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.