It all comes down to who you are and how far you can arch your back.

I can see my nails through my sunglasses, my long fingers holding my ankles holding your cock. it is sunny and I never thought I would hate you but I do. Such a waste of energy, I admit, but kind of liberating really. I am here, now, arched back, without any thoughts in my mind. Or rather, I am thinking whether my back is curved enough, whether I can arch it further and back, whether I can tell you what I think without you knowing. I loved it. That first time, our 26 hour first date. You took me to all these galleries, to look at the view. You held my fingertips and I licked yours. 

You found me in a dark alley. 

“Come.  Give me a kiss," you'd said.

I was  drunk and confused but you were kind of sexy. I saw your pants sticking to your crotch, your big and tender crotch which took the shape of a landscape with hills and landforms, every time you bent down.

“I want you," you'd said.

Silence. 

My neck shivers.  My flesh.  Warm hands and fingernails.  An overload that makes me more distant.

“Fuck slut!” , my hand lowers, towards your thigh.

And I say, being shy first but then not shy at all, but at all, I say oh yes baby, yes, that's it, just fuck me, just go like this. And you like that asshole you just love that.

And then I feel sad because this is all a day dream. You are still at work, and I am alone in my room arched backwards waiting for you.

Oh yes I am waiting for you.  I love waiting for you to finish work and come and fuck me, you son of a bitch, you mother fucker, you just come from work and fuck me and fall asleep pretending that you care.

I feel tender throbbing arrive finally,  as contractions of blood, and muscle.