August 2020

Morning Sex
by Max


I have named your screams “Clarissa,”

You have named my moans “Tom Waits.”

The early sunlight, filtered through thin purple curtains

Strokes your breasts and paints your face with desire.

“What are you waiting for?!” you groan, as I kneel beside you,

Hard as stone.  “That!”

I answer as I enter

with a moan.



The swaying ship is creaking

Tempest clouds are beating down

At the peak your screams are piercing
As I cum inside of you without a sound.