Letter to Iraq

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A new bride sends her man a letter.
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Husband,

You are gone; the reality only struck me as I watched your plane disappear into the clouds.

By now, you are somewhere over the ocean, and though you are half of me, I know nothing of what happens next—except the waiting.

I promised not to be a complaining wife, but I never promised not to tell you how much I love and miss you.

We did it simply, didn't we, marrying on the day before you left to spend a year, heaven knows where doing heaven knows what.

I said I would be strong, that I would not complain because, a month ago, when we met, you were honest and said you would be leaving for the other side of the world to fight in a war whose purpose you do not fully comprehend.

Our separation aside, I would not have it any other way. You are my marine. I am your wife. I shall worry, fuss and fret until you come back, until we can be together in the same warm bed where we made love last night, a night of passion—and heat; our first as married people.

Wife: the word is new and feels strange, but I am a wife—your wife. I think of its meaning each time I glance at my wedding band, a golden circle of affection from the most special man in the world. Assurance of eternal love, its gold encloses me in your never-ending embrace.

I have a secret, my darling. Though apart only hours, I cannot hold back and need to open to you. Last night, I told you everything—almost. Now, it is confession time, time for you to know something I kept to myself.

Ours was a night only true love can begin to understand. You took me, three, no, four times. Sometimes sex with you is a blur, and today, I find myself lovingly sore, a soreness I do not want to go away -- ever. When you come home, you will renew it, making me tender everywhere—again and again.

How careful you were, seeing to my delicate folds, my overly sensitive skin. Protective, you are my knight in shining armor, a man in the here and now but who came from a long-ago time. You made our lovemaking a bride's, an act of warmth and affection, a gift from a man to his woman. No bride could ask for more on her most important night.

Here is my confession: After each time we made love—you slept. As you slept, I stayed awake.

Driven and frantic, I saw no other way. This once, it was all I could think of to prepare for our parting, to ponder letters I will write; notes about you, of us—of a night whose sensations have to last a year— a year you will spend in harm's way—protecting me, from what, I do not know.

Do you remember last night's second time? It was hard and fast, a man's time. You liked it. You're a man, of course, you did.

I took you in my mouth, like a baby, I nursed, demanding your fragrant and perfect cum. Do you know how much I love it? I inhaled your perfect body, cream—tasting of you, something I alone am allowed to wrest from your perfect body.

I took your sperm—a woman's right! Yes, this once, I pretended to swallow—a woman's deception! Yes, you like it most—a man's obsession. After each time, your eyes search mine, testing me, probing my vulnerabilities, judging whether my love for you is truly true.

Darling, last night, after you came, I turned selfish. I concealed your precious cum under my tongue—where, safe and sheltered, it stayed. I sensed you sensed what I did—or rather what I failed to do. You said nothing, knowing me enough to know if I do not swallow, I have a reason. If you do not know this, please know it now.

Shielding you in my mouth, I left our bed. Once away—I did it. My body is a well for your sperm, my mind, your playground. When you take me, you take me deeply, as a man should take his woman. I want you to. I will preserve what you gave me, my sweetheart, your seed, once expelled, passes to me, your wife, the woman whose right it is to do with it as she pleases.

In the early morning, you had your way a final time. You were totally male and could not get enough. Again, I waited, and when you drifted off, I carefully stole from our bed and into the kitchen.

There, onto a plate on a cold floor, and despite every instinct telling me to retain you in my body forever, I squatted, and like the bitch in heat, I turn into whenever you are near, I crouched and pushed your warm and cherished seed away.

As in springtime, and as life-giving sap drips from a wounded tree; once your sperm spilled away, I concealed it. When you, my warrior prince, are half-way through your tour of duty, I will reveal my plan; only then, I will make clear why I secreted you away.

I promise you "something special," something a woman only does for her husband, for the love of her life.

Stay safe, my chivalrous adventurer—dream of me. Dream of the day I will write of this again. Most of all, dream of when we will be together again.

Until then, I pray God keeps and protects you.

Wife

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3 Comments
LilacQueen15LilacQueen15about 4 years ago
Pregnancy?

Of she intends to get pregnant the sperm won't be viable for long.

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
Interesting

Saving his essence. Be interested in the follow-on.

as one who has served, my other half was distressed to no end when I was called up and deployed within 12 hours. We flew out but came back on a ship. My other half wanted to know how she would recognize me. The ship I was on had about 500 crew. As one of 2 Marines, I wrote back, that if she needed to know how to identify me, maybe she should not show up at the pier but await at home. Believe me when I say one can see a khaki shrt, above blue trousers with a brilliant red stripe and the indivdidual is toped by a white hat at a 1000 yards!

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
So touching

Reminded me of my Marine. Tell us more.

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