Showing My Diamond

Hotels were invented for men of experience.
The way your hands are crafted to fit my hips,
the way the walls hush when you enter a room,
it’s better that your wife is swept under with a broom.
She doesn’t need to know that you’ve split my lips,
nestling your nose in to find that diamond that I hide,
but that sparkles when in the throes of its exposure.

Your lap is sprouting, perking in the presence of I.
It is curved and a waiting place for my naked bottom,
and you give it a little pat, for I have been behaving,
and it is for my diamond glint that you’ve been craving.
It is the sweet sugar that comes in tufts of cotton,
that is why you lick your lips and you sigh into my eyes;
We know she is dutiful, and yet our breaths are synchronized.

We move in rhythm, body music that only we hear.
I can read your thoughts when you disappear into me,
and that diamond that you desire, glistens in your hunt;
It does not evade your eye, your cock, your ego or tongue.
I am small in the bulk of your body; you say I am wee,
and I writhe in the gaze of your eyes, lowered in their leer;
Secrets kept that are moaned for only our bent ear.

Your words woo me endlessly like pink champagne.
When your crotch is close to mine, our love in motion,
the satin sheets beneath seem like the scratch of hay,
and when the sweat crawls along you, for you I shall lay.
In the spying moonlight, you radiate, outside and in;
I can read your glances and see that you do not fake or feign:
It is with you my diamond accepts your dirty invitation.