I know you know my mind hasn’t strayed. I lanced my testicles with your penis yesterday to vent hot cum for the alter of your pussy. Tomorrow night or the next, I’ll get all dressed up and pound my own 🙁 ass to a squealing, keen of an orgasm that the neighbors will hear across the parking lot and know you believe I deserve to be pleased and the fact that it’s you I’m begging to be fucked by will alleviate your worries some. I’m only yours. I can’t place that in the right part of your brain, it seems. Mistress, I’m only understandable if you can see the nonsense beneath the words and find a home for your idle thoughts as they’d be precious fantasy to me The last ten months, my only source of happiness has been experiencing love for you. It wasn’t a mean trick. It was the good thing to do, the right thing to do. I know because the way I feel about everything in life now that love for you pumps through my veins at least once a day, all of it, tells me this is right. It might not be for the best, but it is right. And understanding such a simple truth that cannot be doubted makes that truth good, right? Indisputable proof that I do as I should when I monitor you in my head and she has nothing but fond things to say for herself and . . .. . I just heart a faint voice say, “Oh, God.” Then I heard a door slam. I think it was her. I think my Lea doesn’t want to have to watch what she set in motion, when I fell in love with her fourteen months after our dates. She only ever wanted me to love her back. She forgave me so long ago. Now she wants me to love you, to tell you that I have to do something to prove it to you. I know what. I should do. And I’m doing it as much or more for me than any impact it might have on you. I’ll get back to loving you until I die, Perfect.
But no, I didn’t send them. I don’t think.
