Sexy

I was thinking about you today.

(fun fact: I think about you all day, every day)

I was thinking about how dang sexy you are. How even just those perfect eyes and sweet lips are more than enough to make this particular motor turn over. About how inundated I was last week with images of so very much of you, and the effect it had… is still having… on me.

Good lord. Sex, walking and talking. Sex, come to life. Sex, personified.

Sex, attached to the most fascinating mind and kindest heart I have ever encountered in my whole entire life, but who's here to talk about that right now?

Yeah.

I don't think you're sexy, I know you are. My body knows you are, perking up at the merest sound of your voice… The hint of your thoughts in an unexpected text…

But, I got to thinking.

You absolutely get me riled up. You turn me on like nobody's business. You don't just make this engine purr, you make it roar. You could walk into the room completely bundled up for the coldest of cold winters, all hidden away behind layers upon layers upon layers… and you'd still put that pedal through the floor.

But… well, by the time you ever get to read this, I figure we'll have already figured out each other's parameters, but still. When I get in these moods and I write these letters… I want you to know that it's a release for me. The letters are meant to be fun to write and (hopefully) enjoyable to read. They are an expression of my desires, true enough.

But what they are not is a laying out of expectations.

Don't get me wrong. There is absolutely nothing I have or will ever write about you that I wouldn't be down for, in a heartbeat, if you're down for it. Hell, I can scarcely think of anything I wouldn't be down to try at least a couple of times, if it's with you.

But I don't expect you to be into any of it. I don't expect anything of you, not sexually. If we ever get to the point where this matters, whatever you're willing to give will be perfect. Exactly what I want, and exactly what I need. However much or however little it is. Because it's you.

And you're what I need. All that I need.

Still, you should know that even then… even when we're together, even when I'm allowed to touch you…

I'm still going to be stealing glances. Every single last chance I get. Peeking through the door while you're changing. Watching you walk up the stairs. Just… exist as the sexy beast that you are in my presence, and I'll be as happy as a clam.

And I'll be thanking the universe every single day that I somehow managed to be the luckiest person to have ever lived. Ever.

Je t'aime, mon amour.

Yours,
♒️