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  Love Letters – Our Second Encounter

  Hi my friend,

  Our story didn’t end with the first encounter that I detailed in the prologue. I do remember the second time we were together, but the next chapters may be out of sequence. And I apologize, as I may not have memories of every time we made love, but I can’t imagine how I could forget any of them.

  If I run out of memories, I’ll just have to write about things that I hope will happen in the future.

  To say that your friendship and laughter were what kept me going through many difficult days is an understatement. It wasn’t only about making love to you. It was about the friendship. We would talk for hours, long before there was anything sexual between us, and before we met in person.

  I do remember the first time we met, but I’ll save that story. And I do remember sharing lots of meals. That was the Cajun in me – always wanting to feed the world. However, one time you cooked – made fish for us. Wish I had gotten that recipe.

  The fun part of that meal was pushing you down the aisles on the shopping cart in Schwegmann’s. I think you invented Leonardo DiCaprio’s scene in the movie Titanic.

  I was going very fast, and you were showing off with your arms stretched out – with that adorable smile covering your face. Only in New Orleans would something like that not look out of place. There are times when I so miss that city.

  Nothing was off limits in our conversations. Can’t imagine sometimes what we were talking about. Maybe it was that fact that we never judged; we just listened. You are still the only person I feel comfortable saying anything to. From what I’ve seen, people don’t get too many friendships like that.

  One Saturday, I was particularly upset about my relationship with Miguel. It was when I found out that I was married to a bigamist.

  I came over to your apartment around 5 o’clock. I knew that once I saw you, you would say something to make me laugh, and I needed something to make me happy. It’s bizarre what I remember, but when I got there, you were cleaning your kitchen. The mind is a terrible thing to waste – LOL. Why would that visual come into my head?

  Then I remember you sat in a chair opposite of the couch where I was sitting. I don’t recall the conversation, but my instincts tell me we were struggling with the “should we or shouldn’t we?” battle again. I think I must have said that I probably should leave. Didn’t want to bother you, but appreciated you just being there for me.

  As I started walking towards the door, you grabbed my arm, pulled me down on your lap, and started unbuttoning my blouse. You moved my bra so that my breasts were exposed and started playing with the tips. It was such a rush to watch your fingers work their magic.

  And the waterfall started immediately. I could feel you getting hard. Think it might have been the moaning that turned you on. Or maybe it was how my nipples reacted as you played with them that caused the response in your body.

  I’m starting to see a pattern when I recall these encounters. I can never remember getting undressed. Just went straight to naked. :-)

  Not sure if you realize this, but we spent six hours making love that evening. I know because it was after midnight when we were finally exhausted, and the sheets were soaking wet.

  It wasn’t a constant thing. We would take breaks, but I recall you never pulled out of me. You would stop and kiss me and that was when I started using my muscles and squeezing you.

  I had never even thought about being able to do something like that before, but it seemed natural. It’s not something I have ever done with another man, even to this day, but the memories came flooding back when you mentioned it – how embarrassing if that’s not what you were referring to when we talked today.

  I can close my eyes and relive those moments. The squeezing starts at the base and moves upward. A wave-like motion sometimes. Other times I would tighten myself around all of you at once and then release again. And then I would do it over and over and over again. You whispered how unbelievable it feels, and then you started to moan.

  Hugging is just not what I want to do right now,

  Gwynyth

  Chapter 3 –

  Memories

  I was surprising myself with the installments of Shades of Red, but I always looked forward to his response. We were talking the next morning after he got the above letter. I always made it a habit to send him the installments for “bedtime” reading.

  “Are you sure you haven’t read Fifty Shades of Grey?” he asked.

  “Okay, to be honest, I downloaded it, but it was difficult for me to read. I don’t understand that type of sexuality. Maybe I’m just too much of a romantic.”

  “You know, these letters are very well written. The erotic part had a very definite effect on me. It was something about reading your words and going down memory lane that caused a certain part of me to react and wish you were here to enjoy it.” As he spoke the words, my mind was remembering how much I missed seeing him smile.

  “So, should I write more?” I asked.

  “Don’t look to me to tell you to stop. And I like some of the insights. I have to tell you, pleasuring you has always turned me on. The way that you always enjoyed my touch and being close to me was an ego boost, but I think what made it special was the way that we care about each other’s wellbeing. You’re right, it has always been the friendship and laughter that has made what we have different.”

  “Are you saying I have a potential new career? Have you turned me into a novelist?”

  “Oh yeah,” he replied. “You certainly have what it takes to tell a story. And your words have taken me to so many different places. I don’t know how much longer I can wait to do some of these things in person. It’s been way too many years since we were together.”

  All I could do was agree. When we first started talking, we had decided that because of our jobs and other commitments, that we would get together in September. After several installments of our “book,” it seemed like September was years away, not months.

  Soon after we reconnected, his job took him out of the country for several weeks. I missed our talks, but I was enjoying the email exchanges. It was as if we were writing a journal of our times together and helping each other understand who and what we were to each other.

  I was a little astonished at how writing the erotic part was easy, but I could literally sit at my computer, close my eyes, remember his face and touch and relive our times together or get lost in a story of one that I hoped would happen. But the learnings about myself were not something I expected.

  I was amazed at what he remembered. I think it was part of what made me fall in love with him again. Why is love so simple, yet so complicated?

  As the letters evolved, it was easy to see how we always cared for each other, but we tried to live our separate lives.

  • • •

  It wasn’t long after our second encounter that Rune made the decision to move back to Norway. It is hard to understand, but as much as we were drawn to each other, we kept our desires in check. Sometimes I think we were only fooling ourselves, but the one thing we loved to do was to steal those moments that only the two of us understood.

  He had come over for a farewell dinner the day before he was scheduled to leave for Norway. As we stood in my front yard saying our good-byes, he pulled me close and gave me a hug.

  “I’m going to miss you,” I said.

  “I’m going to miss you, too, but I need to finish my education. It’s just not something I can do here in the States. And I’ll be back after Christmas, Ms. Waterfall,” he whispered.

  “Shhh, I can’t believe you just said that,” being thankful that it was dark outside and that no one saw me turning red. But then I turned my face up to meet his gaze and said, “Our timing sucks. Christmas is a long time away, and right now, I can feel that Mr. Happy is really happy.”

  He smiled and hugged me a little tighter. “You’re going to have to stay where you are a little longer. Could be embarrassing all aro
und if I turn loose of you now.”

  It was that embrace that sent me into a tailspin as I watched him pull away. He had this way of wrapping his arms around me and then squeezing ever so gently as he breathed in, but then he would hold me a little tighter as if he was trying to incorporate our bodies into one.

  I remember after he left, there was a strange phenomenon that kept happening. I had always been drawn to certain songs, but had never paid much attention to their significance. After he left, I could have the radio on, be in an elevator, or walk in a store; and I would hear Neil Diamond’s song Hello, Again playing. Every time I would hear it, he would call that day. It didn’t happen that often, but in my mind it became an omen of our connecting over the years.

  He kept his promise and came back to New Orleans after Christmas. The next two letters in the book are about his trip back to New Orleans. One is the letter I wrote to him, and the other is my retelling of the story he wrote to me. His thoughts are significant from the perspective that they were the reason for my emotions to go spiraling out of control so quickly. He was saying all of the right things, but more importantly, he was sharing his desires.

  Love Letters – Coming Back to New Orleans

  Dear Rune,

  Our encounters were few and far between, but they were always memorable. I remember the time you were coming back from Norway. You had been away for a while. I had kicked Miguel out of the house the week before you were due to arrive in New Orleans.

  As we both know, the marriage had been over for some time, but truth be told, I couldn’t stand the thought of you coming back to New Orleans and not having the opportunity to be alone with you. I wasn’t even sure it was what you wanted, but I didn’t want anything to stand in our way.

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw you walk out of the jetway wearing that wonderful smile on your face. You were happy to be in New Orleans again. I was happy to have my friend back. You gave me a big hug when you saw me.

  I wasn’t sure how the evening would end – what you might want to do. I don’t know if we went to dinner, or just went back to my house, but the next thing I recall is sitting on the couch with my head on your chest. You were kissing me tenderly. I remember your arms around me. It was almost as if you were afraid to let go.

  Then you said something that melted my heart. You were stroking my arm and said the evening was ending just like you had hoped it would. I asked you what you meant. You said, “I just wanted to hold you in my arms again.”

  Luckily, holding me wasn’t all you wanted to do. I have to skip to naked again because I don’t know how the clothes came off. I’m going to have to pay attention next time we are together. I want to savor the memory of you taking my shirt off, unhooking my bra, and holding my breasts in your hands again.

  I want to unbutton your jeans and slowly move my hands down your thighs as I take them off. LOL – I’m thinking please be commando so that I can see you hard as they slip down your legs, but I digress – that’s a story for another time. :-)

  Next thing I know, we are on the bed. It was obvious it had been a while since we had been together. Our desire was more animalistic than most of the times we have been together. It had been way too long since we had made love.

  Our bodies heated up quickly. Just kissing you had already started the waterfall. Slipping into me was easy. My body was more than ready to have you inside of me again.

  You touch places in me internally that no one else ever has.

  The sheer pleasure of knowing that your movements will end with your coming inside of me causes me to want you even more. And when you finally release, it is even more satisfying to know that it was my body that brought you so much pleasure.

  That evening ended very differently. After you came, we laid there for a little while. You had been on the plane for such a long time. You asked if I wanted to take a shower with you.

  I remember the water running over us. Me taking the soap and washing your back. You turning around and washing my breasts. Me gently washing your penis and watching it get hard again as I was touching you. And then you slipping inside of me as the water rushes over our bodies.

  Hugging you is just not enough,

  Gwynyth

  This next memory is the only one of our first few encounters that was very vague for me. I remember joking about the staircase over the years, but until Rune wrote the story for me, so much of it was unclear in my memory.

  It was his letter and how he told it that allowed my heart to believe he loved me. As I said, men have more of a tendency to remember non-emotional events, but when he sent me the details of “the staircase” as we always called it, I knew that there was a part of me that was ingrained in his being. It had been thirty years, but he remembered it as if it had been just yesterday.

  Here is my version of the story told from his memory.

  Love Letters – His Memory – The Staircase

  Dear Gwynyth,

  So here’s the story of the staircase.

  Now that Miguel had moved out of the house, it was too expensive for you to handle on your own; you had found a new place to live.

  You called and asked, “Would you like to go have lunch tomorrow and then see my new place?”

  “Sure, that would be fun. Where is it?” I asked.

  “In Bucktown. My friend Meredith knew someone who has a townhouse that just came available. I know the girls are going to be disappointed that we have to move again, but luckily they aren’t changing schools.”

  We had lunch at Deannie’s, which was right down the street from your soon-to-be new home. You had the fried shrimp po-boy and I had the catfish.

  “I really miss the food of New Orleans,” I said, taking my last bite of coleslaw. “Are you ready to show me this new place of yours?”

  “Yes, let’s go. Inez gave me the key this morning. We don’t have to wait for her. She said I could start bringing some boxes in if I wanted, but there are still a couple of things that she needs to fix before we start moving furniture in.”

  As we walked in and started looking around, I remember commenting, “This is nice. It’s a spacious living area, but the kitchen is somewhat small for the kind of cooking you do. The girls are going to like this back yard, though. I guess all the bedrooms are upstairs. Should we go take a look?”

  It wasn’t a huge place, but we stopped in each room long enough for us to discuss how we might “christen” each one.

  “This is a lot bigger than it looks from the outside, and it seems like a nice neighborhood. I think you’re going to like it here,” I said, as we started walking down the stairs.

  I stopped when we were almost to the bottom and turned around and looked at you.

  “So Gwynyth, we made plans for all of the other rooms. Is the staircase a place that is allowed for making love?” putting my arms around your waist and pulling you close.

  I love when I can make you blush, but you said, “You are so bad, and yes, they could be a place for making love, but the blinds aren’t on the windows yet. What if someone walked up?”

  “No one is going to walk up and no one can see in. Shall we make some memories so that each time you go up these stairs you will think of us?” I said, moving my hands from around your waist and slipping them under your t-shirt.

  And before you had a chance to object, I lifted your shirt over your head, unhooked your bra, and cast them both aside. I remember my mouth was moving from one breast to the other, sometimes sucking, sometimes using my tongue to make circles around the nipples, and sometimes softly biting the tips.

  I unbuttoned your jeans and slipped your panties down with them, asking you, “Should I see if the waterfall is activated?”

  It was always such a turn-on to watch and feel how you reacted to my hands touching your body. You moaned as my fingers first caressed the almond, and then slowly moved inside of you.

  I smiled and said, “Oh yeah, you are ready, Ms. Waterfall. I think you want me just a little bit right n
ow. Do you know what it does to me when I touch you and feel how wet you are?”

  “I have some kind of idea. That bulge in your jeans is giving me a clue,” you responded as you started to unbutton my jeans.

  As the rest of our clothes came off, I whispered, “Do you know how much I want you?”

  To be continued very soon….

  Rune

  Chapter 4 –

  Full Disclosure

  His letters weren’t nearly as long as mine, but they were much more explicit when he described the sexual part of what he wanted us to experience. He would focus on the physical, telling me how he wanted to slip into me a quarter of himself at a time so that we could both get lost in the pleasure. He would end each one with holding me in his arms, as we fell asleep.

  I, on the other hand, was weaving our history into the letters, and he was interlacing the physical aspects with the one thing he wanted most from me.

  He ended the story of the staircase with something we had been talking about. He wrote about how he tried to keep from coming because he wanted me to have that OMG moment that he knew he had not experienced with me. He said he held out as long as he could, hoping that I would let go, but that there comes a point when the pleasure takes over and there is nothing a man can do to keep from coming.

  So in the spirit of full disclosure, I have to confess something at this point. This is where it gets extremely hard to share my story, but I can’t just share the positive. I have to be willing to tell the whole story. And to be perfectly honest, some of it is very embarrassing.

  The sex with him was beyond comprehension. It was like one orgasm that never stopped. We talked about “the issue” on several occasions.

  “Please don’t be upset with me. You know how much I treasure the times we have made love,” I said.

  “I’m not, it’s just that I don’t understand why you hold back. The waterfall is a good indication of how much you want me. The way your body responds to my touch is what I like about being together. No one has ever wanted me the way you do.”