There’s a fine boundary between pain and pleasure,
Where body arches back, totally vulnerable,
Wanting to be entangled by surrender,
Desires the depth of penetration….
He knows the narrow line between act of love,
And inflicting suffering, where burn persuades,
Admits while pushing back against
Persistent thrust of elementary power.

He loves being both subject  and object of my darkest wish,
To ravish, possess, watch him beg and acquiesce,
Spread his quivering thighs and draw me
Further inside, without complicity of shame,
Knowing what he wants and what he wants is me
Inside his carnal flesh, desires excess,
Enjoys push against the threshold where he cries out,
Moans, gasps, yet begs for more, harder, harder….

He yields, and in his yielding finds his power.
This is no rape of him, but offered act of love,
Knows that devotion is given as he suffers,
Belongs under the weight of the hour
As resistance is cast away,  glistening
Lubrication in the end, towering toward overpowering drive,
Flooding closer to the edge, seeding him with
Dangerous gift— precisely what he wants.

Afterwards he turns his head,
Desires a kiss, the joy of body’s exhausted weight,
Flushed intimacy of warm excited flesh,
Turning soft, withdrawing…..
It sometimes only lasts for a moment,
This satisfaction of his secret hunger,
Comfort of being exploited, loved, enjoyed,
Known inside his dark abyss,
Inference of debt now satisfied and fully paid.