Write me a fantasy: A sexually explicit love letter
By White Dwarf
Right now I’m sitting at Starbucks under a dark sky. That’s just the introductory line. Where I am right now doesn’t matter, but so you know, I have a grande Mocha, and Jeff Martin’s Exile and the Kingdom playing via headphones. So I’ve got pen and paper to write a fantasy, but the more I think about it, the harder it seems to write. So I’m not going to make anything up, I’m going to tell you what keeps me awake at night.
Before I go on, let me say this is fantasy; I can have what I want. I can choose from different futures, play them out. Mostly, this is all assuming we live together. So you’ll please forgive me for jumping ahead.
So at night I can lie awake for some time before falling asleep. I think of many things; of problems, solutions, desires… this starts with the thought of sharing a bed.
I’m asleep that night; I might be working the next day. It would be 3 AM and you have just had your bath, and when you come in you try not to wake me, but as you undress, I stir, and as you climb under the covers I know you’ve come to bed. I imagine you sleep in men’s black satin boxers. I sleep naked. You pull the covers up and you shiver a little. I pull you closer to me and my warmth, closer to my bare chest and press myself against you. Your skin is fresh and firm from the hot bath, cool and smooth under my hand. I’ve run my hand up between your soft breasts and my arm holds you, and you’ve taken my hand. I rest my head against you.
Is your hair slightly damp, or do you dry it?
The warmth under the covers slowly increases and your body begins to relax. You begin to breathe easy. I move my legs so my thighs press beneath your own, I feel the soft satin. I am more awake now, but I am peaceful, you’re in my arms. There isn’t anything else in the world but this moment and its sensations.
And what do I feel?
I hear the soft rain outside and I hear you breathing. I feel your chest rise and fall. The heat building in my hand, snug in your bosom, the hand you’re holding. My head is tucked into your neck, your cool hair on my face, perfumed. I exhale, hot breath, it travels and spreads over your neck, down your back, further; I think you must feel that too.
My lips are already pressed to your shoulders, and grateful for this moment, I kiss, softly. You respond with the cutest little sigh, and squeeze my hand that you hold to your chest, and you interlock our fingers.
Do I kiss you again? Do I gently squeeze your fingers? Do I grow hard against your satin boxers?
Or does the warmth and peace take us both to sleep?
This is what I imagine at 5 in the morning. It’s just in my mind, but it can feel real, so long as I don’t stop, so long as I don’t feel the cold just a foot away. This is possible. Do you think like this? Do you think about arguments too? What great fights we could have. I do, and how I would I say I’m sorry, how I would make it better. But now, at 5 in the morning, thinking of you pressed against me, I’ve grown hard.
For me, that night, you turn to face me, and trying to keep out the cold air you move slowly; you move in so close your nose touches mine, our lips touch.
Sometimes I think of how I would feel if I let you down, made you mad, and you were not talking to me. How would I approach you, how would I get you to tell me what was wrong. What kind of pain we could inflict.
But in this dream, I want you to kiss me, so so gently; so sweetly; a sweet moment. You do. The perfect moments of togetherness that make everything else worthwhile, make all other complaints trivial.
In this waking dream I run the tips of my fingers up your back, I hold your neck, soft shaved hair tickles my finger tips. I love the feel of your muscles under the skin. I run my fingers through your hair, or along the line of your jaw up around your ear. I hold you firmly, and we kiss harder. We both exhale. You dig into my back, not so hard it hurts, but passionately, you pull our bodies closer together.
Maybe the rain starts to fall harder.
The hot air escapes the covers, and with it the trance scent of your excitement. It would drive me wild.
Its morning in reality, the morning light is growing, but I have given into the fantasy, and I massage myself under the covers.
In the future, in the fantasy, I can almost sense every detail, from the intoxicating scent of your body, feeling the sliding flesh, breathing you in, taking my time in this ever escalating dream.
In reality, the covers get in my way, so I take them down below my hips. It is freezing, but I don’t care.
The future, the fantasy, it flips back and forth, focusing on you breathing and sounds that you make; then to between your legs, hot and wet; the feel of pubic hair; Kissing your inner thigh; lost in your lips; teeth biting; deep kissing; deep inside you.
I’m pinning your hand to the bed above your head, the other I have beneath you clasping your shoulder, forcefully, almost violently. We are lost in the moment, overcome.
Back in reality I am nearly there. I want to come but I don’t want it to end. So I slow down. I shouldn’t, I have to get up for work, but I slow down.
You’re on top of me now with the covers halfway up your back. You’re leaning down low over me, your forehead resting on mine, you are moving back and forth. I’m flipping between sensations; looking into your eyes, or our eyes close and our lips pressed together, you might bite my lip. It’s hot inside you. You are so wet I am gliding. I can tell you are close. You take sharp breaths, you make desperate little moans. The thought of your coming climax sends waves of pleasure up my body. And in my fantasy we come together. Clutching each other in an embrace far too powerful for any other moment, and we are absolute.
In reality my heart is thundering in my ears.
In my mind, we haven’t moved since, but you have placed your hand on my chest, you’re feeling my heart pound.
Maybe you fall to my side, my arm beneath you, your head on my shoulder, we then pull the covers up. I gently stroke your arm, just lightly touching you. Maybe we talk, or maybe just remain silent – peaceful – exhausted.
I know I hold you for a long time. And as the sweat dries we fall asleep.
In reality, I’m calm, thinking of you in my arms.