Letters to u/vanessa_vixenxxx Ch. 1
Dear Vanessa,
I know I haven’t been in touch since I left your country. I’m sorry for that.
I tried to pull myself away. I didn’t want to get caught between you and him any more than I already was. I knew he was your first and only for so long. But I can’t help myself. You’re a drug and I’m addicted.
The smell of sex brings the memories of us, tangled up in each other’s naked passion, flooding back into my thoughts. I should just leave it, distract myself. But it’s not working. I’m helpless when I remember how your soft curves felt under the light touch of my fingertips…your gentle cooing as I teased your thighs and breasts with the tip of my tongue…your self-abandon as you give yourself to me, and I to you.
I smile at the thought of the messes we made, sweat and arousal drenching the sheets. They were always so clean to start with. Then you’d wrapped your thighs around my head and I’d taste your sweet nectar. After that, it was over.
I’m tried to forget you. But I can’t. You’re a drug and I’m addicted.
I keep thinking about how we first met. I was on a long-term overseas work assignment and I met you in the office building we both worked in. How lucky.
I remember how you captivated me when I walked into our shared break room. I was stunned. I froze in the doorway. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look away.
You were leaning back against the counter with a cup of tea in your hands. You wore your light blue sundress with the little pink flowers and the buttons down the front. That, plus your spotless white tennis shoes, made for a simple outfit. But the way you wore it floored me. You obviously hid luscious curves beneath your modest dress. Your bare legs confirmed this. They were at once thick, shapely, and oh so feminine.
Your dirty blonde hair hung free around your lovely face. Your blue eyes sparkled as you watched me fumble, trying to recover from the shock of your beauty. Your delicate mouth smirked, amused at my lapse in self-control. Your fair skin was flawless, lightly accented with tastefully applied makeup.. You could have worn none at all and you still would have been the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on.
I saw the ring on your finger and I should have cared more than I did. When you giggled and diffused the awkwardness of the situation with a simple, “Hi there,” it was already too late. Your relationship status, as much as it should have mattered, just didn’t. I was helpless.
You were so easy to talk to. We met more and more frequently in that break room. We got along like we had been friends all of our lives.
When you finally knocked on the door of my hotel room to “lend me a book” (can you believe we both told ourselves that?) you wore that same light blue sundress. I let you in, the tension immediate and heavy as the door shut and I locked the deadbolt.
We pretended to make conversation about the book, but we both knew what was happening. You were in mid-sentence when I pulled you into me and pressed my kips against yours. I was relieved when you didn’t pull away. You melted into me, throwing your arms around my neck as if we had done this a million times before.
I pressed my erection into your pelvis through my slacks. Your hand strayed down to rub it through my pants. I ran my fingers through your hair as our lips and tongues explored each other’s mouths for the first of many times. I slid my other hand underneath your sundress to your plump ass. Its perfect shape and the softness of your skin sent my libido into overdrive.
You sensed it. You pulled your face away, mere centimeters from mine. Your blue eyes burned like spots of blue flame as you whispered, “Mark…fuck me.”
With those words, I was transformed. I was no longer the mild-mannered office mate. You woke something in me, something ravenous. The only thing that could sate its thirst was you.
I picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Your sundress rode up, giving me a glimpse of the black lace thong hugging your mound underneath. Your legs in the air, I pulled off your shoes and socks. Your painted toes curled in anticipation.
I ran my fingers down your calves and thighs. I had fantasized about this many times before. I had pleasured myself imagining what you hid underneath your sundresses. Now I would find out, and it would be better than I could have dreamed.
My fingers reached the waist of your underwear and I slowly peeled them off. The prettiest little pink pussy, freshly shaven, greeted me. I dropped to my knees and kissed my way up your inner thighs. Then I ran my tongue up through your lips.
You tasted as good as you looked. As I showered my love onto your clit you rewarded me with moans and gasps, running your fingers through my hair and guiding me to just the right spot. The wetness of your arousal soaked my lips and chin.
“Mark,” you whispered after a few minutes, “I said fuck me…”
I stood and ripped my shirt off. I pulled my pants and boxers to my ankles, but when I stood I froze again. The sight of you on your back, spread eagle for me, panting, eyes burning with desire, voluptuous curves inviting me to take my pleasure…it was the happiest moment of my life.
I grabbed the thick flesh of your hips as I pressed the tip of my cock against your wet opening. You let me in without hesitation, humming in approval as you did. I gave you what you asked for. I fucked you.
How many times did you cum for me? Maybe I’m flattering myself, but I thought it was three. I’m sure it was at least two. Anyway, the claw marks you left on my bare back afterward and the wet mess we left on the hotel bed left no doubt. We did good.
As I write I can almost feel the slapping of your ass against me, the quiver of your thighs as you whimper, your arms squeezing me tight against you as your pussy twitches around my cock. The amount of cum you extracted from me that day was like nothing I had ever given before.
As post-orgasmic ecstasy washed over us we didn’t move. Our chests pressed against each other’s as we labored to catch our breaths. Cum leaked down your asscheeks and the front of my thighs. I lifted my head to gaze into your face. Your cheeks were flush. Your eyes were electric, staring so deep into mine I felt as if not only our bodies, but our souls, were coupled in that moment.
That was the first time, but it was far from the last.
Vanessa, I’m sorry if my reliving these memories with you through these letters is painful. You can tell me to stop, or don’t respond at all. I’m not even exactly sure why I’m writing these.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m not over you.
I don’t think I ever will be.
Yours always,
Mark
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ufla3x/letters_to_vanessa_ch_1_mf_str8_cheat_cons