I like my body when it's with you. You make me feel perfectly imperfect. You're my greatest cheerleader and my worst critic. You know me better than anyone else. You've seen me at my worst, and somehow still want to stick around to see me at my best. You hold the roadmap to my body, knowing every curve, taking some at 110 miles per hour. You know my boundaries and you push my limits. I feel on top of the world when I'm with you. There are days where I'm starved for your touch, the same one that makes me feel loved. You took the quiet girl and made her scream. "Scream for daddy." I've told you once, and I'll say it again. You've got me ****** I've tried. I can't kiss anyone else without thinking of you. You're my best friend, and I wouldn't trade you for the world. But you've got me ****** You make me want to scream in frustration, in excitement, in moans of pleasure, in gasps of pain. Your hands feel like lightning and they're just as powerful with each strike. You take my breath away in a heartbeat. Each shake of my leg is beg for your touch. Is that what I have to do? Beg? Please daddy, harder. You make me want you in every way.