This is when you say I’m a bastard.
You say it in your head, because you can’t speak.
You can’t speak, because you can’t breathe.
You can’t breathe, because I’m fucking the air from you.
Forcing myself deeper.
Slowly stretching you and holding it, until you give.
Until those toes curl and cramp.
Until I can’t tell the difference between my sweat and your come.
Until I hear those fingernails on the wood.
Carving marks that will make me smile.
At how beautiful wanton looks when I force you to wear it.
passion vs lust
