A short poem about my sexual desire to be denied by my partner.
I want to think I’m not going to get it.
I want to work for it.
I want to sweat for it.
Lead me on.
Dangle it in front of me.
But Don’t Let Me Touch.
The moment I lean in to…
Yank it away.
“Ah, Ah, Ah, this is mine to play with.”
Then put it away.
Leave me to think about it.
Let me savor that sweet memory.
Let me try to break your will to wait.
I’ll flash my ass at you.
Pull up my skirt.
All Well You Deny Me.
Tell me I turn you on.
Let Me Lick Your Face.
And Deny Me.
Fuck it’s hot knowing you want me
It’s hot knowing you’re holding back.
And still you Deny Me.
You let the anticipation build.
How long will you wait this time?
A couple of hours?
When will my teasing break you?
When will you give in?
What do I have to do, to get you to fuck me?
As time goes on, I get more turned on.
I can’t take it anymore.
When will I get it?
This game we play turns me into an animal.
I start to beg.
Please stop denying me.
I’ll do anything.
But I’m not there yet.
You keep me waiting.
Waiting until I’m a pile of ecstasy.
And only Then
You Touch Me
And with that touch.