Chapter Five

Wet and Wild

Here you come…and here I come.

My body is already primed for you, knowing that once I get my first glimpse of your toned legs, it'll be lights out for my brain and come all over the wall.

I'm starting to getting a bit disgusted with myself.

I mean, the kids are right upstairs. At any minute one of them could come down.

Could I stop?

I know I would. They are my life, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for them.

But…would I stop

It would be hard, but my kids come first.

The pain though, the pain of knowing that you're there and I'm not…it would be excruciating.

*()*()*

The rain makes your shirt cling to every nook and cranny of your body. The sleeves are so tight as they wrap around your slightly toned arms. I love how the fabric is locked to your flesh, acting like an erotic second skin.

Do you know that?

I think you do.

I think you know and you go slowly past my window when it's raining, muscles tensing, strides lengthening. You jump over puddles, those long legs making me itch to get my hands on them.

I think you know how that soaking wet t-shirt affects me.

Actually, I'm sure you know.

And that is how I know you are such a dirty girl.

*()*()*

I could write an ode to your titties.

I just love watching them bounce.

Is that guy waiting for you at home now?

Does he ask your how your run was?

Does he take an interest? Is he there with a water bottle and a towel ready to wipe you dry and then get you wet again?

You know I would.

I would ask if there were any assholes looking at you the way I am.

And if anyone looked at my wife the way I look at you…yeah…

Dead man walking.

*()*()*

I want you.

Dear God, how I want you.

I've pictured it.

Have you pictured it?

Do you think about it when you run?

Do you imagine me bending you over and taking you roughly, like I just couldn't wait one second longer to make you mine?

Do you picture my hands soft and gentle on your body as I make love to you, savoring every single thrust and caress?

I hope you do.

I hope that while you run those miles, you think of me and it gets you wet.

Lord fucking knows it gets me hard.

*()*()*

This is wrong.

It's dirty and vulgar, but I can't stop.

I told Emmett at work and he laughed at me.

Over spreadsheets and laptops he teased me about my dirty little addiction.

I told him it was like a burlesque show outside my window every single morning and Emmett had the balls to ask if he could come over and watch too.

I punched him in the nose and made him bleed. No one watches you but me.

I think I may have a problem. Actually I know I do. But that's the first step right? Admitting you have a problem.

Is there a twelve-step program for peeping toms?

Probably, but I already know I'm powerless to stop this mindless need.

*()*()*

I think Alex suspects something's going on.

My fucking little smarty-pants, Alex. Older than his five years, I tell you what.

He's getting up earlier and earlier, and stands next to me as I wait for you.

Coffee in one hand…

No cock in the other, because that would be all kinds of fucked up.

Nope, my poor empty hand is resting in Alex's thick auburn waves, an exact match to my own. He's got my green eyes as well and I know he'll grow up to be a heartbreaker.

But I'm thankful he's too short to see out the window.

I would hate for him to be corrupted by the way you look.

And you would corrupt him.

Even all covered up in the cool October air. You would corrupt the Pope if he saw you.

There must be something wrong with me, because even with my son right next to me, all I can think about are the things I would do to you.

See you tomorrow for more!