DESI
Romantic lover
of my dreams
Approaches me
as a gentle man.
He kisses my palm
and sighs my name.
But that was not
how this lover came.
He was man of
fire, passion, and intent.
He yielded not
until we both lay spent.
No roses, or candlelight.
They weren't his plea.
He demanded that
I cry, "Oh please fuck me.
He held me down
as he drove deep.
Watching my eyes,
waiting for my peak.
But no sweet whispered
words brought me my release.
It came when he
demanded, "Yes, girl fuck me."
And I cried out
the words he longed to hear.
Fevered, indulgence,
wouldn't be held back I fear.
Hot, divine, wet,
pounding carnal divinity.
Which brought
forth the heated cries of, "Oh lord, yes fuck me."
Not all men come
gently, sweetly, to taste love's rain.
Nor are they content
with playing a gentleman's game.
They are forthright,
bold, give as well as they take.
They hold tightly
to the woman, passions real, never faked.
And making love
for them precedes and follows the act.
Of either man
or woman spread and pressed on their back.
For, when engaged
in loving, it matters not who leads.
It matters only,
the cries of, "Oh fuck me please."
