Letter to My Love

To My Marissa,

I'm awake in my hotel room, late at night, and my thoughts are so brimming with you that I can't sleep. So, I thought I'd tell you about the provocative experience I had this morning. As I was getting settled into my seat on the airplane, an elderly woman sat in the seat next to me. It was hard to tell the nature of her travel, but she had the look of someone that had done well in life. Not in a fancy, expensive clothing way, but she carried herself with unmistakable confidence and without a trace of arrogance. As I quickly found out, she obviously still believed in the principle that people sitting next to each other on an airplane should engage in conversation.

Even with my bulky noise-cancelling headphones on, she frequently made the subtle gestures that normally triggered conversations. A deliberate glance my way that held just a second or two longer than normal, or an amiable grin in my direction. Maybe I reminded her of a son that had moved away years ago, or maybe she wanted to feel that people still recognized her, that she wasn't part of the invisible generation of those in their 80s. Regardless, it was clear that she knew that I was there, and she didn't see the point in ignoring me. Eventually the awkwardness became too much for me, and I removed my headphones and returned a polite smile.

"Good morning, where are you off to today?" she asked.

"Oh, just heading out on a business trip, to the Boston area," I replied.

Immediately, a feeling of profound loneliness poured over me. Merely announcing my travel plans to another reminded me of how much I'll miss you while I'm gone. Images of your bright smile, the luxurious softness of your skin, and your soothing voice filled my head, making it difficult to concentrate on what my temporary neighbor was saying.

"That sounds like a nice place to visit. Do you have family at home?" she inquired.

"Yes, my wife. No kids at home, so we're able to enjoy our time together to the fullest," I replied.

"Oh, that's wonderful," she said. "Some people get so caught up in the trivial things in life, but the one thing that brings us the most happiness is the people that we love. Things don't bring lasting happiness, but good people do."

Stunned at her deep and personal statement, even before take-off, I paused. I agreed with her completely but was surprised at the personal turn that our neighborly conversation had taken. I smiled and nodded, feeling that her conclusion may have been the capstone of our chat, and I started to ready myself for a couple hours of listening to our amorous playlist.

But just as I was about to put my headphones back on, she leaned in closer and said, "I hope you never let your love for her lose its spark. You have to work at it sometimes, but it's possible to always keep that flame alive."

Ok, now she's not only opened my door, but she's walked into my room. Feeling like I was about to get her theory of love and relationships lecture, I decided to regain some ground and go on the offensive.

"I agree. My wife, Marissa, is a remarkable woman, and I'm more in love with her today than ever before. She's had an influence and impact on me that is hard to describe. It's as if God knew the very things I needed at this time in my life, and He brought us together. I've never been happier."

As those words crossed my lips, I thought of last night, when my hands massaged every inch of your voluptuous body, whilst my mind worshipped the feel and sight of you. The rich smoothness of your skin, the scent of our vanilla candle burning, and your stunning body lying under me was now squarely in the forefront of my thoughts. I remembered the sensation when my hard cock pressed against your Rubenesque ass, as I reached forward to massage your neck and shoulders, spreading our favorite vanilla and lavender massage oil all over you.

Recognizing that my new neighbor might notice my conceiving countenance, I tried to focus, hoping that my face didn't have that faraway look that often overtakes me when I'm daydreaming of you.

She appeared intrigued by my declaration, and I knew this conversation would last much longer than I predicted.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you. I can tell you're quite besotted with her. What is it about her that you love so much?"

I smiled and let the question sink in. Where do I start?

"Marissa is a unique woman. She's extremely resourceful, but also knows how to best use knowledge when dealing with other people. She's very perceptive that way. When we're together, even after all these years, she'll say something profound and it'll remind me of how I'm always trying to catch up with her, intellectually. She's a real survivor as well. She's had her own speedbumps in life, but she's always come out of them stronger, and doesn't let her past challenges linger. Instead, she takes something positive from them and she's better for it. I think at times she feels insecure and down on herself, but you'd never notice it . . . to me she's a strong warrior."

Again, the daydreams kicked in. My male brain is hardwired to think of how much I desire you, how much I want my lips on you. And even in this situation, ten seconds of real time fantasizing produced an hour's worth of fast-forward sensual and erotic thoughts of you. Your alluring breasts, the space in between them where my face loves to visit, and your thick nipples consumed my thoughts. The feeling of my hands firmly squeezing your breasts, gliding out towards your nipples, captivated me. The touch of my tongue to your rock-like tips, the taste of your warm cream as it oozed out, and the sound of your whispered moans was playing over and over in my mind. I could feel my cock begin to harden, and knew that precum would soon follow, so I tried to reengage with my neighbor.

"Someone with her academic background and capacity to lead really has the world on a platter," I said. "What I admire so much about her is that she's so spiritually grounded. She doesn't let her own talents and abilities produce an arrogant attitude. I thought I had a solid spiritual perspective on life, but she's taught me things about relationships and family that I would probably have never figured out on my own."

My flight companion, behind that 80-year old face, was glowing with success, having pulled me out of my comfort zone and jumped deep inside my heart. I could see in her smile that she had done this before, and she took pleasure in pulling people away from their electronic devices, and forcing them to share the precious emotions of their souls.

"She sounds like an exceptional woman. You're very lucky to have her." And then she just looked at me, as if the silence would make me uncomfortable, and I'd share even more about you.

The word lucky stuck in my mind, as I've felt that way from the moment I met you. More images flooded my mind, of long, wet kisses, when our tongues wrestled as if we wanted to devour each other. In those moments, I always have a feeling of gratitude. With each flick of your tongue over my lips, I feel like the luckiest man on earth. To have such a beautiful, gorgeous woman in my life, who loves me, is the greatest feeling.

"Extremely lucky. Lucky that she saw something in me that fit her best, and lucky that we even happened to cross each other's path. When I think about the chances of us meeting, it scares me. My odds were higher at winning the lottery, in hindsight. But we're together now, and that's all that matters," I said.

"So how did you two meet?" she inquired.

"Mmmm, that's an interesting story, and one that she and I will never tell. It'll be our cherished secret forever," I declared. I wasn't giving this woman everything just for the asking.

"Well OK, I shouldn't pry. Enjoy the flight."

She then opened a book, and to my observation, appeared to be baiting me to keep the conversation going. She undoubtedly could tell that I was loving the chance to tell her about you and me. She just sat there, but I could tell she was waiting for me to continue. For the first minute, I felt that I could revert back to my own isolated space. But my mind kept racing back to the hundreds of images and memories of you, which randomly popped into my mind without warning.

I recalled the view while I stood behind you, watching you pull your jumper over your head. The smooth, brown skin of your neck glistened with vanilla body butter. My lips pounced on the back of your neck, and the taste of your skin on my tongue was intoxicating. My hands reached around you and cupped your soft breasts, and your thick, round ass pushed back into me. I couldn't wait for the rest of your clothes to hit the floor, I was as drawn to you as a man dying of thirst rushes to water. The sound of your moans, and the feel of your arms reaching back to allow your fingers to glide through my hair was the final sensation to bring my cock to its regular rock hard status.

Recognizing the intensity of my thoughts, I squirmed in my seat, and tried to regain some composure. I looked to my neighbor and rewarded her conniving ways.

"I wish she could join me on this trip, but she's getting some rest and relaxation with a few of her girlfriends, at a spa in Arizona. I think it's great that she has some friends that will enjoy that kind of time with her. They go on walks, shop, spend hours a day in the spa, and I think they even do mud baths there. Probably spend hours laughing and talking about their husbands too I bet. They do those trips a couple times a year. She always comes home rejuvenated."

Why did I have to mention that? My mind jumped to the image of you on a massage table, totally naked, half asleep from the relaxing effects. Your butt looked so delicious, and I recalled the many times I had spread massage oil over that big round ass, and reminisced the feel of my face pressed into your firm cheeks. I remembered last weekend, when my tongue found your cute, tight hole, and I worshipped you with an hour of kisses and licks. Your pussy was dripping sweet, tasty juice, but my tongue couldn't resist savoring and probing your tasty ass hole.

Just as I was settling into this hot memory fantasy, I think my neighbor made a comment about how wonderful it was for you to have those respites from life. But the words registered in fragments, as I had no way of focusing on her enough to understand. So, I offered the always appropriate, "Yes, definitely."

The scenario sprang back into my mind, and I could hear the sharp sounds of my hands slapping your ass, of our leather riding crop bringing stinging lashes across your butt, and the way you jumped and yelped with each lash. The taste of you covered my mouth and tongue, and I vividly recalled the intensity of my sexual rage. I remembered how I guided you onto your back, and my lips dropped down to your glistening pussy.

At this point, I knew I was about to cross over a threshold. I was rock hard, and I could already feel the precum spreading down my shaft. I carefully adjusted my cock to avoid any messy stains, and looked forward while my memories played like a favorite fantasy.

The image of my face pressed hard between your legs filled my senses. Your warmth, the sleekness of your waxed skin, and the sweet, delicious scent between your legs is the most erotic sensation I've ever known. My tongue teased your lips from top to bottom, and the gentle bucking of your hips smashed your cunt into my face, demanding more. I clearly got the message, and my warm, eager tongue navigated its way to your clit. I carefully spread and lifted your lips with my tongue, which allowed my mouth to suck on your throbbing jewel. My face was now covered with your sweet, slimy nectar, and I was determined to tease, pamper, lick and suck your sweet spot until you screamed incoherent obscenities into the air.

The plane had just ascended the runway, and the familiar sound of its wheels being reinserted into the underside of the aircraft was unmistakable. Instinctively, I squirmed in my seat to keep my hard cock in a safe spot.

I slid my headphones over my ears, and selfishly allowed myself more time to let our amazing sexual encounters consume me. I peeked at my neighbor, who wasn't giving any signs of resuming our conversation.

The playlist was now in action, and Love Hangover, by Diana Ross was playing. A past session of ours wafted through my mind, the one that took place in that New York City hotel, after we attended a Broadway musical on your birthday. You had a spring in your step as we walked into our hotel room, and we spent hours on the sheets, ravaging each other.

I remembered how you screamed as I teased and stroked your clit with the vibrator. Who would have thought that such a small bullet vibrator could bring you to the brink? I couldn't help myself from gliding it slowly along each side of your snatch, knowing that you were so sensitive down there already. When I slid it directly down your clit, deliberately going as slow as I could, I thought you were gonna slap my head with all your strength. It was only when I inserted a few fingers into your pussy did your mind become distracted from the intense, pleasure/pain dynamic happening between your legs.

I don't think I was completely honest in that moment, I must now confess. I wasn't about to stop teasing you with the vibrator while I forced four fingers inside of you, since my ultimate goal was to make you squirt all over me. You had to know you were about to be fisted, because as I pushed my hand farther inside of you, I could see you adjusting your hips to accept me deeper and deeper. It was so wildly erotic to be controlling your pleasure like that, while my head rested against your inner thigh, and you grabbed at the sheet and pounded the mattress with the sides of your fists.

And then it happened. You took a deep breath, gasped, then went quiet as your hips lifted up and a warm stream of fluid sprayed out of you. I think we laid there for 30 minutes, letting what had just occurred simmer on our senses while we savored the moment.

The plane began to reach cruising altitude, and as I stared out the window, above the clouds, I felt even farther away from you. Being on an airplane makes me feel so disconnected from you, and every sentimental and romantic feeling for you overcomes me. I think of the hundreds of subtle nuances that I've come to adore. The way your eyes look upward occasionally when you talk, the way you hug a pillow while laying on your stomach on our bed while we're talking, or the way you pronounce "water" and "basically". I reminisce of the look on your face when you get teary, or the youthful excitement in your voice when you're having a fantastic day.

My flight was a constant dream of you, blending memory and fantasy into a collection of complete and total worship. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I admire and respect you as an individual, and am in awe of the woman you've become. With each passing day, I realize how much you're perfect for me. You may see flaws and imperfections in yourself, but I'm blind to them. Instead, I only see the collective outcome of beauty and grace.

As the plane landed, I looked over at my neighbor, and offered the obligatory, "Enjoy the rest of your travels." She smiled and winked at me, and whispered, "Take good care of your queen." And with that, she got the last word in. It couldn't have been more fitting.

The usual crawl out the plane went as it always does. The other passengers walked on to resume their lives and would probably forget this flight within weeks. But for me, it will always stay in my remembrance.

My final emotion tonight, my love, is of absolute gratitude. I'm grateful for you, your life, and the millions of choices that you've made that make you who you are. I have no interest in the world's definition of perfection. To me, your mortal realities make you more adorable and charming, and bring us more emotionally close. I hope that you feel the same about my own flaws and imperfections, for we're equal in that regard. I'm grateful that the millions of tiny puzzle pieces that make us who we are fit so perfectly together. Combined, we make a marvelous masterpiece. I'll spend the rest of my life being my very best for you, in hopes that my life will be proof of my love and devotion to you.

I love you, I adore you, I cherish you. And thankfully, I am unconditionally yours.

Always,

Jon