After years of the systematic missionary position, I had decided to meet my ex, But first I laid down the condition, That it would be and only be, purely sex. So we met on the bridge by the old city wall, You were wearing that lipstick that tasted of sherbert, We said next to nothing yet held hands loosely, The moment felt far from perfect. We checked in to an ungraded guesthouse, As Mr And Mrs Jones, The palsied old lady gurned relentlessly, I could hear the whistle through her false teeth as she talked, And grimaced at her support bandages as she walked. She gave us the key and wanted payment in advance, Room 5 en-suite ? No chance. As we walked in the room the MDF wall pounded like my heart, A man next door yelling ?whose your daddy?. My collars moistened as you lightly licked my lips, Wrapping your legs around me you ordered me to fuck you, So I fucked you. You asked me to bite you, So I bit you, Told me to slap you, So I slapped you, And slapped you, Then fell down and cried. You ran out clothes in hand, I had wanted to live, But had died.