Bent, and pretending confusion-
You moan over the insistence of paid programming
Clutching and gripping
The sounds are primordial
But so are we
And that turns us on.
Suddenly there is bliss
Prolonged with exaggerated grunts
But it really only lasts one moment.
We meet the unsettling ‘cleanup’ with laughter and throw the towel onto the pile of defiled fabrics.
“I love you.” She says, looking to me, anticipating.
“I love you too.” Is what I retort, grinning and dressing.
There is silence and long loving looks
Like what we see married couples exchange in movies after sex
Stretching embraces
And warmth
Warm from friction and lust
Not compassion or connection
And that seems to turn us on.
