When we have to stop fucking because you shack up with someone not as good, I'll be very sad, because I want to fuck you and more than that, I think I just like you.
Im not sure what Im supposed to do anymore. The sensible thing would be to cut it of, before it gets worse. But I have enough self restraint not to get in too deep, I hope... and I don't want it to end, because I want it too much
I like you when you're fucking me. I like you when we're out driving. When we're just sitting watching television. When I nestle into you and you stroke my hair and I can breath in the smell of your clothes. When we kiss it feels perfect. I like watching you pad around my living room in just your jeans, trying to tidy up your bird-nest hair. Watching the muscles and bones move in your back. Hoping that every time you choose to pack up and leave, you'd stay a little longer and kiss me at the door.
I told you too last time. I said 'Kiss me' and you did, softly and gladly.
I fear I may be falling for another man.
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