Angelic

I am not a religious man, yet the first word that comes to mind when asked to describe you is “angelic.”

Beautiful in every way, inside and out.

The kindest person I think I've ever met in my long life.

The most beautiful woman to have ever graced my sight.

Your eyes, amazing orbs that make god himself weep with joy when he looks upon them.

A smile which I challenge any man to walk away from without falling in love with you, at least a little bit.

Skin, smooth and supple, milky white after a long winter.

Sweet and innocent.

In a word, angelic.

Gods do I want to soil that innocence.

Take that halo and toss it right out the window.

See what I can make you do.

I want to make you bare yourself to me, letting me see all of you in the broad light of day.

I want to make you kneel before me and pray, making an offering of your breath and saliva.

I want to go to your workplace and sneak you into the broom closet to have my favorite lunch.

I want to make you wear a plug while taking a walk around the neighborhood… I have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be the first time.

I want you to let me watch as you take it out and clean it.

I want to take you on your dining room table before sitting down for a meal with the family.

I want to wake you up in the middle of the night, knocking on your back door. Would you let me in?

I want to do everything I can to make you finish, but not allow it, forcing you to hold it back until you're driven mad with need.

I want to do everything I can to make you finish, over and over and over again.

I want to find out just exactly how much of the devil himself is in you.

Then I want you to pick that halo back up, put it back on, and go back to being as sweet as can be.

My angel. My sweet, sexy, dirty little angel.

I love you.