INAPPROPRIATE TRUTH
We've been talking for months.
We've only met once.
I barely know you.
I know that I like you.
I know you like me.
A little nervous
about how much you like me.
But I get it.
I do.
Is this a poem or a letter?
I guess that's for others to decide.
And it's probably wrong of me,
not knowing how long this will last...
Not considering every detail...
But I think about you...
Touching you...
and it makes me hard.
I've seen you sucking my cock.
I've seen you kissing my hungry asshole.
But I've never seen you...
the parts that most people haven't seen.
I imagine your dick.
And don't be offended by this,
but I imagine it's small.
I like small dicks on grown men - it's hot, really.
But I'm just imagining,
and maybe I'm wrong - that's fine.
But when I imagine you,
with your hard little prick - it gets me off.
Mostly I think about fucking you.
About fucking your ass.
About you wanting it...
and liking it...
and kissing & begging for it.
But this is all so inappropriate;
me thinking this, and telling you...
But I don't really care.
And I don't think you do either.
Written By Jason Wright
JANUARY 10, 2007
for Jason Burleson