Read this and thought it was so hot... totally what I want!

Darling- I know you think you're getting the good end of this deal. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. I could tell that you were confused, nervous, and excited when I engaged you at the bar that fateful night. And it makes sense, I'm 24, very articulate, well-dressed, and hotter than a $20 pistol. You're 34, but look older, spend more time with books than people, and insist on draping yourself in ill-fitting jeans and plaid flannel shirts. Little did you know... I have a secret love for both older men and drunken intellectuals!

So you cautiously responded to my attentions, hoping that my intentions were the same as your own. They were similar, but I don't think that you would have suggested doing what we did, which was talk until the bar closed about abstract expressionism and foreign policy, and then trespass into a stranger's back yard and spend several hours making out and going down on each other in the rain. You proved yourself a gentleman by taking me on a picnic the next day.

As time passes and you get to know me better, you seem to be more and more impressed with me. I make amazing breakfast food, and I'm no slouch when it comes to dinner, either. I read voraciously, and minored in literature, so I can discuss it all with great insight and impressive vocabulary words. You love introducing me to your friends, because I'm witty and only wear skirts and heels. Not to mention the fact that I clean my house in a skimpy superhero costume cause I think it's funny, and take up the ass like it's going out of style.

So, yeah, you think you're doing really well for yourself, and you can't figure out why I'm so taken with you. This is a list to ease your bafflement:

1.) You know how to treat a lady. Yeah, sure, nice girls don't blow men they meet at bars. They especially don't do it on the walk home, in a semi-public space. But you still spent the subsequent three weeks making me dinner, reading aloud to me, and engaging in thrillingly frustrating middle-school make out sessions before we got naked again. This is charming.

2.) You've been living alone since I was in elementary school. You keep house, do your laundry, cook your dinner, pay your bills. You have your own life, and you live it. You haven't tried to take up residence on my couch, smoking my weed and eating all my food. Twenty-something dudes are mostly looking for a replacement mother that they can fuck. Not you, my friend, not you.

3.) You are the only person that I have ever dated that has read more books than I have. Do you have any idea how sexy that is? We read the paper together, and you engage me in discussions that no one else would. You speak fluent Italian, and this makes me weak in the knees. You're really, really smart, and my desire to impress you as much with my intellect as with my body keeps me on my toes.

4.) You're very good-looking, even though you don't know it. Here's a secret: I had a crush on you months before we ever spoke. You're a regular at the coffee shop where I worked for six months. I used to sigh over you then, along with all the other college girls working there. (They're just as jealous as your friends, babe.) You're 6'3", with that lean, leggy, broad-shouldered cowboy build. Your hair is curly and out of control, and you're going grey at the temples. You're a little self-conscious about it, but it looks great. Your smile is adorable, a little shy, a little mischievous, deep dimples. Impossible to resist. Really. I could on about your belly, your wrists, your back... but I won't.

5.) I get off on being the hot young thing. Maybe this makes me a bad feminist, but I love how much you want me. I love how much your friends want me. I even love the knowing winks you get from random pervy men neither of us know.

6.) You're amazing in bed. I mean, really, really amazing. We can't keep our hands off of each other these days. You kiss me for ages, my mouth, my throat, my shoulders, thighs, breasts, and tummy. You tease me through my panties and breath into my ear, and I can hear in your breath how badly you want to fuck me. I literally drip. And back to that how-to-treat-a-lady thing... You won't fuck me until I've came all over your face at least three times. Usually more than that, burying your face deeper into my crouch as I grab the sheets and gasp. You fuck like whoa, starting slow and very deep, pulling me by the hips down into you. When I'm on top, riding you like a cowgirl, and rubbing my own clit you watch me with your eyes all wide and make me feel like a porn star. This makes me feel like I need your cock shoved up my asshole, pounding away. Unsurprisingly, you're always more than happy to oblige. When you blow your load, you shove in deeper than I thought humanly possible and make some fantastic noises. Oh god, I might have to go jerk off right now.

So there you go, sweetness. I hope that clears some things up. I miss you when you're not around, and tonight in bed I'll jerk off while thinking about that night last week when you shot your cum on my tits and spanked me raw.

Love,
your adoring twenty-something trophy