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My Dearest, my Beloved, my Angel...
I am moved by the love that burns within my breast for you
To put quill to parchment and thusly declare my undying adoration for thee,
You heavenly minx...
Thou hast inspire'd me to make a feeble attempt -- the first of many, should this humble note please mine Angel -- to put into words what my body and mouth hath wordlessly demonstrated to thine, morning, noon and night all these blissfully happy weeks they've spent entwined in lust, breathless with ecstasy, the likes of which my wretched corporation has chased but never tasted in all the time it has roamed this old planet.
The taste of you lingers still so deliciously in my mouth as I steady my impatient hand to write these words upon the page. Arousing thoughts of you swirl through my mind, mesmerizing my senses and rendering me a horny fiend of a demon struggling to appear outwardly civilized.
But let my longing eyes gaze upon thy lovely luscious thighs for but a moment. Oh Angel, they are sumptuous to look upon.. more scrummy still to touch and nibble on.
Did you know you render'd me a thief from the moment we met?
Oh aye, for 'twas then I stole my first glance at those legs, that arse, the enticing curve of your belly, your cheek, your lips, and ev'ry other part of you. These serpent eyes did stealthily steal every glimpse they could for hundreds-- nay, thousands of years. (Oh may I but live long enough to repay the debt I owe you, my precious one.)
I am only too aware that I do take liberties with you, my Love-- and all too often my passion gets the better of me. I worry it is too much for you at times, and believe it or not I hold myself back constantly.
Your sacred corporation-- that ineffably un-angelic temple which houses you-- is a sight to behold when draped in robes and gold, but unadorned and exposed to my eyes it is irresistible. Your body has elicited unholy thoughts in me since the Garden. And believe me when I tell you they're thoughts that would make Satan Himself blush.
And you'll blush yourself at the mention, I know, but your effort is a work of art. I bow before it, worship wholeheartedly at thy marble altar, o Supreme of all Angelic Cocks, only befit a superior being such as thyself. I wax lyrical at the memory of it. Alone the thought of it makes my hungry mouth water, my own cock stiffens in response. It longs to penetrate you, to fuck you in your heavenly arse. There it would linger and dwell forever. This randy devil would take up permanent residence there betwixt your silky thighs if only he could.
My erection quietly nags me, Love, insisting that I hie us forthwith to our bedchamber.
You do this to me, Angel.
Simply by being, by existing, by standing before me in all your splendid beauty
you provoke me.
You play with fire, my Innocent One.
Give yourself to me. Make me horny as hell, frustrate me, talk down to me, deny me again and again. Just don't ever leave me, Angel. I swear I'll make you happy you stayed.
I am unworthy of such exquisite perfection, such angelic beauty and such indescribable pleasure. And yet you give them to me so freely, as though 'twere the most natural thing for One such as Yourself to do.
Could it be that you feel for me what I feel for you?
Never in my boldest dreams could I have entertained such a novel thought, my Angel. And yet you've gone and made my waking hours more delectable than even the greatest of my dreams could measure up to.
Can this be real?
Am I dreaming still?
If so, then I beg, kindly let me slumber away in thy loving arms, thy sweet lips resting upon my brow for all eternity.