Even More

You know what's even more beautiful than those photos you sometimes post of yourself?

You. Standing in my living room, smiling… not for the camera, but for me.

And, see? Thoughtful. That was a very thoughtful gift. I know I already said it, but… thank you. There are reasons I love you, ⭐️. And they aren't difficult at all to figure out.

And, I'm sorry… I know it's base and cliché and all that, but… as much as I hate for you to go, I absolutely frickin' love to watch you leave. Holy Sweet Moses.

I'm serious, ⭐️. I don't know if we can actually be together. It can't possibly be good for my health to be right on the verge every time you happen to walk away from me… And that's not even considering the rest of you, which… let's face it: you are basically my sex dream incarnate, from head to toe. Your curves are precisely what my hands have been aching for since before I even knew what the heck my body was doing. You are… intolerably sexy. Good fuckin' gravy.

So, I don't know. I don't know if I'll be able to do it — if my body can do it. I don't know if my heart — the actual physical organ in my chest, not the metaphorical organ I'm usually referring to — I don't know if it could survive the pressure it would be under to keep up with my body's reactions to you, day in and day out. The edge is a very dangerous place to walk.

But you had better bet that fine ass of yours that I'd like to try and find out.

And I will touch that thing one of these days. And gosh, I hope you like it when I do.

I love you, ⭐️. And, fuck… I am so in lust with you. I really don't think you have any idea, any idea at all, of what's in store for you, if you're up for it.

Lord Almighty. You really don't.

Yours,
♒️