The Written Word

(

This story is a prequel to “The Mail”, written by SINderellaBelle

)

The proper choice of words is critical. Finding exactly the turn of phrase to create the mood I’m looking for can be difficult. I want to create an erotic storm that concentrates a burst of static electricity at her core. I want her skin to prickle with it, needing some sort of relief to stop the feeling that she could burst into flames at any moment.

I want her to

need

to touch herself, to slide her fingers down her stomach, to twine her pubic hair around her fingers, and finally to slide her fingers between her legs and probe herself wantonly, not caring about anything except her own need in that moment. I want her to feel that burst of electricity move down her spine, and leap out from between her legs, singeing her fingers with the heat. I want her to feel the relief and release as an orgasm envelopes the whole length of her body, freezing her in time for that one ecstatic moment.

And, because I’m selfish, I want to be the cause of her torment, and her relief.

So, how do I create this erotic masterpiece? I think I know what she thinks is erotic. We’ve talked enough for me to know. But there’s so much to choose from. What will have the strongest affect on her?

I have so many conflicting visions. Again and again, I think of gentle touching between us…stroking her cheek as she lays nestled in my lap…kissing her neck and bare shoulders as we lay wrapped in a warm thick blanket, her purring like a kitten. I can almost feel her skin as I think of spreading her out on a bed of plush pillows, her body like an unblemished canvas, and me painting her body with gentle strokes from my fingertips and soft, teasing kisses.

But I also feel the aching need between my legs as I long to ravish her over and over with animal heat and lust. I imagine her sliding fast and hard up and down on top of me, sucking my fingers into her mouth greedily and moaning as I paw her breasts and pinch her nipples. I see the sheen of sweat forming on her body as she grinds faster and faster on me, desperate to bring herself to orgasm, her face a mixture of pleasure, pain, and determination.

I imagine slipping up behind her and bending her at the waist, entering her from behind all in one stroke, controlling her movements with my hands on her hips and back as I slide in and out of her.

And then again…I visualize gently laying her down on a soft rug in front of a romantic fire, with wine, and smoldering looks, and long wet kisses. Me above her, sliding into her slowly, watching her face as I fill her, her eyes closing in pleasure, her back arching, as she bites her lower lip. Feeling her hands on my hips, gently pulling me into her until I can’t go any deeper.

And I also feel her hands gripping and clawing at my buttocks, urging me to move faster, wanting my aggressiveness as she nips at my chest and shoulders with bared teeth. I hear the moans that sound as if they’ve been ripped from her body…screaming my name so loud that I need to clamp my hand over her mouth to quiet her.

I am going to create a permanent record via the U.S. mail that shows her that I think of her every day, in a dozen different ways, all of them good. I want to excite her so much that she will get wet between the legs if she so much as looks at a stack of mail.

Fortunately, the mail is delivered six days a week. There’s plenty of time for me to get around to all my fantasies, starting with today…so, here goes…

Dear Lisa:

It’s Tuesday, and I’m thinking of you...