A woman, she sat in the bath alone,
Her body aching, mind hungry and prone,
To thoughts of pleasure's sweet release,
As roaming hands sought to increase.
The splashing waters swirled around,
Each slick fold explored, every curve found.
Her engorged clit throbbed, begging for touch,
She bit her lip, stifling a moans' low rush.
Fingers circled her swollen nub's hard pearl,
Spreading her lips, she felt the world whirl.
One digit slid teasingly in and out,
Breath catching sharply with each lewd pout.
Her other hand squeezed full breasts above,
As depraved visions consumed her wanton lust's shove.
Imagining being used and degraded utterly,
Bound, tormented, a slave to depravity.
Remembering how he pinned her writhing form,
Covering her mouth to muffle cries from the storm.
His thick shaft spearing into her molten heat,
Rough thrusts impaling her in hardened beats.
She was his plaything, his fucktoy to use,
However he wanted, she could never refuse.
Visions of being bent over, skirt hiked high,
His hand fisting her hair, savage grip and sly.
Hips slapping wetly, flesh against flesh,
She begged like a depraved harlot's desperate cry.
Fantasies of being tied down and tormented,
Nipples cruelly pinched, until she relented.
To gag on his cock, take it all down her throat.
Until salty ropes erupted, a harlot's just reward.
Imagining being sorely used in every hole,
As he marked her ass, tits, and cunt with his pole.
Leaving her a well-fucked, gaping mess,
Makeup smeared, this slut's true purpose: Serve and address.
Abandoning control, she came untwined,
A knock, a voice - "You okay in there?" declined.
This peak was too close; she had to finish,
Fingertips swirled rapidly, never to diminish.
Her orgasm building, a roaring tsunami,
The coil wound tighter with each vulgar fantasy.