Confessions of a writer

As the clock strikes 2

the forbidden hour takes control.

The heat begins to consume them

body, mind and soul.

Her short black skirt

and red painted lips

lay before him,

ready for what awaits.

The taste of sin

fill their hungry mouths.

Craving more.

Her nails mark his back

claiming him as hers.

Her lover.

He satisfies her every desire

hour after hour

he fills her

claiming her as his.

His lover.

The scent of pleasure fills the room,

long after the sun rises.

As the last bit of sweetness has been tasted,

the confessions of a writer still linger.

Confessions of a writer

CreativeKitty

Joined June 2010

  • Artwork Comments 6

Artwork Comments

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