11 comments/ 18938 views/ 0 favorites A Letter to Barbara By: Ronnie Wachuka From the author: There were some mumblings after my last submission, most of it by myself, that public comments had not been allowed. That was beyond my control as I chose to allow public comments when I submitted the story. I was mortified when it was posted to discover that was not the case. Regardless of my attempts to change it, it still lies deep in the bowels of the voluminous stories located on this site, and still with no public input allowed. That was not my intent then and it's not my intent now. Until the future shows that to be an unwise course to pursue I will always choose to allow public comment. My especial thanks to Lady_Silver for finding my mistakes and challenging me to try something different with this story, to RedHairedandFriendly for her continual support, and to Barbara who started the ball rolling. ----------------------------------- June 1, 2006 My Dearest Barbara: I realize that it has been three weeks since we last met and not quite that long since we talked to each other on the phone. Today my love is the first anniversary of our first time together. Did you think I could ever forget? Ever since that first magical night I have had to be very careful in my everyday demeanor to avoid letting the world know that I feel like a teenager in love for the first time; so giddy, so silly, and so bereft of everyday common sense. I remember it well as we made love that very first time. You sensed my hesitancy and my fumbling attempts to make you happy. The first time I entered you I exploded immediately and flooded your wonderful sex with my juices. Later as we lay together in my post-coital joy; you with your head on my shoulder, one of your velvet soft breasts laying on my chest, a leg thrown over mine and your precious sex slowly leaking our mingled fluids against my thigh, you finally learned that your partner was a 42 year old virgin. When I made my confession you slowly turned your head so that our lips could touch and our tongues twine together as your hand slowly stroked my penis back to hardness. That night my dearest you slowly and patiently began to teach me how to make love to a woman and how to properly worship her body. The way you placed my hands and lips where they would bring you the greatest joy, all the while whispering to me how great the pleasure I was giving you felt, made me giddy with delight. As I sit here tonight, pen in hand brandy close by, my mind is awash. The sight and sounds of that first time of our joining together in an act, not just of sex, but of love, parade through my mind and pass by my eyes in visual delight. I need to put my thoughts to paper so that you can understand what I felt back then . . . When you lean over to engulf my penis in your mouth the feeling is so intense I think that I am heaven bound. Feeling your body next settle on my thighs and your labia rub against my penis as you push the two pillows under my head only heightens my desire. The feeling of the warm essence dripping from your sex and coating me brings me to a hardness I can't believe possible. The ecstasy that courses through me as I feel you push my penis into your love canal is almost too much to bear: the heat, tightness, and slipperiness, as I slide inside of you brings the fear that I will too soon erupt again. Your hoarse whisper that we'll take it slow and I'll be able to last much longer since I'd already cum calms my angst. Another first, as I hear you begin to moan as you then push me deeply inside you, roll your hips, and withdraw, while your muscles clamp tightly around my hardness. You have no idea how much pleasure the sight of your body gives me; the way your breasts wobble and sway from your movements and how your nipples seem to get harder and stiffer as you move above me makes my penis feel like a swelling rod of steel. Amazement yet again, when you grasp a breast and lean over to press a stiff nipple into my mouth. Your demand that I suck the nipple while I squeeze the breast, twist the other nipple, and generally enjoy myself. Each time I suck your nipple and press it tightly between my lips your moans become more intense. Squeezing your breast seems to increase your moans as they begin to get louder. When I begin pay proper attention to your other breast a song as old as time begins, as your moans break into screams, announcing your impending orgasm. Then I see something I've never in all my dreams imagined: your body stiffens and looking up, I see your eyes are closed, your mouth open, and the lips slack, as your body begins to shudder. I am seeing a woman in orgasm and I almost smile except that I don't want to let go of your nipple. Never having experienced this before I thought you were through when the world suddenly erupts in a carnal frenzy. You begin to roll your hips. Your thrusts become faster and harder as you thrust me as deeply inside as I think I can possibly go. Your actions bring to mind an old carny ride I used to enjoy as a boy. It was called Crack the Whip, and that's what your body seems to be doing. When your screaming starts I think I've hurt you, but when you begin to scream obscenities and start to rake my arms and shoulders with your fingernails, I feel your second climax, even more powerful then the first, overwhelm you completely. By now I know my own climax is near as I feel the sperm coursing on its journey to your cervix. You evidently feel it too because you jam me as deeply inside you as you can until our pubic hair is almost completely entwined in a wet sticky mat of hair and fluids. Yet again your body stiffens in climax, which causes me to cum. What happens next is a complete shock to my senses. As you feel my eruption your body and your system begin a series of orgasms that is totally beyond my ken. You love canal muscles clamp so tightly around me that if my penis had to breath air to live, you have rendered it senseless. You hands wrap themselves around my shoulder blades so tightly I wore purple marks for several days. Your whole body is frozen like a statue and I fear for you because I can't detect your breath. As you slowly return to the land of the living I feel your body shudder in a series of mini-climaxes as you try to suck air into your lungs. When you lay your head on my chest, gently kissing my neck while you weakly whisper thank you over and over again as your fingers are softly stroking my hair, makes me feel like George the dragon slayer. Your refusal to pull off of me and your attempt to keep me deep within you by continually clamping my penis harder and harder with your love muscles is the greatest compliment I can ever receive. Over the year you taught me so much about making love to a woman. I had no idea a woman (or a man for that matter) had so many erogenous zones. It never dawned on me that toes being sucked and kissed could be exciting. When I discovered the back of your knees, the dimples above your buttocks, and above all your ears and neck, I was thunderstruck. Of course the second greatest thrill was to learn that you could orgasm just by my paying proper loving attention to your breasts. The night you taught me to make oral love to what you taught me to call your pussy was perhaps the best of all. The taste and smell of you was beyond anything I could ever expect and the way you reacted to my ministrations was beyond my wildest dreams. I had a problem trying to understand how a tongue and fingers could bring as much pleasure or even more then a hard penis, and yet the results were always astounding. When I paid proper attention to your clitoris and used my fingers and tongue inside of you I could never get used to the feeling you evoked in me as you screamed, humped, and tried to smother me with your thighs locking me tightly to you as you climaxed. Laying pen aside for a moment I pick up my brandy snifter to calm my thoughts and consider what I've written. Regretfully I push my mental feast back into its proper niche so that I can tell you of my feelings and bring you up to date . . . I value the time we've spent together this past year. Not just the love making as you patiently taught me to meet your needs, but the walks, the picnics, touring the art galleries and museum, and all that we did together. I will always treasure the delightful smile and the way your eyes would shine when I'd buy a flower to present to you on our walks. You'd pin it to your jacket or blouse as if it were a badge of honor and warmly clasp my hand in thanks with a quick peck on my cheek. True, our meetings had not been as often as we'd have liked, but the need for circumspection limited the where and when of our meetings, and a need to go where the likely hood of being recognized was minimized. The day following our last phone conversation I received a call from my superior. He set up an appointment to see me without explaining why. I'd been expecting an advancement. Imagine my surprise when I kept the appointment and he informed me that someone or several someone's had found out about us and reported it to him. He offered me the expected advancement, carefully explaining that it was not a reward for my folly, but my just due, and to remove me from further temptation. He also informed me that because of the reports I could no longer carry on in my current capacity, so I was on vacation until I made up my mind as to whether I wished to renounce my vows or accept the promotion. He gave me six weeks to decide. I decided to make a clean break until I could reach a decision. Fortunately, an old family friend and his wife were going on a world cruise and graciously allowed me the use of their home. For the next month-and-a-half I would be a house sitter. Oddly enough, my sweet one, I spent more time thinking about us then I did about the decision that needed to be made. During the day I would do the mundane things that had to be done so that I wouldn't embarrass myself when my friends returned home again. I refused to sleep in the master bedroom as that was their wedded bed and I couldn't invade their sacrosanct privacy. Rather, I made my bed in one of the guest rooms. Why didn't I call you or let you know about the situation? Because I needed to sort things out in my own mind. I felt that when the time was right we'd talk so that we could both make the decision that was right for the two of us. If that was presumptuous of me I fully apologize and ask you to accept my mea culpa. After the supper dishes had been washed and I'd taken my shower, I'd retire to the living room. Not to lose myself in the trash on 200+ TV channels, but rather to put on several CD's of classical music, pour myself a brandy (or two), and let my thoughts wonder in search of answers to my conundrum. . . . . The first thoughts were of our first meeting almost five years ago: You; a newly widowed, childless, woman. A woman perhaps six-eight years younger then I. Your short, slight, attractive, and curvy build, and your blond shoulder length hair are a delight to behold. Your infectious smile, and laughing brown eyes are an attraction that no man could ignore. Me; The best description I could give is based on several photos: slightly taller then average stature, of medium build, black hair, balding, with greying streaks (although I hide the thinning by careful combing), and nothing that would make me stand out in a crowd; in other words, in terms of physical attributes, I have no redeeming virtues. I have heard that the ladies consider that my steel-grey eyes are a plus, but I can't vouch for that. In the terms of today's youth: with my glasses on, I am a true geek with two exceptions; I am totally computer and cell phone stupid. Each evening I thought about our deepening friendship. . . During the next several years our friendship slowly evolved. Your need for consolation over your recent loss and you status as a childless widow weighed heavily on your mind, and we spent many hours talking about your problems as we both tried to get your mind past your loss. It all came together the day that you informed me about your advancement in the company you worked for. There was to be a dinner, celebration, and acknowledgment of your achievements and your reward. The problem was that you had no escort; no one to share your joy. I agreed that I would escort you to your "victory party," that night. I carefully prepared myself for the event so as to not embarrass you. It had been years since I had worn a tuxedo and I was a little worried about the fit, but it fit fine, even if I had put on a pound or two over time. Nothing prepared me for the overwhelming sight that awaited me as I stood by your front door waiting for you to finish putting on your jewelry. When you took your first steps down the stairway, I almost stopped breathing from the shock of your loveliness. You wore some kind of gold dress with a scoop neck which only hinted at your cleavage. It fell to just below your knees in a most modest manner The whole dress was covered in some kind of fine black knitting that I've always thought of as spider webs. The black nylons and pumps only added to the vision of beauty. It was all capped by your blond hair falling in waves down towards your shoulders, almost hiding the dangling pearl earrings you'd selected to wear. They perfectly matched the gold necklace around your neck with its single pearl laying just above your bodice. I'll never forget the smile on your lips and the way your eyes glistened when I presented you with your corsage. I'd never ever pinned a woman before so you pressed your back against me as we looked into your closet mirror and your hands held mine as I looked over your shoulder so that I could properly pin the flowers on. Settling a white knitted shawl over your shoulders I turned you around to face me as I took a final look at your loveliness before we left for the evening festivities. At least that was what I'd thought at the time. I held the door of the car open as a gentleman ought to while you seated yourself in the passenger seat. That was when something went wrong. As you slid into your seat your dress caught on something. Before I could avert my gaze you sat before me with the dress hiked almost to your panties. The picture that presented itself to my eyes may well have triggered all that followed: I found myself starring at the bare, soft, creamy flesh of your thighs above the nylons. The garter belts holding them up were pressing deeply into your soft skin. Looking up I saw your cheeks begin to redden in a blush. Quickly I closed the door to hasten to the drivers side but the sight of those bare thighs were now etched in my brain for eternity. As I opened the door to get in I noticed that your cheeks still showed a trace of a blush. Driving away I glanced at you and observed something I've never been able to understand: Why were your lips curved up into such a strange smile? That night was the night of my fall from grace. The night was dinner, dance, and reward. Unfortunately, I'd never danced with a woman before. As each dance began you would take me to a dark corner of the dance floor and teach me the basic steps. My downfall was the slow dances when I'd place my right hand on your waist and our left hands closed together in the classical stance. It wasn't that position that caused my fall . . it was the way your body pressed itself tightly against mine in the slow romantic dances, all the while swaying suggestively with the rhythm. When you taught me to dance the Rumba it was all but over. My God woman that dance should be outlawed. It is totally sinful in it's eroticism. After that night was over and you'd received your just due, everything else seemed to fall into place: our lunches, our walks, and finally our making love. Tonight, my decision is not yet made, as I await your response: Do I renounce my priestly vows or do I accept my new duties with holy mother church? I'm sending this letter to you so that you will be able to take the time to wisely make your decision without the haste of a hurried phone call, and I eagerly await your answer. Please reply as soon as you are able. My affection and bumbling Love: Ron The end * All comments are gratefully accepted Ronnie Wachuka Sign me a Horny 'ol Sailor 30-