I can't imagine, any greater fear than waking up, without you here,
And though the sun, will still shine on, my whole world, would all be gone,
But not for long,
If I had to run, if I had to crawl
If I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls,
Always know that I will find a way, to get to where you are,
There's no place that far
It wouldn't matter why we're apart, lonely minds or two stubborn hearts
Nothing short of God above could turn me away from your love
I need you that much
If I had to run, if I had to crawl
If I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls,
Always know that I will find a way, to get to where you are,
There's no place that far
Baby there's no place that far

Sixteen square feet. That's all that is separating me from the thing I want the most in this world. No, I'm not talking about the heavyweight championship. I'm talking about the man wearing it right now. I can't be within a hundred yards of him before my heart starts pounding and my palms get all sweaty. I can't hear his voice or see his face or, heaven forbid, touch him without feeling that familiar tingle in my tights. Yes folks, it's true. It's damn true. I am in love with Kurt Angle.

Love. Lust. Whatever you want to call it, I got it. And I got it bad. I kissed him on national television, for fuck's sake! But, you wanna know the coolest thing about being in love with Kurt? I get to grope him on TV too. Four nights a week, our foreplay gets to be witnessed by thousands of people, and they don't even know it! We've made a little game out of it, you know. When we're in the ring, and we have to lock up with each other, we whisper dirty, nasty little things to each other. The first one to moan loses, and therefore, has to be the bottom that night.

Unfortunately - or is it fortunately?? - I'm having the longest losing streak of my life right now. No, not in the ring. Kurt has been able to make me crack every time lately. He'll tell me how much he wants me, or that I'm gonna put an eye out with my dick if I'm not careful, and then he'll put his hand on my chest and that's all she wrote, folks! I try so damn hard not to moan, almost as hard as I try to keep my dick from springing up when he touches me, but it never works. And when it happens, he smiles that goofy little grin of his and promises to take it easy on me this time.

And he usually does. That's the thing I love the most about Kurt. He's always gentle and tender and…god, listen to me. I sound like a schoolgirl. But, he has his little 'dark side' too. Sometimes we like to play rough. Good thing I can take it. Yeah, I can handle him tying me to the bed, and I can handle that silly little paddle he bought to spank me with. What I can't handle is the way he's looking at me, beads of sweat rolling down his face and over his lips, and all I want to do is lick them off right now.

But, tonight I am the man of steel. I will not break. I will not bend. I will not, under any circumstance whatsoever, make even a tiny peep. I will win. I will. I swear. Who am I trying to convince? I don't know, but I think it might be working. He's looking at me now, with a twinkle in his eye, and he knows. He knows the power he has over me, and he knows that I can't resist. Ha! I'll show him. I won't cave. Not even when he moves across the ring. Not even when he puts his hands on my shoulders and tries to get me in a headlock. Not even when he puts his lips next to my ear and I feel his warm breath against my skin.

That's when I turn the tables. I work my way out of the headlock and grab him, blowing gently in his ear, before whispering, "Tonight you're going down, Kurt…on me." He gasps slightly. "You will beg for me," I continue. "You will scream for me. You will ache for me. And then, after I bury my cock in your ass, and I fill you so full you think you're gonna drown, then we're gonna do it all over again." He jerks his head out of my arm, but not before a small moan escapes his lips.

I stand and look at him, smiling. I have won. I don't have time to celebrate my victory, because he's already charging at me, knocking me flat on my ass. Okay, he wants to play rough, then that's what we're gonna do. I get back up and give him the F-5, but I'll be damned if he doesn't kick out. He's pissed now, because I made him lose. The match goes on, back and forth, each of us giving and taking, dishing out and receiving punishment. Later, we'll use the same rhythm, but with much more satisfying results.

The end of the match is near and I know when he grabs my ankle that it won't be much longer now. Not much longer till I have to give in and watch him have his arm raised and be declared the winner. Some might say it's not much longer till I have to lose. But, considering what I'm gonna get when we get back to the hotel, what have I really lost? Nothing. It's just a title, just a hunk of leather and metal, decorated to look good around someone's waist. But won't what I have around MY waist later look even better?

Sixteen square feet. That's the space were we live for a few hours a week. But it's that six square feet of cushiony softness in every hotel room we stay in where we love. Countless hours, countless kisses. He knows I would do anything for him, just as I know he would for me. I would climb any mountain, swim any ocean for him. I'd rope the moon and all the stars in the heavens for him. I'd die for him. I'd even tap out for him. But tonight, for the first time in weeks, I won't have to bottom for him. And that, in my opinion, means that we're all winners here. It's true. It's damn true.