A Different Kind of Love Letter

People use the expression "making love" as an equivalent for having sex, sleeping with someone, or any of the other phrases out there. But they're not interchangeable.

To me, to make love is to use your body in a unique sexual way to show someone what you feel for them... translating your love for them into deliberate physical acts, using your body as a vehicle for your passion and deep emotions. By revering their body with yours, it is silent symbolism for what is in your heart. While you are bringing them delicious pleasure, you are echoing the pleasure that they bring into your life, their song that fills your mind, and the love that swells your heart. It is the surest, sweetest way of saying "I love you", with actions instead of words.

And, yes baby, I love you. Distance and circumstance prevent me from doing much more than saying the words... but I want to tell you how I imagine making love to you, oh so often, leaving no doubt in your mind how you are cherished.

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From the start, I want you to feel pampered, so I draw you a steamy bath, laced with rich Italian oils. It feels incredibly intimate to wash your short hair for you, then dry you off with a huge thirsty towel. You are cuddly and warm, almost purring as I wrap you in your thick robe. I plant a light kiss at the back of your neck, and lead you to your bed, lit softly by the cluster of candles on the low table.

You have a lush, exciting body that you are proud of, yet you can be shy in revealing its secrets. That is just fine, because we have all the time in the world, and I have no reason to hurry. You stretch out like a cat, flexing your limbs and feeling the heat of the bath still on them. I slip the robe from you, and ease you onto your stomach. Your arms clasp the pillow under your head, and I can see in your profile a drowsy, satisfied smile on your lips. Your blue eyes are closed in blissful relaxation.

Your body is warm, flushed and slightly damp from the bath, and the lingering smell of the oils is combining with your unique scent. I whisper a tiny kiss onto the small of your back, and inhale the fresh smell of your skin. I stop to savor the moment, admiring your stunning beauty. I have enjoyed this sight before, but this time is like the first, and I am in awe. You feel my gaze upon you, and open your eyes to give me a knowing look. I am trembling as I wonder at the gift that I have before me, and this gives me more determination to leave you no doubt of my feelings.

Even when you are relaxed, you have that one spot in your shoulder that is the last place to loosen up, so I begin my homage to you there. I knead the knot, gently, firmly, until I feel it begin to yield. I move my attention to your other shoulder, then your slender neck, massaging, stroking, as your head lolls on the pillow and tiny sighs escape your parted lips.

Your back is lovely, tapering from your strong shoulders to your impossibly small waist. I trace your spine with my fingertips, then return to run my palms down the smooth muscles on either side of it. I stroke your back, letting my hands revel in the deep curve at the base of your spine where it rises to meet your ass.

It's hard to resist moving on to your ass now; the flare of your hips and your firm cheeks beg attention. Moving with long, sure strokes, I follow the delicious path from your back to your butt, feeling the firm muscles under my hands. Ever so slightly, you raise your hips against the pressure of my hands. I grin goofily at this sure sign that you are enjoying what I am doing for you.

You toil so hard to achieve those strong, slender legs that you have, and they are next in my path. Your legs are those of a younger woman... lean, firm and unmarred. I work on the long muscles in your thighs, rhythmically sliding my palms up then down them, pressing hard to ease any tension still in them. I stop for a moment at the back of your knees, and lean down to give a lingering lick at that delicate spot. Your response is to part your legs, ever so slightly, and this gives me a tantalizing vantage point. Soft, curly hair the color of maple peaks out between your thighs.

It is an invitation, and I will be taking it soon, but I will not rush this. Time has no power over my passion for you.

Placing one last kiss on the tender back of your knee, I move on to your shapely calves and petite feet. You have the tiniest feet, despite what you think! You are a little ticklish, so I use a steady hand to grasp one small foot and knead it, then give equal attention to the other. Your wriggling toes are painted a fire engine red, and the rest of your foot reflects the unfailing way that you take care of yourself. Your toes are now pointed in anticipation of what is next; you sense that we are starting a new page.

With gentle urging, I turn you onto your back, your arms flung carelessly on the pillow that your head is resting on. You look peaceful and beautiful, eyes still genty closed. I am so tuned to you that I can discern an electricity building, a faint tensing in your body, and the small shudder that ripples across your flat belly. There is a light flush in your cheeks, a steady pulse at your throat, and a slight hardening of your delicate pink nipples.

I suddenly need to connect with you ... I need to see, in your eyes, that you truly understand what I am saying to you... So I place my palm gently on your cheek, and you open your eyes to look into mine with trust. You smile up at me, then lazily shut your eyes again. The message that is traded in that brief exchange is all it takes for me to go on.

Feeling so much tenderness for you, I smooth your unruly hair back from your forehead. I am admiring the planes of your face, the long lashes laying against your cheeks, and your sweet mouth. There is no doubt that you are not a young girl, yet every faint line is testament to the living that you have done and the lessons that you have learned. I want to kiss your mouth, now, but it would break this spell that I am weaving, so instead I brush my lips across your forehead, before moving on with my journey.

Your face fascinates me, and I take another moment to run my fingertips over your bones, like a blind person exploring. I slide down your jaw to your throat, and delight at the insistent pulsing under my touch. Your shoulders are now slack with relaxation, and I only skim them on my way to your arms. Those perfect arms, sculped yet utterly feminine, ending with your tiny hands. As much as your face fascinates me, your hands enthrall me. They are child-sized, and provide such a contrast to the rest of your image, that of a devastating woman. Your pretty french manicure and expensive rings remind me of a little girl playing dress-up. I enfold your hands in mine, marvelling at how they are eclipsed.

Lightly tracing the route back to your shoulders, I now turn my attention to the rest of the tableau laid out before me. There is a popular song that says "Your body is a wonderland", and I have always associated that with you. So many mysteries in it, so many stories to be told by it...

Mysteries and stories do come to mind, as I slowly move down to cup your heavy breasts in my palms. Your babies nursed at these breasts, and you paid a terrible price to undo what Mother Nature did to them. No one would know, looking at these perfect pink peaks, how much pain you endured to achieve them, or how much you still fret about how they look. Those thoughts pass through my mind as I hold your breasts, and I appreciate them all the more.

I am still cupping them, and I spread my fingers wide so that I am now surrounding them in a web. Your nipples, stiffening at my touch, peak out between my fingers. I chuckle softly to myself when I realize that they often appear like that, drawing stares from men and women alike. I lean down to blow a cool whisper against them, and the rosy tips tighten more. I cannot have my mouth so close to them without now tasting them, slowly tracing circles around them with my tongue, first one, then the other, then back again. You are a luscious ice cream cone and I am now licking harder, drawing a nipple between my lips and into my mouth. My lips are sucking sofly on your breast as my tongue is lapping at your nipple. I love doing this to you, for you. I want you to know that your breasts are perfect, and that you should love them as much as I do.

Time has stopped for me. I am sucking and kissing and nipping your nipples, lost in the abundance of you. I slide my hands under your back, to your angel wings, so that you are sandwiched, my arms beneath you and my moving mouth above you. I want you to feel safe and warm in my hold.

I stop to nuzzle you in the deep valley between your breasts. You are arching your back, pressing yourself to my mouth, and I can feel your heart thudding beneath my lips. It is another kind of communion, and I sigh.

Tension is mounting, and your body is thrumming. One last kiss pressed over your heart, and I begin a slow descent down your ribs, towards your supple belly. Your breath catches, then resumes faster than before, and I know what you are craving. My hands are caressing your waist, as my lips follow the path towards your navel. I decorate you with tiny, sweet kisses, my breath warm on your skin. I dip my tongue into your navel, swirling and gently jabbing, echoing what we both know I will be doing, elsewhere... soon.

Your taut belly belies the babies you have borne. A slight curving is the only reminder of that time, and to me, it makes you all the more desirable. I press my cheek against you for a moment, and quiet my hands at your waist. I want to acknowledge all of you.. the woman, the siren, the mother, the animal, the girl... I cherish this feeling, and you gently lay your hand on my cheek, silently sharing.

My love for you has many facets, and as much as I cherish you, I also desire you. And that desire is burning hot in me, as I move down your body, inching towards your pussy. Your legs part to let me nestle between them. Leaning on my elbows, I take in the incredible sight below me.

I know that you have examined your own pussy before, in a hysterical episode with a mirror and a self-help manual, but let me tell you what I am experiencing from here. Your hair is a wonderful wilderness, barely tamed. I twist my fingers in the soft curls, lightly tugging. You are as perfect as I have ever seen, truly a pretty sight. Firm lips chastely cover the wonders beneath. You open like a gift, as I gently part you to unveil jewel colors. You are shimmering pink, like the lining of a seashell, just as delicate, as rare. You have tiny, silky lips inside, and I unfold them to reveal the glistening core of you.

Your clit lays like a pearl, cushioned in soft folds. Like so much of you, it is tiny and precious, barely a pea. It is vulnerable and exposed, as you are... no hiding from my passion, completely at my gentle mercy. I will not disappoint you, not when all of your defenses have been so sweetly laid down. You trust me with your body and your heart, and I would suffer anything before I let either one come to harm.

Is this teasing anticipation harder on you, or me? Your hips are trembling, and my breath is ragged. Powerless against you, I lose the battle and lower my face to you. I do not want to startle you, so I exhale a warm whoosh before gently pressing my lips against you. Despite the warning, you jerk your hips against my face, and I am immersed in you.

My senses are assaulted. I want to drive you mad but it is I who is mad, crazed by the honeyed taste of you, the heady smell of your arousal, the blushing flesh, the smooth, smooth feel of you, and more than anything, your whimpers of pleasure. I do not know what I am doing now; it is a dance of long lingering licks, tiny nips, and teasing kisses, my mouth wanting to be everywhere at once. You are so wet that my tongue glides along you, a skater on ice. You are beautiful.

I slide a finger into your heat now, gasping at the way you clutch at me. You squirm and my finger moves deeper into you. I slowly ease out of you, then back again, and delight at the deep moans that this produces from you. Knowing how much you love feeling full, I add a second finger, driving into you then stopping to let each one explore you. One curious finger is gently stroking the soft mound of tissue that is your g-spot, and this slow pressure is making your hips lift off the bed. My thumb is tracing insistent circles right below your clit, adding to the dizzying sensations that my tongue is producing as it drags relentlessly across the inflamed bud, over and over.

I crave more, I need you closer now, so I slide both hands under your ass, gripping and supporting you every time your hips thrust into my face.

You prop up on your elbows, and you watch, enthralled. You are having trouble focusing, your head swaying from side to side, your eyes first wide open in fascination then squeezed shut by what you are witnessing. It is a loop that is almost too much for you... you watch, as I deliberately suck your clit between my lips, and you feel the jolt through your body at the same time as the visual shock. I am watching you, watch me.

You are going to come soon. I can see it in your swollen clit, feel it in the tremors under my tongue, hear it in your breath that is nothing but gasps and your whispered mindless litany of please oh please yes yes god yes oh yess

I look up into your eyes, and will you to my hold my gaze. With the tip of my tongue, I tease your clit, lapping you like a kitten with a bowl of cream. I know exactly what it will take to send you over the edge now... so I slide one hand free from under your ass, and plunge three fingers deep into your cunt. You gasp and yes yes you are coming now, your hips bucking, then stilled as the waves immobilize you. A flush rushes up your breasts to your face, your beautiful face, your mouth forming a silent O, eyes still locked to mine, as I watch you coming.

I am overwhelmed. To see you in the thrall like this, hear you, taste you, feel you, and to know that I did this to you, for you... I almost cannot bear it. I move to slide up next to your body and wrap my arms tightly around you. I am the one trembling now, as the emotion has overcome me, and all I can do is press closer to you. I feel like I still have so much to say, I am bursting with the love yet to show you, but I am hopelessly mute. So we lie together, your head tucked into my neck.

Finally, I feel as if I can speak, and I begin by uttering your name. You make a small movement to interrupt me, and I feel you smile against me. Then you whisper the sweetest words, the words that I most want to hear... "I know... shh, I know...".