I never felt more powerful
than when I felt her clench her lips
so tightly around my two curled fingers.
What a sight to see —
that back arching,
her screaming and gasping
I was insatiable,
as I kept on licking, kissing, sucking
every part of her flesh until
again and again.
It’s all I wanted for years — from you.
But I could never get a rise out of you.
You always had to bring me down
to get up.
I never seemed to be enough;
You always wanted, needed me to be
your dirty girl, your slut,
forcing me on my knees
and shoving yourself down my throat.
You loved that sound —
the sound of me gagging,
and gasping for air.
You loved it when I choked.
I could feel you
getting harder and harder
inside my mouth
when you looked down
and saw that I couldn’t breathe.
It never seemed to phase you –
that I wasn’t enjoying it as much as you.
Not at all, in fact.
Because you always kept going, like clockwork,
onto Act Two —
this is when you would bend me over,
make me get on all fours.
This is when you grabbed my hair
forced yourself inside of me —
raw, dry and unnerved —
still calling me
Your dirty girl, telling me to beg for it —
Until you made me,
you made me
For us. For me. For my body. For my spirit. For my soul.
How did it come to this?
You were my husband
and I was your bitch.
It all started when I saw how much it excited you —
to you use me.
And I loved, loved
getting you excited.
So I did
A little more dirty with each passing fuck.
It wasn’t enough that I was your wife;
I needed to be your whore, too.
So I became nothing more than a body to you —
a mouth, two tits, and a pussy —
all to say and do the things you needed me to say and do
so you could finish.
But you almost never did.
All that hard work and humiliation
for such a flaccid and unhappy ending.
What a travesty.