guilty pleasure

She doesn't have the perfect body according to the Vouge, but I adore every inch of it. When she’s typing, and I’m only allowed to see her curved back, bending over the desk, wrapped in the smoke of the cig, having the privilege to be in her mouth. Or when I come back late, when she is already asleep and her body is mysteriously uncovered and hidden somewhere between the sheets.
In moments like these I remember all the things I could do to her. The things even Playboy would be ashamed of. And then I also remember all the things I will never be able to do.
Men say that a lesbian is the best friend a man could wish. But I say that a lesbian friend is the worst kind of a friend, at least for a lesbian. For a lesbian that fall in love easily and quickly. And it’s not the kind of love, when you only shag, it’s much more than just a shag. It’s happiness of being able to look in her eyes and see the love shining through. The pleasure of making her come, but that’s already guilty pleasure. Dirty and getting even dirtier.