Letters to a Missing Lover Ch. 01

I'd like to say, first off, that I'm not entirely sure why I'm sharing these. I wrote them for my lover while she was away on a long trip. I've edited out extremely little, only identifiers of name and place. There will be more to follow.

Hey Love,

Mmm, so I've been thinking recently, and not entirely on the emotional end of things. You know how I am. Well, somewhat. I'm rather salacious at heart and tonight, it seems you get the full brunt of it all. It is a shadow of my insecurity in our relationship that I want to preface this, but I won't. It'd be a shame, and probably pointless.

I've been thinking, recently, and indeed feeling. Nothing terribly exciting or emotional, but most assuredly, erotic. My mind, in its many wanderings, dawdled off to visit the old realms of our lustful encounters. You remember, I'm sure, that I told you I was unable to masturbate whilst thinking of any but you? I hadn't lied, but it wasn't a full truth. I can't orgasm, though.

In ways, it's frustrating. I don't really suppose you'd be able to understand. It's one of the reasons I want to talk with you about sex, but not tonight. Tonight, and this e?mail, are all about me. Selfish, isn't it? Mmm, I hope so. I'm going to be rather selfish for a few paragraphs. And yes, it probably will be a few. I'm a longwinded eroticist. I find it somewhat aggravating, though, that we have so few...encounters...to draw from. For me, it's like a wonderful cake, but I only get that one piece.

However, it was a delectable dessert. I assuredly want more. I was remembering how thrilling it was to me, the first time I touched you. How electric our first kiss was to me. It was like a bolt of lightning shooting through, not just my spine, but my soul. I think, honestly, that you won me in that first kiss.

Though, that is also not why I'm here. I want you, instead, to just settle back. I know you won't enjoy yourself. A shame, for you. However, you can listen, and in reading on, remember, or fantasize with me. So, I suppose without further breath wasted on words of foreknowledge, let me draw you in, deeper, to my wicked self.

The first, begins with merely a kiss. I remember that short skirt you wore for me once. I can only assume you wore it for me, since I've never seen it since. You looked rather fetching in it, actually. Perhaps if I had complimented you adequately then, you might have been seen in it further, but perhaps not. I know your self?image is important to you. As is your self?identity. However, Sex suspends all existence, and leaves only feeling, and soul.

I draw you, in your just barely knee?length garment, to me. Again, as that first night, our lips meet in a rush. My eyes flash with that liquid flame you know so well. The smokey, curling, powerful hunger that echoes in your breath. Bedroom eyes, I've heard them called. Mmm, it is assuredly a bedroom stare I reserve for you this time. Arms, supple, strong, they twine about us in a hungered rush.

I pull you close, and press against you, feeling you coming to meet me with your own desire. Sparked by mine, I can only guess. Though, perhaps this time you meet me halfway. I feel your hands pulling my shirt free, tugging it out so you can slide those wonderfully talented fingers of yours against my skin. I half smile and half moan against your soft lips. Tongues dancing an arc of lust, of emotion.

My own fingers, daring devils, they slip down and cup your firm bottom. I always have liked the feel of your butt in my hands. Sounds silly? Mm, perhaps. I think it's wonderful. Your soft noises of pleasure seem to agree with me. I pull apart our lips, that wicked smirk a king of salacious taunts, yet I tease you not. My tongue and lips find purchase along your jaw?line. Kissing, nipping, tender licks.

I'm certain you remember them. Ah, right up to the sensitive nodes of your ear do I travel with my wicked tongue. My breath hot, and my voice a quiet growl, pouring hotly into your mind, your senses. Like a fog, a haze of desire I feel you crushing to me, panting softly in that peculiar way you have. I'm sure you can feel my lips curl into a smile as I nip the tender skin, and trail my kisses down your throat. I finally land on the crook of your neck.

Wicked demon I am, those firm fingers of mine grip your rear tightly, and lift you, letting your come to rest on the edge of the counter. Your house, it would seem. Your thighs part easily, you want me, want to feel me. All hard, and hot, and throbbing, against you. It's not a temptation I'm feeling up to resisting. I grind firmly to you, crotch to crotch. You tense, and press back hungrily. Those able and agile hands of yours slipping into my pants, scratching at my skin lightly, and gripping handholds where you can find them.

Ahh, my darling it would seem your patience is running thin, as you pop the button of my fly, and tug the zipper down. I failed to wear a belt today, but then at this point, that's a blessing. My hands roam up your body, tugging off your shirt, and freeing your firm breasts to my ravaging hands. I can feel your hips pressing to me hungrily. Yet you allow me to set the pace, and make the moves. In some ways, it frustrates me, and in others it's delicious.

My hungered lips travel like a fever of chills down your chest. Teeth capturing skin, and tongue blessing it with softness and warm moisture, only to leave a cooling path in the wake. Your breasts I explore slowly, gracefully. I want you to beg me to take you. I know you won't, but I hope still the same. So I work at driving you beyond the depths of hunger, and as my lips and teeth and the tip of my tongue lash your sensitive nipples I listen, hearing you cry out as hunger turns to need. Your thighs grip me, feet looking for purchase as you grind against me. Wanting, needing, gasping for more.

Mm, a pleasant tale, yes? Ah, perhaps you weren't expecting something so naughty? Surely you know better. Maybe you'd like to hear how it ends? You know I'd love to tell you. To whisper it softly into your ears, with my fingers buried inside your drenched, silken flower, making you squirm and squeal. The time will come my love. And so will you.