These letters are about how I love to be made love to. Until lately, I've never thought much about exactly what I like most, in such detail. Having to...think specifically about how I love best to be fucked, eaten and fingered has been too distracting. I have to stop writing to get myself off after just a few paragraphs.I love to masturbate, and I love even more having a sexy partner get in on it with me. Sitting here on the couch, with him sitting in the chair across from me while I bring myself. ‘My clit, my clit, lick it, please,’ she begged. Julia’s eyes were glazed with lust and glancing down Belinda noted that the cabbie was tugging at his cock as he probed her. Somehow he had pushed his jeans and undies down until they were bunched around his ankles, prevented from coming off by his shoes. Despite her begging the cabbie was either deliberately teasing her, or sadly unfamiliar with the female anatomy. ‘Lick my clit now or there’s no way you’re going to fuck me,’ she growled. It was. How, when, why. How, when, why. Over an over, tears falling. Love blossomed, but love torn away. Reaching the other side, seeing, red water, a crowd. People stare, but scared to help. What is he, whispers, shaken voices. Hearing a familiar voice. Forcing open your eyes, trying to look. Unable to see, a splash. Some one in the water. Smiling to see, she has found you. She has come, terror, horror, tears streaming. Her face, pale. Coughing, more blood. Her hand trembles, reaching out. She reaches. The four hours we spent there were nowhere near enough. I could have spent days there with my interest in history. It was a tough experience; we had tears in our eyes more than once.To think that man could inflict this kind of torture and brutality on his fellow man was beyond belief. And then the reality sinks in that it goes on today with hardly a whimper from the world powers.Africa, the Middle East, Asia and the western Pacific mass murders, rape, genocide - all over religious beliefs,.