Lit Love Letters

[crazychemgirl]

Ok I get it now my bad.

It’s all good my dude .. your letter was lovely.

Now let’s hear some Victorian-themed naughty letters … I’m sure you’ve got it in you!

 

[SalaciousMonkey22]

It’s all good my dude .. your letter was lovely.

Now let’s hear some Victorian-themed naughty letters … I’m sure you’ve got it in you!

Quim is, I believe, a rightfully underutilized word. Just saying.

 

[MindYaBitness]

My Dearest Vicor Collins,

I write to address the misunderstanding that may have arisen from your recent visit to my chambers. You appeared quite startled by the sight of the phallic-shaped device beside my bed, and I must assure you, with all the sincerity befitting our acquaintance, that this object is naught but a component of my butter churn.

The device’s proximity to my bed may have seemed curious, but pray, let me explain—it is simply my custom to clean it in the privacy of my room, as the lighting there is most agreeable for such detailed work. There is no cause for alarm, nor should your thoughts dwell upon this trivial matter. I trust this explanation will settle any confusion and restore your good opinion of my modest household practices.

Yours faithfully,
Miss Gertrude Cumsfolly

 

[Qky75]

My Dearest Gentleman Farmer,

How sweetly I think of the days when my cherries hung heavy, their ruby skins eager to meet your touch. Sharing their sweetness with you brought me a joy I can hardly name, and the memory of your delight lingers like nectar on my lips. You must know by now, dear Sir, that my cherries and peaches are jealously guarded, as I allow no one but you to peak at my fine orchards. But, oh, forgive me for the reckless abundance of my peaches. They swelled with such fervor that they could not be contained, spilling into your lands unbidden. Yet the thought of you gathering them, their tender flesh cradled in your hands, stirs a warmth within me that I cannot deny.

And your aubergines, my darling—it is a marvel. Watching you tend to them with such care, your hands firm yet knowing, fills me with secret delight. How fondly I recall our discussion in the park, where I shared my humble words for growing them firm and proud, and how your understanding brought a glow to my  clit heart. Come back to the orchard soon, my Honey Bee, my blossoms are in need of your tender care, and my fruit ripens in anticipation of your return.

Yours always,
Lady Orchard

 

[Qky75]

My dearest Ophelia,

It was with the utmost delight that I at last had the honour of making your acquaintance in person. The cherished moments we spent together are indelibly etched upon the tablet of my memory. Yet, alas, I must confess to a peculiar discomfort that has since arisen—a most disagreeable sensation upon attending to the calls of nature. Indeed, it is in those moments of affliction that thoughts of you unbidden rise to the forefront of my mind.

With intense feeling,

Your Q

 

[SalaciousMonkey22]

My Dearest Sir,

It is with a heart full of admiration and respect that I take up my pen to address you, though I am keenly aware of the vast disparity between our stations. What a fortune it is, indeed, that I find myself in such awe of your unparalleled taste and erudition, which seem to shine as brightly as the sun on a fine morning. It is a rare and precious thing to encounter a mind so gifted, so full of refinement and insight, and though my humble form may never aspire to the elegance with which you carry yourself, I can but reflect upon your brilliance with the deepest esteem.

Your knowledge and the grace with which you wield it have long been subjects of my quiet admiration. It is not without a certain sense of envy that I regard your discourse, for how often have I, perched in my solitary place, pondered the mysteries of human understanding, yet knowing full well that I can never partake in the world of your learned pursuits. And so, while I am content in my own way—swinging from branch to branch, with a life of simplicity—I find solace in the contemplation of your excellence.

That our paths must remain forever apart, bound as we are by the insurmountable divide of nature, is a truth I must accept with no small measure of regret. The world, alas, is constructed in such a manner that even the most earnest of affections must sometimes go unfulfilled. And yet, even in this knowledge, I find a certain sweetness—a tenderness in the contemplation of your virtues, which, though I may never touch them, can, in their own way, enrich my existence.

I wish you nothing but happiness, dear Sir, and trust that you will continue to walk through this world with the same brilliance and grace that have so endeared you to my humble heart.

Yours, in deepest admiration,
A Monkey

P.S. I hear you like boobs. I also, like boobs. We should look at boobs together sometime. And quim.

 

[lavendersilk]

My Dearest Sir,

It is with a heart full of admiration and respect that I take up my pen to address you, though I am keenly aware of the vast disparity between our stations. What a fortune it is, indeed, that I find myself in such awe of your unparalleled taste and erudition, which seem to shine as brightly as the sun on a fine morning. It is a rare and precious thing to encounter a mind so gifted, so full of refinement and insight, and though my humble form may never aspire to the elegance with which you carry yourself, I can but reflect upon your brilliance with the deepest esteem.

Your knowledge and the grace with which you wield it have long been subjects of my quiet admiration. It is not without a certain sense of envy that I regard your discourse, for how often have I, perched in my solitary place, pondered the mysteries of human understanding, yet knowing full well that I can never partake in the world of your learned pursuits. And so, while I am content in my own way—swinging from branch to branch, with a life of simplicity—I find solace in the contemplation of your excellence.

That our paths must remain forever apart, bound as we are by the insurmountable divide of nature, is a truth I must accept with no small measure of regret. The world, alas, is constructed in such a manner that even the most earnest of affections must sometimes go unfulfilled. And yet, even in this knowledge, I find a certain sweetness—a tenderness in the contemplation of your virtues, which, though I may never touch them, can, in their own way, enrich my existence.

I wish you nothing but happiness, dear Sir, and trust that you will continue to walk through this world with the same brilliance and grace that have so endeared you to my humble heart.

Yours, in deepest admiration,
A Monkey

P.S. I hear you like boobs. I also, like boobs. We should look at boobs together sometime. And quim.

 

[UnquietDreams]

My Flower of Heaven,

In the beautiful wildflower garden of this world, you are the climbing rose, entwining me. The sun-warmed earth where I lay to read. The rain in the desert that feeds life. The wind that caries the scent of your hair. All of these, and yet infinity more, but in all, a dance of shadow and light.

Alas, the animosity of Mother Nature has riven our dance for this moment in time. Pain, crystallized. A word, caught. A breath, held. A joy, deferred.

Poetry, unwritten.

Oh, but the remembrance of your presence revives the deepest understanding: you are the poetry, and the rest just words. Banish from our minds the words, and bring your poetry back to me.

I await, silent, at last...

 

[GrimmZombie]

To My Most Enchanting Lady,

I pray this missive finds thee in good health and finer spirits than mine, for the distance betwixt us hath turned my days to restless wanderings and my nights to aching reverie.

Thy visage, fair and luminous as a moonlit glade, haunts my every waking thought. Yet 'tis not merely thy comely form that I pine for; nay, it is the dulcet tones of thy laughter, the sharpness of thy wit, and the sweet memory of thy lips that doth torment me so.

I confess, my dearest, that I oft dream of thine embrace, wherein my heart doth find its truest sanctuary. How cruel is fate to place leagues 'twixt us, denying me the blessed warmth of thy hand in mine! Were I but a sparrow, I should fly to thee at once, perching upon thy sill to sing my ardor anew each morn.

Know this, sweetest soul: the void thy absence hath wrought within me grows ever more unbearable. I beg thee, write swiftly in reply, for the solace of thy words is my sole reprieve in this cruel exile.

Until the fates allow our joyous reunion, I remain thy most devoted servant, yearning eternally for the delight of thy presence.

 

[UnquietDreams]

Your letter was not bad at all, just run it through chatGPT and ask it to rewrite in the style of some old guy from 17-1800's. Voltare, perhaps? Or, maybe a civil war era soldier? It's hilarious to see what it comes up with!

View attachment 2462066

 

[MindYaBitness]

View attachment 2462066

Does John Connor adore the Gentleman Farmer as well?

 

[UnquietDreams]

How many "STOPS" were there?

In mine? Two.

 

[UnquietDreams]

My Dearest Gentleman Farmer,

How sweetly I think of the days when my cherries hung heavy, their ruby skins eager to meet your touch. Sharing their sweetness with you brought me a joy I can hardly name, and the memory of your delight lingers like nectar on my lips. You must know by now, dear Sir, that my cherries and peaches are jealously guarded, as I allow no one but you to peak at my fine orchards. But, oh, forgive me for the reckless abundance of my peaches. They swelled with such fervor that they could not be contained, spilling into your lands unbidden. Yet the thought of you gathering them, their tender flesh cradled in your hands, stirs a warmth within me that I cannot deny.

And your aubergines, my darling—it is a marvel. Watching you tend to them with such care, your hands firm yet knowing, fills me with secret delight. How fondly I recall our discussion in the park, where I shared my humble words for growing them firm and proud, and how your understanding brought a glow to my  clit heart. Come back to the orchard soon, my Honey Bee, my blossoms are in need of your tender care, and my fruit ripens in anticipation of your return.

Yours always,
Lady Orchard

 

[Lmizzler]

My Dearest Gentleman Farmer,

How sweetly I think of the days when my cherries hung heavy, their ruby skins eager to meet your touch. Sharing their sweetness with you brought me a joy I can hardly name, and the memory of your delight lingers like nectar on my lips. You must know by now, dear Sir, that my cherries and peaches are jealously guarded, as I allow no one but you to peak at my fine orchards. But, oh, forgive me for the reckless abundance of my peaches. They swelled with such fervor that they could not be contained, spilling into your lands unbidden. Yet the thought of you gathering them, their tender flesh cradled in your hands, stirs a warmth within me that I cannot deny.

And your aubergines, my darling—it is a marvel. Watching you tend to them with such care, your hands firm yet knowing, fills me with secret delight. How fondly I recall our discussion in the park, where I shared my humble words for growing them firm and proud, and how your understanding brought a glow to my  clit heart. Come back to the orchard soon, my Honey Bee, my blossoms are in need of your tender care, and my fruit ripens in anticipation of your return.

Yours always,
Lady Orchard

My Dearest Lady Orchard,

Your letter, like a sweet zephyr from the south, has graced my heart with a warmth I scarce know how to contain. The mere thought of your orchard—those fields where cherries and peaches grow, and where I have been so fortunate to partake of nature’s bounty—fills me with a sense of duty most sacred and fervent. It is true, as you say, that I have been touched by the very spirit of those fruits, and my heart rejoices in their ripening, even as it grows heavy with longing for your company.

I must admit, dear Lady, that the intrusion of your peaches into my lands, though unbidden, has been a delight to my senses. The sweetness that you so generously describe seems to echo the warmth of your words, and I, though a humble farmer, am but a simple man in the face of such beauty. Had I the wit of poets and the brush of artists, I might paint those peaches for you—but none could capture their tender joy as your letters have captured my heart.

As for my aubergines—ah! To know that you watch with such admiration as I toil in service is a balm to my soul. Your instructions on their care were as those of a seasoned admirer, and I follow them with the utmost diligence, as though I were tending to the very flowers of my heart. The memory of our conversation in the park, where I had the honor of hearing your wisdom on such matters, has not left me; indeed, it has lingered in my mind like the scent of your finest blooms, stirring something deep within me that I scarce understand.

Your orchard, I assure you, is never far from my thoughts, and your blossoms have taken root in my very spirit. I long for the moment when I may again walk among your trees, my hands again touching the fruits that have become symbols not only of your labor, my lips savoring the very sweetness that you have cultivated, but of your affection, which I hold dearer than all the harvests of the earth.

I long to moisten your garden again,

The Gentleman Farmer

 

[dawn_of_night]

How many "STOPS" were there?

Only did @UnquietDreams STOP

....

I THINK?

 

[crazychemgirl]

This is my favourite thread … hahahahaha

 

[37_ttej]

*painstakingly scribed with charcoal on a piece of birch bark*

deer Villain Vernon Vilhelmina​

I wonteth to sea thyne breth bretsth​

Juergen the Beeg​

*evidently not everyone in olden times was a literary genius*

 

[OrdinaryPerson]

 

[37_ttej]

As a lifelong fan of Georgette Heyer’s period romances, I present you this devotional tribute from a besotted suitor.
Props to you if you know where it’s from.
More props if you don’t have to translate it.

TO THE PEARL THAT TREMBLES IN HER EAR

Cette petite perle qui tremblotte
Au bout ton oreille, et qui chuchotte
Je ne sais quoi de tendre et de malin.
A l’air a la fois modeste et coquin,
Si goguenarde est elle et si devote.
A regarder c’est toute une gavotte
Ou l’on s’avance, se penche, et pivote,
Lors que tu branles d’un mouvment fin
Cette petite perle.

C’est une etoile dans le ciel qui flotte –
Un vif eclair qui luit dans une grotte –
Un feu follet qui hors de mon chemin
M’attire, m’eblouit, m egare –
Enfin, Elle m’embete – saperlipopotte!-
Cette petite perle.

 

[crazychemgirl]

As a lifelong fan of Georgette Heyer’s period romances, I present you with this piece of devotional tribute from a besotted suitor.
Props to you if you know where it’s from.
More props if you don’t have to translate it.

TO THE PEARL THAT TREMBLES IN HER EAR

Cette petite perle qui tremblotte
Au bout ton oreille, et qui chuchotte
Je ne sais quoi de tendre et de malin.
A l’air a la fois modeste et coquin,
Si goguenarde est elle et si devote.
A regarder c’est toute une gavotte
Ou l’on s’avance, se penche, et pivote,
Lors que tu branles d’un mouvment fin
Cette petite perle.

C’est une etoile dans le ciel qui flotte –
Un vif eclair qui luit dans une grotte –
Un feu follet qui hors de mon chemin
M’attire, m’eblouit, m egare –
Enfin, Elle m’embete – saperlipopotte!-
Cette petite perle.

This isn’t the purpose of this thread … please refer to page 1

 

[Rach9703]

Oh my sweetest one,

How I long to be in your arms once more. Every hoof beat from the horses pulling my carriage brings to mind the icy chill of this distance that separates us. Every warm ray of the sun leaves me counting the hours, nay the minutes, until I reach your arms. Yesterday is not soon enough, my love.

I yearn for the way your gentle lips press upon mine and the way your tongue darts in between my parted lips. I quiver for your touch. In my tenderest of spots, your tongue beckons forth passions of the flesh.

My body aches for your hardness and the feeling of it swelling in my mouth. Oh how I pine for the pleasure of being with you and how I loathe the pain of leaving you.

Between us we have lived a thousand lifetimes, and in each one we find our way back to each other. Perhaps next we meet in the cottage of our meadow, I shall see your tender heartstrings, plucked for me once more.

My heart, mind, body, and soul are yours.

Your love, no matter how the wheel turns,
Rach

 

[37_ttej]

This isn’t the purpose of this thread … please refer to page 1

Dear @crazychemgirl

Sometimes thou art a killjoy.

Your most obedient servant,

Jett

 

[lavendersilk]

To my dearest friends,


It is my greatest wish that this letter finds you all deep in the throes of passion with the most vulgar phallic objects of your choice! And that you have many scrumptious refreshments at the ready to fuel even more rounds of sweet, sweet self-pollution. All I ask is that you find a tiny, insignificant smidgen of your time to give me the same courtesy as you have done so with your private - nether regions - and send me a letter describing such wicked delights! For I currently have no such manipulator devices of my own. Please! Do not weep on my behalf, but instead: Rejoice! For I shall live vicariously through each and every single one of you - and consider myself truly blessed to be in your deviant coterie.



Yours forever and humbly,
Lusty Lavender

P.S.
If you have been blessed by a travelling photographer who could capture your sweet and ample bosom or possibly your delectable derriere - Please! Send me a daguerreotype, and I shall return one to you in kind!

 

[crazychemgirl]

Dear @crazychemgirl

Sometimes thou art a killjoy.

Your most obedient servant,

Jett

My Dearest @37_ttej ,

Pray, do you not find your heart stirred by affection for me? Does your soul not yearn, with the deepest longing, for my presence? Tell me, do you not ache for even the slightest glance, the faintest touch of my attention?

Ever,

CCG

 

[AtramentousRex]

Dearest Rachael,

The campaign has been long, and trying. All the animals have been used poorly, subjected to the vilest of conditions. The wagons run on broken wheels, and the men walk in tattered boots.

Finding supplies has been a trial, the quartermaster stretching what little food we have in the cleverest of ways, leaving none satiated. We have lost dear companions on this campaign.

Winter cloaks the land in sheets of ice, our foot steps crunching and tinkling as if we walk on broken glass. We are sore, hungry and exhausted beyond thought as we trudge methodically on.

Each night there is less talking as we huddle around dismal fires that serve only to remind us of the relentless cold.

It is at times like this I think of you and despite the distance between us, I remember the feeling of your arms around me. Your memory brings me solace and warmth.

Do you remember how we lay in the dark together in my bed, telling each other stories and secrets? Sharing kisses and reassurance of brighter days?

I long to hold you again, to feel your fingers run through my hair, as we drift to sleep, safe and together in one place. I march ever onward, in the hopes of those brighter times returning.

You face trials and turmoil of your own, this I know and wish I could be by your side, to protect and comfort you. To support you in your need.

I ask that you hold strong my dear one. That you survive to come by my side again soon. If you can withstand the storms of fate, so too, will I.

This is my promise, my covenant, to live through the cold and dark, until we can walk in the light

- Your Faithful Knight in tarnished armour.