Letterotica 03

Paris, April 2006 - Response to Letterotica 02 by Elle.

My Darling Elle,

I may have 'given' you these words but a language is not a language unless it is spoken and used. You have adopted these words and others and have let them blossom by using them so passionately.

And what makes language so fascinating is the variation with which it can be used. I adore the way you pronounce words like 'fuck' and 'cunt'. Your French accent is inherently sexy, sure, but when you say 'fuck' you put the emphasis on the 'f'. It hisses off your tongue and through your lips like a cornered wildcat. You bury the last consonants, almost giving them a 'g' sound. It's that hissed 'f' in my ear that drives me wild.

If you think about Loulou and her London accent, she lets the single vowel hang in the air – 'f-aaah-ging hell' whereas I seem to favour the hard whipcrack of the 'ck' while supressing the 'f'. Think about how I say it. Hear it. More agressive perhaps. More of a man-like pronounciation. But give me your hot, moist hiss in my ear anyday.

Cunt, however, seems to be universal. It's the 'c' that is sharp and hungry, especially while fucking, and it is perfectly accompanied by giving the 't' a smack on the ass.

All this talk of language brings back thoughts and memories of our first handful of rendezvous. Back before we started tentatively bringing others into our lustful games.

Besides our hungry desires and eager bodies and souls we had our language. Our dialogue.

We told each other stories. In order to get to know each other, yes, but mostly in order to arouse. To test the boundaries of our desire and our fantasy. That inaugural storytelling tradition is something that I recall with fondness. Remember how it drove us wild? There were the two kinds of situations. The obvious one, with me between your legs, my cock slowly and teasingly fucking up inside you, our bodies pressed together, slipping and sliding with our sweat, our lips sucking hungrily on each others. Your arms wrapped tightly around my neck, pulling me close. Your hot breath relaying your sexual experiences into my attentive ear. Your stories sending shockwaves to my cock. That strange undefinable jealousy brought on by thoughts of you with other men that I never even knew. That fantastic erotic imagery that your words created in my head brought on by thoughts of you exploring and evolving and orgasming.

The other situation was torturous. Whispered mumbles at restaurants, at parties, on streets. Bombarded by sexy words formed into luscious stories but being unable to act on our arousal in those public places. Going mad as we hurried back to whatever hotel or flat we were staying in. Ripping each others clothes off in our haste to please each other.

Just as I was riveted by hearing of your first sexual awakening – as well as all your other sexual awakenings – I can still feel your body beneath mine as I told you about the women I had fucked and who had left their mark on my soul.

You know which of the stories I have written on this site are based on you and your life. Looking at the list I can see that I was careful to change names and situations back at the beginning. Then, later, as our relationship developed I was truer to the facts and the course of events in the stories.

But that cocktail of truth and fantasy is the same as our hushed, passionate dialogue. It is storytelling after all. And tweaking the truth in order to make the story better is allowed. Ne c'est pas?

What a glorious way to map each other's histories. To follow the routes of each others sexual journies to places unvisitable. I can never return in time to experience you learning all about sex from Luc, the artist, in that beachhouse on the coast but thanks to you I feel as though I was there. A voyeur peering from the shadows. Like you when I told you about various reversals of fortunes, the asses of other men's wives, games with dominant girlfriends. I am so sure that I can see you watching when the film plays back in my head.

When two people share their stories, they are one. Inseparable, sexually.

Now we seem to act out our own, new stories in order to get our pleasure out of them. Inventing games and scenarios and casting the appropriate people in the roles. But I'll always remember the dawn of our acquaintance. Making each other cum with our words.

Your lover, Coolville