All Yours

My mouth is not my own.

When you make love to me, I lose control of what I’m saying, what I’m thinking; all of my cleverness and verbosity flees my brain as if your fucking is a natural disaster.

Which is not to say I do not mean what I say then, just that I am disarmed of my filters and calculation.

I am all yours; I can’t help it, either. I want to be near you, and to please you, always.

I’m so fucking in love with you and for me that means that I want to be at your feet, on your leash, controlled, and protected by you. I don’t want to belong to myself.

I want to belong to you.