- Erotic Poetry
- He Loves It
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He loves it when I mount him, and he grows
Inside me in wet tightness, he has missed,
Since we made love the last time; and he knows
That he can touch my bare breast, and can twist
The nipple 'til I grimace and he finds
A certain satisfaction, for I ache
Solely because of him, and this reminds
Me, I belong to him and he can make
This girl do anything that he desires,
No matter how extreme, he can degrade
My thoughts and me, until, finally, he tires
Of these humiliations, and has played,
For as long as he wishes; soon he shoves
Himself deep into me, which he just loves...
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