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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Romantic Letter
by Gucci Barbie (gucci.barbie@hotmail.com)

***

A beautiful blond recounts the romantic and sexually 
charged nature with a stud from a past relationship. 
(MF, rom)

***

Dear Mike,

This isn't going to be an easy letter for me, so please 
don't take what I write lightly. I am not doing this 
because I want you to feel sad, or angry, or confused. 
Hopefully you will not feel any of those things. Just 
take it for what it is, which is the only way I can 
express these thoughts, to the only person who will 
understand them.

I remember the night you told me you loved me for the 
first time. We were in my room, and on the single-sized 
dorm bed. The sun had almost set, most likely because 
we had either been having sex or were just about to. We 
were close together; I remember stroking your hair. You 
told me you had something you wanted to tell me, but 
were reluctant to. I had to spend a few minutes 
convincing you that you could just go ahead and say it, 
although I had a feeling I knew what it was. Your voice 
was deep and quiet, but you spoke tentatively as well. 

You said "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I 
love you." At the time I wasn't surprised, as I have 
heard those words before and they meant nothing, to the 
person who spoke them or to me either. It wasn't until 
months later that I started to believe you and 
something inside of me started to give. I didn't love 
you instantly, I had been hurt by people too many times 
before. I had no reason to believe you were different. 

What haunts me now are the moments. Moments that I 
can't help but relive over and over and over now that 
we're apart. I can push them aside, with the daily 
tasks of everyday life. I can have my relationship, I 
can see my family, I can do everything a normal person 
does. I have goals for the future and enjoy my life. 
But when I'm alone, late at night, even after a couple 
glasses of wine, thoughts of you and of us circle 
around my head like a vulture, ready to pick me 
emotionally apart. When I close my eyes I can still 
remember the scent of your skin fresh out of the 
shower, what it was like to surrender myself to you 
emotionally and tell you I loved you a hundred times 
while you were making love to me. 

I shiver now, just the thought of it. I don't have the 
luxury of intimate sex the way I had it with you. I 
have come the realization that I never will again, 
which is perhaps part of the reason I look back on our 
time together with such longing. I can't pinpoint when 
it was, the day I gave myself to you. Not as much 
physically, because you already had me there, but all 
of me. 

I can only assume it was sort of like a giant glacier, 
cracking in half and sinking into the ocean. All of 
those sayings, about surrendering yourself to someone, 
was exactly what happened. It was like you cracked open 
a piece of me, which made me shatter into a million 
pieces and you reconstructed me, day by day. 

Remember the first year we were together? We had a 
bath, in that tiny washroom in your dorm room. You had 
cleaned it before we went in, as I was terrified of 
catching some sort of fungus from your roommates. We 
had candles and steam. I remember there was so much 
steam, the entire room was thick with it. As cramped as 
it was, we stayed in the bath for almost three hours. I 
can't recall what we did or really even talked about. 

I just remember lazily talking about what our lives 
would be like, down the road, once we were married. We 
divided up the chore list, who would take out the 
garbage and who would clean the floor. We were going to 
buy a farm so I could have cows at home. I would write 
novels for a living and take care of our children. You 
were going to work in the city. That day seemed like it 
never happened, it was so long ago, in some life that 
seems so far removed from how I live now.

We definitely had sex and did a lot of fucking. We 
would keep each other up all night, just sleeping for a 
few hours in between to regain the energy to do it 
again. Even into our third year, when things were bad, 
the sex was still unbelievable most of the time. I was 
a willing prisoner in your dorm bedroom. I would wander 
over to your room in the early hours of a Saturday 
morning after a Friday night of partying, only to re-
emerge on a Monday afternoon when it was time for 
class. 

I was too weak with sleep-loss and lust, you would go 
down to the café and smuggle food out for me, bringing 
it back to the room. The sex was amazing, back then you 
never let me down. Always ready for more, always 
wanting to please me, which made me crave to please 
you.

I am fairly confident we were each created to fit each 
other. You were the perfect size, swollen to 
perfection; it was blissful when you entered me. It 
hardly took anything at all for you to get me excited. 
A few gentle kisses on the neck, a bite on the ear, 
brushing your lips against mine...that was all it took, 
my panties would be wet. 

Sometimes in class I would daydream about you, thinking 
about how much I wanted to fuck your brains out that 
night. I would get all swollen and wet, teased by my 
tight thong, causing sexual friction between my legs 
while I tried to get through the rest of my day. I had 
to leave class at least a few times and go directly to 
your room for relief, or to get some sort of release in 
the bathroom so I could manage to sit through the rest 
of the lecture. 

I remember you being as insatiable as I was, being able 
to make me ready for you on a whim, kissing me deeply 
and wrapping your muscular arms around me, pulling me 
against you. You were the perfect kisser. You could 
always sense my need for you, and would either tease me 
with smaller, soft kisses or dirty, hot and heavy ones. 
When it was time for you to come inside of me, it was 
like a frenzy of deep, hard, wetness and tongues. You 
were the perfect kisser. Did I mention that? One was 
never enough, I always had to have more of you. Maybe 
that is part of the reason I can't shake the memories 
of us, because I will always want more of you. 


You blew me out of the water with your 
open-mindedness and creativeness. I thought I had all 
the tricks in the book, but you definitely brought new 
ideas into the bedroom. 

There are so many memories I don't even want to say out 
loud or put on paper. You brought me to the brink of 
orgasm just by telling me a story once. We were in your 
room, talking about fantasies. I asked you to tell me a 
story. You told it to me in a deep whisper as I lay 
next to you, on your bed in the dark. I was fairly 
certain I was going to die of lust, it was like having 
a sexual paralysis take over me. My entire body was 
weak and on fire. My head was swimming and I had tears 
at the corner of my eyes, my heart was pounding, but I 
couldn't move, trapped in sexual limbo by you. 

I don't even recall at what point in the story you had 
me, but I was almost in tears, needing you to fuck me. 
You did….oh god, you did. Having you inside me was 
like…I had one purpose in life, and your cock filling 
me was it. My only reason to exist was to pleasure you, 
and to have you inside me, to violate every part of me. 
I would refuse to shower after a night of sex. I wanted 
to scent of you to linger, to mark me as yours. The 
feeling of your cum, deep inside of me, trickling out 
to wet my panties during the day, to keep my pussy 
moist with your cum, was heaven.

The only thing worse than the memories of being in love 
with you and having sex with you are the memories of us 
making love. When I think about it, it makes me hurt. 
You are the only man who will ever be able to touch 
that spot inside me. It is somewhere deep in me, in the 
lower part of my abdomen. I know that's approximately 
the area it is in, because when I think of you it 
aches. It's not physically accessible, but making love 
with you would make it…glow. That feeling would travel 
from my spot, to my heart, and I'm fairly sure it 
prevented me from being able to think clearly. 

Even now, I can feel it glowing, just thinking of us. 
Feeling your cheek against mine, kissing my ear, 
telling me you love me, slowly and rhythmically 
thrusting inside of me…the loss of this feeling 
cripples me as a person. I would feel heavy, like in a 
daze. Unable to speak, I could only repeat how much I 
loved you, like saying it enough would make it big 
enough and real enough that people could see it from a 
distance. My tongue feels heavy, and it's wet. That is 
what love tastes like. Saying your name, telling you I 
love you, it like some sort of sweet, wonderful candy 
in my mouth. 

Oh Mike. My love, my love. I'm glowing just thinking of 
it, of the times I could say it to you all I wanted. I 
still tried to push you away. Years of unhappiness had 
conditioned me to do it. When you were inside me, 
touching me, hearing you use endearments and tell me 
you loved me, I wanted to have you. I didn't want to 
just have you physically, or emotionally. I wanted that 
glow to spread all over my body, for you to be filled 
by it too. It was a state of ecstasy, of spiritual 
bliss. We would become one, glowing piece, always 
together, bonded. 

It was then I realized I wanted to carry your children. 
It was that glowing feeling that made me realize it. I 
could accept our physical limitations, provided I could 
have you inside of me in a way no other man could. The 
thought of being impregnated by you gave making love a 
whole new kind of sexual excitement and need. I would 
spread my legs a little wider, thrust up to you a 
little more urgently, open myself to you in a way I 
could not with anybody else. Just the thought of you 
ejaculating your sperm into my womb, conceiving the 
first of our children, would put me over the edge. 

When you were away on ski trips or we were apart in 
third year, I would fantasize again and again that 
moment, you burying yourself deep inside me, wanting 
the same thing as me. It was so primal, such an obscure 
thing for me. Even the thought of childbirth was 
appealing, the thought of bringing our baby safely into 
the world, for our family to become solidified, our 
lives forever intertwined. That need to be pregnant by 
you was overwhelming. I don't know if I have ever 
wanted anything in the way I wanted that.

Even still, those feelings scare me, the glowing within 
me that makes my entire body fuzzy and weak. The fact I 
can't control feelings that powerful, over something as 
important as creating a life with you, is terrible for 
me. The reality that I live my life, day in, day out, 
building a new life with somebody else who loves me 
unconditionally, maybe more than you did, it ruins me 
when I'm alone. 

I will eventually marry, have children. I am sure I 
would love them as much as I would have loved ours. 
However there is no glow. What an empty feeling, to 
prepare for such a big event as a first child, without 
you. To create life, to get old, to watch the children 
become adults with families of their own, to live and 
watch people you love die, in which I will have to 
prepare for my own death. Without you.

I guess it's easy to cry over something that never 
happened. After all, it's just in my imagination. Life 
takes so many hard turns, it becomes easy to forget 
while in a fantasy about the realities of it all, the 
fighting about money, the arguments, the petty things 
that eventually dissolve many marriages. Pretending 
like we would be exempt from that is silly. But you... 
Mike...

I have told you this before. We were in third year, a 
tough time for me because we were on and off. I was in 
a lot of pain, not entirely your fault. I was forced to 
tell you my feelings, because I was terrified I would 
never get another chance. We were lying in your bed, 
this time in your shared house, not a dorm room. We had 
lackluster sex, you were obviously distracted, and 
emotionally distant. 

I had so many things I wanted to tell you, but instead 
I simply said that I would always love you, no matter 
what. I told you I understood why you were drifting 
away (my fault), but that I would wait for you, wait 
for you forever. You didn't have much of a response, 
but I remember it was to the effect of I shouldn't, or 
that you didn't believe it. 

We have been apart for over five years. Not a lifetime, 
that's for sure. It's nice to be able to touch base in 
a while, and I apologize for every lapse in judgment I 
have made during that time. When I think of you, I wish 
you were happy and content, living the life you wanted, 
with a beautiful, intelligent and loving woman that you 
could have the family with that you always wanted. I 
know you downplay your emotions now, as most of us do. 
In a way, I guess that is smart. I also want you to 
know that I'm happy, and despite his occasionally 
questionable actions, I have a devoted and loving 
partner. I look forward to my life with him.

That being said, my memories of our time together are 
my one regret. I regret ever hurting you, I regret not 
telling you everything I felt before it was far too 
late, I regret leaving Seattle when I did because even 
another year of having part of you would have been 
better than the rest of my life without you. 

Just know that you are always in my thoughts. You are 
always a part of me, and while you did not believe me 
at the time, I will always love you in a way I can't 
love anybody else. While I have so many regrets, I 
could never regret loving you because a love like that 
was the greatest and most special gift that I could 
ever have. My life was changed forever because of you, 
and even when I die it will be you and our love that 
will stand out in my mind.

I can't say anything else. My heart can't bear it.

Sarah

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 60