tagLetters & TranscriptsLetterotica 02

Letterotica 02

bylui-elle©

Nice, Avril 2006

Mon cheri,

Delicious. The words of a man of passion and desire.

Just exactly as I would have expected you to write them.

You know this but it is so electric for me to hear... and now read... that word that you have given to my vocabulary.

Cunt.

I have, of course, known of this English word previously. But since meeting you it has been given a new meaning. A new intensity. No one can use it like you. It is a public word, free for all to use, but it is our word. Like my cunt is yours when we are together.

Cunt, cock, fuck, suck, cum.

We have words like this in French, but there is something raw and brutal about them in English. They are like sharp stinging bites on tender skin in heat of... well... fucking.

While I knew of these words you have given them to me so as I feel as though they are mine... and ours.

Even in those tender moments when I as a woman ask you insistently to 'make love to me' and you oblige as you always do I am aware that you are 'fucking my cunt'.

That mixture is quite exquisite, darling.

When I implore you in moments of hot passion to 'fuck my cunt' or when you run your fingers through my hair at the back of my head gripping it tightly, kissing me roughly, your wild eyes on mine and say 'suck my cock'... it is pure and raw and equally exquisite.

I suspected... or rather I knew... that thoughts of me were in your head often when you masturbated... or 'jacked your cock' as you put it so precisely. I knew it. But reading it makes it real for me. It makes this secret part of you something I can taste and feel for I know your cock and your body so well.

It arouses me to know of you jacking your cock in hotel rooms or in bathrooms or in your own home with thoughts of my cunt raging through your head. It arouses me horribly and wonderfully like only you can arouse me. I was forced to masturbate.

You have seen me masturbate so you know what is best for me. On my back, legs straight and squeezed together with one hand... or two... squeezed between them, rubbing my clitoris firmly with the base of my hand and with two or three fingers inside my cunt. If one hand then the other will be on my breasts, rubbing and pinching my nipples. Hard sometimes. Soft others.

I remember the beach. I remember it so well. I remember your eyes watching your cunt fuck up into me. Entering me. I sensed your aesthetic, erotic arousal and I was spellbinded by it. I knew then that we would have many other opportunities to fuck so I would have a chance to see what you saw. At that moment I wanted only to watch you be amazed by it.

Yes. It is a perfect match. Your cock and my cunt. Quite extraordinary.

So that it what you remember. But you wrote yourself that there are other things. I suspected as much. Tell me. Arouse me.

I remember as well. I remember your strong handshake and your cool hand despite the heat. I remember the way you looked at me and kept looking at me and still look at me. Intrigued. Aroused. Bemused. Hesitant despite your boldness. Cocky despite your built-in male insecurity and fear. I love that male fear. It makes a few... a very few... men very strong.

I knew from that handshake onwards that I would give you my body and that I would greedily take my own pleasure from yours. Your cock in my cunt was a given from that handshake onwards.

That this affair would continue for 6 years (next month) was not something I would have thought when we met. But so it is. So we have made it. So it will continue.

I remember many fragments. Your wide hand on the small of my back as we walked down to the beach. The way your face froze when you shot your cum inside me. The feeling of your cum dribbling down my upper thigh as we went back up to the house to find some coffee.

I remember the first three days of our acquaintance. From the handshake until you kissed me and left to return home. Your face still scented with juices from my cunt that morning. Your breath fresh from my toothpaste. Your cock half-erect in your trousers.

I remember the way you told me you were happily married and the way I told you that I was too. And the way we just kept looking at each other after we said it and the way your cock grew hard again and the way you pushed me back on the bed to fuck my cunt with it again.

Those three days were a dream, a fantasy made true, a long erotic dance of the body and the soul. In my head they are one long moment.

I remember your eagerness to please, to be pleased, to please again. I remember being breathless for all three days in that long moment. I remember wanting to lose control... not at all my style... and I remember promising to make myself do it if we continued this affair.

I think you know more than anyone that I kept that promise. That is the nature of this affair. No limits. No regrets. I remember the first time I let another man fuck me and take photos so I could send them to you. But that is maybe getting ahead of myself and these letters...

Do you remember as I do the second meeting of ours? How after two days of fucking and sucking and swallowing and licking we formulated a plan about how we could continue this? How the plan seemed perfect?

What amazes me is that the plan is perfect even after six years. Our lives continue as do our desires for each other. People who plan affairs invariably kid themselves. They think they can keep up the game. But one or both always get too involved. Or too jealous. Or too indifferent.

But by keeping your cock in my cunt as the focal point. By playing with our fantasies and stretching them to the limit we seem to have kept things even.

I remember your cock. I wish you were here with it now. I know there is two months until we meet at our hotel in Aiguines to fuck in the spring sunlight of France.

Cum for me as I will cum for you, cheri.

And remember.

Yours,
Elle

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