I Still Love You

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Unrequited love letter of a happily married woman to a man.
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Dear Will,

I remember when I was a teenager . Young, fresh, innocent but also curious, observant and yearning. And when I met you and saw you my curiosity peaked, my yearning became overwhelming. I wanted you to hold me, to talk to me, to touch me . . . everywhere I hadn't been touched before by another person. And I wanted to touch you, to know you in a way I'd never known another person. You enthralled me.

And then, you were gone.

And I went on. But things turned ugly for a while in regards to men but then I met you again . . . an older version. Wiser, mature . . . and you took my breath away . . . again.

And that yearning came back and I'm so glad you felt the same way about me.

I still fantasize about the softness of your lips, the gentleness of your fingertips and my hand always makes its way down to my panties, wet with the thought of you. And slide in underneath and into my wetness, yearning for you to come home and take me. The thought of your taste, your hardness, the feel of you in my hand, inside me, the taste of you in my mouth. Spooning against me after we've made love. Holding me close. Safe. Warm. Happy.

I wish I could know you that way. Deeper. I can't get enough of you. But I will settle for the pieces I can have. I have built a life separate from you but am now ready to include you in any way that works with our different lives now.

Love,

Lynn

My dearest Lynn:

Last night I thought about sleeping, just sleeping with you. I would love to be able to curl around you at my most vulnerable: naked and asleep. I would love to be wrapped around your back, dozing, hearing your happy sounds, or your sad ones, and cuddling you appropriately. Later on during the night, we might find ourselves at the whim of our bodies, with my maximum erection finding its way easily into your wide open vagina.

As if we were bystanders, we would see our bodies locked together, acting independently of our minds. My fully rigid penis would be pistoning in and out of your slick passage, pushing against your cervix with each thrust, the head of my circumcised cock making a double thump at your vaginal introitus with each thrust.

I would be pinching each of your nipples, testing the maximum pressure possible in order to find the line between pleasure/pain/discomfort. Even asleep, my brain would modulate the pressure to be right at the pleasure/pain border.

Would this be the right time for our first anal play? If so, I would moisten my fingers and paint the entirety of your anus with my saliva, then begin pushing my cock, already slick with your sweet wetness, against your naughty hole. The pressure would feel heavenly to you, combined with my ministrations to your swollen button nestled within your wide open vagina.

I gently push myself into you, harder when you were welcoming, more gently when you were spasming tighter. Eventually, it would be achieved, and you would gasp at the newfound sensation of my complete possession of you: my rigid cock in your backside, my fingers satisfying your swollen clitoris, and my other hand fondling your breasts, squeezing your nipples, and playing with your hair and mouth.

Feeling calm now, I focus on your orgasm, listening to your body, finding the pathway to your release. Your cries induce me to a ?premature (how can it be premature, if I've waited decades?) eruption, but my erection remains intact afterwards, and I work hard to maintain my thrusting and stroking until you suffer la petite mort in my arms.

We might glimpse the full moon shining through the window, then return to our shared slumber. By morning, we would find ourselves cuddled in our soft bed, unable to stop holding each other, until we talked of what the minimal hygienic requirements would be to enjoy breakfast at our favorite nearby restaurant.

We help each other groom, then walk slowly and peacefully, hand in hand to the restaurant. A small rabbit marks us, pretending to be invisible. We stop and watch it, taking pleasure in its newness, its softness, and its wileyness. At the restaurant, the greeter agrees that it would be a perfect day to dine outside. Our usual server brings us coffee and sends our customary order to the kitchen, our closeness filling her with feelings of well-being.

"I feel like I need a nap," you declare between bites of pancake.

"OK," I agree, at the thought of a leisurely morning together in our bed.

Your ever-loving,

Will

Dearest Will,

My hand is on my panties, rubbing slowly back and forth . . . they are damp with the thought of you "squeezing and caressing" your new found erection. I can feel heat rise from my navel up to my breast, to my neck to my face . . .and my panties are getting wetter and wetter until I slip my fingers beneath them and crook two into my vagina and pulse them in and out thinking of your hard, erect cock. . . .

My nipples are erect and with my other hand I circle one . . . .around and around, licking the tips of my fingers to try to imitate the movement of your tongue around them. I close my eyes and see your sweet face . . .

Ok. I've got to stop. My husband is on his way home and I need to focus on my family.

Make sure you are careful and not massaging your sweet cock in a place where your wife might notice, in a place you might be caught and have to explain. . . .

I'm literally dripping . . . I really have to go sweet love. Another lifetime . . .

And I can't wait to have you in my house, to be able to see you and talk to you and know you each time in a deeper way than before.

Love,
Lynn.


My Dearest Lynn,

Such a nice way to end the day and the week, feeling myself grow and respond to your amorous correspondence. My heart is pounding as well, but knowing my inability to control my autonomic nervous system when I'm reading your letters, I've been careful not to be caught in flagrante.

And perhaps in another life, or in a parallel one, we have been, or are, in the same bed together, enjoying each others bodies as we relax and recalibrate.

At which point, I'm certain that I would have to have my mouth on your other mouth, kissing and gently licking your secret lips, first through your damp panties, then without them.

I know you love the feel of my hard yet yielding penis in your mouth and on your tongue, so I condescend to engage in the ritual of sixty-nine with you, even though your luscious ministrations actually distract me from my reverie as I kiss and lick your most treasured place.

As my crisis nears, I feel neglectful towards my duties of following your response to my tongue, seeking to find the perfect rhythm, depth, and pressure.

But you know me too well. After you 'force' me to spurt in and on your beautiful mouth, you know that I will dutifully return to my determined efforts to feel your orgasm surround me.

Afterwards, we return to our kitchen duties, completing an elaborate meal for our families. Only the occasional pressing of my erection against your bottom betrays the fact that another bout of lovemaking lies in our near future.

Your ever-loving,

Will

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