WARNING: The following content is not suitable for audiences under the age of 18. Explicit content, and whatnot. Read at your own risk.
This is the beginning of something I started working on awhile ago. I’m thinking maybe it’s time to dust it off and let it breathe.
You’ve been gone less than two days and it feels like two lifetimes. I know that I will probably speak with you long before you receive this letter, but the idea of waiting one moment more to talk to you was too much for me to handle. If I write to you, at least I can feel like I’m talking to you even though I can’t hear your deep, silky voice responding and encouraging me. It’s selfish, really. Here you are, off in the wild trying to make a way for yourself, for us, and all I can think about it how much I want to share my day with you. Well, that isn’t entirely truthful. It’s my night – all my nights – I want to share with you.
Last night, I found comfort in myself for the first time in a long time. I was so unable to control my thoughts and my tears, wallowing in my self-pity and misery that I am here without you now, when my thoughts turned to the many nights we have shared. I was lying in my bed with my eyes, swollen and dry from crying most of the evening, when I started to remember how you would lie behind me, enclosing me in your arms as if preventing me from falling out of the bed. I can still feel your warm breath, steady and heavy on the back of my neck. I never told you this, but I slept with my hair up in a loose bun so that I could feel your breath on my neck night after night. It’s silly, I know; but it’s true.
Anyway, I started to imagine your breath keeping a steady pace against my skin, warming me inside and out. I could feel your heartbeat, strongly keeping time in between breaths. I would listen and try to match my breathing to yours, and as I lie there, alone, last night, I could almost feel you behind me and I, once again found myself matching my breath to yours. I like to think you were lying in bed, dreaming of me at this moment, but I know that is unlikely.
Before I realized what was happening, my hands were moving across my skin, mimicking the way yours used to explore my body. I had goose-bumps growing on my skin as my fingers were lightly grazing my full breasts, circling my nipples as they grew hard under my touch. Slowly, just like you would, my hand moved down from my chest, over stomach, past my bellybutton, and right to my sex. Exhaling deeply, my fingers began exploring the area. I was so wet, smiling with thoughts and memories of your touch. Moving in a little circle, my two fingers danced around my clit, careful to not touch it directly. I remember fondly how you used to tease me like that. No matter how much I hated you for it in the moment, I always loved you for it later.
Then, gathering my courage and taking matters into my own hands, if you’ll forgive the pun, I plunged my two dripping wet fingers into my sex with such force that the feeling caught me off guard. There, I savored the moment of how warm and soft I am on the inside. I thought to myself “is this why you always liked it so much, John?” Then, slowly I began to move my fingers in and out, in and out. Then, a little faster. In my mind’s eye, I could see you lying next to me, smiling at my pleasure while your fingers played me like sophisticated instrument. With this image in my mind, I felt myself tense up. My back started to arch, and my neck was stretching to its full length just as the orgasm washed over like a sigh of relief.
There I was. Soaking wet, naked, and alone in my bed, lying there with my eyes still closed, holding on to the image of your face. Slowly, reality started creeping back to me, my breathing became regular and I could no longer feel your breath on me. I opened my eyes, and was saddened once again to find myself alone.
At least now I know that when I need you, I can always summon you in my imagination. I know that memories of you and the time we have shared will not fade. At least not before you return to me.
I promise to write again soon, though I don’t know exactly how long it will take for you to receive this letter.
Missing you, who has all my love always,