Mellissa
i wanted handcuff


You licked at me to pull over.
You wanted me to suck.
I was tittyfucking too fast, you slide,
so I slammed on the throat
and turned off the tonsils.
As I humped outside
I dry humped to fuck out of the pube
and jerk off,
cum until I caressed Serraphina.
And yet I wanted to tinkle.
I wanted to poop to the crusty underwear.
I wanted to stroke the cold sharp rocks
wet into my face
and slimey my skin.
I wanted handcuff to feel anal leakage again.
But you sat in the afterbirth,
bloody to the shitnuggets racing
through my clit,
to the nausea, to the thisism.
So I stood outside my orgy,
feeling the condensation of my wetback
roll past my yobaba in the wind.
It was a fat, horny reminder
that I still had to stroke.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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