("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Romantic Letter by Gucci Barbie (gucci.barbie@hotmail.com) *** A beautiful blond recounts the romantic and sexually charged nature with a stud from a past relationship. (MF, rom) *** Dear Mike, This isn't going to be an easy letter for me, so please don't take what I write lightly. I am not doing this because I want you to feel sad, or angry, or confused. Hopefully you will not feel any of those things. Just take it for what it is, which is the only way I can express these thoughts, to the only person who will understand them. I remember the night you told me you loved me for the first time. We were in my room, and on the single-sized dorm bed. The sun had almost set, most likely because we had either been having sex or were just about to. We were close together; I remember stroking your hair. You told me you had something you wanted to tell me, but were reluctant to. I had to spend a few minutes convincing you that you could just go ahead and say it, although I had a feeling I knew what it was. Your voice was deep and quiet, but you spoke tentatively as well. You said "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I love you." At the time I wasn't surprised, as I have heard those words before and they meant nothing, to the person who spoke them or to me either. It wasn't until months later that I started to believe you and something inside of me started to give. I didn't love you instantly, I had been hurt by people too many times before. I had no reason to believe you were different. What haunts me now are the moments. Moments that I can't help but relive over and over and over now that we're apart. I can push them aside, with the daily tasks of everyday life. I can have my relationship, I can see my family, I can do everything a normal person does. I have goals for the future and enjoy my life. But when I'm alone, late at night, even after a couple glasses of wine, thoughts of you and of us circle around my head like a vulture, ready to pick me emotionally apart. When I close my eyes I can still remember the scent of your skin fresh out of the shower, what it was like to surrender myself to you emotionally and tell you I loved you a hundred times while you were making love to me. I shiver now, just the thought of it. I don't have the luxury of intimate sex the way I had it with you. I have come the realization that I never will again, which is perhaps part of the reason I look back on our time together with such longing. I can't pinpoint when it was, the day I gave myself to you. Not as much physically, because you already had me there, but all of me. I can only assume it was sort of like a giant glacier, cracking in half and sinking into the ocean. All of those sayings, about surrendering yourself to someone, was exactly what happened. It was like you cracked open a piece of me, which made me shatter into a million pieces and you reconstructed me, day by day. Remember the first year we were together? We had a bath, in that tiny washroom in your dorm room. You had cleaned it before we went in, as I was terrified of catching some sort of fungus from your roommates. We had candles and steam. I remember there was so much steam, the entire room was thick with it. As cramped as it was, we stayed in the bath for almost three hours. I can't recall what we did or really even talked about. I just remember lazily talking about what our lives would be like, down the road, once we were married. We divided up the chore list, who would take out the garbage and who would clean the floor. We were going to buy a farm so I could have cows at home. I would write novels for a living and take care of our children. You were going to work in the city. That day seemed like it never happened, it was so long ago, in some life that seems so far removed from how I live now. We definitely had sex and did a lot of fucking. We would keep each other up all night, just sleeping for a few hours in between to regain the energy to do it again. Even into our third year, when things were bad, the sex was still unbelievable most of the time. I was a willing prisoner in your dorm bedroom. I would wander over to your room in the early hours of a Saturday morning after a Friday night of partying, only to re- emerge on a Monday afternoon when it was time for class. I was too weak with sleep-loss and lust, you would go down to the café and smuggle food out for me, bringing it back to the room. The sex was amazing, back then you never let me down. Always ready for more, always wanting to please me, which made me crave to please you. I am fairly confident we were each created to fit each other. You were the perfect size, swollen to perfection; it was blissful when you entered me. It hardly took anything at all for you to get me excited. A few gentle kisses on the neck, a bite on the ear, brushing your lips against mine...that was all it took, my panties would be wet. Sometimes in class I would daydream about you, thinking about how much I wanted to fuck your brains out that night. I would get all swollen and wet, teased by my tight thong, causing sexual friction between my legs while I tried to get through the rest of my day. I had to leave class at least a few times and go directly to your room for relief, or to get some sort of release in the bathroom so I could manage to sit through the rest of the lecture. I remember you being as insatiable as I was, being able to make me ready for you on a whim, kissing me deeply and wrapping your muscular arms around me, pulling me against you. You were the perfect kisser. You could always sense my need for you, and would either tease me with smaller, soft kisses or dirty, hot and heavy ones. When it was time for you to come inside of me, it was like a frenzy of deep, hard, wetness and tongues. You were the perfect kisser. Did I mention that? One was never enough, I always had to have more of you. Maybe that is part of the reason I can't shake the memories of us, because I will always want more of you. 

You blew me out of the water with your open-mindedness and creativeness. I thought I had all the tricks in the book, but you definitely brought new ideas into the bedroom. There are so many memories I don't even want to say out loud or put on paper. You brought me to the brink of orgasm just by telling me a story once. We were in your room, talking about fantasies. I asked you to tell me a story. You told it to me in a deep whisper as I lay next to you, on your bed in the dark. I was fairly certain I was going to die of lust, it was like having a sexual paralysis take over me. My entire body was weak and on fire. My head was swimming and I had tears at the corner of my eyes, my heart was pounding, but I couldn't move, trapped in sexual limbo by you. I don't even recall at what point in the story you had me, but I was almost in tears, needing you to fuck me. You did….oh god, you did. Having you inside me was like…I had one purpose in life, and your cock filling me was it. My only reason to exist was to pleasure you, and to have you inside me, to violate every part of me. I would refuse to shower after a night of sex. I wanted to scent of you to linger, to mark me as yours. The feeling of your cum, deep inside of me, trickling out to wet my panties during the day, to keep my pussy moist with your cum, was heaven. The only thing worse than the memories of being in love with you and having sex with you are the memories of us making love. When I think about it, it makes me hurt. You are the only man who will ever be able to touch that spot inside me. It is somewhere deep in me, in the lower part of my abdomen. I know that's approximately the area it is in, because when I think of you it aches. It's not physically accessible, but making love with you would make it…glow. That feeling would travel from my spot, to my heart, and I'm fairly sure it prevented me from being able to think clearly. Even now, I can feel it glowing, just thinking of us. Feeling your cheek against mine, kissing my ear, telling me you love me, slowly and rhythmically thrusting inside of me…the loss of this feeling cripples me as a person. I would feel heavy, like in a daze. Unable to speak, I could only repeat how much I loved you, like saying it enough would make it big enough and real enough that people could see it from a distance. My tongue feels heavy, and it's wet. That is what love tastes like. Saying your name, telling you I love you, it like some sort of sweet, wonderful candy in my mouth. Oh Mike. My love, my love. I'm glowing just thinking of it, of the times I could say it to you all I wanted. I still tried to push you away. Years of unhappiness had conditioned me to do it. When you were inside me, touching me, hearing you use endearments and tell me you loved me, I wanted to have you. I didn't want to just have you physically, or emotionally. I wanted that glow to spread all over my body, for you to be filled by it too. It was a state of ecstasy, of spiritual bliss. We would become one, glowing piece, always together, bonded. It was then I realized I wanted to carry your children. It was that glowing feeling that made me realize it. I could accept our physical limitations, provided I could have you inside of me in a way no other man could. The thought of being impregnated by you gave making love a whole new kind of sexual excitement and need. I would spread my legs a little wider, thrust up to you a little more urgently, open myself to you in a way I could not with anybody else. Just the thought of you ejaculating your sperm into my womb, conceiving the first of our children, would put me over the edge. When you were away on ski trips or we were apart in third year, I would fantasize again and again that moment, you burying yourself deep inside me, wanting the same thing as me. It was so primal, such an obscure thing for me. Even the thought of childbirth was appealing, the thought of bringing our baby safely into the world, for our family to become solidified, our lives forever intertwined. That need to be pregnant by you was overwhelming. I don't know if I have ever wanted anything in the way I wanted that. Even still, those feelings scare me, the glowing within me that makes my entire body fuzzy and weak. The fact I can't control feelings that powerful, over something as important as creating a life with you, is terrible for me. The reality that I live my life, day in, day out, building a new life with somebody else who loves me unconditionally, maybe more than you did, it ruins me when I'm alone. I will eventually marry, have children. I am sure I would love them as much as I would have loved ours. However there is no glow. What an empty feeling, to prepare for such a big event as a first child, without you. To create life, to get old, to watch the children become adults with families of their own, to live and watch people you love die, in which I will have to prepare for my own death. Without you. I guess it's easy to cry over something that never happened. After all, it's just in my imagination. Life takes so many hard turns, it becomes easy to forget while in a fantasy about the realities of it all, the fighting about money, the arguments, the petty things that eventually dissolve many marriages. Pretending like we would be exempt from that is silly. But you... Mike... I have told you this before. We were in third year, a tough time for me because we were on and off. I was in a lot of pain, not entirely your fault. I was forced to tell you my feelings, because I was terrified I would never get another chance. We were lying in your bed, this time in your shared house, not a dorm room. We had lackluster sex, you were obviously distracted, and emotionally distant. I had so many things I wanted to tell you, but instead I simply said that I would always love you, no matter what. I told you I understood why you were drifting away (my fault), but that I would wait for you, wait for you forever. You didn't have much of a response, but I remember it was to the effect of I shouldn't, or that you didn't believe it. We have been apart for over five years. Not a lifetime, that's for sure. It's nice to be able to touch base in a while, and I apologize for every lapse in judgment I have made during that time. When I think of you, I wish you were happy and content, living the life you wanted, with a beautiful, intelligent and loving woman that you could have the family with that you always wanted. I know you downplay your emotions now, as most of us do. In a way, I guess that is smart. I also want you to know that I'm happy, and despite his occasionally questionable actions, I have a devoted and loving partner. I look forward to my life with him. That being said, my memories of our time together are my one regret. I regret ever hurting you, I regret not telling you everything I felt before it was far too late, I regret leaving Seattle when I did because even another year of having part of you would have been better than the rest of my life without you. Just know that you are always in my thoughts. You are always a part of me, and while you did not believe me at the time, I will always love you in a way I can't love anybody else. While I have so many regrets, I could never regret loving you because a love like that was the greatest and most special gift that I could ever have. My life was changed forever because of you, and even when I die it will be you and our love that will stand out in my mind. I can't say anything else. My heart can't bear it. Sarah * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world contract HIV every year. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 60