psl nigga
Idk
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2025
- Posts
- 972
- Reputation
- 1,097
Two hours deep, I move with heat and rhythm,
a favorite whispered in a chorus of girls.
They say they love me, all of them calling,
each one pulling me into her world, her bed, her gravity.
Two hours, steady fire, slow thunder,
I linger where desire learns to speak.
They crown me their chosen, their echo,
voices tangled in night’s silk language.
She bends like a question with no answer,
asking for more than gentleness,
a storm instead of a breeze.
Wild pulse, no brakes, no borders,
she loses herself and finds me there.
No taste for beginners, she says,
only the sharp edge of knowing.
In hidden corners, in reckless moments,
we write our secrets in motion.
She asks again, always again,
for closeness that feels like collision,
for touch that repeats like a heartbeat,
for time that refuses to end.
Two hours stretch into something endless,
a loop of fire and breath and skin,
and still they say they love me,
still they call me back in.
a favorite whispered in a chorus of girls.
They say they love me, all of them calling,
each one pulling me into her world, her bed, her gravity.
Two hours, steady fire, slow thunder,
I linger where desire learns to speak.
They crown me their chosen, their echo,
voices tangled in night’s silk language.
She bends like a question with no answer,
asking for more than gentleness,
a storm instead of a breeze.
Wild pulse, no brakes, no borders,
she loses herself and finds me there.
No taste for beginners, she says,
only the sharp edge of knowing.
In hidden corners, in reckless moments,
we write our secrets in motion.
She asks again, always again,
for closeness that feels like collision,
for touch that repeats like a heartbeat,
for time that refuses to end.
Two hours stretch into something endless,
a loop of fire and breath and skin,
and still they say they love me,
still they call me back in.
