The rate you fuck me is excruciatingly slow.
You look up at my face and smile at my impatience.
I bang my hands on your back, but you continue your momentum.
I cry, and you catch my tears with your lips.
You whisper, “hush,” then hasten your movements.
“I want you to feel where I’ve been,” you breathe into my ear.
“Tomorrow.”
“And the next day,” you say.
As you release your essence into me.
You breathe your promise to me.
To do it…
Again.
And.
Again.
To never stop,
What we’ve begun…
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