Have you ever heard your man moan?
The band plays, the choir sings, and the dancers put on their best show.
I mean, I moan.
I know it turns him on so sometimes I fake them just to stroke his ego.
But the first time I heard my man actually moan, the sinister in me wanted to hear it again.
I asked myself, What did I do?
My face stuffed in a pillow while my ass jiggles in the air.
His hands firmly grip my waist as he enter inside me. Back and forth, in and out, we smack.
O-fucking-we.
I try to match his rhythm.
I slowly wind my hips in a circler motion.
And there it is, I grin.
He moans.
I speed up my pace as he tries regulate his.
For the first time, his dick stroking in and out of my vagina becomes numb to me.
His hands free my waist and finds my breast.
He fondles my DD.
Our bodies touch.
His chest hover over my back.
"Damn girl," he stutters.
I swirl, I wind, and I grind.
"Shit"
"Shit"
"Shit"
His breathing is heavy and loud.
Three strokes arrives and depart.
He releases a howl, finding his happy place.
Cum was in the forecast, it rains all over me.
"Fuck!" He moans.
I smile. He did it again.
YOU ARE READING
Cloud 9ine
PoetryCloud9ine is a series of poems about my emotions, frustration, and sexual relations. This is dedicated to my "friend(s)", who all make me feel some type of way. I wish I wasn't such a honey bee.
