Letters from C

I’ll admit I’m a sucker for people who can write really well, especially if they can write sexy well. Erotica is hard to write without coming off cheesy and there are few people who’ve managed to master it. One of my lovers, C, used to send me some of the most deliciously dirty letters, so I thought I’d re-post them here on a recurring basis (with his permission, of course). He had left the country for several months after the first time we enjoyed a wonderful tryst together, so I suspect he kept sending me these letters while he was gone to retain my interest during that time (he succeeded, of course). These days we see each other often enough where actual play-time has perhaps replaced the need for inspiring letters of this sort (that admittedly make me squirm). But I always love a good sexy letter… ahem.

Without further ado, here’s exhibit A:

I daydream about having you as my captive. Your wrists chained together over your head, perhaps so high that you need to stand on your tippy toes. Oh, and a blindfold. Definitely a blindfold. So you can hear my slow and steady pace as I stroll around you, admiring your lovely exposed body from all angles while you stretch and strain. You have no way to anticipate when I’ll touch you, or where, or how. Lightly, at first, so that your flesh feels teased, and yearns for more. But little by little, my kisses and caresses turn more fierce and ferocious.

And you can feel my hunger growing, too: my breath getting deeper, my stiff throbbing against you. My admiration for the sounds that I squeeze out of you. And slap out of you. And shake out of you.

By the time I let your wrists down, your legs are wobbling and useless.  You collapse right where I want you.  You feel my boot prod you and turn you to admire you from different angles.  I toy with you, my prey, and make you feel it.  

 It’s times like these that I’m prone to growl.

 Times when I’m about to pounce.  

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