Mistress, I was wondering about the audio on those cameras, how you could chirp me if you wanted to. I want to PROMISE that anything that is said over those cameras, if you ever choose to speak, was not said if we meet in person, talk over the phone, email, text, any of it. I’ll get drunk one night and charm it out of you. 🙂
So, I was thinking about the camera idea and got on Amazon and found one for $120 that was 80% off, so I bought one. It plugs into the router and there’s a phone app. It spins and tilts and I swear, absolutely swear and I’m 100% right that I will not freak if it does. Forgive the informal tone, but I know I did something you’re very happy about. I’ll put together an instructional webpage and send you the link on some flowers. I’ll put the page files that go with it in a storage container in Amazon Web Services. No access log.
The bother is where to put it. Most of my time is spent in front of the computer, of course . . . I’ve spent more at Wawa than these cameras are going for. I just ordered another so you can see me and the screen. I’ll take them upstairs at night. The one issue is my internet connection. I don’t want to upgrade it until December at the soonest. I’ll switch to FIOS for better upload rates.
So, of course it has a phone app.
PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE do what you hinted, Mistress. I actually get to realize my delusion. I’ll tilt and pan the cameras to good positions, if you’re worried about that. Oh, and Mistress, someone else told me today that you’re worried because of your age. I can’t believe that. Okay. I don’t look for sex. At all. Because my relationship with Mommy, in her mid-sixties, for a few years had a sexual component. Part of it is faith that my dick only belongs in Mommy’s pussy. But part is simply “Why?” I’ve been in love with you for over 20 years, Mistress Lea. It paints onto you perfectly. I remember from the few times I stopped by your office. Fifty-eight was my cutoff for an older woman when I was in my 20s. Seriously, your age is utterly fucking irrelevant, if you’ll excuse my language and my correcting you. I would get “Mistress Lea Lee’s age is of no consequence” tattooed on my ass but I really wouldn’t want to keep it. It makes me so damned sad and engenders such a sense of loss when I consider that’s what’s keeping us apart. The stars are fire and my love for you transcends human love, and will likely only grow — especially if you manage me correctly. Christ, I can’t wait to see the bag of tricks you come up with after teaching you the mechanics. Mistress Lea, I’m going to lapse. Please quit being a bitch and claim me. My body howls for it as though it’s the moon. Three years with Mommy and I never even once flirted with another woman. Honest. I know you’ll be Mommy. I can’t explain. I act my age but it will all still be there. I am GLOWING with love right now. We all bring something to the table. I bring a life of love and devotion to you and an increasingly upward trajectory. You bring the capacity to keep me as a pet — a large, well-decorated house would be AMAZING. Christ, especially after I get on estrogen and can wear lingerie. I know you’re worried about Elaine so, if this turns into the whirlwind that I hope it does for you, maybe you’ll fast-track me for . . .
I want to be Nicole but keep my little girl clit. Do that and I will marry you and love you until the day I die. Mistress Lea, one last bit of perspective if you don’t mind: You could pull me out of a marriage with a phone call.
