he's sitting in his desk chair
the comforting, quiet drone
filling the quiet of the early morning
the air was cool, albeit, carrying the faint scent
of stale coffee and sterile cleanliness

he didn't dislike his job.
this morning, however
was disrupted by a slow, almost languid pace
his stack of files remained stubbornly untouched,
his mind is captive to forbidden territories.

he pictured his little girl
in the soft light of her bedroom
the curve of her bare back as she stretched
a kittenish grace that belied
the sinful paths his thoughts were ravenously pursuing.

a jolt of
pure
illicit desire
shot through him
leaving a tight feeling in his groin, which was unwelcome and undeniable.

he imagines kneeling between her thighs
the warmth radiating from her flushed skin as she slowly awoke.
his fantasy plunged with a dizzying intensity
to the slick, swollen flesh
still damp with the essence of her own wet dreams.

the idea became vivid, tactile
an experience engaging all of his senses.
he imagined the delicate sounds she would make--
the soft mewls escalating into desperate whimpers
as his tongue relentlessly explored her most sensitive places.