A Letter To My Lover 01

Greetings, All! This is my first submission. Hope you enjoy it! Would love any honest feedback. Thank you!

Dear J,

The house was empty when I got home, so I knew I'd made it in enough time. I went into my room & undressed. (It would seem odd to him if I weren't naked when he got home!) I was swollen, sore & happy about it. I knew the smart thing to do would be to take a shower, but I couldn't do it. I loved knowing your cum was still inside of me. It made me hot just thinking about it. It started me into thinking about a conversation we had last week. Do you remember my fantasy?

After rearranging a few things in my room, I lit my favorite candle, turned off the light & got into bed. Positioned perfectly, I looked across the room towards the chair I'd placed against the wall. I couldn't see much beyond the flickered light of the candle, which helped me imagine you were there. . . . . Watching me . . . . wanting me . . . . . do you?

I started with my nipples, working them, pinching them making them sting & ache. Grasping my whole breast in my hand, I started squeezing & stroking, picturing you watching me. When my poor abused little tits & nipples couldn't take any more, I moved downwards. Gliding my palms over the soft rounded mound of my belly, down to where I was wet & sticky with cum, mine & yours.

My lips were puffy & hot. I knew if I could see down there, I would be slick & flushed. With my eyes closed, I could picture you watching me touch myself. I could smell the smoke from your cigarette, hear the rasp of your breathing, your moans as I turned you on. I slowly rubbed my finger over my lips & my clit, making my way to the opening of my sensitive pussy. It was tender & slippery with spunk, but it only made me want more of you. More of your kisses . . . your cock. . . . your cum.

I dipped first one, then another finger inside, feeling the warm press of my insides, hearing the wet sounds of our mingled juices. I wanted you there. Wanted you to watch as I came around my fingers, coating them with wetness . . . . adding my other hand, I collected what I could, smearing our combined stickiness all over my nipples & breasts with one hand, sucking the salty-sweetness off the other.

Hearing him pull up, I wasn't able to get much farther than that. I'm not even sure I'd have been able to, anyway. You wore me out.

When he came upstairs, he knew what I was doing. He just shook his head & said, "At it again, I see. Well, I'm tired." I just smiled. He had no way of knowing how satisfied I really was. Satisfied & secure in the knowledge that even if he didn't want me. . . . you did.

You do want me, don't you Jonathan? Do you think about me & touch yourself, the way that I do? Do you picture us together, hot . . . . sweaty . . . . alone. No one else to intrude or interfere. I'm waiting for him to take a trip. Hoping that he'll be gone long enough for me to know what it's like to have you give me everything. To have you not hold back & fuck me the way I know you want to. . . . need to.

I catch glimpses of it now & then. When you gently bite my neck, knowing you really want to press harder, knowing you want to mark me as yours. I see it . . . . feel it. . . taste it when you slowly raise my hands above my head, pressing them firmly into the pillow. Knowing what you really want to do is grip me roughly & bind my wrists tighly, leaving your hands free. What would you do with your hands, sexy? Would you stroke them softly over my cheek or would you squeeze my jaw in your hard grip, forcing my head, my lips where ever you wanted them. Have I ever told you that my lips & my mouth are my favorite features. Would you give me soft sweet kisses? Or would you give me hard, powerful kisses, bruising my pretty lips, giving me the wet slick glide of your tongue & spit? (Mmmmm . . . . I know I shouldn't, but I love the way your spit tastes. You always worry, grabbing mints or gum, when all I want is the taste of you. Just thinking about it has me sitting at my desk, wet for you.)

I love that quiet, controlled part of you. The way you move my body around to accommodate what you want. Shifting me this way & that . . . . searching for the right angles to sink deeper into me. I get as equally turned on by your focus & control as I do by what you do to me.

That last time, when I turned on my knees, I knew we didn't have much time left. I knew if I got on my knees . . . . . bent over, offering all of myself to you, you would drive into me harder. I knew you would pound against me, deep inside until I was sure I'd burst open. It hurts & feels good at the same time. Sometimes you hit me so deep, it feels like you'll come out of my throat. I get nauseous & shaky. It's like you're taking over my entire body, bending it . . . . bending me . . . to your will.

I love the hot weight of your body lying across my back & my ass . . . . . . the slap of your balls against my swollen clit & lips . . . . the curve of my ass squeezed in your palm . . . . . . your voice in my ear, telling me how good it feels inside of me. Telling me how much you want inside my tight ass.

How much do you want it, Jon? How much do you want the part of me I've been unable to give anyone else, even him. I want to give it to you. The night we got your tip in, it felt like I was being split in two, like the world started & stopped with the head of your dick & my asshole. The way it burns as the hole starts to open up . . . . the way your shallow thrusts tickled all the wicked nerves, making me wet, making me want more of it . . . . . more of you.

I should stop. I haven't gotten any work done. Even now I'm thinking about the fact that I still haven't washed your smell, your taste off of me. I fell asleep knowing you were still with me. I awoke alone this morning, wishing I were in bed with you. You wouldn't have left my side without reaching for me . . . touching me. . . . giving me more of you. Instead I had to touch myself, wishing it was your hand teasing me awake. Wanting nothing more than to feel you cum inside me again, fill me again.

If I run my fingers up my thigh, under my skirt, I know I'd find wetness. Would there be enough of you left to taste? Let's see . . . . .

Missing you,

Elle