Beloved Kristen,

Before I met you, I was only half a man. Oh, yes, I had a sort of life, but I now know that it was only partially satisfying. I was meant to be your mate, as you were meant to be mine -- hand, head, heart, spirit, and, most importantly, body.

Back in high school, I had already been with Karen. I’d thought that what I felt for her was love, never having experienced the real thing. We’d dated for some time. We’d progressed from kissing to petting. The last summer, we’d gotten into the habit of petting in a glade when we could get out for an evening.

The fateful evening, we’d kissed as the sun went down. As the long twilight slowly faded, I’d petted her and kissed her and removed one piece of her clothing after another. In the full dark, she had at last allowed me to remove her panties. With the rising of the nearly-full moon, I’d seen her nakedness clearly. She’d looked weirdly spiritual in that light. I’d kissed her breasts and stroked the groove between her legs until she had lost all will to say no. She had taken me in her arms and given me a deep soul kiss. I’d forgotten all my reservations; the only thing which had remained was my lust. But she hadn’t resisted when I stripped off my jeans and moved above her. Instead, she’d spread her knees apart to make room and hugged me. My first time had felt glorious; I’d thrust into her, moved in and out no more than two times, and erupted. Even so, she’d hugged me while she cried.

The next day, however, she had decided that it had been a mistake; we had been a mistake. She’d gone off to school with a quite-final goodbye to me.

Had I gone directly to the University, everything would have been different. Instead, as you know, I took two years in the junior college in Springfield. It is within driving distance of my home.

If I had only gone directly to the University, we would have met. I would have seen that we were meant for each other, and I would have persuaded you. There would have been no Barbara and no Hank. We would have dated; I would have courted you rather than pressuring you. I would have waited until you were ready, because it would have meant your being as ready for me as I was ready for you.

Then, when we were both ready, knowing that we were intended for each other, I would have found somewhere absolutely private. We would have kissed until you wanted more. I would have petted your sweet breasts until you accepted my hands on your warm thighs. I would have brought you to a first, preparatory, climax. Then, both willing, both eager, both stark naked, we would have come together. I would have taken precautions. You would have welcomed me into your body. I would have stroked within you until you would have had a second climax. That pleasure would have been mutual. We would have rested in each others’ arms afterwards. We would have been safe, private, together, and both in love.

Instead, you were going with Hank. You were experiencing pressure, mental cruelty, and his greed for your beauty.

And I was going with Barbara. She was not being a slut, but neither was she being a coy tease. When we had dated, gotten to know one another, petted in my car, we were both anticipating the next step. She was inviting me to her room, and I was making sure that I brought contraceptives. We were dancing a ritual, but we were both expecting the conclusion which occurred. Early in the evening, we were on her bed petting. Later, we were slipping under the sheets. Then I was slipping into her. I was enjoying myself; she was enjoying herself. I was thinking that what I felt was love; maybe she was thinking the same thing.

We were dating, and petting, and sleeping together until we got our associate degrees. But, by then, we were not planning to continue. Then I did come to the University, we did meet. It took a while for you to grow beyond Hank, but you did.

We did begin the relationship that was our fate. We did date, and more. You did come to realize that I am your fated true love. Finally, one weekend, Tom did go home for Thanksgiving; we did stay on campus. We did come back from our date to my room. You did come to trust me; and, I think, I did justify that trust. When you finally did trust me with your naked beauty, I didn’t rush to possess it and to pierce it. We did already share our spirits; sharing our bodies, however necessary that was, didn’t have to be that instant.

Instead, appreciating your beauty, I did appreciate your trust and your courage still more. I did try to kiss all of your beautiful, newly revealed, skin. When you didn’t let me kiss some parts, I did prevail in kissing the center of your feelings. You did reach a climax before I had touched you with more than hands and mouth.

Then, you did accept me into your beauty. Belonging totally to each other, we did merge. I did feel your ultimate clasp; and, believe me my darling, I did feel the ultimate pleasure within your warm center. I did feel that it was the ultimate pleasure of my life. But, I didn’t leave you unprotected when I did. And you, you will remember, did join me in the sensation which came from letting our bodies free our spirits. And, afterwards, we didn’t part except to arrange the covers. We did sleep in each others’ arms for our first night together. And, if that had been the best night of my life up to then, some nights that succeeded it were as happy; and many were nearly as happy. Those experiences, however, did occur only with you. For, if Tom returned to be an interfering presence, if we could spend few nights actually sleeping together after that, we did have time together.

Our spirits were one continually, when we were far apart as well as when our bodies were close, but agonizingly separated by the eyes of the other students in the cafeteria or on the quads. Our bodies, though, had the rare occasions to be one like our spirits. At first, the cold was our duenna, then the rain.

I remember, though, the first day you agreed that the weather was dry enough for us. I’d found a woody spot between two fields and close to a farm road that would hold the car. We put down a tarp with a blanket on top. We slipped off our shoes to stand on the blanket kissing. Slowly, we slid down until we were lying side by side still kissing. You returned my caresses until I told you how hard it was for me to control myself when you did. “But why control yourself?” you asked. “I’m ready.” If you weren’t quite as ready as you thought you were, my hands while I stripped the both of us and my kisses on all your lips took care of that. When my control disappeared altogether and I thrust into you, you climaxed around me. I followed within seconds. I enjoyed my climax, the physical sensations were incredible, but the spiritual feelings from your climax were even more soul-satisfying.

Neither of us was finished for the day. We kissed and petted and kissed. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you applied the condom for the first time. Even then, even as excited as I was, I could last longer than I expected. I stroked through your climax and brought you to another. That taught us something about being together. The first time was delightful, not to be missed, ecstatic. The second time was more gentle, more extended, even more erotic. Only the chill of the evening forced us back to our separate dorms.

If the peculiar luster of the first time with your fated mate is impossible to duplicate, we have -- at least -- repeated the physical. We have kissed hundreds of times in public. We have really kissed scores of times when we could find the privacy to do so. I have kissed you on your more concealed lips repeatedly when we have been able to find the time and the privacy for the activity. We have caressed each other until the touches were torture. Then we have joined our bodies. I have nuzzled your lovely breasts until we both wanted more. I have toyed with your secret center with my fingers until you wanted something more substantial. I have entered into your welcoming, slick, heat. I have stroked within that warmth. You have clasped around me in repeated spasms. We have cuddled together in peace -- if too brief peace -- afterwards.

Oh, that you were here now, that we could practice what we’ve learned. Oh that I could show you what I’ve figured out from what we experienced. I would find a place and a time for us to spend an entire day and an entire night together. I would kiss and hug you fully clothed. I would remove your clothes slowly, kissing each newly-revealed piece of skin. Then, I would ask that you to avoid arousing me more than the sight and taste of you and the feel of you beneath my hands arouse me. I would bring you to the brink of your first climax with my hand, but I would carry you over with the most intimate of kisses. These would not stop, though. When you told me that you were at the brink again, I would enter you gently. I would stroke within until you came again, and I would go on if I could resist.

My climax would be the signal for us to play all the games of mutual petting we have learned. I’m certain these would be delightful. And I would try to express my delight while I was experiencing it. I would try not to wait until later, as I have far too often. If you would express your feelings then, too, it would be delightful. Our second time would be -- I’m certain -- as delightful as our second time on the blanket beside the fields was. For we would strive to please ourselves in striving to please each other.

For I am certain that this is the essence of our love. I love you, and I’m sure that you love me. But I also love us, and I think you do, too.

When we merely hold hands, I want more; but I do enjoy the touch, and I do enjoy being the couple that holding hands symbolizes. When we kiss with our mouths closed, I want more; but I do enjoy the kiss and I do enjoy the being Kristen’s lover that the kiss symbolizes. When our tongues touch, I want more; but I do thrill to that touch, and I thrill to have you as my love symbolized in that touch. When I hug your clothed body, I want more. (I think you can detect that from my hardness against your belly.) But I do enjoy the hug and the union of our spirits that the clasp of our bodies symbolizes. When I stroke your skin, I want more; but I do delight in the smoothness of your skin, especially the smooth skin of your sweet breasts. And I do cherish the trust that you show me in allowing me to touch that smoothness. When I play with your nipples, I want more; but I do enjoy their beauty, and I certainly enjoy their stiffening response which shows that you do enjoy my touch there, too. When I suckle on those nipples, I want more; but I do enjoy the feel of you against my lips and tongue, and I do enjoy being, not only your lover, but your baby. And I do enjoy feeling the stiffening between my lips that symbolizes another stiffening between your lips down below.

When I kiss those lips, I want more -- I want completion. But I do revel in every sensation that I receive from the experience before the completion. I do breathe deep of the aroma which tells me that you are as aroused as I am, that we -- the couple that is we -- is aroused in every part, female half as much as male half. I do press my face against our curls to appreciate one more aspect of your beauty. When I have parted your outer lips, I do kiss the inner ones -- guardians of your feminine center, guardians of the place where we join most closely. I do enjoy the feel of that smoothness. When I lick the inner lips apart, I want more -- I want a whole other part of my body to be parting them; but I do enjoy the action, and I especially do enjoy the taste. When I reach your most sensitive point, I want more; but I do love to taste you and feel your clitoris tremble under my tongue. I do enjoy my anticipation of your response. When that response comes, I want more. I do long for that response to be around me. But I do enjoy your response, do glory in the satisfaction of that peak, do experience that it is Conrad and Kristen -- our united spirits -- which is climaxing. When I suck your clitoris at the peak of your climax, I want more; but I do enjoy the feeling of the hot, responsive, bud between my lips. I do enjoy experiencing your joy vicariously through my lips.

When I finally enter you, I do want more; I want to thrust all of me into you, to merge in body as we are merged in spirit. But I certainly do enjoy the experience. I do love the heat with which you surround me. I do appreciate the slickness as I slide in. I do sense the union of our bodies symbolizing the union of our spirits. As I glide back and forth within you, I want more -- I desperately want my culmination. But I do enjoy the sensations; I do enjoy my motions within you; I do appreciate most of all your responsive thrusts making that dance a duet rather than a solo. I do glory when you tighten around me in a deliberate hug, but I want still more. I want the clasp and flutter around me of your involuntary response. And, when that happens, I want even more, I want to join you. At that moment, however, no matter how overcome I am with the last stages of my lust, I do enjoy the physical sensations you give me. I do participate in the climax, our climax. For we do climax whenever one of us does; we are one entity.