Pictures

John walked into his apartment. He put the groceries in the refrigerator and then started sorting through his mail. It was the usual routine. Junk mail in the trash and bills in a growing stack on his desk to be paid at the end of the month. One piece of mail was in a plain white envelope, hand written with no return address. John stopped sorting, looked at the envelope for a second and then quickly opened it. There was a picture and a letter, also hand written.

Hello John,

My name is not important at this point. You wouldn't remember me anyway. Have enclosed a picture of my eyes taken ten years ago when I was 16. Don't think you would recognize me if I had included the entire face. There were so many faces at that summer camp. Most of the boys and girls attending were in their mid teens. You were one of the counselors, probably in your mid twenties. What is important, John, is what those eyes saw.

It was late afternoon and I was taking a solo walk through the woods when a heard a rustling sound near the path and noises, like someone groaning. I carefully made my way towards the noise and, through the trees, saw you and a female counselor fucking. You were both completely nude and really going at it. She was nice looking, attractive tits and legs and you were trim and muscular. But what I remember most was the size of your dick. You were huge, maybe twelve inches long, assume you still are.

I saw you recently for the first time since that summer camp, followed you home, got your address.

John, there have been some big changes in me in the past ten years that can give you more pleasure than that girl in the woods ever could. But there is a certain amount of pain that must come with that pleasure.

If you would like to hear from me again, put a single red rose in a vase and place it in your bedroom window by the end of the week.

An Admirer.

John sank into a chair and stared across the room at nothing in particular. He remembered balling Ann at the summer camp and at the time believed no one knew about it. Maybe she wants to blackmail me, thought John. No, that's stupid. Who would give a damn? Maybe she's some kind of sexual pervert, this pain and pleasure talk. Fuck it. Might as well buy a vase and a rose and go to chapter two.

He put the rose in the window and let it sit there until it wilted. And then he waited. Several weeks went by and no letter. John was beginning to think his "admirer" had gotten all the "pleasure" she needed by writing the first letter. And then the next letter arrived, just like the first, plain white envelope, hand written, no return address.

John sat down in his favorite chair, cut on the reading light and opened it. He slowly pulled out the letter and picture.

Hello John,

Are you a leg man? Do you like your women to have nice firm, shapely legs? Or are big tits more important to you? I may not win any contests in the tits department, but my legs can give you pleasure that you only know in your dreams. But I must again warn you, there may be some pain involved.

This picture was made five years ago in a gym after working out my once skinny legs for about a year. Do they excite you, John? Is your twelve inch dick beginning to get hard? Well, relax for now. The best pictures are yet to come.

John, you may be wondering why I'm writing you these letters, asking yourself what this anonymous person wants. It's very simple, your huge dick. To many women, dick size is not that important. To me, it's everything. And for ten years I've dreamed of having you in me. For ten years it was just a dream, had not seen you since summer camp. Then when I saw you recently it meant the dream could come true.

I can also make your dreams come true, arouse desires that you didn't even know were there and give you pleasures in ways you have never imagined.

Leave two red roses in the vase by the end of the week.

Your Admirer.

"Oh, wow, holy shit," John said out loud. "This woman is a total nymphomaniac. And what is this "pain" thing she keeps refering to?"

But John was hooked. He went immediately to the florist and bought two red roses.

This time a month went by and no letter. John was furious. Just a little prick teaser, he thought. I lay awake at night thinking about her legs while she laughs at me. Hell, those probably arn't even her legs.

Hello John,

Started not to write you again, felt maybe I had laid it on a bit thick about your dick, felt you might be thinking I'm a litle bit nuts, but you just wanted to see what was next. Let me assure you I'm very sane. It's just that sometimes I can be a little too blunt in stating what I want. But, anyway, here is another letter.

John, take a good look at that picture, at the thighs and calves, notice the muscles? How do you feel about muscular women, especially muscular legs? Do they turn you on? Do they arouse you? Would you like to caresss those legs with your hands and with your dick? Would you like them wrapped around your body?

Remember, the first picture you got of my legs was taken five years ago. This picture was taken three years ago.

I'll keep this letter short. If you like what you see and if the answer to all those questions is yes, put three red roses in the window by the end of the week. The best is yet to come.

Your Admirer.

A lot of questions, "admirer", thought John. What do I think about muscular legs? He remembered a particular cheerleader in college. She had great leg muscles, mused John. Some of the guys thought her legs were masculine looking. But when she flexed her thighs and calves during the acrobatics in some of the cheers, it would turn me on. And her legs were more muscular than the ones in the latest picture from "admirer". Let's see, she said those were her legs three years ago. I wonder what they look like now? And what about the "pain" thing. It wasn't mentioned in this letter.Maybe three red roses will get some more information.

The next letter arrived in less than a week. John glanced at the picture. "My God! Unbelievable!", he blurted.

Hello John,

This is how my legs look today. Hope you are pleased and aroused by what you see. I would like for you to take your huge dick and slowly drag it over the bottom of my feet, up over my calves and over the back of my thighs to my ass, then around and down the front of my thighs. Then run your tongue and lips along the same path. Would you like to do this, John? Would it give you as much pleasure as it would give me?

As we fuck and your dick is deep in my pussy, I'll get into positions that allow you to run your hands over my muscular thighs and calves, feel them flex and strain to help me reach orgasm after orgasm.

John, you no doubt remember me mentioning pain along with the pleasure. But the good part is that the pain is, for many men, also pleasurable. Before we start fucking, I like to get men in a leg scissors wrestling hold and slowly start to crush their ribs. I never apply enough pressure to break their ribs, but the pain on their face arouses me, makes me perform better when we fuck. John, I want your dick so bad we can skip this if you want to, but our sex will be better if you let me.

Four roses, John and I'll knock on your door at eight Monday night.

Your admirer.

If she hadn't mentioned that pain part, the four roses would have been in his window within an hour. But now John had some thnking to do. Break my ribs, hell. She could kill me if she wanted to, thought John. Look at those legs. They're breath taking, and deadly.

But John knew he had to have her. He had never realized he could be this turned on by female muscle. The college cheerleader had given him a hint. But that was years ago and he had not been exposed to anything similar until now. He doubted the pain would be pleasurable for him, but decided to take a chance that she meant what she said about not breaking his ribs. It would be worth the risk. He thought for a moment. "Who knows. Maybe being squeezed betweeen those beautiful thighs will be a turn on," he said out loud. "Time to buy four roses."

At eight o'clock Monday night there was a knock on his door. John took a deep breath and opened it. An attractive brunet, about five feet six inches tall, came in.

"Relax," said Nancy. "Just concentrate on the pleasure that we're going to have. It will be a night we'll remember for the rest of our lives. But before we start, I do need to make sure you are the man I saw ten years ago. Please take off all your clothes."

John obeyed. Nancy glanced at his dick, smiled and said, "Yes, you're the same guy."

She was wearing a sweater, skirt and sandals. First she kicked off the sandals, then pulled the sweater over her head. Her body was muscular, but not as well developed as her legs, and her tits were definitely above average. For some reason John had expected her to be flat chested. Then she took of her skirt. John took a deep breath at the sight of her legs as she lay down on the floor.