In the Back of the Sunfire

The rubber is ripped off, tossed
somewhere at your feet. August feels
like it will go on forever
when I bite your bottom lip.

Shifting between wants and needs,
rocking back and forth on top,
I hope to know you by more
than the sweetness of your precum.

But when I catch my breath,
summer slips away
like the sensation of your body
sliding out of mine.