On a cold February day, I went to visit a friend. I went with a letter in my hand, words I wanted her to read. What follows is that letter. The words in italics are the words I spoke to her as she read. I read my copy of the letter at the same time. I am a dreamer. And a writer. This combination can either work, or it can be incredibly volatile. Why am I telling you this? I need to clear my mind of thoughts, and I need to do this in order to move on. Again you are asking why I am writing to you. This is why: because you are my thoughts. You are a resident of my creativity. Very often, you are my subject, my target. My obsession. And so, I am doing what I know...writing. I am writing you out of my mind. Not out of my life, for I would like to remain friends. But I am purging, spring cleaning in a manner of speaking. Please don't hate me. I can already see a tear in your eye. You feel betrayed, confused. Although those feelings were never my intention, I can understand that you feel that way. I warn you now, this isn't going to get easier. I am going to get very descriptive about my feelings, my thoughts. All I can ask is that you finish reading this. Afterwards, you may do or say what you like. It won't matter. You will be purged out of my memory banks.
The first time I met you was a very underwhelming experience. You were new in town, dating someone I didn't know. Honestly, I never thought of you again, at least not as someone who could potentially become a friend. When I saw you around, it was sheer coincidence. I wasn't looking for you, or trying to capture you in a picture.
What changed? Oh, don't get all pissy just because I was not taken aback by first impressions. You can't have the attention and enjoy it, and in the meantime be all offended when someone is honest. Get over yourself.
Now, I was about to tell you what changed. I can't pinpoint the exact time that I noticed you in a positive, or even sexual, manner. By the time I realized it, you had a couple kids already. It must have around the time we both got involved in the community club. I would see you every Thursday, and it was usually with your back turned to me. I will admit right here and now that I spent some time looking at your ass. I thought you were the owner of a very nice bum. Often I imagined how it would feel in my hands. I have big hands, and let's face it, your ass is bubble shaped, round and full. It would be a perfect fit.
As time went on, and I spent those Thursday evenings watching you, I also had the opportunity to chat with you, and get to know you. I’ve discovered you have an opinionated side to you, a playful side and a serious side. We’ve run the gamut in our brief conversations. And, the funny thing is, the more I got to know you via conversation, the more of a physical presence you became. I started noticing more about your body, noticing your hands, your skin, all of it intrigued me. I will never forget the rare glimpses down your shirt, revealing a cleavage I am surprised at. You hide your form well. I noticed you just clasped your hand to your neckline of your shirt. Is this to prevent me from looking? Rest assured, I am not trying any more. I’ve written this to remove this line of thinking from my being; in my mind, we’ve done everything a man and woman can do. I have no need to glimpse the skin on the top of your breasts. Relax, and read on.
Do you have any idea what makes a woman sexy? Yes I realize this question is extremely subjective, and we all have different opinions. Well, what I find sexy, alluring, desirable and down right hot can be summed up in one word: Natural. I thoroughly enjoy a woman whose skin has natural marks, such as freckles. I adore a shape that is expanded through childbirth and sagging from age. Finely tuned hard bodies really don’t turn me on as much. Do you realize that I just described you? Do you see yourself in the same light I do?
I can start from the top of your head, and work my way down, if only to give you pure insight as to how you are perceived. Mind you, I will be making up some of the stuff, because when it boils down to it, I have never seen you naked. I have never touched you in that way. And that’s ok. I’m a writer. I’m a dreamer. And this is my confession.
There is very little about you that I don’t find fascinating. Your hair, your eyes, your nose; I would love to run my hands through your reddish hair, all while tenderly kissing every freckle on your face. Taking pause from the freckle attention, I gently kiss your lips. I’ve often wondered what sort of kisser you are. Do you open your mouth, and use your tongue to explore the inside of my mouth, or wrestle with my tongue? Do you keep your lips pursed, and give a myriad of little pecks? Do your kisses ‘heat up’ as you get aroused? Are your eyes open or closed during a kiss? All these things I’ve thought about, and in my mind I’ve made you into a pursed lips kisser, and as your passion rises, your kisses heat up. Nibbling on your lips, sucking each one into my mouth is something I’ve dreamt of, and something I’ve imagined you enjoying.
A kiss doesn’t just stop at the mouth. No, a kiss is a mechanism to love and lavish attention with to an entire body. From head to toe, a kiss will invoke passion. I’ve written your neck and shoulders as being very sensitive, and as I kiss your neck, my hand unbuttons the top button of your shirt, and moves the fabric off your shoulders. Your bra strap is revealed. A kiss, a light flick of the tongue over your skin. I’ve never imagined you to wear black underwear, and although it is my favorite color of lingerie, you didn’t disappoint my expectation. Your bra strap reveals a greenish / turquoise strap, and I suspect it leads to a very functional bra, meant for support and comfort, not for sexiness. That’s ok. It is the color and how well it fits that I find attractive. As I kiss your sensitive skin, I can hear you breathe a little deeper. Your eyes close as I continue my journey. I can see you continuing to read, but I see revulsion in your eyes. Or is it just shock? Would you even admit if this was turning you on? Can you tell yourself (you don’t have to tell me) that you actually enjoy this bit of attention? Do you wish it was reality? Well it’s not real, and it never will be. Now, I think I was still kissing your shoulders, and working my way down.
I must say that I am pleased you are wearing a button up shirt. It makes my journey so much easier. Two more buttons open, and I now push your shirt down your arms, revealing your breasts (still encased in your bra). Your hands are effectively immobile, trapped in the arms of your shirt. Kisses, more kisses. I am loving the front of your shoulders, risking a little bite every so often. My mouth and tongue work on your pale body, and my hands lower your bra straps down your arms. I was right about the bra. It is the same color as the straps, and is very normal. Aside from a little silk bow nestled in your cleavage, there is nothing about this bra that screams ‘sexy’. I am now tracing the edge of the bra, from strap to that little bow, and to the other strap. As the warmth of my tongue grazes the upper slope of your breasts, you inhale quickly. I call this a pleasure gasp. Your body is reacting to my tender touches. Oh my dear friend, why are there tears? Our lovemaking has just begun in my mind. I cannot stop, for I need to get through this in order for it to never happen. Please don’t cry, but rather enjoy the experience. It may be something you’ll never get to enjoy (I don’t know or care about the real life experience you get in your bedroom).
It is now my turn for a little pleasure gasp, for I have finally used my hands to touch you. Your bra is very close to falling off your breasts, but I am not ready for that. My hands cup you, holding the fabric in place. You do not have big breasts, a 32b if I had to guess. Ever so softly I massage you, and everytime I do, your chest moves into my hands. It’s as if you are wanting this manipulation. I am squeezing your breasts together, forming a deep cleavage. My mouth is right there, my tongue is feeling its way around the valley I’ve created. Light suction on the part of the breast I see is enough to make me crazy with longing. This is the time for me to tell you that I am incredibly turned on. Yes, I am hard. My blood engorged penis is straining at my jeans, and it is taking a lot of willpower to not pull it out and masturbate. How about you? What are you feeling? No wait...please don’t answer that. I can see by your eyes that you are disturbed, but also that my dreams and my words are getting to you.
One of the many things I have wondered is what your breasts look like. I’ve worked hard (pardon the pun) to keep that mystery from being revealed, and now the time has come. I want to see your nipples and areola. Do you have big nipples or little ones? Are they brown? A pale pink to match your skin? Does your areola cover a large area, or do they have a small diameter. So much to wonder about. And now, all will be revealed. So slowly I lower the bra cup on your right breast. Since no two breasts are equal or alike, I must pay attention to each one as an individual. Oh my, another pleasure gasp for me. I can see the top of your nipple, it is a light brown, and is surrounded with very light freckles. I use my tongue to lick at them, and your reaction is intense. Your areola is immediately goosebumped, as if you got cold. But by your intake of breath, I am sure that your pleasure level just increased. You obviously have very sensitive breasts, with the nipple area being the very core of nerve endings. I am taking my time exposing your whole breast...this is something I don’t take lightly. I want to love to each one, slowly and individually. As your bra lowers, your whole nipple is exposed, and is standing out as a perky little nub. You do not have large nipples, which doesn’t surprise me. It is so erotic that your body is responding to my manipulations even though your mind may not be. Very lightly I swirl my tongue around the outer edge of your firm areola, followed by grasping the erect nipple between my teeth and ever so gently biting it. Then I kiss it, and opening my mouth wide, take your breast into my mouth. My flattened tongue is laving your nipple, teasing the most sensitive area. Your breathing is a little more ragged now.
It is time to move across your body, and pay some attention to your left breast. My hand has been cupping it since the I first touched you there, keeping the bra covering it. I want to pay attention to the details, comparing the differences between the two. A brief sojourn in your cleavage, kissing up and down your sternum. My fingers are playing and teasing with the nipple and breast that is already exposed. I reveal your left breast by removing the remaining cup with my teeth. I can smell the cloth, your smell, and so I push your bra against my nostril and inhale your scent. I am intoxicated. Letting go of the bra, I lightly circle the palm of my hand against your nipple. Immediately it jumps out, perked by the light touch. Your left side is different from the right side, but the differences are subtle. One needs to be close to them to see it. Your left areola is slightly larger, and when aroused, has fewer goosebumps. Also, there are not as many freckles on this breast. The nipple itself is slightly larger as well, and has a minute shape difference. But the reaction from my palm massage is the same on both sides. Your breathing increases in pace as my mouth forms a seal around your left breast, encompassing it in a warmth and tenderness that your right breast experienced as well. Again, a gentle nibble with your nipple between my teeth draws a gasp.
I am intrigued by the fact that the crease under your breasts is also very sensitive. I am getting the impression that your entire body is filled with erotic zones. I plant little kisses all along the bottom of your breasts as my hands are gripping your sides. My pinky fingers are running little trails along the edge of your pants, while my thumbs feel their way along your stomach. Right now, I would like you to stop lying to yourself. Your eyes betray you. The looks you give me as you read this letter are an attempt at madness, but the reality is that they are looks of curiosity. What I wonder though (and you don’t have to answer this) is how much of this you have truly experienced. I said before I didn’t care, but in a way I do, for I may be starting to do things to you that you have never felt. I will allow you to be nervous, but you cannot stop me. You want this as much as I do. Fortunately, it is not reality. It never happened. You will probably never feel this way again, even if it is replicated in real life. For this is me and you, not you and the one you belong with. It is different. Lay back, read on, and enjoy what’s on the way.
I have always felt that a woman should not be embarrassed by a little pudginess around the middle, or by the stretch marks that invade her belly. You’ve borne 3 children now, you are allowed a little more that what you started with. And if I am perfectly honest, I love it. I could spend hours tracing patterns on your stomach with my tongue, squeezing bits of fat in my hand. Maybe there is a bit of pain involved as I do use a little bit of force, but your pain receptors increase your passion, as indicated by your slight writhing under my hands. My fingers feel around your ribcage, outlining the bones that encase your heart. A quick caress of your breasts again keeps your nipples erect. Now my littlest fingers find their way under the waistline of your jeans, rubbing up against the top of your pelvis. Again my curiosity is piqued as to what kind of panties you wear. I dwell on this as my tongue dips into your belly button, and trails a light coat of moisture down to your pants button. My hands stop their massage, and open the button, lowering your zipper at the same time. As I do this, I look at your face, wondering how you are reacting to this invasion. You don’t seem too upset right now. That might change as I continue. Have you figured out yet where this particular part is going? I don’t want to use words like ‘cunt’ and ‘pussy’. They sound too vulgar for what I am playing through in my mind. However, you know that I am going down to your most sexual of regions. What have you allowed to happen down there in the past? Have you ever experienced oral sex to its fullest? Does the thought of it repulse you, or intrigue you? Trust me, if you relax you will experience the most intense orgasm. So please, relax. I want to please you.
Is it true that a woman’s fantasy is to have her pants removed by a man using his teeth only? I’ve never personally put much stock in that, especially if jeans fit a little tighter around the hips. I’m more likely to break a tooth than to get your pants off. So before we work together to reveal your panties, I kiss you on your beautiful mouth. And my hand, my hand works its way into the open pants, and I can feel the cotton panties you are wearing. I do not allow my fingers to go anywhere near your core, but I can feel the heat that is coming from between your thighs. I am trying, by feeling through your panties, to determine your attention to detail in the hair style. Do you believe in a full bush of pubic hair? Or do you shave and sculpt? A landing strip maybe? My personal favorite is a completely bald genital region, but that is a lot to expect. I can feel that you have some hair there, but as I trace the leg holes of your underwear, I can’t feel any stray pubes sticking out. This tells me you do some grooming. Now, I am sure I know what color your pubic hair is, probably the same color as your eyebrows. A reddish blonde is what probably will be revealed. My hands get closer, your heat rises, and your hips arch, begging me to continue. You shuddered as you read this. Why? Are you imagining what I am, that my fingers are so close to the source of your heat? Is your anticipation rising? You want me to touch you, don't you? But I sense that you are still a bit unsure of this. I am changing the pace now, and that will give you time to relax even more.
Still kissing you, and enjoying warmth of your mouth, I am encouraging your jeans over the crest of your hips. Hope springs as you lift your bum off the sheets, allowing me to slide your pants further down. I am surprised that you have started to touch me, to run your hands over my covered body. Yes, I am still dressed, although evidence of my desire is in the bulge of my pants. Your fingers find their way into my shirt, and you take your turn to tease my nipples. Little do you know how sensitive I am to that. As I break our kiss, I smile down at you, and say that your turn is not now. For all this is about your pleasure...not mine. And slowly I kiss my way down your body, taking a little time to tease your nipples with my mouth.
This truly is a momentous part of what we are doing. My hands and my head are at your panties. A slow gaze (but no touching) reveals function over form. Nothing sexy like a thong, or lacy boy-shorts. Just a plain pair of bikini briefs made of cotton, a matching green to the bra you wore. My hands graze the cloth that clings to your hips, while my thumbs circle their way towards the point where your thighs meet. Teasingly, my fingers dip inside the elastic band of the waist, but don’t stay in. My face is up against your mons, my lips press a gentle kiss against your panties. I can smell the musk of your desire, your passion. I am venturing into dangerous territory. We are almost to the point of no return, but I see and feel some subtle indications that you are nervous. I suspect that a man’s mouth has never been this close to your most intimate place, and it scares you. I hear you whisper my name in a questioning tone, so I stop. I move up, and kiss you, reassure you that all is ok. I tell you to relax, to close your eyes and enjoy the pleasure.
Knowing you’re nervous, I change what I am doing. I move back down, and I remove your pants, which are still stuck on your thighs. As I pull them over your feet, I begin a massage. I have decided to try relax you more, and I will use a gentle foot massage to start. My strong fingers dig into your feet, encouraging blood flow and causing your muscles to relax. Ankles and calves are next, each one receiving attention individually. I believe that each leg has nerves that trigger separate feelings, separate emotions. Your right calf triggers a deep sigh, and I can see your left nipple perk up as I manipulate the tissue. Your left calf triggers something deeper, your first vocal acknowledgement that you are enjoying this. A very soft groan escapes your lips, and my rubbing is relaxing you. I can see that your thighs have slightly parted as I am now past your knees. I am excited to find out how you will respond to me touching your thighs.
I plant tender kisses on your calves, and on your shins. I stop the massage of your lower legs, and my hands roam their way past your knees, and start the manipulating of the flesh of your thighs. Softly rubbing and squeezing, I feel the size of your upper legs. You have some thickness, a good strong leg. Again, I don’t think a woman needs to feel shame because she doesn’t have the ‘model worthy’ legs. I like fleshy, I like strong. I adore natural. Stop reading. What I am about to do next in my mind is something that is very enjoyable for me, and I know that any woman who experiences it loves it. But, you needs to wrap your head around the aspects of the act of oral sex. Be aware of what I am imagining doing to you. Don’t be grossed out. And while we are reading this, I absolutely need to masturbate. I am so incredibly hard as I read this. Please feel free to put your hands where you want on your body at the same time I put my hands on my body. Don’t be ashamed. We can’t do this to each other, so we may as well release the pent up desire that is building. Now, start reading...once you are comfortable.
I am keeping a very close eye on your face as my hands get closer to the junction of your thighs. I am positioning your legs, bent at the knees and your feet closer to your butt. Gently I coax your legs open, and I kiss my way from knee to mid-thigh, one leg at a time. As I kiss the flesh of your inner leg, my hands have roamed towards your heat, and my eyes can spot the wet spot that has formed on your panties. I once again have your butt cheeks in my hands, but this time your underwear is the only barrier. My thumbs are running lightly along the hem of the leg holes, tracing a path from your ass to the front. I still have not touched your wetness, although I am getting close to that.
My hands and arms wrap around the outside of your legs, and with you opening up just a little more, I kiss a trail of kisses to your panties, and I am leaving a light coating of moisture from my tongue all along the hem. I can smell you, your aroma is desire. In what seems to be slow motion, I suck the wet spot of your panties, and I taste you. I now have the flavor of your juices in my mouth, and the passionate smell of your sexuality in my nostrils. My tongue presses the fabric against your slit. But I am losing my patience. There are too many barriers. I work my thumbs into your panties, and rub them against the coarse hair on your mons. I am at the very top of you, and I can feel the hood that covers your clitoris. Tiny vibrations take over your body, I believe your first orgasm is approaching.
Finally, I hook my fingers into the waistband of your underwear and start moving them down your legs. Your legs point straight up as I remove your covering, and immediately assume the same position as before. Again I lower my head to your genital region, and I see you. I see the result of all my manipulations, your labia majora are swollen with desire. I can see your pink inner lips pushing out, open and begging attention. Your clit also is protruding from its hood. I was right about your pubic hair, it is the same color as your eyebrows, and you obviously do some shaving. You have sculpted it into a neat square, covering your mons, and you keep it a bit on the short side. No hair is growing on your lips; I like that. Please stop reading again. I am so happy to see that you are masturbating. This kind of reading is highly charged, and it isn’t healthy to prevent release. If you want to finish what you are doing, we can resume reading in a few minutes. I am getting close myself, and watching you is really a huge turn on. Relax, let your body accept what is happening. Enjoy the waves of pleasure. Oh, you’re reading again. Great! I will try slow down my own release.
I am so enthralled by being this close to you, I need to kiss you down there. I told you I don’t like to use the word ‘cunt’ or ‘pussy’, but I may accidently slip. I see that your hands are playing with your nipples, this is good, you will benefit from double pleasure. Now I am kissing your puffy outer lips, tonguing them, caressing them. I have one finger poised at your wet entrance, lightly touching, but not pushing. I am sucking on the meaty flesh of your labia ,you are writhing with pleasure. I know you are getting very close to an orgasm, I can feel the tremors. I encourage your release by flicking my tongue over your swollen clit, while at the same time I slowly push my finger into your very wet, very hot hole. I curl my finger, and very quickly find that magical spot inside of you. It becomes hard under my finger. I am running my tongue over your inner lips, and every so often I suck your clitoris into my mouth. You are now gasping, and emitting little squeaks as your orgasm overpowers you. Your hips are moving quite a bit, and it is hard for me to maintain contact with you. I really need to stop reading now. I have to finish, my release is imminent. I hope you don’t mind, but as I explode, I will be looking at you. I can see your fingers working quickly...and your eyes are now closed as you come to completion. A few more strokes. Oh my. Mmmm. Cum with me, dear friend. Cum so we can finish the rest of my words. Ahh yes. Your groaning is music to my ears. Finish my darling. Finish.
I continue my ministrations, making love to your sex with my mouth and fingers. You are in a constant state of orgasm, coming down from the one just as the next crests. Your hands are now pulling my head closer to you, trying to make me get even closer. My fingers withdraw, and I use my tongue to penetrate your wetness as far as I can. My face is buried into you as far as I can go, and I am lapping up your juices. Your passion and desire is at its height, and I hear you asking me for the final piece of our love-making.
For a fraction of time, I allow myself to be separated from you. I kneel on the bed, and remove my shirt. You sit up, and run your fingers over my chest, teasing my nipples as you did before. But I back up, stand up and remove the rest of my clothes. I am standing at the foot of the bed, naked. I have never been so hard in my life. Gently I lay you back onto the bed, resting on my elbows, and I kiss you. I don't say a word, but you reach down between us, and guide my penis to your opening. This is it. You are weeping now, dear friend. Whatever for? In my mind I have shown you the utmost tenderness, and words have driven you over the edge of a cliff you've never walked along before. Was this your first time masturbating? Have you never pleasured yourself after your partner failed to finish you? Or is he so attentive that every nerve is on fire as he makes love with you. Either way, I don't want to know. Please continue reading. My fantasy is almost done, you have heard most of my confession. Then I will be gone, and you will have been written out of my mind.
Your hips are pushing up, willing me to enter you. Both of us are holding our breath, last minute decisions (regrets?) flooding over us. Your legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in even closer. The very sensitive tip of my member parts your lips, the heat is overwhelming. I am not expecting your tunnel to be tight, for 3 children have passed through you. You are, however, so incredibly wet, and your sexual sheath is wrapping my penis like a hot glove as I slide deep into you. I am now as deep as I can go. My pelvis is against yours, my scrotum rests against you. I hold this position, and ever so gently kiss your slightly parted lips. Your tongue snakes out and starts a dance against mine. You softly start to roll your hips, so I withdraw my hardness to almost complete exit, and push back in. I gaze into your eyes as I plunge into you.
Harder, you tell me. I don't increase tempo, but do a very slow exit and a hard push back in. As I hit bottom, you give a cute little squeak, which turns into a soft moan as yet another orgasm takes your breath away after 6 or 7 of these. Briefly I increase speed, my hips moving up and down in a blur. The pressure in my scrotum is building. As you start breathing again, I change our position. I roll us over so we are on our sides, and I am able to gently maintain a calm thrusting. My hands are all over your body, caressing your face, your nipples, grabbing your butt. I don’t want this to end.
For a few minutes, we rock slow back and forth, together. Another orgasm is building in your depths, your breathing becomes more ragged. I am getting to the point of explosion, so I roll you back onto your back. A couple quick thrusts and you are climaxing again, and this time you take me with you. Semen erupts from my penis and fills you, mixing with your love fluid. My body is reacting intensely to the spasms of my own orgasm, and as the walls of your vagina squeeze me in their own dance of bliss, I am taken over the top again and again.
As we both descend from this mountain of pleasure, we kiss. A tender kiss, two lovers who have just experienced something so pure, so wrong. And thus my fantasy ends. Yes, dear friend, it is over. There is no fairytale ending, no cigarette after the fact. I have never dreamed beyond that final culmination of pleasure, probably because I don't want to know what happens. And now, I will take my leave. I thank you for allowing me the time to confess, and to spend time with you. If our friendship is ruined, I understand and accept that. I will always remain hopeful. Please burn the letter, it serves no purpose anymore. I have succeeded. I have written lustful thoughts of you out of my mind. Yet, I have failed, because you still are a part of my world. Please forgive me. I will never cause pain again intentionally. Goodbye dear friend.
And as I walked out the door, I heard a small voice behind me. You asked me 'When can I see you again?'
I continued walking, and did not answer.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/wife-lovers/my-confession.aspx">My Confession</a>