20 Love Letters - The Twentieth

I love you.

I miss you and I’m glad I wont have to for much longer.

I think what we have is worth keeping, worth working at, worth talking through. Worth taking care of.

Let’s keep it.

20 Love Letters - The Nineteenth

A little less than 36 hours and, all things running to plan, I should be seeing you again.

I can’t wait.

20 Love Letters - The Eighteenth

You love my arse. You’re always checking it out, groping it, sticking your hands down my pants even at fairly inopportune times.

You love fucking my arse. I imagine the sensation is pretty different to fucking my pussy. Tighter, a different angle, a different kind of tension.

I never thought it was something I’d get into, was always too afraid it would hurt too much. But you were so patient and we tried on different occasions with varying degrees of success until, yeah, somewhere along the way we figured it out. And it doesn’t hurt much or even at all anymore. And it’s so intense. So hot. So very fucking awesome.

We’ve played with toys, butt plugs, dildos and various combinations of the above along with your own cock and there’s nothing quite like being so full and having my body stuffed from two angles. And we’re talking about and planning when we can do it without the toys and it’ll be two cocks inside me at once and the thought just makes me burn.

And it’ll happen because you want it and I want it too and I know it’ll be another mind blowing experience.

It kind of makes me feel sad for people who don’t have cool, open minded, perverted boyfriends.

20 Love Letters - The Seventeenth

Sometimes I freak out about the way you drive. It’s not that you are a dangerous driver, I can be in the car with far more accident-prone drivers and feel fine, I’m not sure why I skitz out a bit when you drive sometimes. Actually, I think I do. I think it’s because when we first got together you were just getting your license, so you were still sort of learning. We’d go on long drives and I’d be the licensed driver in the car while you practised. So I got in the habit of overzealously checking the road when you were driving, keeping an eye out for hazards.

Now I can’t seem to switch it off. I know you’re gonna stop at the stop light, a little later than I would but you’ll do it. But sometimes I get a little panic and feel like if I don’t tell you it’s coming up that you wont know, like back when you were learning.

Anyway I just wanted to stay sorry about that, I really don’t think you’re a bad driver, it’s just a weird instinct and I’ll keep trying to curb it if you’ll be patient with me.

I still do prefer for you to drive, I’m a better passenger. And you’re better at knowing where you’re going anyway.

20 Love Letters - The Sixteenth

You’re a social creature and I’m sure I wouldn’t have anywhere near as much going on socially if we weren’t together. My life is richer for it. You tend to do most of the organising of social engagements, setting up dinners, outings, café and bar meetups with friends. When we’re out with friends you’re usually on fire, running off your mouth, flirting with our female friends, chatting about whatever.

You can be quiet too though. When you’re home you can fall into your work, or read, or piddle about on the computer for hours. Zone out in front of computer games or whatever. I think it’s a side of you not too many people see. See you when you’re not “on”. I’m glad I get to see both sides. Well really, I get to see all sides. And I like that.

20 Love Letters - The Fifteenth

You have so much trouble keeping your clothes on. You’re most comfortable naked, to the point where there is generally a trail of clothes leading across the floor whenever you get home and shed them. It’s usually only the terror of cold weather or the threat of guests that gets you into some kind of clothing when you’re at home. It’s both endearing and hilarious.

Sometimes I’ll find you in the spare room, sitting at the computer bareassed surfing the internet, not looking at porn or anything just emails or whatever. It’s no big thing. You’re just comfortable in your own skin, so why bother with clothes? I go naked a lot more around home also, it saves on washing.

You tend to do most of the washing anyway. Sorry about that.

20 Love Letters - The Fourteenth

It’s absurd but I could probably write a lot of paragraphs on how much I adore your cock. From the rough clutch of strawberry blonde curls that sits low on your belly, to the smooth curve of your shaft, to the soft skin of your balls.

I love to hold you in my hand when you’re hard and firm, the skin so soft in contrast to the tense core. If I’m doing something right I can feel the shift and throb as you grow harder in my fingers.

Sometimes you get yourself waxed, and I have the added bonus of all that perfectly smooth skin, and I get obsessed with the silkiness of your testes, so smooth and touchable.

You’re large enough to be satisfying without being frightening. When I go down on you I can fit almost fit you all the way in if I’m relaxed enough. I do enjoy giving you head, the way you shift, the noises you make, all that firm heat and skin in my mouth.

Yeah, I guess I really do love the cock.

20 Love Letters - The Thirteenth

I love it that you can cook. You are a much better chef than I will ever be and not only because you enjoy it, you also have a flair for it, plus all the background of growing up in a household that knows good food.

When you throw things together you don’t get tied to a recipe, you just feel it out, adding in what ingredients you think will work and you’re usually right. When things don’t come out the way you like, you get so miffed, like somehow you’ve failed even though the end result is always edible.

I’m not terribly confident in the kitchen. When I do cook I get really stuck on following the recipe and usually take forever to put something together. I’m better at desserts than meals, and you are better at meals than desserts so between us we pretty much have it covered.

I’m looking forward to being fed by you soon.

20 Love Letters - The Twelfth

I miss making out with you. We should put it at the very top of our to-do list when I get back home. Good old fashioned rolling around with our clothes still on lips-locking, tongue-tangling dry-humping high-school style necking. Yeah I could really go for that.

Do you remember our first sort-of “date”? When at the end we got a bit caught up by the car and wound up kissing and touching forever under the streetlights. Your hands were up under my skirt and we were getting very dirty. We must have been making a lot of noise because eventually a guy who lived in the house we were parked near came out on his balcony and just *glared* at us until we broke apart and left.

I can still remember the warm liquid feeling in my panties as we drove away. We got up to more mischief that night and it was all so fun and hot and new.

Of course you know me even better now. You’ve had plenty of time to learn my buttons and you know which ones to push. You’ve even found buttons I didn’t know I had and brought me some of the most intense sexual ecstasy. You really are a great lover.

So let’s make out, ok? When I get back. It’ll be fun.

20 Love Letters - The Eleventh

No time to be lyrical today, but I still have a few favourite things to mention.

* lazy afternoons watching movies in our underwear, curling into your side and leaning on you
* the way you put your hand on my leg, or around my shoulder when we go to the movies
* the way you smell when you're all fresh and ready to go out, a sort of heady mix of cologne and deoderant and your own warm smell underneath
* the devious look you get in your eye when you go down on me

Particularly the last one.

20 Love Letters - The Tenth

Let’s take some photographs together. I want to pose for you. I want to work the lens and be the centre of your attention for a time, while you look at me with your photographer brain.

I want to see if I can rile you out of your working mode, like I used to. Tease myself in front of your lens til your torn between the urgency of your hard-on and your desire to capture the moment in images.

I’ll bend and arch and recline for you while you climb over furniture and twist yourself into strange positions to get the right shot, the right angle.

Let me bathe in your focus. And you can decide if you want to watch me come, or make me.

20 Love Letters - The Ninth

I love you so much!

I am very excited.

Thank you, thank you , thank you for not letting me back down. Thank you for pushing me through all that and for putting up with my groaning and yelling and whinging and whining.

You were right of course, you always are. We are in a much better place now and it’s all your doing.

This is really happening!

I love you so hard.

20 Love Letters - The Eighth

You have unique sense of style. You are aware of what looks good on you, which, to be honest, is a lot. You’re blessed with height, long legs, wide shoulders, so clothes hang on you the right way. That doesn’t mean that everything works, but you can tell what does. French cut shirts, straight leg jeans that hug your legs and cup your arse. Tshirts that are just that little bit snug so they’re not shapeless.

I love you in a suit and tie, all clean and classic. Or in jeans and cowboy boots, with a checked shirt. Skinny ties, epilates, cufflinks with questionable designs and if we’re wanting to push it up a level, there’s pvc and rubber.

I miss getting dressed up for you. Turning myself into a tart and exposing more flesh than necessary to hang off your arm like candy. With your confidence behind me I’ve gone out in public wearing far less that I would normally be comfortable with, feeling like I’m gonna turn heads in a good way.

All clothing options aside, I’ll take you as you are. Just you and I bare skinned. Preferably in a bed.

20 Love Letters - The Seventh

We like to shower together. I can’t pinpoint when it started, but somewhere along the way we started sharing showers. Mostly on weekends and when our schedules matched. It got so habitual that we even shared the tiny shower in my uncle’s New York apartment when we were there.

It’s not too easy a task depending on how large the shower is. We’re both quite tall and only one of us will fit under the spray at a time. We take turns getting wet, washing and rinsing. But all the negotiation is worth it for the press of your skin under the spray. I like to place my fingers at the base of your neck, stroking your skin as the spray falls on us both.

Sometimes we do more than just wash. Then I stand on my tiptoes as our tongues tangle, spray cascading over us as your hands delve below. Or the shock of the cold glass against my breasts as you press me to the shower wall, cock inside me, water mingling with sweat as I moan my appreciation.

I like showering with you.

20 Love Letters - The Sixth

From very early on in our relationship you’ve played careers counsellor to me. You’ve helped me choose which job to take when I’ve had competing offers. You’re there to buck me up between contracts and tell me that no, my career is not over, there will be another job just around the bend, try and enjoy the break in the meantime.

More than anything though, you’re so good at letting me know my own worth. It’s so easy on big projects to just feel like a small cog in a big machine, lost in the rows of names on a phone list. You’re so good at reminding me that I actually have some skills and worth and a lot to offer. Plus you read my contracts for me when my eyes want to roll back in my head at all the legal jargon that I could probably understand if I tried hard enough but it’s just… so… boring.

Thanks for being there to talk me up to myself before I have to do the scary negotiation phone calls. Thanks for believing in me and for telling me I’m amazing.

You know, you’re pretty amazing too.

20 Love Letters - The Fifth

I love your pale skin. You never tan and you never will. Going out in the sun for any length of time is an exercise in applying sunscreen to avoid being pink with sunburn for days.

There’s a scattering of freckles on your upper arms, where your skin has seen the most sun, and across the back of your neck. I like to trace them with my fingers when we’re lying around feeling lazy. Or slide my fingers down your broad back, between your shoulder blades.

Sometimes we sleep spooned, and I curl my body around yours, my face tucked into the curve of your neck, thighs pressed against your arse, arm laying across your chest.

Other times I will tuck myself under your arm, resting my head on your chest, just under your neck. I love to snuggle with you.

I have a whole king bed to myself here, but I still sleep only on one side.

20 Love Letters - The Fourth

Sometimes you forget to finish your sentences. When you are distracted, driving the car, on the computer, you will start saying something, but trail off. At first I’ll think it’s just a pause. Sometimes it is, and you pick up where you left off after a long beat. Sometimes you forget to finish the sentence and I have to repeat the beginning back to you, to prompt you.

You are a compulsive snacker. If I leave an open bag of lollies or biscuits anywhere around you will grab a few every time you walk past, until the pack is empty. I sometimes hide the open packs in the cupboard in the hope that they might last longer. But you’ll always offer me some when you take some. You were brought up right by your mother.

In the meantime, as I live away from home my apartment is littered with half eaten blocks of chocolate and half finished bags of chips, neglected and forgotten without you here to help me finish them.

20 Love Letters - The Third

Sometimes you talk too much. That’s ok because sometimes I don’t talk enough. I think in the end, we even each other out.

You have a knack for being able to talk to just about anyone, whether it’s a chat with a checkout chick at the shops, to engaging a cute waitress in conversation while we’re out. Your relaxed charm and talkative manner put people at ease and you pick up friends quickly. People feel comfortable turning to you for advice, they know they’re not going to be judged by you, they know you’re not easily shocked, so they feel free to share things with you.

You are a person who talks. In contrast I’m a person who is talked to. I can fall into conversation, but rarely initiate it, so I admire that ability in you. I’ll never be able to talk to strangers the way you do, but I am definitely better at engaging in group situations than I used to be. I’m sure you’ve been an influence there, so thank you.

Sometimes I think of all the people I would never have met if we weren’t together. The random “struck up a conversation at a gig” people, the friends of friends who became friends, the racy and kinky folk. It’s a varied tribe of really awesome people we know and I miss them when I’m away.

But not as much as I miss you.

20 Love Letters - The Second

I think you might have quit smoking. I don’t want to say anything in case you haven’t. I have always been too vocal in my opinions about how much I dislike your smoking, to my own detriment I believe. My latest approach has been to just shut up about it already, it is your decision after all and since you always go outside to smoke I can’t really complain about passive smoking.

But on the weekend when I visited I didn’t see you light up once. You smelled so nice the whole time and your lips when I tasted you were always clean, without the smoky aftertaste. You have something of an addictive personality, so it’s not surprising that it was hard for you to let go of the smokes (if that is indeed what you’ve done). It could be that you just avoided them that weekend for my sake. If that’s the case, then thank you. I really appreciated it.

You may well have quit and started again in my absence, out of boredom, or frustration, or stress. It’s hard not being around to see, to know what is really going on. You give me the headlines of course, but it’s the little things that are so easy to miss. Have you bought any of those nice chewy peanut butter cookies from Coles recently? Are you currently working your way through a pack?

When we first started dating you were a full card carrying smoker. Occasionally I would even buy a pack for you, if I was on the way to meet you somewhere that didn’t have a cigarette machine. You used to smoke Marlboros, the light gold packet. It gave me a sense of pride to know what your brand was. Like there was some ownership in it. In much the same way that I know you prefer Coopers Pale if it’s on offer, and before Coopers you used to like Stella, but only if it was on tap.

I like to keep these pieces of knowledge about you, it makes me feel like I know you so well, like I’ve collected all this data on the one who holds my heart. You have the same encyclopedia on me, I know, from my vodka-lime-and-soda-in-a-tall-glass to the name of the first real perfume I bought, which you helped me choose.

I wonder if when we go to the UK you will find a new beer to love, and I can tuck that information away too.

20 Love Letters

Yes it has been a while. I don’t even know if anyone is reading this anymore. It doesn’t matter much though, because there’s only one person I really want to read this anyway.

Over the course of the month of Novermber I am going to write 20 love letters to that person, in the hope that while we continue to be separate, he will know how much I miss him.


The First

You dyed your hair. I’ve always known you as a blonde. Different shades over different times, from ice cold white to your natural darker shade. You sent me a photo of your new black hair. I wasn’t expecting it. You hadn’t mentioned that you were going to dye it. I think probably you didn’t plan it, just got to salon and decided to dye it on a whim. You usually make decisions about your hair on the fly like that.

It took me almost the entire weekend to get used to it. Your skin is so pale, has always had been. The blue-black of your hair a shock of darkness crowning your head. Your eyebrows still so pale - they did look a little strange.

It took a couple of days but in the end I decided that I liked it. You can carry it off, you can carry off most things, with your high cheekbones and sharp aristocratic nose. You are only going to get better looking as you get older. One day you’ll have smile lines crinkling around your eyes and the lines in you forehead will get deeper, but it will be all be just details on the handsome face of the older you.

I love your pale skin, your freckles and your light pink nipples. I love your long, long legs and your firm arse. And for the moment, while the whim lasts, I love your dark hair as well.