Smitten With You
Dear ..........
I am writing with the earnest prayer that my attention will meet favorably with you. I don't know quite where to begin. Let me start by saying, simply, I am smitten with you. Your coy smile that belies your seductive plan. The lips that kiss with such fervor that I fear my heart will beat out of my chest upon touching them to mine. The soft, sweet tongue that pulls me into that vortex of passion you generate from deep within. That luscious mane of hair that you toss so playfully. Your ... no, I've said enough. Nay, too much I fear. I've exposed my hidden self, opened him to you a bit more than I wished, but cannot stop.
I fear I must restrain further encounter or I will be incurably addicted to your potion of 'extreme' womanhood. That intoxicating elixir you've poured over me is slowly insinuating into my very pores.
From afar I've waited and just out of reach you kept yourself but now, with closeness of the most sublime, you are there. My arms vividly recall enfolding you, describing your body with sensations that still linger in a billion nerve endings. Your aroma, your taste, the smoothness of your bronzed skin, your laugh, the twinkle of your eyes, your energy transferred in ways you could never realize; it all is too much. You make me drunk and unable to use my senses correctly. I stumble, I stutter, I tremble in your presence; blinded by some ethereal aura that you radiate with such innocence and youthful unwariness.
I've said enough now. Please forgive my words if they offend or embarrass. I await your next syllable like the birds await spring.
I am writing with the earnest prayer that my attention will meet favorably with you. I don't know quite where to begin. Let me start by saying, simply, I am smitten with you. Your coy smile that belies your seductive plan. The lips that kiss with such fervor that I fear my heart will beat out of my chest upon touching them to mine. The soft, sweet tongue that pulls me into that vortex of passion you generate from deep within. That luscious mane of hair that you toss so playfully. Your ... no, I've said enough. Nay, too much I fear. I've exposed my hidden self, opened him to you a bit more than I wished, but cannot stop.
I fear I must restrain further encounter or I will be incurably addicted to your potion of 'extreme' womanhood. That intoxicating elixir you've poured over me is slowly insinuating into my very pores.
From afar I've waited and just out of reach you kept yourself but now, with closeness of the most sublime, you are there. My arms vividly recall enfolding you, describing your body with sensations that still linger in a billion nerve endings. Your aroma, your taste, the smoothness of your bronzed skin, your laugh, the twinkle of your eyes, your energy transferred in ways you could never realize; it all is too much. You make me drunk and unable to use my senses correctly. I stumble, I stutter, I tremble in your presence; blinded by some ethereal aura that you radiate with such innocence and youthful unwariness.
I've said enough now. Please forgive my words if they offend or embarrass. I await your next syllable like the birds await spring.
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