Silhouette

To feel that wonder,
that soft flesh burst perfectly in the middle.
Imagination grips me, as does my hand.
I can feel your wetness seeping,
dripping between my fingers,
off the tip of my tongue,
coating that part of me you moaned for every night.
You remember it, don't you?
Your pink curtains craved to be parted,
enjoyed the feel of hard flesh.
And I enjoyed the wetness.

As I verbally fuck you,
can you feel the wetness overcoming you,
drowning you in your own guilty lust?

As I verbally fuck you,
are you craving my fingers exploring,
brushing against That spot,
over and over again?
Your dirty mind can't help the truth.
As you hungrily touch yourself,
you imagine me, my dark silhouette hovering above you.
You are ready to receive me.
I part the curtains once more and you moan.
Open the floodgates!

You can contain it no longer.
Your fingers go deeper and faster.
A tear escapes you, mixing with your sweat.
You are about to go beyond, as you come along...

Your fingers stop, wet and sticky.
And I kiss you.

To feel the wonder again...
To experience the sharpness of flesh,
the sensation of skin,
caressing...
I let go of myself.
And as my silhouette lingers near your bed,
a shadow of lust and memory,
you begin to fall asleep, dreaming of many happy
worlds without me...

Yet I, the lonely shadow, only enjoyed the wetness.