With my sincere apologies to one of my favourite poets Andrew Marvell… one of those poems I learnt and never forgot. Playing with it in my mind as I lie here interweaving my thoughts with his.
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To strip you slowly perchance to play.
Thou by light of my phone screens glow
Would stiffening find; your fingers sow
A passion none could complain. I would
Fuck you ten hours before the flood,
That drenched you, pure pleasure divine
Till the conversion of my cum to thine.
My throbbing cock should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, & on thy dripping cunt my gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
And twisting nipples put to test;
A cane at least to fully mark
Bruises, welts to show my work.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I fuck at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
Reality our other world
Hidden kinks vanilla flag unfurled.
The beauty of your limits found;
Body racked, anally fucked whilst bound.
My echoing moans ; another toy to try
That long-preserved submission free’d
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust;
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while your cunt’s my due
Pre cum oozes like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let me use you while I may,
Biting now like starving birds of prey,
Rather at once our lust devour
Than languish in my lustful power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our toys rope wax into one ball,
And tear our last kisses with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.