A note as to origins:
When I was a college student, I had an intense 18 month relationship with a woman I thought I would marry. We lived together the last semester. When I graduated and entered the army, she had another year of college remaining. I began writing her a weekly erotic letter, always couched in non-pornographic form. She loved the notes and said they gave her hours of masturbatory joy (and I also got my kicks writing them).
As happens all so often to teen romances, this one went sour (for non-sexual reasons) and we wed other persons. But we have stayed in touch over the years, and we've met for good motel/hotel sex from time to time -- usually 14 hours of overnight bliss. She e-mailed me recently to say that she was very horny and would I mind writing her a "Fort Chaffee/Fort Holabird letter" referring to where I was stationed when I sent her erotic mail years ago. So I did, and here is what she read a few days ago.
The first hint of autumn in the central Texas air emboldens you to drive out into the hills, and to walk amidst the cedar breaks and the still-flamboyant blue bonnets. You desire solitude today, and such is what you found, even extending to the modest cabin that you rent for the night to the rear of a 150-acre property owned by a retired couple. You found the place through a travel section ad, and it meets your expectations perfectly. You have a glass of wine with the couple on their porch but decline a dinner invitation, saying that you will make do with the salad in your cooler. The truth is that you simply wish to be alone with your thoughts.
Dusk comes swiftly in the Texas hills, the last rays of sun yielding to the purplish gloom that engulfs everything around you. You find the cabin comfortable, and after a long shower – oh, to get rid of the tiredness that could be serious hiking aches tomorrow – you put on your nightie and curl up in bed to read a bit. Tiredness tugs at your eyes very early, and you snap off the light and snuggle under the blanket, enjoying the rarity of time all by yourself. The breeze through the open window is just chill enough to make you hold the blanket tight around your body. Almost immediately you are in a deep sleep....
What is the presence that you suddenly sense alongside you? You realize that your backside is pressing firmly against a comfortable body. You stir but do not open your eyes; slumber still reigns, even when a tender hand comes up to stroke your cheek. You move your head around in response to the touch, and you feel the softness of hair – could this be a beard? – against your neck and face. Your mind does not bother sorting out the sensations that tumble through your mind. And when strong arms go around your body, pulling you even closer against the unseen presence, you find yourself relaxing, and thinking, “How good it is, to be held during the night.....”
How long? Eyes still closed, you drift in and out of a half-sleep. You stir again and sigh softly when hands creep up to find and cup your breasts. You flex your shoulders, as if to offer more of yourself to the caressing hands, and you feel your nipples involuntarily tauten....
Deep slumber returns, a welcome respite from having to decide things for yourself. You feel hands moving to the straps of your nightie, gently shoving them down your shoulders. The flimsy garment is suddenly around your waist, and when the hands return to your breasts, they find bare flesh. Their touch is at once arousing and comforting, and once again you move your head back so that your face rubs against the soft hair of a beard.....
A hand moves from your bare breast to your chin, and tilts your head back until your lips brush against an open and warm mouth. Tongues meet and swirl together; your eyes remain locked as you savor being kissed, and kissing in return. A low moan of comfort and satisfaction....
Once again you drift between deep sleep and a half-awareness that you are experiencing something very pleasant, something that you wish to continue. And when one of the hands returns to your nightie, and gently tugs the hem up your body, you involuntarily wiggle to free it from your legs. You now realize, vaguely, that your gown is now simply a narrow band of cloth wrapped around your waist, and that your body is open for further touches....
