tagLetters & TranscriptsLover Come Home Ch. 03

Lover Come Home Ch. 03


Letter 3

Saturday, hopelessly hot.

For V, gone, not lost, I hope

I feel so lonely, so bored, so forfeit. I will try not to say this again, in any other way. I know it is difficult to read this when you can do nothing to help me.

Instead I will write about the areas I intend to explore when you come back to our bed. It seems appropriate that they be your perimeters, the edges, not the center. We should not return to each other's bodies with undue speed. It takes time and discretion to reacquaint ourselves with that which has been absent.

On the second night of your return I will touch only the margins of your body. More delicious punishment for your going, and more reward for your return. You will want to kiss, but I will not allow it. I will only run my tongue around your lips. You will want to grab me. It will not be possible. How will I be able to stop you? You will submit to my tying your hands with my favored long blue scarf.

You will lie on our bed, face up, while I tie an end of the scarf around each wrist and then loop the scarf over the finial on the bed board. That leaves you diagonally across our bed, with a pillow underneath your head. To do this properly I will have to straddle your naked chest while I work on the knots. Old sailor on the seas that I am, knots are easy for me. You will be comfortable, but contained. You submit with a smile on your face. You don't know what is coming.

I leave a fragrant wet spot on your chest when I finish tying you. Because of your bonds you cannot bend down to reach for that odor you find so appealing. Instead you must wait till the fumes follow the path of your chest hairs up to your nostrils. But it comes, eventually.

With the tip of my small finger I will trace the oblong shape of your armpit. Your hair is light, soft because it's never been shaved. But already it is shining with sweat. Nerves, exhaustion from thought not act, you too are moistening. It smells like you, only you, instantly recognizable only to me. Our smells together are private creations, we make only for each other. With my middle finger I steal some of that wetness, to place in front of your nose, and then in my mouth. Eating your smell, eating you.

But I am being unfair. You are not receiving your due. To balance our equation I take some of my moisture, from my short curly hairs , and touch it lightly to your lips. Your eyes close for the first time, as you concentrate on what my smell tastes like.

Your breasts are next. I remember when I first discovered how sensitive they were. It was a slight wince on your face, as my hand brushed accidentally over them. Had they been neglected by your past lovers? Did you not know how wanton the skin there is? Or how much you wanted your nipples to be sucked and even bitten? Forget all the nonsense about breasts being only about maternity and milk machines. We know better. Yours are as wanting as mine. For sustenance, yes. For food, yes. But that food that sustains our need for one another. Our breasts do richly nourish each other.

I will draw rings around them with my index finger. First the outer edge, very slight but perceptible. Then an exploration of each mound. Lightly. I do not want you to struggle at your bounds. Instead, I want you to relax into them, so that my scarf is your support, not your constraint. Your arms are raised over your head. Your body is laid open to me, ready for what may come.

Sensuousness has no ending, no resolution, no conclusion. On and on, we discover and explore, till like sleepy children we must rest.

Your nipples do not get as erect as mine. They are smaller, but become just as hard. It takes the most careful licking to keep them firm but soft. I do first one, then the other. then alternate between them. I am as careful as any cook, determining the correct temperature of her sauce. As soon as I feel them beginning to rise, I stop for a moment. They continue to rise, but I have returned to softly encircling the darker pink flesh that surrounds them. Finally you are just as we have longed for. Your flesh is warm, high, tightened. It wants, but it also knows that it is going to receive. Then I can safely take each nipple between two of my fingers and rub them every so slightly around and around. It brings endless satisfaction, with no release.

Come home and release me.


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