My Dearest Michael,
I find myself sitting here, the hours melting away, consumed by thoughts of you. It’s an obsession, really, a sweet, constant ache that has settled deep in my bones. I’ve tried to fight it, to reason with myself, but it’s useless. Every fibre of my being pulls me toward you, and I can no longer pretend that I only desire a simple friendship. I need more. I need you. I’m writing this because I’m tired of dancing around the truth, tired of the subtle glances and the electric tension that sparks between us whenever we’re near. I need to lay it all bare, to tell you exactly what I think about when I’m alone in my bed at night, my body flushed and my heart racing, all because of you.
I imagine you here in my room. The air is thick with anticipation. I don’t want to waste a second on pleasantries. I want to walk right up to you, press my body against yours, and feel that solid wall of your chest against my breasts. Looking up into your eyes, I’d let you see every dark, hungry thought swirling in my mind before crashing my lips against yours. I wouldn’t be gentle. I’d pour every ounce of my frustration and desire into that kiss, my tongue parting your lips, tasting you, claiming you. My hands would be in your hair, gripping the strands, holding you to me because I’m terrified you’ll vanish if I let go.
I can feel your hands on me then, sliding down my back to grip my ass, pulling me tighter against you until I can feel the hard, thick ridge of your cock pressing into my stomach. God, just the thought of it makes me wet. I want to feel it, all of it. I’d break the kiss, my lips swollen and tingling, and I’d drop to my knees right there in front of you. My hands would fumble with your belt, my fingers clumsy with eagerness as I undo your button and zipper. I would pull down your pants and boxers until your cock is free, beautiful, hard, and ready for me.
One last time, I’d look up at you, my eyes wide with worship, before leaning in and wrapping my lips around the head. I’d take my time, swirling my tongue around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. The sound of your groan would be like fuel to a fire for me. I’d take you deeper, inch by glorious inch, until you’re hitting the back of my throat. I’d relax, letting you in further, my nose pressed against your pubic bone. I want to worship you with my mouth, feeling you throb on my tongue as I suck you, my head bobbing and my hands stroking what I can’t fit. Looking up at you, I see your face contort with pleasure as I lavish attention on your balls, taking each one into my mouth, sucking and licking them until you’re panting my name.
But I don’t want you to come like this. Not yet. I desire for you to be inside me.
In one fluid motion, I’d stand up and pull my dress over my head, leaving me standing before you in just my lace panties. I want you to notice me, to observe how my body reacts to you—my hard nipples, the flush on my skin, the damp spot already forming on the thin fabric between my legs. I’d lie back on the bed, spreading my thighs for you, a silent, open invitation. With my thumbs hooked into my panties, I’d slide them down, tossing them aside. I’m completely bare for you now, slick and ready and aching to be filled.
The image of you walking towards me, your eyes dark with lust and your cock jutting out proudly, sends a shiver of anticipation through my body. Settling between my legs without entering me yet, the heat of your body would radiate against my most sensitive flesh. My fingers would part my folds, showing you my clit, swollen and begging for your touch. Your head would lower, replacing my fingers with your tongue, eating me like I’m your last meal. Licking, sucking, and nibbling at my clit until my back arches off the bed and I’m crying out your name. Your fingers would slide inside me, first one, then two, curling to find that spot deep inside that makes my whole body tremble. I’d come on your face, my thighs shaking, my juices flooding your mouth, and the sound of you groaning as you drink me down would be the final ecstasy.
And then, when I’m spent and panting and oversensitive, that’s when I want you to fuck me. My desire is to feel the blunt head of your cock press against my entrance, teasing me, making me beg for it. I want you to push inside, slowly, so slowly, letting me feel every thick inch as you stretch me, fill me completely. I want to wrap my legs around your waist, pulling you deeper until you’re buried to the hilt, our bodies fused together. I want to feel your weight on me, your skin against mine, your heart hammering against my ribs.
I want you to move. I want you to fuck me with long, deep, powerful strokes that make me see stars. I want to feel your balls slapping against my ass with every thrust. I want you to wrap your hand in my hair, tilt my head to the side, and bite down on the sensitive skin of my neck, marking me as yours. I want to feel your hands everywhere gripping my hips, squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples until the line between pleasure and pain blurs into something exquisite. I want to hear you whisper filthy, beautiful things in my ear, telling me how tight I am, how good I feel, how you’ve been wanting this just as much as I have.
I want to try everything with you. I want to get on my hands and knees, my face buried in a pillow as you take me from behind, your hands gripping my hips, pulling me back onto your cock with every brutal, delicious thrust. I want to ride you, to straddle your lap and sink down onto you, to set the pace, to watch your face as I grind my hips, using your body for my pleasure until we’re both lost in it.
I want to feel you lose control. I want your rhythm to become erratic, your thrusts harder, deeper. I want to feel your body tense, to hear your breath catch in your throat. I want you to look me right in the eyes as you come, to feel your cock pulse deep inside me as you spill yourself, filling me with your heat. And I want to come with you, my orgasm crashing over me, my muscles clamping down around you, milking you for every last drop.
Afterward, I want to lie tangled in the sheets, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing slowly returning to normal. I want to feel your arms around me, to trace the lines of your chest with my fingertips, to press lazy, satisfied kisses to your skin. I want to fall asleep with your scent all over me, knowing that this wasn’t a onetime thing, but the beginning of everything.
But that’s just the beginning of what I imagine. The first time is for the raw, desperate need, the scratching of an itch that has been driving me insane. But the second time… the second time is for exploration. It’s for the things I’ve only ever dared to fantasize about in the darkest corners of my mind.
I want to wake up in the middle of the night, your body warm beside mine, and feel your cock hard against my ass. I wouldn’t say a word. I’d just push back against you, grinding myself against your length, until you’re awake and wanting me again. I want you to take me from behind while we’re lying on our sides, one of your arms wrapped around my chest, your hand kneading my breast, your other hand sliding down to play with my clit as you slowly, languidly thrust into me. I want it to be slow and deep and intimate, a silent conversation in the dark, our bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as time.
And then, in the morning, I want to make love to you in the shower. I want the hot water to cascade over our bodies as I drop to my knees again, this time with no urgency, just a deep, abiding need to taste you. I want to suck you until you’re trembling, your hands braced against the tiled wall, and then I want to stand up, turn around, and press my hands against the wall, offering myself to you. I want you to fuck me under the spray of the water, your hands on my hips, your chest against my back, your mouth on my shoulder, your breath hot against my skin.
I want to be shameless with you. I want to bend over the arm of the sofa in the middle of the day, my skirt flipped up over my hips, my panties pulled aside, as you take me fast and hard. I want to sit on your lap in a chair, my back to your chest, your arms wrapped around me, your hands between my legs, as I ride your cock, my head thrown back against your shoulder, my cries of pleasure echoing in the room.
I want to explore every inch of your body with my tongue. To lick the sensitive skin behind your knees, the hollow of your throat, the shell of your ear. I want to nibble on your earlobes, to trace the lines of your tattoos, if you have them, with my fingertips. I want to feel your muscles tense under my touch as I massage your shoulders, your back, your arms. To memorize the map of you, every scar, every freckle, every place that makes you shiver.
Pushing boundaries is the goal. Imagine me tied to your bed, wrists bound with silk scarves, completely at your mercy. Teasing me until I’m begging, my body arching in desperate need for release. You’d use me, pleasuring yourself with my body, making me your plaything. Then, the tables would turn. I’d tie you up, helpless beneath me as I ride you. My hands would press against your chest, hips grinding down as I take my pleasure from you, watching you strain against your bonds, desperate to touch me.
Then, let’s introduce toys. I want to feel the cool, smooth buzz of a vibrator against my clit as you fuck me, the dual sensations sending me into a stratosphere of pleasure I’ve never known. Watching you use one on me would be incredible, seeing the look of concentration and arousal on your face as you learn exactly what makes me scream. Then, I’d want to use one on you, pressing it against your perineum to feel the way it makes your whole body jolt with pleasure.
Being dirty with you is my kink. Talking so filthy it would make a sailor blush, whispering in your ear about wanting you to come on my face, my breasts, in my mouth. I’d tell you how I love the taste of you, the feel of you, the smell of you. Hearing you tell me all the depraved things you want to do to me, making our words as much a part of our lovemaking as our bodies.
I want to try everything, to fuck in every room of your house, on every surface. I want to have sex in public, the thrill of almost getting caught making my blood sing. To go to a bar and pretend we’re strangers, letting you pick me up, the tension building until we can’t stand it and have to find a dark corner or a restroom to relieve the ache.
Let me be your everything. Your lover, your confidante, your partner in crime, your whore, your cumslut. I want to be the one you come to when you’ve had a bad day, the one you celebrate with when you’ve had a good one. I want to be the first person you see in the morning and the last person you see at night.
This is the world I want to build with you, a world of endless pleasure and exploration. A world where we are free to be exactly who we are, without judgment, without shame. A world where our only limit is our imagination.
But there’s one more thing. One last, dark fantasy that I’ve never told anyone. One more thing I want from you, and it’s the most depraved of all.
I want you to fuck my sister.
Me watching as you seduce her, as you use all the moves you’ve learned on me to make her fall for you. I want to hide in the closet, my heart pounding, my hand between my legs, as you take her to my bed. To hear her gasp as you enter her for the first time, to hear her cry out your name as you make her come is what I want. I want to watch you do to her all the things you’ve done to me, to see the look of ecstasy on her face as you pleasure her.
And then, after you’ve made her come, after you’ve filled her with your seed, I want you to call me out. When I walk out of the closet, my body naked, my face flushed, I will join you. I want to kiss her, to taste you on her lips, to feel her hands on my body as you watch. I want us to be a tangled, writhing mass of limbs, a three-headed beast of pure, unadulterated lust.
Sharing you with her and sharing her with you. I want to watch as you take us both, alternating between us, your cock moving from her pussy to mine, from her mouth to mine. I want to feel her tongue on my clit as you fuck me from behind, to feel her breasts pressed against my back as you take her from behind.
Yes, it’s sick. I know it’s twisted. But it’s what I want. It’s the ultimate taboo, the ultimate act of sharing, the ultimate expression of my love for you. Because if I can share you with her, if I can share this with her, then there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
So now you know. You know everything. You know the sweet, the gentle, the loving, and the dark, the depraved, the twisted. You know the depths of my obsession, the lengths I would go to for you.
The ball is in your court now. You can walk away, pretend you never received this letter, go back to your life. Or you can come to me. You can give me what I want, what I need.
I’ll be waiting.
Yours in anticipation and depravity.
Elara
