Poetica 39

My ears notice the click of your heels before I see you.
My hands unable to hide their excitement throw open the windows.

Having entered the house, you waste no time locating the hardware.
As you lead to the inner rooms, it’s in my office where your lips excel.

You point to the table and request to access my power.
My fingers type on your body slowly, I don’t bite your apples.

The delayed gratification almost crashing your senses.
You demand between moans that I provide my input.

I tap all the right keys, operating inside your system.
As we get closer to overheating, we are one in our virtual reality.