Not Quite Bold Enough

Not quite bold enough.

No, never quite bold enough.

You're a lady, and you always will be.
But I yearn for you,
and ache for the excitement of showing you,
exposing you to the things you may never have known.

Have you known them.

Have you let yourself rise to the deep stabs of a solid firmness,
using you.
Giving you complete, abiding, throbbingly desirous
thrusts.
Have you allowed it;
have you felt it. The roughness that
can gentle your fears;
your lust.
Do you lust at all.

Not quite bold enough,
fearing the loss of a friendship; of trust and complacency.
That regret I could not bear.

Lonely nights spent in visions and dreams
of you and your painfully exquisite flesh,
needing my hands and my caresses
to express the things you have never known.

Have you known them.

It cannot go on.
It will not.
My eagerly shy fumbling words,
fondling hands, will succeed.

They must, as I boldly give and receive,
in hopes, earnest questing hopes
that you will receive and give.

Your body becoming emboldened to accept.
Accept my embraces, my kisses, my greedy seeking
to fulfill you.

If you accept it
I will still yet be quite bold,
and use my lips to warm your quivering maidenly body.
Use my manhood to quench the trembling
wanting of your lips,
accepting me above and below.

These simple, charming lips
of a lady who has unmet desires.
You must have these desires,
to feel a loving kiss,
a loving taste of your nectar,
a loving press of a hard shaft into your secret inner being.

A love of you.

Now a boldness must be found.
Now it will be discovered, this courage to request, to accept, to give.

Soon, I will be quite bold.