Is it bad for me to say that I can picture myself in front of you, my head tilted up towards yours, waiting for you to bend over slightly and kiss me? I can picture our lips fitting perfectly together, going by the same rhythm, lusting to be closer to each other. I can almost feel the way I’d cave in, when you’d slip your tongue passed the barrier of my lips, tasting me. I lust for the moment I can finally be with you, feeling your large hand and strong fingers entwined in mine. But I know it is bad, so very bad. Because I swore I wouldn’t stand before you, awaiting your freedom.
You are with her. I understand that, I truly do. I wish I could step back and let it be. Yet you keep me close behind the curtains, ready to pull me out when she is gone. And with your intensity versus my need, I cannot turn away. You are my weakness, and I cannot let you slide into the darkness of my dreams.
So the thought of your 6’4 figure, towering over me by eight inches, and dominating me with every breath, is awful. And I can’t stop thinking of it.