Eden

When I open the door, the room smells like mold and your cunt, blossoming. The scene is seedy, delicious: you arch your back to show me how big your tits are, framed by wood panel and white noise on the busted TV.

I’ve got two hours by the clock to fuck you, make your sweat water the bed. I spill the strap-ons and dils across the slippery flowers of the cheap sheets, pull on my gloves.