another letter never sent.

Only kind of rated m for mature…

The moment I finished writing my letter to the Man Who Threw Me Away, I’ve wanted to write this one. I’m already cheating on my one-post-a-day plan. Oops.


couple.

Dear Man of my Dreams,

I never had to invite you into my world. You magically appeared. You never knew I found you first because I was afraid to speak. For weeks, maybe months (it’s all a blur now), I quietly watched you every time you passed by. I felt things. Strange beautiful things. In my heart. In my head. In my blood. But you were a fantasy to me. You couldn’t possibly be real.

I was mesmerized by your kindness, the sound of your voice, the words you spoke, your heart-stopping smile (easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen). I never knew you saw things in me. Things I never thought I had. Things no one had found before.

And I never imagined you were mine. And I was yours.

We are the same… and we are different. Exactly as two puzzle pieces must be to fit together. And we fit. Even if one of us falls from the tabletop to the floor, we find our way back together and click into place as was fated since the beginning of days.

Your touch dizzies me. I tremble. I’m overwhelmed. My heart leaps and flutters like a trapped butterfly trying to escape its prison. How do you do that? How do you kiss me with your delicious mouth yet touch me everywhere? How do you take all of me in that one intense, beautiful gesture? Everything. You take it because it’s yours. My mouth, my head, my heart, my fingertips and toes, my tingling skin, my stirring insides, my sticky sweetness. All for you. All yours.

We share a sweet intimate love. And a ravenous intense love. You hold me… you grab me. You kiss me… you devour me. You make beautiful love to me… you fuck me wildly. We want it all and we take it. Because we belong to each other.

I adore when we’re tangled up in each other and you ask me what I want… even though you already know. You want to hear me say the words. You make me blush but I tell you anyway.

I want you. Kiss me. Lay me down and lick me. Drink me in. Oh, yes, like that. And your fingers. Deeper. Harder. Faster. I’ve drenched you. But, baby, stop. No more drinking. Come here. Share it with me. Let me taste your fingers… your mouth. I need more of you. All of you.

Crawl up my body. Kiss my stomach. Gently. Tickle me. Grab my hips. Sink your fingers into my flesh. Suck on my skin. Higher. Yes. Hold me in your hand. Perfect. Squeeze. Lick. Tease. I want more. I’ll beg for more. But please, baby. Kiss me. I love the taste of me on your tongue.

Moan for me when I touch you. When I surround you with my warm grasp. Whisper my name from the deepest place inside you. Tell me what you crave. Kiss my neck and let me feel your breath in my ear. Desperately begging to be inside me. I can’t make you wait. Because I can’t wait.

Just the tip of your perfect heat barely inside me. Bathed in my precious dew. Yes, baby. Inside me. Where only you belong. You and me. Oh, honey. Whisper and mumble and moan my name in pure, perfect ecstasy. Take me with you. My fingers in your hair, my grip on your head… tighter… harder. Until we are weak. And then more anyway.

When you collapse on top of me, hot and breathless, oh honey. The weight of your body on mine. The intoxicating scent of you. The heat of your whispers on my skin. The beautiful way you love me. I melt.

Maybe the best part (oh, every part is the best part) is when you lean back and pull me to you. Hold me and mumble your thoughts, your dreams, your every emotion. And I smile. You can’t see my face but you smile, too, because you still know. And when I whisper my heart and dreams and soul, you squeeze my body closer to yours and kiss my head.

I’ve never felt anything like you. Your touch, your mouth, your body – yes. But I think it’s your mind, your soul, your spirit – who you are – that moves me the most.

I will never know what miraculous spark of fate brought you to me. Or me to you. But it doesn’t matter. We don’t need an explanation. We just need to be. 

I am yours. And you are mine. I love that we belong.

love,
Your Girl
swirl.

© 2016 what sandra thinks
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About what sandra thinks

Sandra began writing when she was a sixth grader. She is a teller of stories through poetry, fiction, and tales from her own life. And she thinks too much. Read, think, enjoy, laugh.
This entry was posted in fiction, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

46 Responses to another letter never sent.

  1. Miriam says:

    Sexy, poignant, emotional, heartfelt, you took us all there. Loved it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So sweet. Every man would love a letter like this!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Wow This is epic as the kids would say.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Kay says:

    Yes! This was hot, but it also warmed my heart and made me smile! Does it get any better than dreams becoming reality? Or your reality being that of dreams? I don’t think it does.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Holy hell, this is great!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Flurgh! I think this is all our fantasy! The details might vary but the feeling is the same. To be consumed, absolutely in love and passion. The sole purpose of another’s existence- phew! Mine needs to ride in on a motorcycle! But that could change by tomorrow! 😜 Anyway, simply awesome! 😍

    Liked by 1 person

  7. HELL YES!! Love the thought and LOVE the words. XO

    Liked by 2 people

  8. The V Pub says:

    Very romantic! Was this for a bass player too?

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Great freaking werite. I.m a little sticky with all the sweet dew. Love the way you ca write romantic erotic and quickly switch to raw fucking too. It is nice when a woman is flexible in
    her writing and in her lover’s bed. What anarousing read. I LOVED IT. Thanks for giving
    us something to make our hearts POUND.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Profound and erotic. A dream letter to receive.

    Like

  11. Simon says:

    I just found your blog – you write some good work! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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