Letter to an Unnamed Lover

I needed not to feel. I needed to not think. I needed... you.

I don't even remember your name, but for those few hours, you were everything. You could have been anyone: I just needed someone who wanted to fuck me and not ask any questions, and there you were, looking for no strings, no commitment sex. You were perfect. There was no physical attraction, no flutter of butterflies at the prospect of sex with you, but there was something there, something that drew me to you. Maybe it was your quiet confidence, the aura of stillness around you; I didn't stop to analyse it, I just followed my instincts.

Right up until you kissed me I was still unsure of my plan; I knew what I wanted -- needed -- but wasn't convinced you were the right one. But that kiss... teasingly slow, but with the promise of hot passion, your body pinning me to the wall silently letting me know you were the one in control. I abandoned myself to the moment and focused on the sensations of our passionate embrace. Every sense was stimulated; the pounding music, the subtle scent and taste of the cigarette you had just smoked, the rasp of stubble against my cheek, the feel of your muscular body pressed against mine. The sensory overload filled my mind and blocked out the rest of the world, offering the release I sought.

But I wanted more. I wanted oblivion.

I knew that alcohol couldn't give me the escape I was seeking, so I turned down your offer of another drink. For a moment you seemed confused as I put on my coat -- maybe you thought I was just a prick tease - but when I took your hand and led you towards the exit of the club you smiled in understanding.

The anonymity of our encounter emboldened me, allowing me to explore the secret part of me that I had always been made to feel was shameful. Kissing rather than talking as we walked to the hotel I was staying in for the night, the urge to feel more of you became overwhelming, and I pulled you into a darkened alleyway. Pushing you back against the wall I ran my hands over your broad chest, downwards, pausing as I reached your belt buckle, considering the possibility of dropping to my knees and sucking your cock that was straining so temptingly against your pants. I wanted so much to fuck you there and then, and I think you were up for it too, but those drunken blokes who came stumbling towards us looking for somewhere to take a piss kind of spoiled the moment.

Slightly dishevelled from our encounter in the alley way we finally made it back to my hotel room. I shrugged my coat from my shoulders and took a moment to hang it on the hook behind the door. My wraparound dress I was a little less careful with; I simply untied the knot holding it closed and allowed it to slip from my shoulders and slither to the floor. You looked... hungry I think best describes the look in your eyes as I stood in front of you, naked but for my lace top stockings and stilettos.

As you kissed me hungrily I tore at your shirt (sorry about the buttons!), impatient to feel your hot skin against mine. There was no illusion of romance, no intimation that this was going to be anything more than raw, animalistic fucking. The guttural growling sound you made as you slammed me up against the wall turned me on in a way I had never imagined a single sound could, making me desperate to feel your cock deep inside of me, pounding insistently, taking me. But you knew what you were doing, knew how to tease, how to make the moment last.

Those strong, work toughened hands roaming all over my body, touching, exploring... just thinking about how good it felt still triggers a thrill deep inside me. The memory is so vivid I can almost feel you toying roughly with my breasts, dipping your head to bite down teasingly on my stiffened nipples... your fingers in my pussy, tormenting me, pushing me closer and closer to orgasm, but time after time stopping just before I reached my climax. Eventually I couldn't take any more, had to release the pressure building inside me, so I pushed you back on the bed and mounted you, riding you hard and fast, focussed only on my own pleasure. All I could think of was the release you had denied me, the oblivion it promised...

My orgasm, when it came, was so strong, so intense I couldn't speak. My vision dimmed and I could barely remember my own name. All I was aware of was the flood of intense physical sensations washing over me, drowning my senses and silencing my conscious mind. Sated, I lay motionless as I allowed the flood of sensations to wash over me.

Slowly, my vision began to clear and I became aware of my surroundings once more. You were sprawled next to me, exhausted, so I slipped into the bathroom, locked the door and took a long, hot shower. My skin was so sensitive every drop of water felt like a liquid caress, streaming over my body just as your hands so recently had, increasing my arousal once again.

I was relieved to find you gone when I returned to the bedroom. I wanted time alone to savour the euphoric blankness in my brain and the lingering warm flush of my orgasm. Had you stayed I would have felt compelled to make polite small talk, resented you for intruding on the peace you helped me find. But once again you knew exactly what I needed.

So thank you for that one perfect night we shared, whoever you are.

Kx