Ode To Solo Time (Uncut)

[jazzy_dave]

Ode to Solo Time (Uncut)

by Jazzy D

Late house quiet. Lights down low.
Need prowls up your spine like a thing you know.
Fingers find you already hard, already leaking,
Mouth half open, brain gone, body speaking.

No foreplay. No permission. Just command.
Spit in your palm. Close your hand.
First stroke is a snarl. Tight. Obscene.
You hiss and set the rhythm mean.

You’re filth and liturgy at once:
Altar boy, sinner, god, and wants.
Every drag of skin peels the night back.
Pre-come strings, you work it, thick, down the track.

You think in flashes: mouths, hips, the word yes.
Your hips chase your fist in shameless excess.
Base to crown, twist at the head, again.
Grip stuttering to that edge, then back from the end.

Edges stack. Vision whites at the seams.
Thighs iron. Toes curl. Nothing redeems.
You swear, guttural, not a word they’d print.
Balls drawn up, every nerve in sprint.

Then the snap. God, the snap.
Ruin in waves. You jack it through each wet slap.
Ropes hot across your belly and hand,
Pulse after pulse you didn’t plan.

You ride it out, still stroking, mean and slow,
Milking aftershocks that won’t let go.
Chest heaving. Wrecked. Lit from within.
Come cooling, sticky, honest on skin.

After is gospel: heartbeat, breath, grin.
Blanket to mouth. Silence pouring in.
No one to thank. No one to blame.
Just you, undone, and glad you came.