Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The University of Memphis Lines: 45 Message-ID: 308ntj$p64@amhux3.amherst.edu NNTP-Posting-Host: amhux3.amherst.edu Keywords: mm X-Moderator-Review: 6: cute, but doesn't go far enough
Archive-name: from-a-letter
(Excerpt from a letter, July 12, 1994)
I'm also sad to see them go because one of them was an example of the perfect male body (you knew sex had to figure in there somewhere). Oh dear God! About 5' 10'' and lots of meat on his body, blonde (of course) short-cropped hair, glowing golden radiant healthy skin that just begs to be licked, and he wears blue jeans that fall in the most erotic way over his behind. He has the most incredible butt I've ever seen! For the rest of my life my hands will never be satisfied until they caress buttocks as beautiful as that!
I just don't think I can explain it to you. Let's just say that Tom Cruise and the Tommy Hilfiger model could either stand nude in front of me or go jump from the Empire State Building and I wouldn't care as long as I could have this guy.
The morning they were leaving he came to my door to tell me something clad only in boxers. I seriously nearly came in my shorts. My mind was preoccupied for hours afterward. I was so seriously overcome that had he said, "Listen, I want you to touch me in ways that no one else has ever touched me; take me now!" I still wouldn't have been able to move.
But his chest! Oh his chest! I could write a twenty page ode to his chest! Smooth, robust, muscular, just slightly defined and cut, perfect for rubbing baby oil all over and... and... oh God, grant me his chest... and his sides! Don't forget the sides: the way they slope down into his hips and thick thighs! Please, please, please! I want him! I want him for Christmas or my birthday... hell, I want him for Easter or Groundhog's day, in the middle of a hot sweaty August day or to warm me up in a snow storm in January. We could roll in leaves in November. I could rub mud on his flesh in spring, crown him with flowers, and bathe him in a stream. Morning, noon, and night. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In a cramped telephone booth. In an open field in the rain. Under a car in a greasy garage. On the slopes of an Aztec pyramid -- he could be my Sun God. I would worship his hands, pray to his face, feel his body, taste his neck, swim in his clear watery eyes, burn at the touch of his lips, keep time by the beat of his heart. Is that too much to ask? -- Moderator, rec.arts.erotica. Submissions to erotica@unix.amherst.edu. Please, no reposts, first drafts, or requests for "subscriptions," stories, GIFs, or archive sites.