tagLetters & TranscriptsLover Come Home

Lover Come Home


To V, from C

Letter 1

Day l

Sunday, warm

Dearest V

You are gone again on your necessary travels, but that leaves me alone again in our bed. I have nothing but desire, imagination and memories to keep me. I have decided to write you every night, using what words I have, to satisfy my need of you. My goal is a warmth between my legs, then a small pulsing of my vagina, as it asks for you, and, if I am good with the words of dreams and remembrances, some relief from my wanting. In short, I am going to write you erotic letters. Dirty letters full of specific details from our lovemaking and descriptions of what I want when you return to our bed. When I can throw away my pen and use my hands more wisely.

I will start with a cherished memory, the first time we kissed. I was not expecting it, we were old friends. Friends were for talk not for bodies. You were so insistent, your strong tongue forced my mouth open. How did you do that? I still think it must be impossible to be that strong, and yet you were. You held me against you so tightly that movement was impossible. I was shocked and unwilling to consider what was happening to me. I didn't kiss back. You knew what you wanted, and took it. It was almost rape, a forced entry into one of my openings. You tongue filled every crevice, every tiny corner of my mouth. I could do nothing but make small panting noises, back in my throat. Your tongue was hard and totally devoted to filling me up, joining me to you in an inescapable embrace. If you had not been holding me I would have fallen. I forgot everything in that time, who I was, where I was, even how to stand. You invaded me. My separate existence had ended.

Later we would search for other ways to join. Fingers, tongues, mouths, even toes, seeking out all the places on each other's body where we could attach ourselves. Do you remember the day I tied my long hair around your arm, as I lay on your chest, sucking your nipples?

And another dear memory, after we first made love and we were both encrusted with semen, and sweat, and vaginal juices, and saliva. All that moisture helped us to slip and slide and pounce in our mighty desire to do everything all at once, all of the time, and forever. And we did. We were jointly sticky, with some tender areas of raw flesh covered with dry mucus. It perfumed us with something that smelled like lost hope and old fruit and fresh meat and evil orchids.

What woman in her right mind would want to smell like anything else? Forget sweet bouquets or romantic essences. The real thing is mean and rank and intoxicating. It was our badge, bodies coated with the residue of a beautiful battle which we both had won. Later that day, even after I'd stood under a mighty shower, men looked at me in a crazed sort of way. Their senses knew what I had been doing and it made them heady.

So much for memory. When you return to my bed I am going to do the least I can do to drive you into heat. It will be your penance for leaving me. I will pull, very gently, each tiny hair around your penis, being very careful not to touch anything else. I will lick just the tip of your nipple, and then blow gently on it to dry the moisture away. That will cause a very slight contraction in your skin, which will feel like you are being crushed. I will take my right index finger, it has the longest nail, and with it trace slow spiral patterns on your chest. I will cover your eyes with my blue silk scarf and let you listen to me undress. I will bring my open mouth very close to yours, so we can share breaths. I will arrange my body next to yours, only a quarter of an inch away, so you can sense its rising and falling. I will open my legs wide, and ask you to look inside, but only to carefully describe what you see. Every fold, every color, every texture, all in clear detail. I will lightly brush your penis with the wild turkey feather I found in the woods. If you ask for more, I will not give it to you. But I will tell you a secret, something about me that you do not know, and could never guess. I will kiss the soles of your feet.

Perhaps then you will force my mouth open again, to come inside me and become part of me again, over and over.

Good night, dear one.


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