Short But Sweet 2

Hello, lovely readers!
For your enjoyment tonight I have a random selection of short letters from a variety of senders.  I do hope you enjoy, and remember:  You can always write me at or:



Dear Eon,
There have been many times meeting a total stranger that I’ve been overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him passionately, just to see how he would react, just to taste someone new, just to leap past all the polite chitchat and get to the meat and bones of the man before he is buried in layers of useless trivia.  Is it odd that I stare him in the eyes when this feeling overcomes me?  I gaze into his eyes with unabashed forwardness and intensity, trying to make him feel what I am fantasizing.  Sometimes I think I succeed, only to find he is intimidated by me.  Other times, I think I have failed to convey my desire, only to find him focused entirely on me for the rest of the evening.  I have a theory that all of my relationships end quickly because I love nothing so much as that initial rush of connection, that tentative back and forth dance, that dare-to-do-it first leap when I step out of my comfort zone and make plain my intentions.  That moment of reciprocation is the sweetest moment I can imagine.  The triumphant flood of arousal, the certain knowledge that tonight I will have my way with this man… mmm… nothing can compare.
Sensual kisses!

Thanks for sharing, Gia!


Hey Eon,
I was just wondering.  Have you ever had trouble with – well, you know – following through?  Not getting it up, I mean, but like keeping it hard?  Cuz I seem to be uh, falling down on the job, lately, and I’m a bit embarassed about getting help for it, and I don’t know who to talk to anyway.  Do I need Viagra or something?  I’m 35, I would have thought I had a while before this kind of thing started happening to me.  My partner has been really great about it but somehow it’s just more embarassing than ever when she tries to make like it doesn’t matter.  Cuz it does matter, you know?  To me it does.  I want to stay hard, I want to outlast her, I want to make her scream and beg me to finish because she just can’t handle my incredible studliness.  I guess that’s every man’s dream, huh?  Well, what do you think I should do?
Love your blog.  Keep them stories cumming!
Haha, that was terrible!

Hi Jones,
Thanks for your letter.

There’s really nothing to be ashamed of.  Erectile dysfunction can be caused by a huge number of things, and it affects far more men than you’d think.
Here’s a personal story from my own history:
When I was in highschool, I was completely, head over heels in love with a girl from my homeroom.  Let’s call her Jean.  I’ve mentioned her before, in Liam’s First Time.  Jean was pure sexuality, to me.  Her every movement was arousing.  Her body was amazing.  Her eyes were arrestingly blue.  She was independent and capable.  She was softspoken, and I just wanted to lean in close and whisper with her.  In short, I was mesmerized, and for five years (all through highschool, and for a while after) we were incredibly close.  Early on I sort of gave up ever having a chance with her, and settled for becoming a really intimate friend.  As I mentioned previously, we would share a bed, cuddling nearly nude, we were very physically affectionate, but despite nursing some deep feelings for her, the timing was never right and I could never bring myself to cross that line with her.
After highschool, everything changed.  A lot of our crowd moved away, and Jean and I spent less time together as she was frequently away.  When she was in town, our time together had the tone of an extended goodbye.  There was this unspoken acknowledgement between us that if we didn’t explore the possibilities between us soon, we never would.
This led to our first kiss, standing on a bridge over a stream in a nature park, middle of the night, autumn leaves tumbling down around us.
Our first kiss led to more interesting play, when we shared a bed later that night.  She went down on me for the first time, and I put my face between her thighs and licked her creatively until, gasping, she said, “When I’m a middle-aged spinster, I will pay you thousands of dollars to do that like you just did it.  Oh my god that was good!”
Before we could do much more to explore each other, Jean moved away to the big city.  It wasn’t so far that we would never see each other, but it was enough (with finances being what they were at the time) that holidays were really the only time we would see each other.  Besides which, she wasn’t one to withhold her affections.  She had a number of boyfriends in short order, and soon it seemed like she’d all but forgotten me.
Even so, one November a year or two later, I called her up.  I was in the city, and needed a place to crash for the night before heading back home the next morning.  She gave me directions, and once again I found myself sharing a bed with her.
This was it.  This was the moment.  I had brought condoms, and she had some too.  She had left them out on the nightstand as a signal that she would be interested in going all the way if I was.
Of course I was.  I might never be with this girl in a steady relationship, but she was stunning and spectacular fun to be around and I had never felt so in tune with anyone.  For well over five years she had been my deepest fantasy, and I just knew we could complete each other in ways that neither of us had ever experienced before.
So comes the big moment: the condom is on, she is stretched out before me, naked and glorious in her tiny, angelic beauty.  I have spent over an hour kissing and licking her, exploring her body with my hands and fingers.  She has reached the heights of pleasure and now she’s begging me to join her there.  I have never been so hard.  The head of my cock throbs as I position myself and push it inside her.
Problem!  My shaft bends, painfully, and her pussy parts only so far.  The head of my cock simply won’t fit.  She grimaces in pain.  I stammer out an apology, but she quickly shushes me.  It’s her fault, she says.  She was born with a medical condition.  Her vagina is incredibly tiny.  In fact, the opening was once so small that a regular pencil would stretch her uncomfortably.  She’s had some surgery to correct it, enough so that I never noticed when using my fingers, but it isn’t perfect.  She expects it to hurt, she says, but if we’re persistent, it will eventually fit, and we will enjoy ourselves.  Don’t worry if it bleeds a bit, she says.  Tearing is normal, for her.  The opening is really quite small.
Now, I’ve never considered myself monstrously hung, but I do enjoy the occasional compliment, and Jean has made it known that I’m the biggest fellow she’s ever been with.  I’m really not certain this is a good idea anymore.  Here I am, hurting her.  I don’t mean sort of making her uncomfortable, either.  I mean outright inflicting awful, tearing pain, quite literally damaging her vagina in an attempt at intercourse.  I’ve managed to force my way partially inside, but I’m hating every moment of it.  This isn’t just making her uncomfortable, it’s making me feel horrible, like a rapist, despite the fact that she’s urging me on, despite the fact that she wants it.  The looks of pain that pass over her face make it seem as if she’s lying to me.  Who, I ask myself, would really want that kind of torture?  In hindsight I understand that it was the only sort of pleasure she could expect to get, so she had embraced it.  What else could she do?  But at the time, it seemed monstrously cruel.
To make matters worse, she was so incredibly tight that the pleasure has been mounting despite my misgivings.  Without warning, my body gives in to the sensations and I spill myself into the condom.  We haven’t been at it more than a minute or two.  Not long enough to call it sex.  And now I’ve gone limp and no amount of encouragement will get a rise out of me.  After so many years of anticipation, the failure is epic and crushing.  We cuddle for the rest of the night, but something has gone out of our affection.  We know now, without doubt, that this won’t work between us.  I can’t believe, after knowing her so well for so long, that I didn’t know this one vitally important thing.  I can’t help feeling that it’s my fault, that I’ve failed her somehow.  Like I should have known some miracle method by which we could have made it work.

My uncertainty over this entire episode led to a year of intense self-doubt.  Being overly analytical, I went over it and over it in my head, trying to find some course I could have taken to change the outcome.  I did, in fact, require therapy to get over my feelings of sexual inadequacy.  All this in spite of the fact that it was never really anything to do with me.
So Jones, if you’re having troubles with your sense of self, your manliness as it connects to your manhood, please believe me when I say you are not alone, and discussing it with a professional can help a great deal.  Our sexuality is often at the root of our self-image, and when you consider that our self-image is at the root of a great many sexual hangups, it’s easy to see how a recursive and self-destructive loop can be created.  This kind of negative thought habit can be fixed with time and effort.  And if it turns out to be something physically wrong with your equipment, all that will come out in therapy as well.  They’re very good about working hand in hand with your doctor to make sure they suss out the root of the problem.  I urge you, reach out for help.  You’ve already reached out to me.
Now take the next step!
Love and respect,


Hi Eon,
This is pretty weird, but I’m into dwarves.  Not just short people, but those freaky people with big heads and stubby limbs.  I’ve got a ton of dwarf porn and I think if my girlfriend ever found out she’d drop me like a hot rock.
From Ed in Ed.

Well Ed, after seeing this post, chances are good a great many more people will be interested in dwarves who weren’t before.  The lovely lady pictured above can be seen at Suicide Girls, if you’re interested!


How are you?  Just wanted to tell you about the hottest thing that ever happened to me:  I was out with some girlfriends at the club, all three of us dressed to kill, and they announce a wet T-shirt contest.  We hadn’t really planned on it but we’d had a few drinks and we were the sexiest women in the whole place, we knew we could win!  So all three of us agreed to do it so long as the other two did.  And we did it!   We shook our soaking wet tits and asses in front of a huge crowd, everyone was cheering and chanting, and that’s when it happened.  I started stroking and touching my friend Jenny.  I thought it would get a good reaction from the crowd.  Oh wow, you have no idea!  The place went nuts!  She sort of looked at me like What are you doing? but everyone was cheering.  Jenny’s an attention slut, so before long she was loving it.  We got friskier, and Sara joined in, and all three of us were making out in front of everyone while they hosed us down.  I’ve never been so soaked in my life, and I don’t mean from the hose!  Kissing my girlfriends, touching their hot slippery bodies, all while being watched by hundreds of horny guys… there were dudes in the crowd touching themselves through their jeans, oh my god, it was so hot!  Jenny and Sara went home with someone that night, but I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s away at camp, so when I got home I rode my jack rabbit to the biggest orgasm of my life!  When Brad gets home he’s in for a treat!  I’ve never been so horny!
Love ya!

I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that reunion!  Congratulations Brad!
Thanks for the sexy letter, Kelly.

*All Images from Internet*