The Letter: an erotic romance

My dearest friend,

I wanted to write this letter to let you know I haven’t forgotten. It’s been ten years already. Ten years since we graduated from the university and went on our separate ways, to our separate futures––ten years since that incredible night.

I’m married now, and so are you. But we weren’t then. We’d become best friends over those four years in school, close friends, studying together, taking many of the same classes, sharing our dreams and hopes for the future. But we knew our careers would soon send us on different paths.

That last day was our goodbye. We met early on campus at the bench by the pond. Do you remember? Then just like all those nights when we crammed for exams, we tried to cram our friendship into lasting memories.

We walked through the campus one last time, holding hands, pointing at the gym where we raced in the pool and you beat me by climbing on my back, keeping me from touching the edge first (cheater!). The lecture hall where old man Simmons kicked us out for talking and laughing too loud, and the fountain we poured orange dye into on Halloween. I’ll bet they’re still trying to figure out who did it.

We ate our last dinner together at Toad Hall Pizza, had our last drinks at the Castle pub, then just walked around town. We could have gone to a club or something, but we didn’t want the crowd or the load music we’d have to scream over. Being alone together was everything we needed.

I miss those days, I miss you. I know I shouldn’t be saying that. I’ve been married now for 8 years, and I love her very much. But I can't forget that night, with our uncertain futures staring us down, when we suddenly felt the need to cling to what we had. A friendship that somehow on that final night expressed itself as something more––something special.

It was midnight when I walked you to your apartment. It was time. The day was gone. Your cab would be picking you up early so you could catch your flight home.

Then, remembering that my plane was leaving only an hour after your’s I said, “Wait, I could come over tomorrow morning and we could take the same cab to the airport.”

Your face lit up. “That would be great,” you said.

Almost like magic, your eyes, moistened by the thought that this was our last night, caught a glint of the street light. My eyes were wet too. We’d been talking all day, trying to hold off that final moment of goodbye.

Something changed in us. Something we should have seen in all those study sessions and shared classes. We were more than friends, but we were stupidly just discovering that on our last night together.

We stopped talking and starred into each others eyes, trying to memorize our faces, trying to memorize that moment. I’m not sure how long we stood there. It felt like time had frozen. I reveled in the unspoken words we were sending each other. A quiet understanding filled us.

I don’t know if it was the beer, the moonlight, or that glint in your wet eyes, but suddenly it seemed like the most natural thing to kiss you. It was like we had the same thought, leaning into each other, kissing lightly, then hugging and pressing our lips harder together as if that would hold back our futures and let us stay there, together, forever.

A tear fell down your cheek. I wiped it off and said goodnight. Turning to leave, I felt your hand grab mine. Without a word you pulled me back and walked me to your door. Neither of us spoke as you slowly slid your key into the lock, and pressed the door open.

Our silence continued down the hall and into your apartment.

Once inside I tried to speak, but you put a finger over my lips and hushed me to silence. I pushed you against the wall. Our kiss was instantly passionate and deep. Our bodies pressed together. My arousal was beginning to harden. I pulled back, not wanting to rush, needing to make the night last.

I walked you to the couch. We necked like a couple of teenagers. Then, finally, like a signal going off in our heads at the same time, I reached for the buttons of your blouse and you reached for my belt.

We finally realized how starved we’d been for each other, and how hungry we suddenly were to satisfy a desire we’d allowed to boil just under the surface.

You pulled you blouse off. I stood and stepped out of my pants. Your long hair flowed around your breasts that were barely hidden behind a thin bra.

I carried you in my arms while you hugged me, kissing my neck. Standing you next to the bed, I kneeled, removing your shoes. I kissed you through your jeans, undid the button, pulled open the zipper, and tugged at the waistband, until they slipped down your legs and tumbled to the floor.

You stepped out of them. The bra fell next. There, in front of me, with only your panties hiding it was your secret place. The one kept hidden from me by our friendship all those years. That night we became more...