Hi You

I painted us. Two paintings. Back when we were freshmen. In the library parking lot. At midnight, in the moonlight. Or maybe it was a streetlamp. But it should have been moonlight. Do you remember?

Not about the streetlamp or the moonlight. About that time. Our first kiss. So sweet. I thought so. Gentle and pure. And our second kiss. And more and more kisses. They were making me so wet, Daniel. I almost couldn’t stand it. I let my hand brush your pants. The front. While we kissed.

“Is it hard?” I asked. I didn’t mean if your penis was hard—I could tell that it was. I meant was it hard to be the way we were without being more and more and more. Or something like that. I tried to explain but I didn’t have words, so I just brushed a little more. A little harder. And you said, “Two can play at that game.” And your hand went under my skirt. And before you know it your finger was in my pussy. And it felt so good. And you stroked. Slowly. Gently.

Oh Gosh, Daniel, I’m getting wet just thinking about it. And then your finger, all wet with my wet, was stroking my clit. Then in my cunt. Then on my clit. Cunt, clit, cunt, clit. Then clit, clit, clit, more and more and more, and I was coming. That’s what I painted. It’s oil, Daniel, and it’s not dry yet. I’m not dry yet.

Love
Your Emily