Dearest Dream

My Dearest Dream,

I wanted to write you because I can never get myself to say what I need to when I'm talking to you. I know it's pretty chicken shit of me to be this way, but you have to understand the risk to me.

I guess the point is that I treasure every minute I've ever spent with you and I don't think I could handle only being able to think of those moments as memories, with no hope of ever experiencing new ones. And believe me I remember...ohhh boy I remember. I remember the night we met and knowing that I had fallen for you, hell I still remember the white pants and the white sweater that so well camouflaged your true personality behind a façade of innocence. I remember the first movie that we went to, even though I didn't see two minutes of it because I was watching you, disbelieving that you were there with me. I remember every date and every touch and, oh my god, do I remember your kiss.

I've always wondered where you learned that soft kiss that just seems to pull me, melting me into you. So help me, if I felt it every moment of my life for a century I would never grow the ability to resist that kiss.

And then there were the other times. My breath still catches when I think of the first time I saw you slip out of your shirt, exposing me to the most perfect breasts I've ever seen. Even now, nearly twenty years later, it's clearer than this morning's first thought. Is it too late to apologize for being such a clumsy kid that first time? For what it's worth I'm not real sure I could hold out much longer if we were to do it again today. I've never felt another touch so near my core as you did every time you touched me. And the way you opened me up to the things I wanted and would fantasize about for all of my life since then. You have become the standard by which all others are measured, and all others fail to measure up.

Remember at the park, the first time I ate you? It was on the little cars on the rails. Barely hidden by the shadows yet I didn't care. That taste still lingers sweetly, the finest wine I've ever had. And boy what a passion that started...even now I believe I would rather eat pussy than fuck. Many times I've told men who proclaimed a dislike for it that if they show me a man who doesn't eat pussy, I'll show them a girlfriend (or wife) that I can steal. Oh yes what an obsession. By the way I've gotten much better at it since then. I've even been tutored on the subject by a couple of lesbian friends through the years, and according to my wife I have reached "God" status when it comes to my tongue. I wonder if she would ever have me do it again if she knew that it was you I saw every time I did it? Even now, here, alone, just thinking about it creates such a stir that I must relieve myself or I'll never finish.

Ok, that's better.

But now, I dream of what is left to come. Will I ever feel that kiss or taste that wine again? I don't know. I hope though. And I dream. In my dream I step up to your door, just returned to town for the first time in years. You open the door and step in to hug me. The scent of your perfume surrounds me as your softness massages my senses. You invite me in and we sit to talk over drinks. Rehashing old times bitter and sweet. Somewhere in the course of the evening you drift closer, until, lost in a laugh, you finally kiss me. Surrounding me with an electric current that drives my impulse. As I lose myself in the moment you reach up to take hold of my head, holding me in a kiss. Then you lead me by the hand to your bed, stripping away our clothes as we nearly ran to the room. In your room you push me down onto the bed and continue to undress. Then you climb up on to me pausing for one more kiss before you slide your sweetly dripping pussy up to my mouth. Hungrily I lick away at your center as you sit on my face, softly and smoothly moving from your g-spot to your clit and everywhere along the way. Watching you closely as the rocking rhythm of your hips gives way to a primal dance of need. You reach down, helpfully, to hold open your lips allowing me even deeper access. Until you explode in an orgasm more powerful than ever before, coating me with your juices.

"Now," you say, " I want you inside me." And you slide down me to pull my throbbing member into your waiting pussy, settling down onto me, rocking as if on a toy horse.

I reach up to caress your creamy breast and then pull you down by the shoulders onto me crushing our bodies together. You lean down to kiss me again without breaking stride.

Slowing, you roll off of me and onto the edge of the bed. Lifting your legs open you invite me between them and into you once again. I stand on shaking legs, thrusting myself into you as deep as I can. Holding your legs on my shoulders for balance I pull myself harder and faster. Feeling an orgasm suddenly build, I stop for a moment to catch my breath.

You lay me down on the bed with an offer of a drink of water, and as I relax you slowly lower your head to my lap. Sucking me into you completely, yet softly. Your tongue caresses me, searching for some perfect spot to taste. I nearly scream as you find it and within minutes you bring me to an explosive eruption.

We lay talking and giggling until I regain the ability to continue, when you pop up onto all fours and pull me into you from behind, quivering as I pound into you.

I reach up to feel the softness of your neck and shoulders and allow my hands to wander down to your breasts and eventually to rub your sopping wet clit as I continue to writhe inside you, and then they retrace their steps back up your body. You pull my hands up and start to lick your juices off my fingers as we both come together in a symphony of pleasure.

Wow, I'm just thinking about it and I still feel my breathing shorten and my pulse race. I know this will probably never happen, you would never do anything with me (I tell myself it's because I'm married) and I would be too afraid to try, for fear of pushing you away.

Well, I guess I better go. I'm just getting myself into trouble here, and I don't even know if I can send this letter, anyway. But just in case I do. Thank you for every minute, real and Imagined that you have spent with me and for giving me the hope that I need to keep going.

I wish you every happiness and I hope you still think kindly of me.

Forever,

Your Dreamer