tagLetters & TranscriptsAnother Fantasy

Another Fantasy


My Dearest Lynn:

I talk to you about so many morbid topics, I hope you also realize how much happiness you've brought me. And as much sadness and regret as I feel about us, I feel much more happiness knowing that I think that we've actually gotten as much happiness in this life as we could have ever expected. It does seem like a strange 'bargain' though, to trade sexual contact for a lifetime of friendship. At least we've each found people that have allowed us to have both things in the same person!

I've been taking great interest in fantasizing about lying in 'our' bed with you, feeling sweat dry and semen leaking from you and me as we lie cuddled together, watching Betty and Wilma scrapping around 'our' yard in search of tasty bugs with their toddler-like excitement and intensity.

I'm sorry I ended our Saturday hug so early due to worries about my swelling erection. I think that it's clear that we've been effectively dating for the last two years (or 25 years? :) And maybe because I have less actual experience with dating, or because it's been so long since I've dated, it really filled me with fear. But then, it also makes me feel like I'm being cold and cruel to you, as if it's wrong to love you so much emotionally, yet withhold the physical comforts of my body from you.

Otherwise, it seems so natural to my brain that lovemaking should be part of our relationship. I hope between the two of us, we can convince your brain of how much I love you, but that in that 'stupid' adult way, I can't give you the contact comfort that should be associated with my feelings for you. Or maybe it's my brain that's creating an overly complex set of emotions based on its own desire to be touched passionately by you? Being rejected is not as much of a fear for me, as much as it has been an actuality.

As we've discussed before, if we were free to give ourselves to each other, these are the kinds of emotions that would likely disperse once we became sexually active. I like to think that the effect would be instantaneous, but the likely reality is that I would continue to burden you with my feelings of insecurity.

I'm glad that we've been able to substitute words and mostly healthy touches to communicate our love for each other, leaving ourselves free to share the joy of being with our families, giving us the reward of feeling as though we are lovers raising children.

I wish I knew what it was like to rest and nuzzle the bridge of my nose and my forehead against your arm and the side of your breast while you read. I'd love the feeling of knowing that I could satisfy myself with soft touching until you were ready to make love. Like a puppy, my penis would leap to attention as soon as you set your book down and turned your powerful gaze to me.

I would love to let my body embrace yours in private, without fear or worry. It's so hard trying to be conscious of how my actions might appear to our spouses, when my arms and hands want to caress and stroke your back and your hair, and don't understand why they can't massage and grasp your delicious bottom. It's so easily in reach, why is it off limits?

And aside from comfort, isn't part of touching to prepare our bodies for lovemaking and child rearing? So passionate kissing would be merely the expected next step in this process. And the kissing might help release the feeling of butterflies in our stomachs, or would it just increase it? Either way, as much as I would savor the opportunity to have our first kiss, my hands would be performing the natural task of exposing the skin and softness of your bottom, pulling your dress up to your delicious lumbar curve, temporarily tolerant of the flimsy barrier your panties provide.

After a few heavenly minutes of kissing and running my fingers under the edge of your panties, occasionally straying between your legs, we retire to the 'comfort' of the sofa sleeper. With no regard to whether or not I can see your panties (I can), you straddle me and we share a joyous look. "I love you Will," you say. "I love you too, Lynn," I return, enjoying not just the sentiment, but the absolute comfort and confidence I feel sharing it with you.

Similarly, you know that there are no bad consequences to be had from the natural curiosity and desire you feel about my penis. Grasping and stroking it through my shorts does nothing except confirm its state, leaving you to still wonder about how its softness would feel in your fingers, on your cheeks, against your tongue. I can't understand or stand the thought of clothes, and I pull my shirt over my head while you take the opportunity to quickly open my shorts and begin tugging them down my cooperative body.

My boxers have stubbornly remained essentially in place. Never one to give in to disappointment, you take the opportunity to tease and stroke my cock through the thin layer of material, discovering the opening to exploration afforded by the flap. Entering the gap in the material, you are able to finally get your fingers completely around my shaft, and also allow the glans to pop above my waistband. Reflexively, you plant a heavenly kiss on the soft underside of the glans. Perhaps the softest part of my body? You don't have to answer that question until you have more data, though.

I know you want to immediately begin gobbling my cock, but I can't passively enjoy your mouth and ignore my own hunger. I spare you the labor of disentangling my boxers from my erection, and use the opportunity to continue the process of raising your dress higher and higher on your body. The sight of you in your panties makes me ache with desire, but I'm delighted by the fact that you're not wearing a bra as your dress comes off over your head. I take the slightest advantage of you as you are temporarily bound and blinded by your dress to finally get the childlike comfort I need by nuzzling and gently kissing your breasts. The childlike aspect fades quickly as your nipples harden, and I resume my adult responsibility to kiss and pinch them with my lips, and gently but firmly with my fingers as well.

To avoid being too presumptuous, I will stop writing here to allow you to express your own desires, as important as they are to me.

Your ever-loving,


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