AUTHOR'S NOTE:
To date, this is the final installment of the Henry Letters. Only time will tell if "Alisha" and I end up with more chapters to this series.
Enjoy!!!
-- M.A.J.
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Dear Alisha,
Hello once again during the hot, hot summer! I swear, just when you think the humidity is about to give, it's only to make way for a torrential, angry-tempered thunderstorm. I've earned myself quite the bronze this season, as it happens. Being able to work from home all this time also allows me "coffee breaks" if you will, out on the patio. I dangle my feet in the water at the pool's edge, and otherwise "work" on a tan.
It's an invigorating way to refresh myself, then resolutely hop back to the vocation that allows me such leisure time as to write letters to intriguing, unknown women during my free moments. Well, technically, it's WOMAN, as you're my sole recipient. But things being as they are, and with the limited information Mason has told me, I am pleased to report that my preoccupation with these messages to you seems to have no end to them, as I find them quite the pleasant, enlivening activity.
Speaking of which: back to the matter at hand, of course. I was speaking of the pool. Although the pool itself is excellent for wading, I also happen to have a small "pool shed" of sorts not far from it. It sports a changing room, a bathroom, and a small sitting room with a kitchenette in it. It's best described as a detached studio apartment, and in fact I've used it as such when house guests have been by. The sitting room has a wall-mounted murphy bed, which folds down to a surprisingly comfy mattress.
There are times in the summer when I don't set foot in the house for as long as a day or two, because I spend time out here in the pool shed. In fact, I am here now, typing away at the laptop, eagerly anticipating my turn to the meat of this message, and -- let's be honest -- the main reason we're involved such correspondence. I am most excited and aroused, even when just thinking of it. So let's begin here in the pool shed. I trust I've set the scene adequately, so to speak. Because at this point, I can't help but imagine you in here with me.
There you are, dozing on the murphy bed. Today has been an uncommonly hot day. Although the sun has nearly set, the amber glow sneaks in between the window blinds, and lays orange streaks across your bare back. There's a sheet tangled about your legs. One leg is straight out and completely covered, while the other is bent, and there's your cute little knee poking out from underneath. You've let your hair down and out, and it's splayed across the pillow and nearly concealing your face.
Although your bottom is covered by the sheet, the position of your legs accentuates the curve of your buttocks. Tempted by your perked-up glutes, I cross to the kitchenette, pour a glass of water, and then pad across the floor to the bed.
I take a sip and set the glass on a shelf built next to the murphy bed's alcove. The moment my cooled hand strokes across your back, you inhale sharply, bristle for a moment, then relax with a sigh as you realize it's me. Turning your head, you look up with a smile, partly hidden by your mussed hair. "Hey there, sweetie." You say.
"How are you feelin'?" I ask quietly. "Thirsty?"
"Yes, thanks!" I take the glass of water and bring it towards you. Leaning up on one arm, you take the glass with the other, and swallow a generous mouthful. "Ahhh..." you sigh, and hand the glass back to me. I take a drink myself, then set the glass back on the shelf.
When I turn back towards you, I see you've rolled to your back. You're giving me that sidelong glance and a smug grin, wakefulness emerging in your eyes. "Looks like I'm over-dressed for the occasion," you say with a wink. True, I'm naked already, and the sight of your bare breasts makes my manhood conspicuously stir.
