I don’t need you to paint a picture for me; I know what it is to feel you beside me. I know how it feels to look at you and silently name you “Friend” and “Lover” and “Beloved.” These quiet truths I solemnly commit to memory. They rock me to my core — not unlike the silken tip of your throbbing cock that wakes you from day-walking and deepest sleep… insistent.
We have found ourselves in this place that only 
makes sense when we are both here; this hallowed space we have created and nurtured and grown. I know what it is to feel your eyes on me and not want to hide. I know what it is to spread myself wide and feel your depths inside me. I am the light shining through each achy, heady bead of pre-cum bliss.
Invisible, we are everywhere. Tonite, now: I run my finger along the smooth, downy-soft topside of my clit. I do this for you. I do this for me. You will likely forget my small, tender creases of secret pleasure but never forget how each is stamped with your name. It is so simple: I want to make love to you as badly as I want to fuck you. Our withdrawal gives me the shakes.