Of all the women you have slept with, why not me?
Have you no idea how beautiful you are to me? How much I want you, for how long I have wanted you?
For as long as I have known you, I have wanted to gaze into the depths of your eyes, mine the secrets that live there. I want to run my fingers through your hair, feel the softness of your hair contrasting with the tautness of your scalp. I want to trace my forefinger along the line of your lips, feel the prickle of your whiskers against my palm, against my cheek. I want to touch my lips to yours, tease your tongue with mine, click my teeth against yours.
Oh, and how much I want to feel your chest, the tensing and relaxing of your muscles, the tightness of your little pink nipples when I use my tongue to play with them. Do you know, over the many years I have known you, how you have developed your pecs, from flat and boylike to the sweeping curves of a god? How patches of hair have sprung up on your chest, just begging for my fingers to comb through them, releasing your sweet, tangy, musky scent that can assault my every nerve? I have had to see you and that naked chest so many times, so innocently flaunted for my feverish eyes, when we go to the beach, or when I just hang out at your house to talk about what is on our minds - just as friends, only as friends.
And do you know for how many years I have walked just a little ways behind you, from the halls of high school when we would dash off to our next class, as we have gone shopping or to dinner or a movie, just so I could feast my eyes on your round little ass? I want - oh, God, how I want! - to curve my hands around those little mounds, to squeeze, to lick, to nuzzle my face against the side of that ass, as I feel down your legs, such strong and hard legs, covered with what must be the softest, curliest blond hair I have ever beheld on a man’s legs.
Do you know how much I have wanted to worship at the altar of your cock? You need never touch me, except to twine your fingers in my hair and push my head against your hardness. I would feed on you, fondling and licking and sucking your hard, smooth cock and your hot balls; I would feed on your moans and cries as you ground your crotch into my face; I would feast on your hot, sour semen. I would drink every drop you give me, gratefully, greedily, and I would touch you and suck at you until you grew hard again, until you begged to feed your cock to my hungry cunt, my cunt that has waited for years for this chance to devour you.
I am told I should feel privileged. I have been your friend for so many years, for half your life. Always there for you, and you for me, in the proverbial good times and bad. I have outlasted a half-dozen serious lovers, many more women you have dated and bedded, and I have nursed you through each broken heart. I will always be a part of your life. But, damn it, I want more. I want your body. I want your sex. I want to be your lover.
Oh, God, of all the women you have slept with, why not me?
