I like how you shock me, how the undertones in your voice stir me, how laughing at what you say feels like I’m letting you touch me in ways that would first worry me, then thrill me.. I like how you say exactly what you want — how I can never quite figure it out on my own— because it makes you so much more exciting. The fact that you’re unknowable makes me want to steep myself in you, strip myself and drown myself and let you take over myself..
Every time you tell me just how…thorough you are in loving a woman, I bite my lip. I want to know for myself, even though I am terrified to.
I dreamed about kissing you, and woke up soft and wet and moaning and scared because it felt like my nerves would fry from the pleasure. And then I dreamed about you telling me what you would do to me if you ever had me alone, and while I was asleep it hurt because of how bad the wanting was, and when I woke up it hurt because it was over.
I think about you when I forget that I’m not allowing myself to. I think about you lifting my bum and listening for the small gasp as you slide into me, think about you arching my back till it feels like it will snap, think about begging you to stop because I know I would die, just die, from the pleasure. I even think about your mouth on me. I think about you saying something funny and crude between my legs and I have to squeeze them shut, tight, and fist my hands and take deep breaths and remind myself that I’m not supposed to think such things.
You are the only man I want.”
— written years ago when I didn’t know what to do with my own desire.