Point of You

I never masturbate anymore. Life is so busy. Hectic. All I want to find is five minutes. I start, get close, several times. Each one more desperate. Never finish. Need visuals. Picturing her watching. Joining in. Blindfolding. Oiling up. Imagining anything so that I can come at last. Tight grip. Feeling sexy. Stolen moments, continuously further disturbed. Until at last I'm alone. I simply HAVE to pop. I picture her, on the brink, about to burst in my face, my tongue tingling. I shoot hard and fast. Harder than ever before. Exhausted. Exhilarated. At last. Smiling.