Not A Stitch Else

The bed,
Tonight's torture platform eventually my tomb.
Laid out absent minded watching darkness gain age around the room, studying hard (so hard not getting hard) upon darker shadows pulling at imagination's curiosity, in pure stillness....you can see things move.

She, a sexy sex driven slut, for at this moment provoked from within (I'm guessing it has to do with all that ingested booze),
Invades the doorway with nothing on but the patch of hair above her womb.
The devilish grin I secure gives off enough light to begin, our limits gone obscure, pitch black darkness is best when we express these types of sins.

Her graceful prowl towards me reminds of a lioness on the hunt, that means I'm prey,
In full control dick and balls ball and chains won't allow (not like I would) escape,
Grabbing at my joystick she's ready to play the game,
Aggressively kissing, sucking, biting at me face.
Hands respectively start at the top(a safe place for a drop zone) easing down her voluptuous breasts she inserts me with a moan, now I'm home because this is heaven right here; and I.....am no where on earth.

Finishing before her yet not detering how she bucks me like a steed, she goes full gallop and I bask in those pleasured screams.
She falls to me an abandoned angel knowing I'm waiting in the wings, we listen to heavy heartbeat harmonies, what beautiful duets they sing.

As I said what I thought before, "if I was to die too soon",
"A happy man I'd be if it was here in bed, my tomb."