A mouse just ran through my living room. He was so cute and quick. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I opened the door and hoped he’d run out but lost track of him. Figured my squealing and giggling scared him back down into whatever hole he crawled out of.
The first thing I wanted to do after that was tell you. Ask your advice. Tell you about him running into the kitchen a few minutes later, how I grabbed a pot towel and chased the little bugger around. I finally caught him and sent him on his way out the back door.
Now I’m sitting here and thinking about the fact that he knows how to get into the house. And how next time he’ll be looking for revenge, it will be personal. I need a big strong man to protect me. =D
I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to know you; I want you to know me. Maybe you’re perfectly happy where you are and I still have the heart of that silly little girl who read far too many romantic novels and expects love stories to be short and sweet. I wonder if I’m feeding your ego and making things better with her. Or maybe, just maybe, you feel it too.
As I stood talking to you in my kitchen this afternoon, all I could think about was grabbing you by the jacket and sexually assaulting you. I almost did assault you when we were looking at the map, didn’t I? I couldn’t help myself, I just wanted to lean in and feel your heat for a moment. By the time you left I was practically gyrating, with my panties all messy with girl goo.
Even now, just thinking about it gets that throbbing between my legs started again. And as much as I want to take care of that feeling myself right now (and full disclosure – I probably will), I’d so much rather you be here to take care of the throbbing for me.
But I am woman, hear me roar and all that. I catch my own mice and take care of my sexual satisfaction. I need to start checking flyers for sales on batteries.
Good night Mr. Guy. 😙🚿🛀👀