Y'all christen me as vulgar, but I don't mess with my conjugal shit. Nuh.
I don't want sieks. I don't want to make love. I want to be FAKT.
I want him to pull me down from the pillow and spread my legs with a tinge of roughness. Find me. Like you do a melody
Hunt me. Unabashedly. Dare to indulge me.
Choke me subtly and give me that, bitch I'm in charge stare. Draw into my lips like you are a werewolf sucking blood.
Hoist my legs as they straddle your hips. Tease me with your bulge. Give me your hallelujah. Don't penetrate. That's simplistic. Thrust
Make me cry out. So that I dig my nails in your moisture starved hide. Don't rush. As I wimp, coo into my ears. Lift your hips, thrust again, harder.
I'm oscillating between the real and perceived. Dig me. I'm wet. I'm loud. I'm your ecstacy...
Match your stokes to my rhythm. Surprise me. Annoy me. Then marvel me. Drive me insane. Let me tighten my grip around your neck. Then waist.
Hear me curse. Hear me scream. Hear me whimper. Yeah, you do that to me...
Catch up. In my moist, I'm vulnerable. No no no, I yell. It means, yeah mofoka, I'm about to offload on your meat... Tighten your grip. Say something...
Get some people. It's the only thing life hasn't robbed us of its pleasures. Get shtupped. Get FAKT