2J

I miss you. God, do I miss you! I haven't seen you for 3 months now. I hate it when we're apart. I hate not living together with you. 5 years. 5 more years before we can afford to buy a house together. If only I could get a job; I hate leaving all the work to you, you already work so hard, my love. A house. A big house, with a porch and a garden. A house to fill with kids...

(Imagine! You and me and our baby, sleeping in on a Saturday morning. My head resting on your shoulder, and our little son sucking milk from my breast...)

I miss your touch. I miss curling up next to you in front of the TV. Caressing your thighs through the fabric in your pants. Hearing you grunt out of pleasure, out of surprise.

I miss your kisses, soft and firm, and wet and loving. I miss your hands sneaking under my top, fondling my naked breasts; pulling my top off, getting closer, nibbling on my nipples, kissing my breasts, working your way down my belly. I never get kissed like that, never let anyone kiss me when we're apart. Don't want anyone but you!

No-one is as good as you are. You're worth the wait. No-one kisses as good as you do. No-one has as big, warm, soft hands as you do. No-one has ever licked me as good as you do.

When we meet next time, I'll lie down and spread my legs, and let you lick me.

I love your mouth, breathing warm air on my pussy when your tongue licks me up and down, and plays with my clit. You suck, you lick, you nibble, you make me wet and swollen and aching for more.

And you give me what I want. You drive that huge, hard pole inside of me, and I moan with pleasure when I feel that big, round head entering me, forcing my gates open. You're big and long and hard, there's a great, big tree growing out of your groin!

You know how I want it. You give that to me. You take me hard, just like I want it, you make me come, and then, when my first hunger has been satisfied; then we make love.

You move between my thighs, my hands write a love story on your back. Your soft motions are building up a desire within me. I plead with you to go faster, to give me the release that my body craves. You give it ot me, but you deny yourself that same release. At first, I couldn't understand, could hardly believe it when you told me that being inside me feels so good that you don't want it to stop; that fucking me feels better than the orgasm itself. You've opened my eyes to a new religion. I thought I knew it all, but you teach me new things. You show me how to enjoy making love rather than coming. And I love you even deeper.

I want to enjoy having you inside me, just holding you within my body, but my arousal gets in the way, and I come again, clinging to you, arching up to meet your moves, trying to melt in with you. Whenever the pleasure's too much for me to stand, you answer my prayers, and move faster and harder, and that's what I need to get over the edge.

I love being in your arms, when we fuck, to feel your strong arms around me. You're strong and manly; that turns me on.

I love straddling you, and riding you like a pony - god knows you look like one - and sliding up and down your pole. You lean back and let me have my way with you; that turns me on.

I love getting down on my hands and knees, and you take me from behind, and I can feel you so deep inside. You hug my butt and fuck me hard, harder, harder; that makes me come.

That's the funny thing. The more I come, the easier it gets to come, the more I NEED to come! Your marvelous cock tickles my inside, creating an itch only you can scratch, and I try to wrap myself around you, fuck me, fuck me, please, I NEED you!

God, how can you keep control? I've traded mine away, traded it for an endless chain of orgasms, traded it for the ecstasy you give me.

I'm a slave to this pleasure, exhausted, but willing to go on another hour. When you call for a break, to drink some water and catch your breath, I'm amazed at your strength; you're hardly out of breath!

I miss you. God, do I miss you! I long to see you again.

Your M.