Material may not be reused without author's explicit permission.
by A.J. Heard
can see you,
Lying on your bed,
Phone in hand.
As you stroke yourself
Sweet longing pulls at me.
And I want to be there,
With you, I want it to be
My hand, on you, causing fluids
To slowly drizzle from
The tip of your cock.
The tip of my tongue,
Collecting drops like nectar
From an early morning flower.
My mouth covering you,
Sucking, tongue stroking.
I want to be there, to hear.
Your laboured breath,
Your wanton, sexy sounds.
Telling me you want what
I can give you, I am doing
it right. Telling me, you
Want me.
If I could just stretch, reaching fingertips
Down and feel you enter me, your cock
Distended, all veins now prominate ridges,
Pleasure bumps and our blood pulsing in
ancient rhythms.
My fingers starve to trace a line down your
chest, touching your skin, damp from heated
exhertions. My hand moving slowly down to
My pouty lips, finding nothing, I ache for you.
As I lie on my bed, phone in hand.
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