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**Heads up! Adult language ahead…**
Walking past your desk, my body reacts to the rich timbre of your voice.
As always, I’m impressed by the way you handle yourself.
Polite, yet strong. Commanding yet respectful. Your manners match the exquisite cut of your suit—irresistible.
I’m made weak by your smile, the light in your eyes, the way you nod as I pass by.
You’ve often said that I’m the best friend a guy could have, but I’d prefer to be sinfully yours.
You wink at me, and jokingly tap my ass. If I could be honest, I’d ask for a spanking with me arranged across your lap. You look like the kind of man who could deliver pain in the most delightful way.
But you’ll never know what I dream of, because our friendship stands in the way. You’re always the gentleman, and that, my sweet, makes me so very hot.
You’re playful at our business lunch. Sharing your food, your fork to my lips, you tell me that what you’re letting me taste will be an orgasm for my mouth.
I thank you for sharing, but imagine myself on my knees, the orgasm yours.
You delight me with conversations and trips to the museum. We never run out of things to say; indeed, we have greeted the morning sun together countless times. But never in your bed, which is where I long to crawl to, with your nakedness as my reward.
Evenings spent in your apartment listening to Bach, with you sprawled on your sofa like some great lion, leave me wishing I was a hunted gazelle.
I would gladly let you catch me—let you strip me bare and bleed the last ounce of my surrendered devotion into your soul.
I’m not really listening when you read from your book of poems.
I’m not paying attention when you recite ancient prose.
I’m not really absorbing one f*cking word you say.
So I hope that you’re not planning some kind of test that I will fail.
I am desperately aching to sink my teeth into those lips that move so eloquently.
I am hungry for your mouth; your tongue should belong to me.
I need you to stop being so ridiculously smart.
I just want to f*ck you senseless; I want to be sinfully yours.
I’ve dreamed of you since I was too young to know better. The kind of man who respects me, the kind that opens doors and means it when he kisses.
I wonder how you would feel under the cool of my best linens. I wonder if you like to snuggle, and if you sleep without pajamas. I long to run my fingers through your hair.
My mouth wants to explore every inch of your skin. Let my tongue drag itself lightly along the length of your c*ck. I’m not shy, my darling, I can do all those things; let me shake my hair loose and feed you from my sacred well.
Have we been companions so long that you can’t see the woman before your eyes?
Have I sent you all the wrong signals, driven you from wanting more?
Have I said too many times how I appreciate your honesty and kindness? Have I failed to tell you that I’m lonely in love?
I’m not like you; I can’t wait. I’m tired of pretending. I fell for you so long ago, but courage failed my heart.
I think I’m going to tell you, before the sun drowns in the ocean’s horizon. I think I’ll drink from the cup of your response before the moon rises. I think I’ll swim in the river of truth while dusk swallows the waning light.
Perhaps you will confess that you have waited for me also.
Perhaps your smile will light up the beauty of your face.
Perhaps you will cradle me to your ever elusive heart.
Perhaps your body will own mine, taste me raw and unrestrained.
Perhaps we will fall into a lustful embrace, our sins erotic, the whole night long.
I don’t want to lose your friendship, but would rather be sinfully yours.
Author: Monika Carless
Editor: Toby Israel
Image: Flickr/you me