Desire

What I think when I see a great ass in leggings is not what you might expect. It’s conceptual, not explicit — and that distinction may explain more about me than I’d like.

A subtle but important distinction about the nature of my desire.

What’s hidden is so much hotter than what’s revealed.

A pretty woman on the stairs, a tingle in my cock, and the long road from wanting more to wanting enough.

I want, and I want to be wanted — but not too much, and only if I might not be.

Just like a toddler, what I want isn’t to have — it’s to get.

Desire is to getting as love is to having. And getting is always better than having.

What if what I’ve always understood as infinite desire is actually infinite fear?