Going Under.

Two in the bath,
towels on the floor,
he can’t be heard
but she’s craving more.
Thrashing his arms,
he goes under again,
lungs strain to release
the air they contain.

Submerged, pinned,
she’s holding him down.
At the last moment
she won’t let him drown.
Grasping his hair
he’s pulled out once more,
Gasping, retching
he yells out a roar.

As he recovers,
the dizziness eases.
She strokes his chest
and gently teases.
He tries to smile
yet his focus is gone.
She looks to the clock
then carries on.

Flat on his back,
she writhes on his face.
Rubbing and wriggling
she increases her pace.
This is the time,
no more reprieve
if she doesn’t cum now,
he might never leave.

6 thoughts on “Going Under.

  1. I had to edit this. I’d failed to mention he was in a bath… As was pointed out to me, without the newly added first four lines, the poem takes on an entirely different perspective. It may be rude as it is but it gets a whole lot of interesting if you take a bath out of the equation.


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