That

She'd love it if he were far more like that:
He'd take her lying face down with a thrust,
There'd be no play, she's not wet; she is just
Immensely turned on, as she's pressed down flat
And taken roughly, used, but it feels good!
She'd love the forcefulness of his desire,
So she'll submit and do as he'd require;
Obedient to his whim, she knows she should
Accede to selfishness, while he displays
A lack of all the kindness and regard
Which brought her to his arms: the first embrace
When she was bowled right over by the ways
He celebrated her, but now he's hard:
And she will love the "that" which marks her place.