What the Woman in the Porn Video Was Actually Thinking About
She promised herself otherwise.
But here she was yet again.
Riding his cock, daydreaming.
She keeps a calm, steady rhythm.
It just has to last longer tonight.
Body heat fades fast in February.
She kept her ‘librarian’ glasses on.
Lost in the animal groping
and the hungry licking of sex.
Why was she still with this clown?
How did he stay hard for so long?
As always, the swirling questions
came much sooner than she did.
He always had whiskey somehow.
What the hell did he do for money?
In the sweet surrender motion,
her breasts felt weightless.
Her worries, forgotten.
She was tired of endlessly shopping.
Shopping for cock, for arm candy.
She pined for quilted blankets, heat,
a good mystery book, and whiskey.
As he spasmed beneath her,
panting a lackluster “oh my god,”
she soon realized that religion
had failed her completely.
As she never evolved from
being a Pavlovian whore
for a devil-may-care smile
and whomever spoke poetic
whiskey soaked words at her
across the bar parking lot
in the frigid February night.
This was love’s lukewarm leftovers.
And she would clutch them closely.
No matter how bleak the forecast.
She promised herself otherwise.
Horror Sleaze Trash 