A Letter To The One I Long For

I saw you for the first time a little over three years ago; and I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous you were. Then, I met you, and I got to see you were just as nice. Now, every time I'm at a race, I always make up some excuse to see you; swinging by the trailer, getting things I don't want or need. It's all done with a feeble hope that somehow, someday; I'll work up enough nerve to make conversation, something beyond a shy hello and a smile.

Most nights, when I'm lying in bed, alone, I fantasize about you, about the two of us, together. I dream about being wrapped in your arms. I dream about your lips, your hands; about your nimble fingers finding the parts of my body that crave your touch the most.

My favorite dream, the one I try to return to most often, is a hot encounter in my hotel room while I'm away at a race. That night, you come to my door, I let you in; and though we don't say very much to one another, before I know it, you've thrown me against the wall, your hands ripping the clothes from my body. You kiss me, your lips crushing mine, bruising them.

Pulling away, you bury your face in my breasts. You nibble and kiss; licking my skin, sucking on my nipples, your beard tickling me; until I nearly come. My knees buckle, but you hold me there, pinning my body, not allowing me to slide to the floor.

My fingers twist into your hair, begging you for more, urging you on, urging you lower. But, suddenly, you pull me towards you, and steer me towards the bed. Forgoing the soft mattress, you bend me over a chest at the foot of the bed; taking me from behind. Sliding deep inside me with one smooth stroke, you begin thrusting, hard and fast.

Moans, cries and grunts of pleasure fill the room as you fuck me; and that is the only word for this act, there is nothing gentle or tender in it. It is raw, it is wild and uncontrolled.

I reach behind me, my hand searching for you, wanting more contact with you, with your skin. You grasp my hand with yours', holding onto it; while your other hand is rests firmly on my hip, guiding our movements. And still you're plunging into me, deep into me, ravaging me.

You're so hard, so hot, and oh, so big; thrusting in and out with such force, such need. But, it's over far too quickly, over before I want it to be. You collapse on top of me, our bodies still joined. Our skin is wet with perspiration, but we don't notice, and don't care. Neither of us has said a comprehensible word during this encounter, but that's alright; we don't need to say anything; our bodies did all the talking.

I turn my head to tell you how wonderful this was, and sadly, I find myself leaving you, leaving us. I wake from this wonderful dream, my eyes open, and I find you gone. I want to cry with frustration, but that would do no good; so instead, I sigh and resign myself to the fact that this was nothing but a fantastic, vivid dream. A figment of an overused mind and an underused body; and I begin to wonder if a person can go insane from a lack of sex.

Picking up my journal, I quickly write as many of the details as I can remember, not wanting to forget any of this dream; hoping that someday I'll get to share it with you, that we can make my dream a reality.

Setting it aside, I go about my day, and as I move through the house, I find my body still distracted by that dream. I know there is only one thing I can do; only one thing that will at least ease the tension in my body and let me get on with my day. Stripping off my clothing, I lie down on the bed, and reach for my end table. I open the top drawer, pulling out my favorite toy, it's large and pale, with skin that's softer than silk.

Bringing it to my mouth, I dampen the shaft, slowly circling around and over the head with my tongue. I imagine it's you I'm giving this pleasure to. I imagine I can hear you moan; that I can feel your fingers twisting into my hair, urging me to take you deeper.

My body aches for you. I want you inside of me. I writhe on the bed, needing you; and when I can't take the pleasurable torture any longer, I pull my head back and let you slide from between my lips.

Your damp skin snakes down my body, skimming over my breasts; it brushes my nipples, then, glides down my belly to the apex of my thighs, where you find me soaking wet. Seeping from between my legs, it runs down my thighs, soaking into the sheets.

I rub you along my swollen lips, coating you all over; then moan with pleasure when you're finally inside of me again. I feel you filling me, stretching me, just like last night. You move inside of me slowly, thrusting deeply; hitting just the right spots inside me, nudging against my cervix, filling me so completely, that I cry out your name.

I'm wishing for the weight of your body on top of mine, wishing for warm, male skin to touch. God! I want you so much! I want to know all the contours of your body. I want to know the smell of your skin. I want to run my hands over every part of you until I hear you moan. I want to do things with you and to you that I've never even considered with any other man before you.

You whisper dirty things in my ear, saying all the right, but oh so nasty words to get me even hotter, to push me closer to that climax; when, suddenly I explode!

My toes curl, my vision blurs, my body spasms and slumps back on the bed. Panting, I lie there, unable to move for several moments. I stay that way, as slowly, my breathing and heart rate return to normal.

I move slowly, sitting up, and you slide from between my thighs. Even though I'm spent, I know you're ready to go again, and I smile. Managing to sit up, my body still reeling from the power of my orgasm, I pause, and wonder if there's any hope we'll experience this for real. If you'll ever really be mine; even for just one night.