Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you? Do you know it takes all my concentration and strength to refrain from holding you, crushing you against me and kissing you silly, that I get home exhausted from all the energy expended?
The other day, sitting close to you alone, I got hot all over and the desire to reach out to touch you was so much that I had to occupy my hands with something, anything. Nothing has tried my self control so much in my entire life as much as the attraction that I feel for you.
Right now, as I write this, I am stroking myself and remembering how good it feels when you touch me. Your touch lights me up and sets me on fire, drives me wild. With you, I have had the greatest love making; everything about it, the sights, sounds and the way you respond to me and me to you.
Being a good guy sucks! I know this because I go through hell daily and on some days, like today, it just becomes unbearable and it feels like I am going crazy from longing.
I want to chase you, I really do. Then I remember the pain it will bring you and I falter. The memory of the tears and agony of guilt you went through the last time is still fresh. I can’t bear to put through that. Like you said the other day, you wouldn’t recover from it.
So, I won’t do it. It will kill me, I know, but I won’t. Isn’t love the willingness to die for the object of your desire? I know you are moving on, I will let you. I won’t be fine, I am sure of this, no matter how much I try to get over you.
A part of me is revolting even now. It is telling me that I should think about myself for a change and try and be happy. You make me happy, and I want you for myself but doing so won’t be right. Who cares about what is right? You do and much like I would wish otherwise, I do.
Right now, right and wrong don’t mean much compared to the pain that is threatening to drown me in its depth, but I see your tear stained face and I am willing to succumb and let the tide carry me to wherever it wills.
He sighs, drops the pen and dab at teary eyes. The first three paragraphs were originally intended to be sent to her but as he typed them, the thoughts of the consequences begin to haunt him and he knew that much as he wanted to throw caution to the wind, he couldn’t. He leans back on the chair, closes his eyes and allows the pain to wash over him.