Letter to my lover (erotica)

   Revenge is served cold


Letter to my lover

I love you more and more. I miss you when you are not around.
I miss your smell, the smoothness of your skin. I remember the last time we where together. I was asleep; you came furtively and felt my ass, my legs. I kissed your neck. Just your proximity made me feel all melting, with the exception the core of my body that was hard and pulsating, almost hacking.
Then, you went inside me and all my skin blushed and, the more you stroke, the more the blood flushed all my senses until I began getting numb, fainting. Then your member began getting soft and you withdrew it... we did not get to a climax, but just being close to you is enough to give me so much pleasure...

I love you more and more every day. Even when I have to hold you because you are falling after drinking a bottle of wine. Even when I ignore your presence because I am so occupied with my own thoughts...
Even when we fight - after five minutes sulking I look at your brown eyes and just feel like taking you in my arms and kissing your full lips, pinching your buttocks, chewing you nipples, biting the interior of your legs, licking your soft balls until they get hard and swallow you penis until a spasm from my stomach does not let it in anymore...
While I write this, my lower lips are getting wet from the moist that comes from my twitching vagina.
How I would like to lick your ass hole now, penetrate it with my tongue, open it with my fingers and see you come, showering my pubic hair with white, thick healthy sperm.

Yes, I love you more every moment. However, my craving for your touch, for your presence, that so much stimulates my mind and imagination will probably not avoid the unavoidable. In some time you will not be more than another one of the characters I collect for my stories. You will meet a girl that you will drag in a bar. And she will be soft and intelligent and not to experienced in bed, but oh, so sensual... and I will nor have been here for two or three months... or you will come to the conclusion I am too demanding, too possessive or that, despite what you admired in me, I am weak and cry like the others. Or I will loose my fascination for you because
I met a charming man or just because my inconstant heart is stronger than my love for you...

Now, I love you more and more every second. But, of course, there is the question of time and space, the later the worst enemy of our senses and flesh. Far away from sight, our eyes will forget the shape of each others.
Your smell will be an oblivion of spices, your tenderness buried under later heartbreaks. Our love will dissolve. It will be a memory, less and less clear with the years. My body will be a white ghost that you will get flashes of when you are drinking away the sorrow of separating from your first wife, after she get tired of your drunken lack of attention for her.
As for me, I will use you as a character in one of my stories and always, always love you deeply, a soft memory of someone I loved in a different way from anyone else.

I love you more and more...

Arnhem, October 2002



Revenge is served cold

Paula had not been in town for a year and asked about Pedro.
Don't know, I don't go to his bar anymore, I told her, I can't bear his conversation. Why, she asked, he seems to be quite an interesting man. Well, it is just an appearance, I explained to her.

In fact, every time I go there and lean on the bar I have to stand his boosting about the last girl he just had in the toilet.

Once I went in with Ana and he came all smiles to her. Hi! Don't you remember me, she asked? No, but I don't now how I could forget those Greek traits of yours, he answered.

We met the night of the opening of Nova, six months ago, Ana told him. Oh! Now I remember! Wasn't it a fucking good fuck?, he cried.

I could not believe my hears. I went pale. Maybe the music is too loud, Ana said, I can't hear you.

Last month, by chance, I ended up going back to his bar. The moment he set eyes on me I expected the usual ordeal of badly fucked gorgeous women he was obliged to content through the night in his fancy tilled, but not so clean, toilets.

Instead, he just turned his chin to the corner where I found Ana, smiling to me. He looked serious and whispered to me: she says she has AIDS. What I'm I going to do, tell me, you are my friend! I answered nothing and he had to back to his public relations, with a forced smile.

Ana left her corner, still smiling, and, while passing by, went: revenge his served cold!

I haven't been to his bar, since. But someone told me it has been closed for some time.

Lisbon, August 2002