Love Letters (Erotic Tales Boxed Set)

By K.D. West

"A real steamy read for those of you who like your sex hot and heavy!" — Mistress Ivey's Erotic eBook Reviews

As Ken's young lover Allison is leaving for college, she asks him to write her. But not just to send her letters full of his love and desire; no, Allison wants her more experienced lover to share the stories of his own sexual experiences. “You’ve done so much. I want to know... everything,” she tells him.

How can Ken not comply?

From K. D. West, here are Ken's love letters to Allison, his Juliet — sensual tales of seduction, desire, serendipity... and pleasure:

Dear Juliet — Ken's student Allison (whom he calls Juliet) is falling in love with him. That wouldn't be a problem if he didn't find himself overwhelmed with feelings for her too.

Dana: Thing of Beauty — A thing of beauty is a joy forever. And a beautiful teacher can be the pleasure of a lifetime. A tale of sexual initiation.

Bridget: Virgin Knot — Ken wants Bridget. Bridget wants Ken. What could go wrong? A tale of desire, confusion, and sexual initiation — though not necessarily in that order.

Rachel: The Big Easy — In a beautiful city, take one part heartsick man, add one part gorgeous young woman and seven parts cayenne-hot sex. Mix together and you've got the gumbo that is... The Big Easy. A tale of sexual serendipity.

Veronica: Arise, Fair Sun — A Romeo and his Juliet find that sometimes a nice summer affair is just what the doctor ordered. A tale of sexual tension wonderfully resolved.

Sneak preview: Juliet Takes Stage — A peek at K.D. West's tale of sexual initiation and sexual healing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stillpoint Digital Press
• Release date: Nov 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781938808111

K.D. West

K.D. West is an Amazon best-selling author of contemporary short fiction, a teacher, and a performer living in a small suburb of a big city in the American West: "Not a huge amount to say -- I'm an author of steamy stories who happens to be a teacher; these things don't mix well in public, so I tend to be fairly quiet about real life in my blogging. I am, however, interested in all sorts of things -- books, writing, theater, mythology, and, obviously, erotica! I'm a huge reader of genre fiction -- mostly mysteries and fantasy, but also science fiction and historical romance." West is writing two intertwined series involving a young woman and her older lover (the Juliet Takes Flight and Erotic Tales: Letters to Allison stories), a series of stories about friends discovering that they can become much more (Friendly Ménage Tales), and a series of stories that the Brothers Grimm might have collected, if there had been traditional tales where the heroine got the princess (Sapphic Fairytales). Also on the way: an erotic paranormal/urban fantasy novel involving a long lost friend coming all-but-literally back from the dead, and showing a happily married couple just what they'd been missing. Say hello at K.D. West’s blog (kdwestwrites.wordpress.com)!

Book preview

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Love Letters

by

K. D. West

Stillpoint/Eros

Copyright © 2013, Stillpoint Digital Press (stillpointdigital.com)

All rights reserved

Published by Stillpoint/Eros on Smashwords

Dana: Thing of Beauty, Bridget: Virgin Knot, Rachel: The Big Easy, and Veronica: Arise, Fair Sun were released in an earlier collection on Amazon entitled Four Erotic Tales.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental.

Warning: This works contains sexually explicit descriptions.

ISBN: 978-1-938808-11-1

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Also by K. D. West

print books, ebooks and audiobooks:

Love Letters:

Dear Juliet

Thing of Beauty

Bridget: Virgin Knot

The Big Easy

Veronica

The Juliet Takes Flight series:

Juliet Takes Stage

Juliet Takes Her Leave

Juliet Takes Off

COMING SOON:

The Trouble with Triplets

Meredith

Allison

Juliet Takes a Chance

Juliet Takes the Floor

Juliet Takes Charge

and a full-length erotic novel,

A Joy Forever

Love Letters...

seduction... desire... serendipity... pleasure

Veronica

A few hours later, I heard my roommates (and at least one of their girlfriends) leave for work — they’d both graduated the year before, and had the kinds of corporate jobs that measured their time at work by the minute. I lay there, taking in the morning sunlight glowing in Veronica’s hair, the warm roundness of her, the sticky heat of her bottom against my stomach. The sun hadn’t quite topped the sill of my window, but I already felt sunblind. The image of her that morning has stayed with me all of these years.

I stayed there like that for perhaps a half an hour, and I don’t think I’d ever been a whole lot happier, or a whole lot more whole. Finally, as the daylight finally began to creep across the futon, I whispered into her ear, Arise, fair sun.

Veronica began to stretch and grumble. With a start she sat up and looked around. What time is it?

Almost 8:00.

Shit. I should head up to the job site soon, she pouted.

I gazed at her, her right cheek blotchy where it had rested on my arm as she slept, her breasts marked with the wrinkles of my sheets. Her fine hair, which had been up in the oh-so-elegant chignon the night before was tangled in a well-fucked rat’s-nest.

She was gorgeous — a debauched vision.

I’ve dreamed of waking up like this with you ever since that party at your place. I ran my thumb over her cheek. Please. I’d like to make love with you one more time.

Her eyes got large and still. Then she gave a shy smile, leaned down, and kissed me. Fuck ‘em, she murmured into my lips. They can start without me.

— Veronica

Love Letters

DearJuliet

Dear Juliet

An Unsent Letter

Dear Juliet,

I will never send you this letter.

I will never send you this letter for the same reason that I couldn't put your actual name at the top, that I used such a stupid, stupid pseudonym: because, oh, my god, do I want you, and oh, my god, is that an awful, awful thing for me to say.

Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, you lean over my desk and read to me:

Dull sublunary lovers' love  

— Whose soul is sense — cannot admit  

Of absence, 'cause it doth remove

The thing which elemented it.

I have never in my life had a hard-on for a fucking sixteen-year-old girl. When I was in high school myself, I always had crushes on the older girls. I've always loved women. I love girls too, but not the way that I love you, hunger for you, and I want to tear that feeling out of myself.

It hurts so much to watch you, to listen to you as you talk to me, to hear your voice go breathy and watch your nipples harden, and to know that you have no idea what it is that is happening to you, or what it is that you are doing to me.

You don't know because you are sixteen, and you shouldn't know. There are things that I find myself wanting to teach you, to say to you, to do to you, that would be so cruel.

You've just sat here on the edge of my desk, leaning forward, lips parted, talking about fucking Donne, your nipples poking there through yet another 'sixties band shirt, just a foot from my face, and it took all of my laughable self-control not to turn to your best friend and say, Jordan, lift Juliet's skirt. Now lower her panties. Now kiss her cunt and get it good and wet….

God help me. What do you think I'm thinking here as I try to listen to you, my crotch crammed beneath the desk to hide my shame? You probably think I'm as excited about Metaphysical poetry as you are — and I am, admittedly, but it's not Valediction: Forbidding Mourning that's racing through my head. It's the Elegy:

License my roving hands, and let them go

Before, behind, between, above, below.

O, my America, my Newfoundland!

My Kingdom, safest when with one man manned.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I do. I want to man you. I want to claim you.

Fuck me.

There's a reason that it would be rape for me to act on my desire. You have no idea how you make me feel, and how could you? What's a spouse of sixteen years mean to you? I married her before you were born. We fucked — two adults, playing grownup games — when you were still in diapers.

But when she died, you were there for me — always. My guardian angel. My Juliet. My temptress — only, no, not that: the temptation that I feel is all my own making. My desire for you is all a product of your compassion mixed with my own perverse, perverted, middle-aged horniness. You showed me kindness — so much kindness. Why is it that I want to repay that kindness by bending you over the front of the stage and taking you hard? What kind of thanks would that be?

Oh, Dana, what did you see in me? How did you know that I was ready for what you were giving? Because I was. I was overwhelmed by my own desire, then as now, but I had only the sketchiest idea what it was. Still, you knew that what I needed was something that you could give me. Was something that wouldn't be about anything other than sex, and learning how to please another human being even as I learned to take my own pleasure. That by taking my virginity there in your classroom, you would give me the ability to see past my hard-on, would give me the ability not only to fuck, but to love. How did you know that what you offered me was a gift and not perversion?

Juliet, you aren't ready, I know that. Your absolute lack of self-consciousness or self-awareness when you lean close to me, or when you run your finger up the inside of your thigh while you're watching Lexy and Lucas rehearsing that long almost-kiss between Darcy and Elizabeth, the way you squeal and blush when Jordan whispers dirty jokes in your ear...

I have been a teacher for all these years and have had beautiful girls — and more than a few boys — flirt with me, and flounce at me, Erica trying to show off her non-existent cleavage or Jessica trying to sit in my lap, or Jonathan putting his head on my shoulder: it has never been a temptation, as much as I am always aware of how wonderful and lovely they all are — even Erica, who I think I may punch if she tries to fuck with you in class one more time.

And so why is it that when you sigh, I go hard, and start wanting to shove my tongue down your throat and between your legs?

It's more than losing her. It's more