The Third Word

The Third Word © Mike Kimera 2006.

Please, Daddy

That’s what I whisper in his ear when I am spread and he is hard and sweat is all that is between us.

Please, Daddy

Passes my lips like a promise or a plea, rousing his lust, stirring my memories, mixing his need and my guilt

Please, Daddy

A prayer offered to this bar-met stranger, the right age but with the wrong face, as he pushes into me

Please, Daddy

As always, pleasure and shame race through me, my present and my past bound together. Perhaps this time I will finally release the third word.

Please, Daddy. Stop.

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