Dear Ed,

Not really a letter since I'm only going to be gone a few days and I won't be mailing this. I have been thinking about you all day. I tried to get hold of you before I left, both to check my e-mail and to touch you. Since last night I haven't stopped thinking about you. You touching me: your tongue across my nipples sending tremors through me, your hair brushing against my spine, and your cock filling me. I wanted to buy you underwear in Burdines today, just something black or gray instead of white; something a little higher-cut on the leg to enhance how sexy you look.

I thought about spending a day with you: fooling around and teasing each other, feeding each other dessert wearing little or nothing, and making love on the floor. Would you like that, a soft rug underneath us, you on top of me with no bed to squeak underneath us, your warm weight above me, lips above me so with just a little stretch of the neck I can kiss you. Shudders running through me with every thrust of your hips.

I want to watch you lose control, to give you enough pleasure to break through that habit of silence. I want to taste your come. I want you to sit on the couch and have me kneel on top of you with your cock inside me, and just keep rocking my hips back and forth gently and keep doing that forever. Face to face with you, tits rubbing against your chest, your hands squeezing my ass, rubbing my back, fingering my tits. Kiss you and hug you, clasp you in my arms for days. Perhaps an orgasm before falling asleep that way. Or several.

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