Within me does a tempest roarWhich leaves me calling out for more.I treat myself with lust so raw,It leaves me tender, tight and sore.
Tenfold have I, in climax, criedYet each time ended unsatisfied.Again, I spread my long legs wideAnd seek, once more, the gushing tide.
My swollen clit, I start to teaseAnd thrust my fingers in-and-out with ease.Tightly together do I press my knees,Begging, crying, calling: "Please!"My body arches in orgasmic elation,Only to end in quick termination...
Perhaps the answer to my sexual frustrationDoes not lie in my masturbation