Rebounds Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I am not into rebounds.
Or accept leftovers.
As a desperate treat.
Nor do I trade anything,
From anyone handing me down...
Something used.
Touched by others.
Whether discreetly done,
Secretly under hotel sheets.

I want what I want.
Fresh.
To lick and nibble.
Mine alone getting this known.
Whenever I wish.
Slow from the start,
Working up a sweat.
Enjoying what's mine anytime to get.

I don't play with my emotions.
Too naked and raw they are exposed.
I am devoted to a fault.
Every nerve in my body is committed.
From my head to curling toes.
There is no act distracting,
What I give to receive.
Is returned.
With a delivery of satisfaction.

Quick I am,
From past experiences to learn...
Who tries to deny lies told to tell.
Since the smell of deceivers,
I have come to know too well.
Age and truth inside me dwells.
And I know what I want.
With determination to get.
I'm not one impressed by the cover.
My interest is in,
The touching to discover the contents.

And...
It better be fresh.
I am not into rebounds,
From others to have touched...
What I expect will be mine.
Whenever I want,
At dawn, noon or night to get!
Or...
It will just be left as is.
Choosy I may be but desperate I am not!