chill,
So many ways to experience this game.

In the art of pleasure, there's much to explore,
In different ways, our desires get fed,
So many ways to be fucked and more,
In this dance of passion, let us tread.