your favorite poem personified

The day started off great, just as any other day would. You woke up to an empty bed, which was normal considering you were married to a damn lark. Terry always rose before the sun for whatever reason, but that never stopped you from getting your full eight hours worth of beauty rest.

You’d entered the kitchen to see your usual morning sight: Terry, shirtless and sweaty after his morning run. Though you tried to keep your footsteps soft, Terry and his super marine hearing sensed you coming from a mile away. He peered over his shoulder with his cloudy green eyes and flashed a rarely seen smile— well, rare to everyone but you— before scooping up the fresh cup of coffee he’d always have ready for you whenever you decide to grace the world with your presence.

Silently reminding yourself that it was too damn early to be horny, you kept your eyes above the neckline and accepted your cup of joe and one of many morning kisses. You spent the next ten minutes of leisure time as you normally did: Smiling at the sweet and expected gesture, giggling at the compliments and complimentary kisses that came along with your coffee, and squealing when Terry’s hands would roam and squeeze at some of his favorite parts of your body.

You’d left home some time later with a smile on your face as Terry always made sure you did, but just when you thought the exceptional morning meant your day would be perfect, here came your fucking boss.

Rude, loud, and disrespectful. Commanding and demanding the most ridiculous things as soon as the damn office opened. You’d always tried your best to stay respectful and hold your tongue when came at crazy, and today was no different. You’d just constantly remind yourself that this was your boss, and as much as you couldn’t stand her ass, you still loved your job and didn’t want to risk losing it over a boss doing what bosses do.

Then came your coworker Sandra, who also happens to be the bosses daughter. Rude and entitled much like her mother, Sandra always knew how to push just about everyone in the offices buttons, but for some odd reason yours were her favorite to push. You’d trained yourself not to give her the reaction she so desperately tried to get from you, but that still didn’t mean she didn’t get under your skin from time to time.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Sandra and her mother had worked together to make today the day from hell. Two caseloads, another cup of coffee, and three near blowups later, you’d finally made it back home. The smile you once had on your face when you left was long and gone when you returned, and Terry noticed immediately. From his spot on the couch, he watched you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and kick your shoes off much harder than necessary. Though your shoulders should’ve relaxed after the long breath you released, they remained tight and tense, telling Terry more than he knew you probably would.

You tended to shut down when frustrated, a bad habit that Terry had both picked up on and learned to remain patient with. However, knowing this wouldn’t stop him from coaxing as much information as he could out of you.

Terry pushed himself up from his seated position and began his path toward you. His long legs got him there in milliseconds, standing tall and protective in front of you. The crisp new wife beater he wore clung to his torso like you did when you would hug him and the dark grey sweats he wore hung low on his hips just how you liked it. His unintentional sexiness almost made you forget why you were mad. Almost.

He remained silent for a moment, watching intently as you looked everywhere but at him. Then, his left hand raised to your hip giving it a double tap with his index and middle fingers. You took that nonverbal command for what it was and finally looked up at him, his stormy eyes already meeting yours halfway.

For a second he still said nothing. He just stood still and examined your expression as much as you’d allow him to. The slight pout on your lips and semi-wet eyes told him enough, prompting him to finally speak.

“Talk to me.”

The words were simple, but when you have a day like you just had, it’s enough to damn near cause a break down. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying and lowered your head, shaking it just enough for the gesture to be noticeable.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

But you should’ve known that wouldn’t be good enough for him. You did know it wasn’t good enough for him. That’s why it was no shock when his hand came to cup your chin and gently forced your head up to meet his gaze again. There was silence once again from him as he scanned your face for another read. This time your mood was clear. Your face held a plethora of emotions. Frustration, anger, and a hint of sadness all at once.

“You’re not upset for nothing, Peach.”

The patience he had with you was evident in both his tone and the use of your pet name. He’d given it to you when the two of you had just began dating many years ago. He said the name reflected your personality and common mood. As sweet as could be. An alternative meaning for that nickname came a bit later in the relationship when the two of you had been intimate for the first time. He said the chosen name was perfect because you in the bedroom mirrored a Peach perfectly: sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty. But that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was that right now, your mood was anything but sweet.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you once again averted your gaze from his, afraid that he’d read too deep into you and cause you to break down in the middle of the living room. “It’s just work, T,” you muttered a tad bit lower than before. “Nothing serious.”

“I think it is serious if it’s got you this upset,” Terry argued. Not in an ill intended way. Just in a way that let you know he wasn’t buying the watered down story you were selling. Hand still cupping your chin, Terry nudged upward just a tad bit higher in an attempt to get your attention back on him. “Look at me.”

You reluctantly obliged and once again locked eyes with Terry, only this time, there was no reading. He’d already put it together. “Your boss?”

Just the mention of that bitch had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes, but to answer your husband’s question, you nodded.

“She frustratin’ you again?”

You mimicked your earlier action once more, nodding as you again bit down on your cheek. “Yeah, Sandra, too.”

Though your voice was barely above a whisper, Terry heard you loud and clear. He kept his stance just a few moments more before relaxing, his hands falling unoccupied at his side before they snaked around your waist. His thumb rubbed soothing circles around your lower back in an effort to get you to relax even a bit. Yeah sure, your boss and her gnat of a daughter pissed you off today. But you were home now, with him.

“You gotta stop doing that, Peach,” Terry murmured, arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulled you closer.

Now chest to chest, your dainty hands came to rest on his biceps. “Doing what?”

“Shutting down,” he elaborated, index finger drumming your hip. “You always shut down when you’re upset and you leave me out the mix. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

You nodded in response, head lowering in shame. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Mm-mm, don’t do that,” Terry hummed, immediately following up with a kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek, then one to your jawline, then multiple to your neck as you giggled lowly. “I’m not mad at you, baby. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to be comfortable telling me when something is botherin’ you. Even if it’s not me, alright?”

With a nod and a muttered agreement, you took the time to appreciate Terry’s effort at getting you to open up. Although you appreciated it, that still didn’t remove the effects of today’s ware and tear from your body. You were still frustrated. Still annoyed. Still tense. But that wasn’t a problem for Terry. All he needed you to do was tell him what was bothering you. He was down to handle the rest.

And that’s what got you to where you are now.

Bare and hot on top of him, knees working overtime to keep you upright as you bounced up and down at the same breathtaking pace. Not too idle. Not too brisk. It was somewhere perfectly in between. Terry watched comfortably beneath you, hands folded and tucked behind his head as he remained still, careful not to disturb your rhythm.

Your bottom lip had to be tired of you biting it, but that seemed to be the only way you could keep your sounds under control and keep the two of you from receiving a noise complaint in a few hours time. Your hands assisted in keeping you steady with their resting spot being on Terry’s abdomen, fingers dragging through the creases of his abs when you felt them flex under the pressure of you repeatedly landing in his lap.

Tongue darting out to moisten your parched lips, you let a whine slip past the barrier you’d tried your hardest to build. “Terryyy…”

He looked up at you, expression stoic and emotionless besides the lust clouding his already piercing eyes. “What you callin’ me for? You doin’ that shit to yourself.”

Brows furrowed and mouth hanging ajar, you looked down to where the two of you connected. You watched your fluids pile up at the base of his phallus in near disbelief. Almost as though you couldn’t believe what you were making yourself do. Like him saying it out loud was what made you realize it. Even still, it was partly his fault. Nobody told him to have all that dick.

Another sound slipped past your lips, this time resembling more of a squeal as the angle of your hips made it nearly impossible for his throbbing tip to miss your spot. “Fuuuckkk!”, you slurred through a moan, head falling backward and eyes rolling to a close.

“Mhm, there you go,” Terry cooed while simultaneously reaching out to you, hand wrapping snug around your throat. “Keep that shit movin’. Just like that.”

The sudden air restriction caused you to gasp, hand coming up to wrap around Terry’s wrist. The grip you had on his hand matched the grip you had on his dick, your walls contracting around his girth at the depth of his voice and commands. There was something about the two of you being in a position where you had the opportunity to be in full control, yet Terry still finding a way to be in charge. Your body’s response to his commands showed exactly how you felt about them, your walls gushing with arousal.

Your internal temperature grew hotter with every passing minute, the aching in your legs contributing to your thermal increase. But unfortunately, that wasn’t stopping shit. You were gonna get your nut even if it meant riding this Harley until your legs gave clean out. Well, your third nut. Terry had already coaxed two out of you with that talented mouth of his, eating away half the frustration you’d returned home with. He left it up to you to ride out the rest.

“Fuck…why you so wet, Peach?” Fingers tightening around your throat, Terry bit down on his bottom lip as his free hand came up to strike your ass cheek. “Hm?”

There were so many answers to that question. Maybe because you had a fine ass man beneath you letting you use him for your pleasure with no consequences. Or maybe it was because you had a big ass dick invading the deepest part of you, pulsing and throbbing against your wetness to cause almost euphoric sensations. Or maybe it was just because you were in love. It didn’t matter which response was most fitting, because you couldn’t even muster up the strength to give him one.

Instead you peeled your eyes open, gaze immediately connecting with his. The two of you watched each other through different eyes: yours soft and submissive, his hard and dominant. “You so fuckin’ pretty.”

You moaned in response, stomach swarming with butterflies at him somehow always knowing what to say and when to say it. Eyes fluttering shut, your head had almost fallen back again before Terry’s hand moved to cup your jaw. “Mm-mm, keep them eyes on me.”

You obliged, eyes opening to find his. You watched as his lip found its way between his teeth again, his thumb stroking your cheek as soft as could be. Then the pad of his thumb found its way to your bottom lip, rubbing across it a few times. “Open…”

Following instructions with a submissive moan, your semi-parted lips opened wider to allow his thumb entry, and you made sure to give it a warm welcome with your tongue and lips. A slick thrust from below had your teeth nearly sinking into the flesh, but you’d managed to hold back before continuing to suck on his thumb.

“So beautiful…”, Terry muttered, watching as your eyes rolled to a close and you moaned around his thumb, the throbbing of his phallus causing your stomach muscles to tighten. “and so fuckin’ nasty.”

How could he say that when he was the one who made you this way? You can confidently say you had never been this nasty until you got with Terry. This motherfucker had you doing shit you would’ve never even thought to do with anyone else, but you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said you didn’t love it.

He pulled his thumb away and you released it with a ‘pop’, then watched with doe eyes as he used that same saliva covered thumb to rub your clit in slow, sloppy circles. But you were the nasty one? Yeah, okay.

The new sensation caused a buck in your hips, a sound of louder pitch escaping your lips as your eyes did yet another roll inward. “Babyyy…s-shit!”, you whined as you tried to keep your pace through the tightening of your walls and flexing of your stomach muscles. The sensation omitted a groan from Terry, but nothing more than that as he kept his eyes trained on you.

It’s not that he wasn’t feeling good, because he damn sure was. It was just the fact that tonight was your night. Y’all could worry about him later. Right now, it was all about you.

“You look so good up there, Peach. You don’t even understand,” he cooed, tongue slowly protruding to wet his lips as he watched you slowly but surely unravel.

You’d call him a damn lie if you weren’t in your current position. You could just feel that you looked a mess. Hair puffy and wild, lips parched and dry, skin hot and tacky. Terry didn’t give a fuck. “Them hips, them thighs, your face…”, he murmured, the rotation of his thumb staying constant. “Can’t even keep your fuckin’ eyes open. I got you feelin’ good, huh, baby?”

“Yesss, oh my god!”, you squealed, head lolling back as your toes began to curl against the mattress.

Hissing at your sudden tighter grip, Terry’s brows furrowed a tad deeper. “Why you grippin’ me like that? Hm?” You knew the answer, and so did he. But your almost non-coherent words made it hard to give him one. “You finna cum? Is that what it is?”

You nodded frantically, the pace of your bounces starting to increase. “You gon’ cum for me, mama? You gon’ show me how wet you can get for me?”

“Y-yesss, fuck! I’m gon’ cum for you, daddy!”, you moaned, toes curling tighter as you grabbed his free hand and interlocked your fingers. The speed of his thumb started to increase to match the pace of your bounces, your sounds now being full on pornstar moans.

“Chase that shit then, Peach. Show me how wet this pretty pussy can get for me.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice because you already felt it coming. Nails clawing at his chest, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung ajar as your walls closed as tight as they could. The groans omitted from him only assisted with your heavenly climax, thighs trembling as you tried your hardest not to wake the neighbors, though both you and Terry were sure you had probably already done that.

“There you go. Get what you need, pretty girl,” Terry cooed, thumb still rotating on your sensitive center even though your bouncing had come to a steady halt. “Let that shit out.”

Chest heavy with pants, you absentmindedly wound your hips against his thumb, riding out your high to its highest potential. When you were done, you and your throbbing center had had enough. Your hand had quickly found Terry’s, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Mm, fuck, okay…I’m tapped out,” you huffed through short breaths, pushing his thumb away from your now sore pleasure point.

You lifted yourself off of his length with a wince before collapsing back onto his chest. “You good?”

Fuck no you weren’t good. Your body may as well been filled with noodles. Your legs and back were as good as gone, and don’t even get started on your knees. “Don’t even think about touching me for the next two weeks.”