Dear Sir,

I’ve always adored your mind. The way you think, the ideas you generate and those oh-so-swift plays on words you do that make me laugh so much. You always seem so sure of yourself and that, too, I admire. I sat in my chair hoping every day you’d realize that I existed but you never seemed to take much interest in me. So I kept reaching out to you with the hope that you’d notice me, even though I knew that there was no way I could ever be good enough for you. And when you finally did, I was ecstatic.

I logged in every day, hoping to see you online. And soon, our innocent chats turned into playful banter and I felt happier. You made me smile and I floated lighter than I’d been in years. Before I knew it was even happening, I was tempting you further, teasing you in my shy way until our frolicsome conversations began to burn hotter. I couldn’t help myself. Every night, you left me damp and quivering with your words typed hundreds of miles away, and my breasts would ache for your touch.

You ignite my passions with your creativity. The simplest actions imply your arousal and you make even the vanilla shine with newness, no matter how usually dull. You explore and learn for me as if I’m important to you. And when you call me your ‘good girl’, I feel as if I could fall to my knees right then and there to worship at your feet. If only you were here.

Long after you’ve gone to sleep, I close my eyes and imagine your hands roaming my body to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, provoking me until I beg you for more. Every spank you give me pinkens my skin and heightens my arousal. I feel it building inside of me, that pressure, that pleasure. Just the lightest of your touches sends a shiver through my body, especially when you trail your fingers along my slit to see just how wet you’ve made me. Faster and faster, I shove my fingers inside of me and the thought of you driving into me is so intense, so real that your name falls from my lips when I shudder and shake. After, I bask in the glow, my nipples aching from how much you’ve made me pinch them, my desire leaking steadily.

So kiss me. Hold me. Take me. Fuck me. Use me. Own me. My mouth, my cunt, my ass, my whole body. I want you to do everything to me and I would deny you nothing. Tell me your fantasies and let me fulfill them. Let me show you just how dirty a girl you make me want to be. I want to taste you and feel you fill me. I want to rub your cum into my skin and carry your scent with me wherever I go. I want to feel you sticky and slick at the apex of my thighs as a reminder of you as I continue my day. I want to belong to you.

But it’s more than the sex. I’ve come to adore every part of you. I want to make all of your aches and worries disappear. To cook for you, clean for you, do anything for you. I want to kiss the furrow between your brows and massage your aching muscles. I want to ease your burdens no matter how small because I’ve come to care for you more than I should.

We’re more than a decade apart but I don’t give a damn. I want to be more than your assistant, more than a fling. I’m filled with a desire so strong to have all of you that sometimes I can’t even breathe. But you can never be truly mine and I can never be yours except in my mind, no matter how often I close my eyes and let myself pretend it.

Thus, I write this letter. You’ll never know it’s here. You’ll never know it’s me. No doubt it’s better that way. Maybe you already suspect, but I’ll never hurt you by confirming it. I would never risk what we have by saying it aloud. I don’t even know if you want to know and I don’t know if you feel the same. But here, in the safety of anonymity, I can find some small measure of courage and relief to say this:

I love you.

– Your Not So Good Girl.