Your moans are like a symphony
and your body is the instrument
Somewhere between standing and sitting,
you hug tight the frame of the bath.
The water engulfs you, cleanses you.
It strikes at you as a serpent might
lashing at your deepest treasures.
An assault on the senses.
Like a monument lost to time beneath the ocean,
you rise like a goddess out of the water.
Your buttocks, call to me
and I answer with a surprise!
And you recoil! O how you move!
Your legs tremble as I take hold.
The beads I feed into you,
an assault on the senses.
Manic takes hold,
brutish and guttural.
At once, you collapse.
It is done.