all day

this is on the edge of illegal, like you.
and I find it difficult to sit down and think about how
fucking all day has become a theme in my life.

"Thanks for letting me fuck you a bunch of times today."
He is hugging me and we are laughing and he stops and gulps air
and gives me a serious look and says, "I really like you, Mary Virginia."
And I laugh because I know this is BIG for him,
and I think I could write him a dozen pretty sonnets.
But I'm sure that's not a good idea.
And now I am jumping up and down because it is too much to bare,
the glinty look in his eyes, the half-determined slouch,
his brows drawn.
My head is thrown back in guffaws,
and he says,
"And I'm serious, so fuck you," with an ironic smile in his voice,
and this scene is not how it sounds because, or at least I hope
he knows that my laugh is in acknowledgement of his effort. Or
maybe I just come across as a princess.
Either way I grab him and bury my head in his neck, and bite it,
and run my fingers through his hair, and squeeze him to me.
And we kiss and are nervous because it is finally time to go. And he
opens the door and looks back at me and says "yeah, so, bye," and is gone.
And I think about him all day, and wonder whether he is thinking
of me.

When we are in bed together, it is like we are trapped, stuck in this
connection, each to each, just wanting, burying ourselves in each
other, and trying our best to maintain composure.
And he is this sexy, dirty little man, talking about his cock, and
sucking on my ear.

This is ridiculous nasty, tender, hot.