She loves when I channel her female sexual energy for my ideas
Slippery words formed by her wet tongue is what she uses to teas.
Hours of mental foreplay makes me become an introvert
When my fingers between her thighs become my fight against a moral subvert
A tingly sensation is felt when she calls me her creative convert.
I find myself wanting.
My head has a pleasurable aching
As she longs to be filled while my ideas are penetrating.
To let these ideas be written,
She wants her fruitish sweet horniness to be eaten.
Through the walls of my idea room I can hear her moan of intense endorphin
As a male heterosexual artist, my creative genius is she who has invisible skin.
Yet soft & moisturized for the steaming sex that brings me poetic ideas as a climax.
That is why after such long hours of writing, my words search for hearts to relax.
This is my confession, for I'm not alone... I am an artist
Who simply wants to add "LOVE" to your list.
—Daryl A.
