Your Dickpic Turns Me On

Better the dick you know than the dick you don’t

Photo by Charles on Unsplash

I open your message.
It’s a picture of your dick; it’s a dickpic.
Immediately, it turns me on. I love it!

I love it because I know it;
I know that dick.

I know how it feels;
through your pants, hardening under my grip. You push against me: A tiny tug of war where we both win.

I know how it smells;
warm, clean, with a hint of musk, and a sprinkle of salt. I draw my breath. It smells like how it tastes. Let me sample?

I know how it tastes;
your skin, from your balls, my tongue goes way up. Up to the tip where I lap up a drop: A clear viscous promise.

I know that sound;
I know all your sounds. From the clank of your buckle, your zip-
zip-zipper, to your sighs — your mmmms — your moans.

I know that sensation:
The void I create, my pull. You push and slide, to fill. Then, we meet and dance — in Elysium.

I love that pic because I know the dick;
up close and personal, inside and out. I know the person attached to it…