See these hotels fantasies are mixed up with candle wax, naked backs and head board cracked. I wanted to make a movie or two, while the sun peaks in our room to learn how to make new galaxies. While making beats with your meat making me lose consciousness, giving in to the feeling of being free. I treasure your presents and every time you are in it I can’t help it but to back up on it making my juices run down my thighs as if they are trying to break records, me being the spectator while you win the gold, having your flag at full staff, and me singing our national anthem. You and I are as American at Peanut butter and jelly, our lovemaking never gets old it just gets wiser. I love the games we play, especially the ones where we place ourselves in dark rooms and you use your nose to guide you into my soft folds and you land your tongue on my ready throne. I play my part well too, using my hands that God built, that were on special order for your erections, tasting the fountain of you, to make the moment last for all eternity. You being inside me is my respiratory, creating strained visions of blue dots and pink ribbons. Making me believe that dreams really do come true, picking lockets and taking apart fruit pockets and pouring it all over you. Licking traces of battle scares and war wounds of loves gone wrong, taking care of your mental hurricanes with the swirling of my tongue, and you called her Katrina, so when you think of levy’s breaking you think of the cold around your heart breaking and how our love flood the streets and we will never call in emergency relief because we like the drift. I use the last piece of me to carry you into orgasmic wave after wave until your feet land on steady ground, and just when you think that we are done the torrential rain will start again, making this love drown you, never wanting to come up for air, you said that your breaths were mine to take and you don’t mine the stillness in your chest because it is a reminder of the peace that you have found in mind. See this is just not fucking, this is Beethoven‘s unwritten symphony, where quite beginnings create earth shaking crescendos to emphasize our different movements. 1/8 notes and ¾ beats guide your paste. I scream for the movements to end but you only press repeat so our pieces will start over again, hearing me cry all over again, playing me over again til you work me over and then we pause and we catch a bird’s eye view of our masterpiece. Your smaller frame is a wonderful deception of your devilish intentions and you constantly remind me that size does matter and pleasing me does too. See you have no problem getting on your hands and knees, putting my limbs over each shoulder and eating me until your feast is complete. Making sure all courses are served, making sure you take a piece of me home with you, so you can savior pieces of me later. You make me tired, sore, never board, animalistic, desperate for your kisses, aroused at night, making me feel like everything is going to be alright. You are my sweetest melody and you will always be set on repeat.