My Dearest,
There’s something so deeply intoxicating about the warmth of your toes. I’ve been imagining them for hours—how they feel when they’re nestled in the softest blankets, or when they brush against the cool floor in the morning. I long to feel the heat radiating from them, pressing gently against me. I can see them now, curled beneath you as you rest, warm and soft, just waiting for me to touch them. Do you know how your toes respond to my presence? How they flex and stretch in anticipation of my touch, my closeness? I think about them all the time, the way they feel when you walk through the house, the way they soften when you finally rest. I want to feel that heat against my skin, feel the delicate curve of each toe in my hand, the perfect warmth that belongs to me. Just you and me, your toes and my touch, forever intertwined.