I AM FEELING VERY NAUGHTY


I wonder what you look like naked. I wonder how your long, lean arms and legs would move and spread out and touch me. Are they hairy? What does the hair feel like? Is it coarse? Or fine?

I wonder about your genitals, your nipples, their shape and color. I wonder if you would be shy if you got naked in front of me and if you'd look down on the floor and mumble in your sweet way...Or would you be unashamed?

How would you touch me?

I wonder how I would touch you. You man. Would I grab you and throw you down and bite you? Or would you envelope me gently in a hug and kiss me deep and slow? Would you smile your wide, toothy grin?

I'll probably never see you again. But I think you're attracted to me too. In another time and place, I'd say so many things to you. And I know you'd say so much to me too. Things you cannot say now. I would eventually find some excuse to kiss you. And I would be couting down the days to having sex with you, preferable on an afternoon, on a couch. And I would want you to pay a lot of attention to my breasts. You do strike me as somewhat of a breast man.

But none of that will happen.

I thank you, though. I thank you for never once making me uncomfortable. Never once did you violate the code of professionalism. You always kept it strictly business-like. As did I. There were those few seconds as we said our goodbyes where a little sexual tension flared. But I never wanted to go there with you. And I suspect you didn't either.

Do you think of me though? Do you want me? Do you want me like I want you? Do you think of me the way I think of you? You know, I suspect that you imagined me naked and moaning and making love to you many, many times. But you never once treated me with disrespect. You always treated me with courtesy and respect and a certain dignity.

And so now, I want you to fantasize about me. I want you to think of me naked. I want you to imagine that we're making love on a cloudy afternoon on a couch by a window. If you leered at me and disrespected me, I would have wanted to kill you. And rip you apart.

Your funny, blunt respect is one hell of an aphrodisiac. I love it. Don't ever change, you handsome, handsome stranger. And if you ever see me again, I want you to give me that same respect. And I will fantasize about making you worship my breasts. And kissing you all over.




the love letter collection
submitted 10:28 pm EST
Sunday, March 28, 2010