Glass Dildo

When the door closes, you're on me tight,
Pulling my arms, pressing me against the wall.
No tender touches, no slow caresses,
Just rough hands, rough moves of them all.

On the bed I'm thrown, my skirt up high,
Legs spread open, fingers diving in.
A gasp escapes, but then they're gone,
Leaving me in a state of wanting, of sin.

"So wet for me," you moan by my ear,
Thrusting deep inside, taking control.
I yearn to touch myself, to find release,
But you pin my hands, my desperate soul.

"Not yet," you command, pounding harder,
I clench around you, begging for more.
But the orgasm I chase, just out of reach,
A shadow that lingers, to my core.

A frustrated whine escapes my lips,
You respond with force, driving it deep.
"Please," I manage to finally say,
But before I continue, you release, you seep.

Frustration consumes me as you lie beside,
Catching your breath, taking your time.
"What did you say?" you inquire with a smirk,
Knowing exactly what's on my mind.

"I want to come," I demand, aching inside,
Heat rising as you examine me whole.
You reach for a glass dildo, cold and dripping,
Anticipation taking hold of my soul.

"Open your legs," you command, I comply,
The cold tip traces up my trembling thigh.
We lock eyes, understanding unspoken,
As you bring me closer, prepared to satisfy.

The glass invades, cold and unyielding,
Yet smoothly it glides, coated with you.
Moans escape as my breath steadies,
Hot and cold sensations igniting anew.

"Touch your clit," you whisper in my ear,
And instinctively, I find its perfect spot.
A few rubs and I'm lost in the rhythm,
The hot, the cold, the hard, it all slots.

With an ice-cold dildo and your essence within,
I reach that peak I've been craving all day.
Orgasm takes hold, pleasure cascades,
For in this moment, you've found the way.