It’s Memorial Day weekend and we’d like to remind you that the reason for the holiday is to honor fallen soldiers. Of course, in our word association game, soldiers leads to horny. And horny leads to fucking. Or at least, wanking to pretty pin-up girls.
Wanking to photos of pretty girls and writing letters to lovers back home—the oft-romanticized life of the American soldier. Yeah, we know that now it’s all email this and videoconferencing that, but we have a melty place in our hearts for letters. The kinds of letters tied in bundles and saved for fifty years. This week, Madeline‘s put together a collection of letters that run the gamut from sweet to, well, just plain dirty. And for those of you who like a little girl-on-girl action (Let’s be honest, who doesn’t?), two of this week’s picks are actual correspondences between actual girls. With actual, explicit details.
. . .
“Hypothetically speaking – what if, right now, I told you to go to the restroom and remove your panties? Would you do it? And what if, when you exited your stall, you found me standing there waiting for you to hand them to me? Would you do that? Would it make you blush? And then… what if…..as you stood over the sink washing your hands, I slid my hand up your skirt to your bare ass and down the crack and slipped my fingers quickly into your sticky wet cunt? Would you fight me? Or would you like it?”
I felt the throbbing deep within me. I became embarrassed by how excited I was getting. I imagined her hand on my skin. Imagined her hand trailing up my back thigh and up and underneath my skirt. I caught my breath once more. I imagined the feel of her finger trail my crack and plunge into my folds, forcing a gasp from my lips as she thrust her fingers into my wet cunt. I think I gasped out loud. I quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed. I think I caught her looking at me, smiling that devilish grin. The throbbing from my hardened clit wouldn’t stop and I knew how to answer her.
I’d love to fuck you. Very, very slowly, so that you can feel every ridge in my hard cock, grazing the velvet softness of your cunt, so that you can feel every tremor running through my shaft, so that you can feel every pulse, every eruption as I come inside you.
In the months we have been together, T has called me quite a few things. If we exclude the last 48 hours when ‘pain in the ass’ was probably the most popular, then he has called me anything from ‘darling’ to ‘babe’. And at a very particular moment when I am just about to let go with a earth-shakingly orgasm, he’ll whisper ‘good girl’ to me in that sexy English accent of his. I melt just thinking about it.
He tapped my thigh in an obvious ‘open’ gesture and I giggled through the kiss and opened my legs. He put His fingers in my panties and made me ride them with my clitoris while His tongue made me melt against Him. I came quickly and quietly, gasping into His mouth and He didn’t let me go until He was satisfied I was done.
Then He sent me back downstairs on wobbly legs and with a befuddled mind to talk to my friends again. He came down a few minutes later for tea and to grin at my obvious fluster.
This morning before work I sat up on the smoking balcony and thought of being fucked: my thighs splayed open and pushed back and a hard cock driven savagely into me. I came, sitting demurely in the chair, before I had a chance to realize that my body would do that to me, and gathered myself up and walked dreamily back to what I had to do, still unfocused because it wasn’t an I’m done now orgasm but an I’m just getting started one.