Friday, October 1, 2010
He comes up behind me and wordlessly, pushes me to my knees. His hand on my head, he walks around to face me.
He is naked, he is hard, he is silent.
But I know what to do.
Sometimes I wish he'd bind me, tie my hands behind me and take me as he wants to.
But sometimes I'm glad that he doesn't, so my hands can finger the flute while my mouth breathes out the music.
And when I feel him tense and his legs begin to buckle.
That is my symphony.
I suck him dry
Posted by Jenny Swallows at 3:39 AM