I try to write
but all I can think of is sex
I try and focus on the screen
on the story
on a chapter I’m writing
about Xmas and family and ruptured illusions of youth
but my mind always wanders back
to your cunt
to your wonderful wetness
to my hard member pressed against your stomach
your soft flesh growing moist with sweat
the smell of your mouth, your breath, your lust
I can’t leave the moment
when we’re entwined together
so I leave the book and write about your cunt
hoping it will cleanse me
and I can get back to work
