Writen during the long cold winter of November, 1997:
Your letter was quite... arousing, to say the least. My retort will hopefully get you as excited as I was when I read your letter. I am 5'6 and 185lbs. with short, dark hair the color of smooth dark chocolate. I have dark hazel eyes penetrating more than you'd think. I recently became the ripe age of 22. I am starting to feel the pressures of life. I work at a music store and have been there for four years. Sometimes, it seems as though I'll never get out of there. I live with two guys and a girl. We get along well and there are few problems. I am pretty much the man of the house. I take care of the bills and most of the conflicts, whether willing or otherwise. Not that I don't enjoy my responsibility, I do, but every once in a while, I'd like to trade it in and be someone else for a day. Simply as a change of scenery. Either that or just give it all up and run away with someone and start again. I think "someone" is the part that's missing from my life. I want to be with "someone." I've never really had "someone" there for me. I have always wanted, but through some twisted sense of logic, "someone" has eluded me. I ride public transit to and from work on a daily basis. I do not own a car. I lack the money and seeing how most people drive, I think I'm better off without. On the rides, I keep to myself, being the shy and solitary creature I am.
Every once in a while, amid the chaos of crying infants, headphones loudly pulsating rap music, and the crazy old man shouting out the window or at passengers or both about commonplace drivel that either everyone already knows because he repeats himself or they don't give two shits about and do their best to ignore, there is an attractive young college vixen on her way home from a hard day's work of shopping and being sexy. Even fewer still, there are gothic types. You have to look, though. Squint your eyes to just barely catch a glimpse of them. They're quiet, timid, and shy on the surface. Don't let their appearance fool you. They are everything your mother told you to stay away from, which is what attracts me to them.
So, here is my fantasy and I hope I have not bored you so far. As I get on the homebound bus, I slip my change in as usuall and make a motion to turn. Scanning the faces quickly before I take two strides, I must decide where I want to sit. One face in particular catches my eyes. She looks up slightly, long black strides of hair fall across her face. Her beautiful green eyes stare fixed at me, for seconds to all, save me. Then she sticks her nose back into the book she was reading prior to my appearance. All of this takes a moment. The bus door closes and we start moving. The seating is situated so that if I sat in front of this black-clad betty, she'd be facing my profile. Just to be cruel, I do exactly that. Her torment is apparent. During the course of the ride, I glance to my right to look at her. We make eye contact a few times and she smiles a sly little grin and I can see the devil in her eyes. When we do not meet, I can see her lick her supple lavender lips and tug at her lower lip with her teeth. I cannot help but glance down at her body which she seems to bare open to me. She is wearing a plain black t-shirt which reveals more than it hides. Enclosing her, she has a dark gray sweater opened down the middle. She has a black skirt that is cut just above the knee and black stockings that end below the knee. As I look down, I catch myself staring at the inside of her leg. My eyes meet hers as she cracks a slight grin. I avert my gaze and start to blush. This game goes on for the extent of the trip.
Finally, my stop arrives and I chide myself for not saying something to her before I got off. It is about a fifteen minute walk to get home from the bus stop. I can cut five minutes off if I follow the train tracks through a secluded forest area. I do so because I enjoy the scenery and the comfort of silence. I make it about twenty feet when I hear a noise from behind me. I quickly turn around to see little MissGothgirl standing a few feet from me. I wonder how she had gotten so close without me hearing, but I instead ask her what she wants. She advances towards me, puts a smile on, and say one word - "You." She is upon me instantly and knocks me to the ground. She sits on my waist hovering over me with a glowing look on her pale white face. She brings her full pursed lips to my ears and tells me not to squirm, not to yell, not to do anything yet. Her voice is soothing and comforting and I relax my straining muscles. I can feel her breath hot on the skin of my neck as she continues to whisper that she won't hurt me and if she does anything I don't like, tell her, and she'll stop immediately. I keep my mouth shut. She runs her right hand slowly down my chest. My hands come up her sides, outlining every curve of her body. They end at her cheeks and I pull her closer to me. I can feel the hard nipples of her breasts against my chest as I realize she is not wearing a bra. I make a witty comment about it and she responds by drawing back, looking straight into my eyes as she pulls her shirt over her head to expose her breasts to the chill that had been creeping in. My hands had moved down to her legs when she had withdrawn. She grabs them, cupping them in the process, and fills them with her ample breasts. One for each hand, she says wickedly. By now, I have no doubt become exhilerated and she notices. Unfazed, she unbuckles my belt and starts to unzip my pants. I ask if I can help to quicken the process. She obliges as she pulls her black lace undergarment down towards her ankles. By the time she finishes, I have pushed my pants down as far as they'll go without disturbing my lovely companion and taken the necessary precautions. She eagerly grabs my manhood and slips it into her, gasping as our heat becomes one inferno. I gasp as well, pulling her to me again as I thrust in and out, over and over, steadily growing in speed and intensity. It seems as though we are suspended weightless in the air as she lightly claws my back with her nail-bitten fingers. My mouth finds one of her breasts and I latch on, refusing to let go until her screams of ecstasy reach an octive higher. She begs me not to stop as we both reach our climax. Not wanting to stop, we go through the motions again until we have had a second helping of orgasm. With the last tremble of passion, she falls into my open arms. I hold her, it seems like forever. Indeed, I wish that moment could last for eternity and I find no shame in telling her. She looks into my eyes and smiles faintly while saying that nothing lasts forever. In the distance, we hear a train's whistle and decide it best to make ourselves scarce. We quickly dress and go separate ways.
