Love Letters
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Ah, love. When it’s hot, it’s fabulous. When it’s not it’s time to
either trade up or send one of these sexy little missives to renew
that spark between you and that special someone. Feel free to
customize the letters for your honey. After, all there’s nothing like
the personal touch…
At Work, Thinking of You
I was thinking about you today. Wondering what you were doing,
who you were laughing with and talking to. I pictured you naked
though, the way you looked last night, framed against a swathe of
jumbled bed clothes. I imagined I could feel the heat of your skin
beneath my hands, and I had to force myself not to call you. I heard
someone’s footsteps in the hall outside my office door, and I had
to snatch my wayward hands from beneath my skirt. My fingers
automatically drifted there, you see, busily trying to recreate the
memories of sensations only you can make on my flesh. I should be
working, but I can’t! My fingers won’t email unless I’m sending
messages to you, and they won’t dial the phone unless it’s your
number. My eyes won’t even focus unless it’s on your picture.
When I see you tonight I think I’ll slowly strip of all my clothes and
do a little dance for you. Nothing crazy. I’m no Fiona Love (or
insert your favorite dancer), after all. Mine’ll just be a sexy little
shuffle, the swing of curvy hips, the slow, purposeful lift of shapely
legs. I miss you.
After the First Time
I suppose I knew it was coming. I knew the first moment I saw you
that you’d be something. Our first kiss was crazy. Who knew the
merest brush of lips on mine could even create that kind of heat?
But now, man. I’m lost, baby. Will you think me too bad to want
more so soon? I can’t help it! I’m not sated yet. I want more. I want
to hear that deep, late-night-radio-rumble in my ear. I want you
naked, legs spread, that come-get-it gleam bright in your heavy-
lidded eyes. I want your big hands all over me, everywhere,
squeezing, touching, pinching even, ‘cause you know how we do! I
want your mouth open, head back and back bowed as our bodies
work together. I’m breathlessly eager and curious for our next
time. Whatever you do, I’m sure I’ll love. After all, after the first
time, the sky’s the limit.
Saying Goodbye
Dear John, you suck. Let’s break up! Nice letter, huh? Not for you,
love. Our relationship may be over, but I refuse to send you off
with a bug in your ear and bad thoughts about me on your brain. I
really want us to be friends, you know? Don’t get it twisted, now.
This is indeed the end of line. We gave it the old college try, and I
even shed a few tears, but we’re both smart people who can tell
when enough’s enough, and it’s time to cut ties. I don’t even want
to sleep with you anymore, despite the fond, reminiscing evident
in this note, and the sex (love making) between us was always
super hot. I do want you to remember the fun we had together,
though. I know I’ll never forget the sweaty, laughing sessions we
spent burning up the sheets in your (bed, condo, apartment, house,
office, garden…), that time I (fainted after I came, tied your hands
to the headboard and made a whipped cream smiley face on your
belly, used my tongue to lick out my name on your ---), or the
pleasure you gave me with your hands and body, your mind and
your mouth. You were a great lover and a good friend, but
together we’re better separate, I think. But please remember me
when you think of that ex who used to rock your world, all right?
Peace and love.
When Your Lover is Sick
You have a cute (sneeze, cough, weeze), you know that? I know, I
know, how could a (sneeze, cough, weeze) be cute? But yours is. I’
d even go so far as to say it was sexy. I especially like how your
lips stay parted when you can’t breathe through your nose. I’ve got
plans for you when you’re back on your feet. I’m languishing for
lack of love here! Dying bit by bit, I think my insides are actually
atrophying without that special stuff only you can give me when
we’re alone and it’s late, and the lights are (low, out, dim and
throwing interesting shadows over your body). I was thinking it
might even be worth it to get your cold. Then we could lay
together, side by side in sickness, our fevered skins creating a
bubble of heat like a cocoon. We could hibernate like bears in
winter, only instead of waiting for the spring thaw, we’d wait to
get well. Then I could lay you on your back, and well, we could do
all those lovely things you and I like to do when you have more
energy. So, get well quick, okay?
either trade up or send one of these sexy little missives to renew
that spark between you and that special someone. Feel free to
customize the letters for your honey. After, all there’s nothing like
the personal touch…
At Work, Thinking of You
I was thinking about you today. Wondering what you were doing,
who you were laughing with and talking to. I pictured you naked
though, the way you looked last night, framed against a swathe of
jumbled bed clothes. I imagined I could feel the heat of your skin
beneath my hands, and I had to force myself not to call you. I heard
someone’s footsteps in the hall outside my office door, and I had
to snatch my wayward hands from beneath my skirt. My fingers
automatically drifted there, you see, busily trying to recreate the
memories of sensations only you can make on my flesh. I should be
working, but I can’t! My fingers won’t email unless I’m sending
messages to you, and they won’t dial the phone unless it’s your
number. My eyes won’t even focus unless it’s on your picture.
When I see you tonight I think I’ll slowly strip of all my clothes and
do a little dance for you. Nothing crazy. I’m no Fiona Love (or
insert your favorite dancer), after all. Mine’ll just be a sexy little
shuffle, the swing of curvy hips, the slow, purposeful lift of shapely
legs. I miss you.
After the First Time
I suppose I knew it was coming. I knew the first moment I saw you
that you’d be something. Our first kiss was crazy. Who knew the
merest brush of lips on mine could even create that kind of heat?
But now, man. I’m lost, baby. Will you think me too bad to want
more so soon? I can’t help it! I’m not sated yet. I want more. I want
to hear that deep, late-night-radio-rumble in my ear. I want you
naked, legs spread, that come-get-it gleam bright in your heavy-
lidded eyes. I want your big hands all over me, everywhere,
squeezing, touching, pinching even, ‘cause you know how we do! I
want your mouth open, head back and back bowed as our bodies
work together. I’m breathlessly eager and curious for our next
time. Whatever you do, I’m sure I’ll love. After all, after the first
time, the sky’s the limit.
Saying Goodbye
Dear John, you suck. Let’s break up! Nice letter, huh? Not for you,
love. Our relationship may be over, but I refuse to send you off
with a bug in your ear and bad thoughts about me on your brain. I
really want us to be friends, you know? Don’t get it twisted, now.
This is indeed the end of line. We gave it the old college try, and I
even shed a few tears, but we’re both smart people who can tell
when enough’s enough, and it’s time to cut ties. I don’t even want
to sleep with you anymore, despite the fond, reminiscing evident
in this note, and the sex (love making) between us was always
super hot. I do want you to remember the fun we had together,
though. I know I’ll never forget the sweaty, laughing sessions we
spent burning up the sheets in your (bed, condo, apartment, house,
office, garden…), that time I (fainted after I came, tied your hands
to the headboard and made a whipped cream smiley face on your
belly, used my tongue to lick out my name on your ---), or the
pleasure you gave me with your hands and body, your mind and
your mouth. You were a great lover and a good friend, but
together we’re better separate, I think. But please remember me
when you think of that ex who used to rock your world, all right?
Peace and love.
When Your Lover is Sick
You have a cute (sneeze, cough, weeze), you know that? I know, I
know, how could a (sneeze, cough, weeze) be cute? But yours is. I’
d even go so far as to say it was sexy. I especially like how your
lips stay parted when you can’t breathe through your nose. I’ve got
plans for you when you’re back on your feet. I’m languishing for
lack of love here! Dying bit by bit, I think my insides are actually
atrophying without that special stuff only you can give me when
we’re alone and it’s late, and the lights are (low, out, dim and
throwing interesting shadows over your body). I was thinking it
might even be worth it to get your cold. Then we could lay
together, side by side in sickness, our fevered skins creating a
bubble of heat like a cocoon. We could hibernate like bears in
winter, only instead of waiting for the spring thaw, we’d wait to
get well. Then I could lay you on your back, and well, we could do
all those lovely things you and I like to do when you have more
energy. So, get well quick, okay?