About Tonight
Lustful Letters #3: From Anamika
This is a short letter from a Redditor, Anamika. It’s inspired by my conversations with her. When I finished writing it and showed it to her, she was a little freaked out how close it was to herreality. She eventually decided not to associate her Reddit uname with it. But here’s the letter from her, anonymized.
Happy Reading!
I have been posting my nudes for some time now. You know a lot about me. And I know you’ve jerked off to me, countless times. I’m not here to talk about how sexy I am. You have already seen every hole and crevice of my body, you have seen me drenched in cum, you’ve seen me bounce on dicks like my life depended on it. You know the sexy part.
I’m here to talk about the sex part.
With me, it’s not about whether I want to talk about a guy I fucked. It’s about which one I should talk about.
After being with the number of men I have been with, sometimes more than a couple of men at the same time, things start to blur.
The other day, when I sat down to write this, I thought I’d talk about the guy whom I fucked last night. But between starting to write this and by the time I sat down with this again, I have fucked two more.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably thinking I am an easy slut. Maybe I am. But it’s not about being a slut. When I have a dick inside me, especially the ones who enter me raw, I feel the kind of connection which is hard to put in words. It’s that connection that makes me want to fuck again and again.
My phone is filled with clips of me, with different dicks inside me. Sometimes while scrolling though my gallery, I’d stop and try to remember the guy whose video was on my phone. I’d on my back, with him eagerly pumping me, I’d be playing with my tits, I’ll be playing with my clit. I’d remember what I felt then, but rest of it will be a blur.
I will remember how his dick felt inside me, how my pussy gripped him, how my pussy creamed so much that I could feel it drip past my asshole.
But not everything else about the sex.
Sigh.
So, I’ve decided to finish writing this with a sore pussy, with my inner thighs still wet with his cum. He’s beside me now, spent. But he won’t stop playing with my nipples. As I am typing this, he’s looking at me, cupping my breasts, as if he’s seeing them for the first time.
You’d think he was a gentle lover. But he wasn’t. When we checked in, and I went in the washroom to freshen up, I’d decided to lose my skirt, and walk out in my panty and bra.
I know, maybe I shouldn’t do such things. Maybe I should be a tease, maybe strip one piece of cloth at a time. It’s been some time since I’ve been undressed one piece of cloth at a time. It’s usually me, who gets out her clothes and stands naked in front of the guy. I do it because I admire the look of lustful confusion on their faces.
With him though, it was unusual. When I walked out of the bathroom, and he saw me naked, he told me to stop right there.
“Who told you walk like that? Crawl to me,” he had said.
Any other girl would’ve rebuked. She would’ve felt ashamed that she was being asked to crawl like an animal to a guy. Especially when she met the guy for a first date barely hours ago.
But, I am not that type. I looked down at the floor.
It was the kind of floor that had a lush carpet. I didn’t mind getting on my knees and wagging my butt as I crawled to him. It was all about logistics for me.
When I was between his legs, I raised myself and reached for his pants.
You know the rest, don’t you? At least you’d have guessed. And, you’d beright.
He fucked my face, wordlessly. And then he fucked me. First from behind, and then he bent me like a lawnchair and fucked me while I was on my back. That’s how he came.
He came a little inside me, before pulling out. He thought I’d mind his cum inside me. Too bad I didn’t tell him that I let men cum wherever they want to. It’s rude to tell them that they have to pull out.
And that’s it. Here I am writing it for you, before I get too drunk and high to forget most of it.
Oh, if you were wondering where are the details — you don’t need them. Whatever you imagined me doing, I did it. Did you imagine me choking on his dick, trying to lick his ball while I sucked him? I did that. Did you imagine me being slapped and grinning, while I spread my legs, asking him for more? My cheeks still stings from being slapped around.
I have to go now. All the things he had been doing to my nipples, has started making me wet again. Let me see if I can make him hard again.
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