Let my moans mirror the hallelujahs and amens of a spirit-filled congregation

Have you begun if I’m not shaking like it’s deliverance Sunday?

Give this powerhouse orgasms after orgasms; my body is your offering basket and I love a cheerful giver

Baby, stroke this clit like David did his harp;
if done well enough, sweet melodies are sure to bless heaven’s doors

And when we’re done and our bodies are expelling holy liquids like tears rolling down the cheeks of a passionate testifier,
we shall squeeze each other tight,
blessing God for this explosive ministration brought to us on the altar that is my creaking bed.

This article has appeared in a different form on the Medium page of the writer.

Photo by Dazzle Jam from Pexels