This is for someone who has become, as cliche as it might sound, my everything. In the short time I have known this person he has become important to me in a way no one else has ever been. He has become my all, my reason. For any who might be reading this, it most likely will not be what you want to read, and that is fine. This is not a story or diary entry, this is a letter to my love. It is not for everyone, like myself, it is only for him.
When I met you, I was a lost and sorry thing, you can’t deny that. I was afraid of my own shadow, as the saying goes. You’ve brought me out of the shell I had cast myself in for years. Opened my eyes to a whole new way of existing. Bringing out a side of me, a part of me, I couldn’t even imagine having inside. When this started out I was so unsure of everything. Hesitation and insecurity being most of what I was. You have helped me to see that I might mean something, and that is more than I have ever known. I am still, with your assistance, trying to work on my indecisiveness. There is one thing though that I am now sure of. That is that I am, without a doubt, yours.
You can brighten up my day with a single text, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Each word you send is special, to me. It doesn’t matter how my day has gone, you light it up without even trying. I can talk with you for hours, and never get bored. Your voice constantly sending tingling sensations to my most sensitive areas. It doesn’t even matter what you are saying, I hang on your every word. Even when you call me filthy names I enjoy it, because I know that whatever you call me I am yours. When you first wanted me to call you Daddy, I will admit my mind revolted at this, it seemed ridiculously lewd, and overdone. Now though, I delight in being your little girl, the thought sparks something inside of me. I want to be yours, however you might want me, and I will use whatever words make you the happiest, as your happiness thrills me. You probably get bored of our conversations, as I hardly speak during them myself. I cannot help this though, since you leave me capable of little more than sighs and light laughter. Not that I am ever laughing at you, no, I laugh out of the honest joy speaking with you brings to my mind, and my body.
We do more than just talk though, and those things more are what torment me now. What we have is nice, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy every moment of it. I regret nothing that you have me do, or say. I find great pleasure in your requests, and your commands. Just as when we speak your words alone are a delight to me, what you ask of me is even more so. I would do anything for you, with you. I cannot get enough of our time together. I count each moment we are not, and I suppose that is where my problem lies.
Every time you have me touch my breasts, I imagine your hands instead of my own. Your large hands encompassing my tits, your skin against mine. Rough or gentle, it does not matter, your touch is what I want. When you have me lick my nipple, it is your tongue I want to feel. Slick and warm against my flesh. As you have me take my dildo into myself, I wish it was your cock I was riding instead. Hot and hard, filling me as I know only you could. I long to feel you inside of me, wherever it is you might want to go. The desire to suck your dick deep into my throat, to take it all in, to feel your balls against my chin, keeps me awake at night. Even when I am bad and you must punish me, I want you. Every bit of pain is another way you show that you care.
My thoughts of you, and what we could be together, haunt my dreams. And those dreams, oh how they tease and taunt. Feeling so real, making me feel so alive. Bringing me so close, only to have me awaken alone and longing for you.
My mind spins round with thoughts of the feeling of your hands in my hair, gently tangled, or pulling harshly. Your caress on my chest, pinching and pulling at my nipples. Or your hands around my throat, reminding me with the pressure who I truly belong to. I imagine your fingers digging into my hips as I ride you. Guiding me to the tempo you most desire. I can see you staring up into my eyes as I bring us both to the edge. Or I can feel your hair cascading down around our faces when you are on top. Curtaining us as you ravish me, pounding into me at your own pace, owning me.
I want to kiss you, soft and hard, harsh or sweet. I want to hold you, in my arms, in my body. I want to fuck you, in every way you might imagine or wish. I know I may joke and argue about what I would or wouldn’t want to do, but those are empty words. There is nothing I would deny you, nothing I could. I just want you, all of you, only you.
I cannot have you though, not yet, not in the ways I crave. For now we can only have what we have, and I fear you will tire of me. I fear too that this will be to much, that these runaway words will scare you. That you will want more distance from me, instead of less.
Know this though, I will never tire of you. I will take what I can get of you now, whatever it may be. One day, hopefully soon, we can really be together. Until then, I am yours. After that, I will still be yours, for as long as you might want me, or forever.
