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Rough, Raw, Righteous

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Rough, Raw, Righteous

Tongue presses deep—
not a kiss, but conquest,
a moan muffled in the mouth,
a gasp stolen before it can rise.

Fingers probe my moistness—
not gentle, but knowing,
with relentless intent,
mapping every slick secret.

My wrists pinned overhead—
you are gravity,
I am undone.
Each breath a surrender,
each tremble a permission.

Forbidden penetration—
swollen thrusts into taboo,
breached like a truth too bold to whisper,
taken where shame and rapture meet,
only to find this sin holy.

You swallow my moans—
greedy for the sound of surrender,
each one a hymn
to this gospel of the body.

Take what is yours—
this altar of sweat and ache,
these hips that open like scripture
only you have ever read.

Rough.
Raw.
Righteous.
Not love—
but something

more sacred.

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