Thread: An Indecent Correspondence (AlluringEnigma x Dane Stalling)

My Dearest Elizabeth, I have indeed landed on my own dark continent, though I think you would find it uncommon hot and bright. Your fantasies of my landing at Durban best limb forward generated a chorus of guffaws at the Regatta Club, though I did not disclose your name. I have no doubt that you would enjoy a measure of notoriety among the lads, but I am reluctant to show all my cards so soon upon disembarking, and you, dear, are my ace of spades. You have forgotten, perhaps, that my fame in this port is only for being the heir to the dreary Greenacre Trade Co. My reputation for debauchery I credit you with, since I was for all who knew me a wide-eyed innocent when first you marked me. And such I shall let my reputation stand here, for you know that the prettiest daughters are hidden away from reckless dandies, and flaunted nearly into the laps of seeming respectable gentlemen of a certain station. And you also know what adventures I can bestow upon any pretty daughter that finds her way into my lap. Why must you torment me with memories of my long and almost fruitless voyage? I kept nearly as chaste as a Franciscan, though not for lack of effort. You tease when you remind me of the captains daughter, because you remember as well as I do, the captains son. I saw the blood rise to your cheeks when he boarded, even then casting jealous eyes at crew and passengers alike. He kept his sister Amelia under such close watchfulness that I was unable to make any advance into her affections. And certainly that was how it seemed to each casual eye. It happened that he was so jealous that he put her in a curtained bunk right at the back of his cabin while he occupied a hammock strung across the very doorway. And this was his great error for, much to my delight, I found myself sharing a bulkhead with the dark haired beauty, separated from her by a mere inch thick plank of mahogany. I know that you will laugh when you hear that I sprang off to the carpenter to borrow an auger of the largest diameter I could lay hands on. And you will laugh the more when you know that auger was but the width of my pointing finger. You will have divined my plan, of course, your mind being of the same bent as mine, but no matter how I tried, I could not make a hole of a size to allow my member access into her sleeping-chamber without considerable chafing and discomfort. I had no plan yet on the use of such an opening, but desire is the greenhouse of inventiveness and my desire grew desperate and consequently my invention bloomed. Presently, and with some quiet labour, I made three holes near where I divined her head would lie when she was abed, with her pretty ears ready to listen to night time whispers. I set my plan to motion the first night after I drilled the holes. I waited for her to bid her brother a good-night, then listened for her breathing, and I had guessed trueher head was just next to my talking holes. She sang a whispered song to calm herself for sleeping. I spoke halt and confusing first, to create a fiction that I spoke in my sleep. I praised her cheeks and her ankles and the dimples on the backs of her fingers. I wondered in my sleep-talking what her lips would taste like, how the young bloom of her breasts would crush under the attentions of my hands. Her singing stopped, and I could hear her breath catch, and hold. I wonder if she knows the ecstasy of wandering hands? I said, plain this time. I heard her turn away then, and I ceased my speaking until the next evening for fear of her raising an alarm. She sang again as she entered her bed the next evening, but stopped soon after the heavy curtain had fallen to cover her sleeping quarters. Dont stop singing, I said, very bold, for I thought she should start and retreat if I addressed her so. Who are you? she said, instead, to my surprise and delight. John Thomas, I said, and I nearly laughed aloud for I imagined your face upon reading of it, for I intended always to tell you all. She was a bold girl and she continued as follows Mr. Thomas, I heard you say shocking things in your sleep yesterday evening, though I dont suppose a person in the embrace of slumber can be held guilty for dreamy utterances. I responded Oh, miss, please accept my apologies, I suffer from deliriums some nights as I sleep and I only need someone to talk plain with me as though I am awake, and the delirium goes away after a time. But you need not trouble yourself for a strangers malady. I will endeavour to suffer in silence henceforth. Sir, but if I could ease your suffering, it would be a christian charity and a balm to the afflicted. Please, I will help in my small way if you will allow it. I would be grateful, I said, but you must not disagree with me when I speak so, for I become distressed in my delirium and may do myself an injury. I was, as you can imagine, dear Elizabeth, tremendously excited and it seemed my brain worked at a feverish pace. She responded with little hesitation. I will be your talking companion when the fit comes upon you, she said with firm conviction, And I will agree diligently with your insensate ramblings because I would feel saddened to cause you any harm. I assured her of my gratitude and pretended after a time to sleep. Presently I began to mumble and speak, finally along lecherous lines. My knob is swollen, sweet. Pray touch it as is your longing. My pillar, my silky manhood stands stiff for you, sweet. Take hold, say you want to take hold, sweet. Wrap your dimpled fingers around my solemn pulsing pego. I paused to hear her breathing, for you know a woman's breathing that betrays lust is music to me. Tell me how you want to take hold of it, sweet. I waited to see if she would remember the quaint little trap I had set her. It seemed an age before she replied, quietly. I would take hold of it and feel the life in it. Truly, Elizabeth, this simple phrase had my member hard as it ever was upon your lips or thrust deep in your quim, and tipped with slippery drops. Alas that you were not there to quench my flesh thirst. Would you kiss it for my pleasure, sweet? Would you stroke it to make me smile? I heard her longing then, when she said, I would. I will. I marked her in the dining-room the next morning, looking around at each man's face in the room in turn, trying to discern some sign of recognition. I was careful, of course, to keep my eyes on my eggs as her gaze lingered, then passed me by. I wondered that she did not ask the mate for a passenger manifest, but her brothers suspicions must have been exceedingly unpleasant, and I guessed that she did not wish to arouse them. The next evening I addressed her as soon as she climbed into her bed. Miss, I hope I said nothing shocking last evening. I have brought some cotton to stuff my mouth to keep from offending you. Dont do that, she said, very quickly, I heard nothing unpleasant. Very well then, I replied, I wish you a peaceful sleep. That night and the following nights, I rambled along every lustful path I could think of- did she play with her nether moist petals? What did it feel like? I described one of our various encounters with a luxury of detail. You will remember the timeyour maid watched through the keyhole and we gave her a show to keep her fingers dancing for a month. Well, Amelias fingers danced, and I was there listening, encouraging, when she crested for the first time in her young life. Her rapture was such that she cried out most appealingly, and drew the attention of her brother. She made the excuse that a nightmare had overtaken her. He made to fetch the ships doctor, but she succeeded in dissuading him at last. After that, she muffled her cries as I whispered stories in her ear, the fiction of my delirium all but abandoned. So you can imagine that when I landed at Durban, my blood steamed with lust and the manner of the quenching of that fire I shall leave to another missive, since I wish to complete this one ahead of the departure of a fast steamer later this afternoon. As for the women here, there is a wealth of color and beauty among them, Chinese, Indian, shy Malay girls, ebony Africans, white women as fair as you, and fairer. The pedantic mores of the place make it illegal in some sectors, and taboo in all to woo across the lines of race. I had thought myself incapable of being aroused by any but white women with pink bits, however, I find my tastes broadening and I wish to sample thoroughly every flavor and color in this bright, hot city. You are right that I did adore your maid, her blonde tresses, and her shapely backside. I would read such news of your dalliances with one hand under my reading desk. I shall have to take care not to spoil your letter. Ink runs when dampened. Ive a rude gesture for your proper maiden. Id not waste ink on such a drab. Beachheads are poorer sport than maidenheads, Id say, but give me a filthy-minded scandal of a girl any hour of the day and Ill find use for her head to make a harlot blush. I except the fine ladies of the Silver Cross Tavern in Whitehall. I have never known any one of them to blush at any lecherous suggestion, and dont expect I ever shall. Remember me to Liesl specially if you should happen to meet again. She stole my wallet, and it was worth every last copper. So until we meet again in scandal, I remain... Sometime Yours, Tom Greenacre P.S. I have put your photograph safe between the leaves of my late mothers book of saints. None will assail you there, and I feel sure that your portrait among the chaste dullards will make better humans of each of them. Please find enclosed a photograph made upon my landing. I think it makes me look a dreadful bore, but at the very moment the flash-powder ignited I was thinking of sliding a gift between your lips.