An unsent letter

--I've been married for seven years. And he's my seven-year itch. I wrote this because I couldn't stand just thinking anymore. I haven't touched him. Maybe I never will. But...well, you'll see.--

I want you.

God, I want you.

I want you beside me. I want you *inside* me. I want you to feel my inner muscles clench around you. I want you to fill me, fill me deep. God, I want you inside me.

I want to kiss you, want your lips on mine. I want to kiss your neck and taste your sweat. I want to press against your chest till I can feel your heartbeat in my breasts.

I want to wrap my legs around you, my arms around you. I want to forget where your body stops and mine begins. I want to be one with you. Together, held together, pinned together where you pierce me. I want you. God, I want you.

I want to know how it feels when you come. One long rush of heat? Slow pumping throbs? Quick urgent spurts like a geyser? I want you to fill me with *you*...and I want to know if I'll come too. I never do anymore. But maybe I will. Maybe with you.

I want you so much it hurts. I want you so much I cry. I'd rather be crying out - beneath you, astride you, *with* you.

How do you sound, afterward? When our hearts are still pounding, our chests still heaving? Will you say my name? I'll say yours. It's the only thing I want to say.

I want you.

God, I want you.
You.