Isn't she gorgeous?She's for my eyes only....
I want her with me. I need her. She doesn't even know I'm real but that's okay. Sbe'll know one day. When I need her too
Her
Isn't she gorgeous?
Lovely lady opf mine
I need my Sunny. My body craves her so mcuh. One day she will be with me. All I can think about is my sweet loving Sunny. She knows that she's waiting for me. It's okay if she uses other men to take up her time, none of them will help her the way I will. They're all just bedbugs. Maybe even practice. Can you imagine that? Sunny? Practicing just for me? The thought is making me shiver just thinking about it... I know she'll love me. Sunny talks with her friends about her 'type.' The men she likes. And I fit that bill to a big red T. I can't stop imaging her. I've never seen her unclothed, that would be ungentelmanly of me. BUt I know she wants me to see her like that. I know the day I take her away she will come undressed and ready for my embrasce. Oh Sunny. My Sweet gorgeous Sunny.
She's so so smart. The smartest lady I've ever met. Smart and pretty. Pretty and smart. Oh my Sunny. She's studying to be a lawyer. A woman in law. It gives me chills. She's very smart. It's why I'm waiting. I don't want to take that away from her. She's going to be happy with me but it can wait. It means so much to her, to her family. So I have to take my time. Let her live like this. Even if she keeps talking to the men who don't deserve her mind. That's okay. I know she's playing them. She's using them for her entertainment. Oh my Sunny. You're so smart, so manipulative. Is that why I'm in love with you? You know how to use your words to get what you want. What you need. Sometimes I wish I was in the room with you. I want to listen to you. Closer. Intimately. Sunny.
I am no poet. I am no one but myself. Not a nobody, just myself. But Sunny. Oh my Sunny. You maked me want to write. Write better than any of those stupid poets. A paper trail leading you into my home. Into my room. Just for me. It gets so hard to control myself. I keep thinking about that Party on Sunday. You love to party Sunny. I don't. But that's okay. I don't think about partying, I think about you. Intoxicated. You look at me once. Last summer. You had downed maybe five beers. So unlady like of you. Not that I judge. Especially not when you stared me in the eyes as you talked with your friend. You knew what you were doing Sunny. You were inviting me. Into your home. Into your room. But I was scared. I wasn't prepared the way I am now. I wasn't ready for the commitment of knowing you so personally. Now I am. How much would it take for you to come home with me? Just for the night? I wouldn't keep you there. We barely even know each other that way. But just one night with you....Oh Sunny.....Maybe this time I'll actually do it.
If you would liike to contact me, I have an email attached to this account.
somesunndays1@gmail.com
This website is a work of fiction.