Showing posts with label Love Letters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love Letters. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Dear lover ...

Whew what a day. Betcha thought I would never get around to posting. With classes and then work, this is the first free moment I have had.

I've debated and toyed with the idea of exactly what I wanted to do for my post. There are so many different ways I could go with it.

I decided that I am going to share a short vignette that I wrote years ago. It's still a rough draft, in so many ways, so please overlook the errors.

* * *
Evolution Of A Thought
© Michelle Houston

With rain-dampened grass sticking to her jeans-clad ass, Brenda savored the brief glimpses of flashing light the falling stars offered. She tried to make a wish on each, but with thousands burning out with every second, she couldn't keep up. Not that it mattered.

She only had one wish to make. And as her eyes followed the path of fiery trail of meteor and gases as it plummeted to earth, she made the same wish over and over. "Please let Aaron return home safe and sound. Let this damn war be over soon, and our men come home safe."
With a soft sigh of appreciation at the beauty of the night, Brenda's green eyes caught another falling star in her gaze, and followed it, until she was no longer able to focus on it for the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Ever since the foggy morning almost a year earlier, when she had left Aaron at the gate of the air force base, she had hoped each night for his safe return. Each day, she worked to put the dangers he faced out of her mind and tried to focus on her work. But lying alone in bed at night, composing her daily letter to her lover, she couldn't help but worry.

She struggled to keep the tone of her letters light, focusing on how long she was going to keep him in bed when he finally came home. Teasing him with descriptions of the lingerie and the sexy clothes she had bought.

She wrote about her day, how much she loved him, and missed him. But never asked if he was scared. Never mentioned the war. Not a hint of worry entered her letters, even as they flooded her mind.

And he responded in kind, talking about the bad food, the guys in his unit, reminding her of the coming meteor showers, and not saying a word about the dehumanizing conditions they faced each day.

With a soft sign, she wiped her eyes, denying her fears the power to control her. She knew Aaron's unit had stopped a man from stoning his wife in the streets the day before, but as she picked up her pen to write about her day, she made no mention of the news broadcast. She rolled on her stomach and started her letter.



Dear Aaron,

The stars look so beautiful tonight. As I write this, I'm wishing that you're under them as well, gazing up at them, even as I know you're not. And we are together in that moment, despite the miles of land and ocean that separate us.


We both look at the stars, together. And when I head inside, and strip my damp clothes from my body, we will be together again. Your hands running over my flesh, while I cup your cock in my hands, caressing the velvety length.

It will be like no time has passed, as our bodies knowingly melt together, each touch instinctively pleasing. I still remember how you like me to lick your nipples, tugging them gently between my teeth, then swirling my tongue over the stinging bud.

I would do that to you tonight, and every night hereafter.

Just as your fingers would slowly tease their way down my body, delving into all of my secret places, as I do the same to you. And our bodies would know each other, despite having been apart.

Tonight, you'd move over me, your lean form covering my lush one. And I'll be hot for you, as always, my body wet and welcoming your firm one.

God Aaron, the way you make me feel. I tremble just thinking about your lips kissing slowly down my stomach and as you move to do just that, I can feel my inner-thighs growing slick.
And as you reach your destination, zeroing in on the target of my heated core, I can't help the heated moans that escape my lips. The sheets are so cool beneath my heated flesh I almost can't stand it. And as you move back up over me, your cock trailing along my thigh, your heat only adds to the inferno, trapping me within the maelstrom of your passion.


And I love it. I love you.

I love the way you gently slid into me, your lips pressed against mine, tongues dueling. After your tender exploration, you grow more demanding, claiming me in the ways of a warrior: hard, firm, demanding and all I have to give to you. And I love it.

I whisper your name softly as my nerves burst into flames, my core a burning inferno of need. I scream your name as I come, clenching you tight within me, holding you close, trying to pull you forever into my soul.

As you come, I can feel the warmth spreading within me. Soothing the raging fire of my need, and I am at peace in your arms.

I am loved.

And our souls are joined.

Baby, I love you. Come home safe Aaron.
Brenda




Brenda wiped at the tears that again pooled in her eyes, and rolled onto her back. Unzipping her jeans, she slid a hand past the waistband of her panties, nudging her pussy lips apart. Slipping two cool fingers into her pussy, she thrust them deep.

Her pussy clenched at the invasion. Brenda slipped them free and thrust again, wringing a moan past her lips. Even as her body ached for her lover, it demanded instant satisfaction. Her other hand unbuttoned her damp shirt and caressed her bare breasts.

Her thoughts filled with Aaron, his touch, the feel of his body over hers, she worked a sensual spell over her flesh, teasing her breasts and pussy until with a soft gasp, she came.

Her body sated even as the worry returned to her mind. She lay there in the grass, tears flowing from her eyes she looked up, and caught a glimpse of the last shooting star streaking across the sky.

"Aaron, come home safe," she whispered.

Monday, February 8, 2010

The Sullivan Ballou Letter


I love words and I love history. And when I think of love letters, what immediately springs to mind is this lovely missive. This well-known letter was written by Sullivan Ballou, a Union Major, to his wife, Sarah, a week before being mortally wounded in the (1st) Battle of Bull Run.

There are some fascinating insights into what was happening in the day to day life of a solidier waiting between battles, as well as a thoughful look at where his sense of duty springs from, and how he justifies his eerily precscient knowledge of his permanent separation from his family.

His words of love come through so strongly, they just leap off the page and have lost nothing in the passage of time. What is particularly poignant to me is his absolute faith that he will see her following death and will eventually be reunited with Sarah and his boys. Gets me every time.

(On a personal note, a distant cousin of mine, Elisha Hunt Rhodes, who is also well known for his wartime writings, fought with Sullivan Ballou in the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteers.)

*******

July the 14th, 1861

Washington DC




My very dear Sarah:


The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.


Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure - and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.


But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows - when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children - is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?


I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.


I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.


Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.


The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me - perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.


Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.


But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours - always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.


Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.


As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.



Sullivan