A Letter to my Lover
I've been so hungry my friend. And no opportunity to satisfy that hunger. The nights we've talked my housemate has had his little girl here so I haven't encouraged you. And yet I've wanted to because I have wanted to hear you commanding me, encouraging me, fucking me with your voice, your words...
When I've been home alone - when he's gone to work, I am running around here trying to accomplish things I can't do when he's here. The household chores that he doesn't help with. Listening to my music loudly. This afternoon I played in the garden. Picked up the trash that blows in from the front after they dump the cans. I admired the daffodils that are pushing up through the ground. There is something so erotic about that. Like fat green penises thrusting themselves into the sunlight. My friend David just laughed at me and said "No its not erotic! You just think of sex 24 hours a day!"
I glowered at him and grumbled "And that's a problem?"
Today however I took a few moments to enjoy that thrill of those plants pushing themselves up through that brown earth. It started the hunger. Or so I thought. Though now that I've thought about it, the hunger has been here for days, maybe even weeks.
I haven't taken the time to play with myself. When we have talked, he is always here or he is due home any minute. I need to relieve the tension, the stress, the anger the housemate is causing. I've been spending a lot of time with my friends Carol or David. Anything not to be here while he is.
I'd gone to bed tonight and lay there with my eyes closed telling myself a story. Often this is how I go to sleep. Sometimes it leads to play and I thought maybe tonight I would. I know I needed too. I'm visualizing your warm hard body pressed up against my back side. My hand moves over my buttocks, caressing the curve, the dip of my waist, the fullness of my breasts, pretending it is your hand. My nipples were rock hard and I was waiting for the tingles, the lightening streaks that travel from a pinched nipple down to the heat between my legs. My nipples ache because they are a little cold as well as hard and tight.
My mind tells the story of your hard cock jutting out from your body laying behind me, rubbing against me. I can feel it pushing against me as though I am the earth and he is looking for the sunlight. I welcome your hands on my body. Wanting to feel your lips on my neck as your fingers brush away the soft curls of my hair so you can taste an earlobe or a shoulder. I waited anxiously for the warmth to flow through my body. I silently moaned as my hands cup my breasts and feel their heaviness as they start to swell. My body rocks.
And then -
I hear the coughing as he gets up from his recliner in the living room where he has the TV on too loud and he shuffles down the hallway to the bathroom where he heaves his guts out loudly. He's still sick. 7 weeks. He won't go to the doctor and can't seem to hear what his own body is trying to tell him. I just spent the last 20 minutes listening to him throwing up loudly because he can't seem to close the fuckin' bathroom door.
I bring the covers over my head and close my eyes tightly in anger and disappointment as my hunger fades...
Sun Oct 18, 2009 11:53 pm by tee
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Subject: A Letter to My Lover 