I see that we are back to pretending.
Look at you, your smug face and self satisfied smile giving away more than you had ever thought they would.
You touched yourself today, didn’t you?
Your body writhed on the blue bathroom tiles while your fingers pulled at chord after delicious chord, amplifying your muffled moans, for your mother was at home today.
But you remain unfazed, don’t you?
With your slick body sweaty and dripping confessions of the sins committed behind locked doors, layering your screams of pleasure with brick and mortar.
Why, wasn’t it thrilling enough to undo yourself like the day you spent tracing your curves and planes, the crevice and the sharp turn of when breasts and breaths descended into sighs and your waist which widened into moans and your hips and then finally, screams and the object of your focus in the past few days.
Don’t pretend that you weren’t there a few minutes ago, pulsating like a drum being thrummed away in ecstasy.
Your muscle taut and sore and your head lost in a world absolutely and completely your own.
Youre glowing, love.
Look at you. Look at that face. Look at that condescending smile.
You’re a Goddess today, aren’t you?
I would love to slap it away.
Mercy, oh God. Mercy.
soapsandsongs 