Integrity

Just when I thought it was all out of my system… That the hormone levels were normalizing… That I was returning to the mid-40s man that I actually am, instead of the teenaged boy your body magically turns me into…

You go walking by…

In that.

And I suddenly find myself wishing that we both had significantly less integrity than we do. Thinking about how I could be grabbing onto that thing of yours right now, while I smash my lips into yours…

Instead, I struggle to keep my eyes where they belong, fighting their impulse to just watch you for as long as possible… Watch that thing move for as long as possible…

I mean. I might have watched some. But I'm not a creep.

Mostly.

Good lord, you really do something to me…

…

But if we did… If we just broke down and did the things I know I want to, and that I suspect you want to, too…

Where could we go from there? Because, I don't know about you, but regardless of the focus of most of my recent letters, this is not just physical.

Oh, don't get me wrong. It's physical. It is very physical. I simply cannot stop thinking about how to get underneath you…

But it's not just physical. It's not even primarily physical.

You are so attractive to me, on so many levels. And I know I suck at picking at your brain but I want to. I want to know what's going on in that beautiful mind. I want to know your past, present, and future — both real and imagined. I want to know all of you, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Every corner, every page. I know I'm getting more of you now than I ever have before… I know you've welcomed me into your inner circle, and I am so, so very thankful for that. And you've started to be very open with me about yourself, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that, none at all…

But I know there's still so much more of you to know. So much of you to learn about.

And you will never, ever find yourself a more eager student.

And you will never, ever disappoint me. Or scare me. Or… whatever. I know I talk about how perfect you are, and maybe you worry about living up to that standard, but you have nothing to fear. I know you have imperfections, we all do. But to me, they are perfect imperfections. And I want to know about them, too. And I will love them, too, I already know I will, down to my very bones.

Because I just love you. All of me does. All of me loves all of you. Bright rooms, dark corners, and everywhere in between.

So, sure. If I tried hard enough, maybe I might be able to talk you into just giving into the animal urges… talk you into backing that thing up to me and letting me cup your breasts in these eager hands while I suck on your neck and nibble on your ears and you press yourself against me… (… oh… oh, good lord …)

And, sure. I would enjoy that very, very much… god… you really have no idea how much.

But would it be enough? Would it be what I truly want?

No… No, I don't think it would…

…

Still though…

That thing fit you very nicely… Everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere. But especially…

sigh

Goodnight, my sweet, sexy lady. I'll be dreaming of you…

(panty line and all…)