Can’t Even Believe It’s Real

Your Face, Those Eyes, and Your Hips

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You shoot me into orbit, dear Asha, with your touch, your wet lips against my lips.

You can keep up the pace, that’s for sure, and allow me to translate that notion into something you could broadcast to the entire federation: my skin is mere straw when faced with your loving.

I may owe you an apology, my love, for postponing our trip, but the life of a writer doesn’t pay shit, in fact, at times I think it’s of no use at all.

But I keep typing, trying to express all I am to you, being just part of the many in your court.

Laying with you is the greatest adventure though, let’s just not get litigation involved, I only want to wrap you up in my hot sex like someone addicted to your charm.

Each page is an example of my lust, something I really ought to seek rehabilitation for.

And if that doesn’t work, maybe a sterner type of correction would be in order.

I can’t choose another woman, even if it were a presidential decision I had to make in order to appear like I’ve got my priorities aligned with my message.

O, sweet honey, when you lick me just for show I want to give up all things mechanical and just bathe in the gift of your warm…