my cunt

my cunt

you get home,
i’m waiting in bed.

you pounce.
a cheetah tears at me
licks my face
flips me on my back
clothes gone, peek-a-boo over.
oh baby you know how I like it.

mine can be hard to see
but it’s there.
and only the queermos and the dykes and the trannies know it.

precipitation
sweat beads that make me wet with desire.
a lap of silk tongue,
a breathe of sweet flames,
caresses and cares and gouges into me.
that hot push of a fuck.

my cunt is strong.
a warm push of flesh
sinking into tight muscles
down to that fucking spot.
that goddamn spot that makes me go nuts.

i feel you inside me outside me.
the gentle throb of you fucking,
your thigh pressed against me,
your cunt against my leg.
i’ve never felt so connected to anyone before.

have you ever seen a seven inch clit?
it’s a beautiful accumulation of
nerves, body, tissues, and warmth.
it penetrates and is penetrated.
it’s malleable but strong.
it is a feminine curl,
a maze of passages and seams,
that make their way from its source
to the tip.

and when I reach my petit mort,
my little death,
you may or may not see any evidence of it,
save for my glowing face,
and panting breath.

my delta of venus awaits.

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