Today, I think I’ll fuck you.

Had the subject been raised this morning, we might have made love . . . soft, tender, and sweet.

I might have turned to you in the morning light and whispered words of devotion in your ear as you began to wake. I might have caressed you like fragile goods. I mighty have rocked you slowly until you whimpered gently in simple joy.

No chance of that now.

On an evolutionary sense, I’ve traveled too far back in time. A grunting, drooling caveman has bound and gagged this morning’s gentleman and stuffed him in a closet.

So I am going to fuck you. I will beat myself into you without conscience. I will be brutal. Kisses and caresses will give way to screams and sweat. I will fuck your ever hole with abandon. I’ll leave you sore and scratched and striped and bruised. You will spasm so violently and so often that the muscles that line your depths will plea for rest.

Maybe tomorrow.

Timing is everything.