Really, I have.
I get all the beautiful images of you,
The friendship and the things that
Aren't always within the usual four walls
Of friendship.
I get the memories of late night chats,
And of early morning e-mails,
And surprises along with them.
The attachments in my Inbox,
A photo of a nipple,
A hand and fingers on your pussy.
And all you get is silence.
Life gets in the way,
We all need to eat and have a roof,
And I swear to you that this last week
Has been the busiest I can recall.
Explanations, not excuses.
And all you get is silence.
Life gets in the way,
An ill child needs me at night,
And did I mention that last week was...
Oh, yes, I did mention it. In that
Two line e-mail that said
I miss you
And then told you why I keep
Missing you.
Life gets in the way.
Aren't you life too?
Why don't I let you get in the way
Of all of the other distractions?
Can't I answer my phone and say
"I am busy"
While I take the time to write to you,
And give you something to think about
In those moments of
Silence
That inevitably arrive.
Close the door.
Lock the door.
Turn on the webcam.
Can you see me now?
A zipper undone, and pants dropped,
My hand a blur on my hardness,
My hand a blur because the frame-rate on
My video camera is too slow,
And the resolution is knocked down a few too many notches,
So that my video will be small enough
To send by email.
Can you see me now?
Frantic. Outside my locked door,
Is the life that keeps getting in the way.
Frantic. My hand stroking furiously.
I started out soft, my mind wondering
About what lies beyond that locked door,
But now, only you are in my thoughts.
Hard. Erect. Pointing directly at
The lens as I pause from my stroking,
You see the first drops of wetness at my tip?
Can you see my arousal,
All because of you?
I return to my task, and this is no longer
Stroking.
This is why they call it self-abuse.
Jacking off.
Jerking my cock fast and hard.
I need to cum for you.
I want to cum for you.
There.