I’m on guard, with every word, thought, and look.
Defending my body against the need you create within.
Your deft fingers could render my mind vacant, in mere moments.
Your sweet lips could melt me into a quivering mess.
Your delicious tongue could send me throbbing and writhing into heaven.
Those strong hands could push me beyond the limits of time and space.
That extraordinary cock could fill me and drill me to perfection.
Your hot, salty cum, could be bliss on my tongue… or skin… or leaking out of my used, little holes.
My defense against you is rendered pointless, with a simple command,
My guard is little more than my own hungry hands, because I truly want you,
To take me.
9 thoughts on “On Guard”
Inspiration is wonderful, isn’t it?!
I want to taunt you anxiously and draw you out.
A bad boy like you, sir? I’m sure you’d be very skilled at that task!
Is it getting hot in here, or is it your smoking poem??
It is warm under the light of inspiration, sir. Undoubtedly!
someone found their words again!
Yes, sir. All fixed.
Hot and steamy.