Mr. Wayne, You frustrate the hell out of me. Here I sit at work, where I should be mentally preparing myself for my “date” when I get off of work, and what am I doing instead? Writing a stupid fucking love letter to this goddamned guy that I can’t get out of my head. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t invite you in, you know. You were supposed to be something to pass the time, a counter balance. Maybe a mark. I don’t know what I wanted from you, truly, but I know 10000% that it wasn’t originally this. Despite my complaining though, its far from unwelcome, however horrifying it is. I have sympathy now, for the lions that are born in captivity and released to the wild, their routines interrupted, their little structured schedules ruined, their safe little walls torn down and replaced with too many vantage points. Have you ever heard the children’s story about the boy trying to stop the dam from flooding? I feel like him too. Eventually, he ran out of fingers to plug the holes and the dam burst through. It seems like as soon as I patch one of the little peepholes you’ve created in my defenses, you’re drilling another one. Frustrating. Even as I write so petulantly about the way things happened between us, I can’t shake the grin on my face. Among the many things that you make me feel, some welcome and others not, grateful is one of them. An important one. One that I don’t think I’ll ever shake. I’m glad that I know you, that you’ve shown me a different side of the world. Of myself. All that being said, hurry up and get better. This last weekend I did nothing but stay on my absolute worst behavior and you’re the only one I know that I have any faith at all in taking me down, and you’d better believe I need it. Generally my gain is monetary. This weekend I was out for blood and received it in abundance. Purposefully, I ended my neighbor’s marriage, finally giving in to his never ending offer to come inside and have a drink with him and letting her find me on all fours with him behind me. Her reaction was adorable. Watching people cry never gets old. She seemed confused though, as at one point she looked at me and asked how I could do something like that to her. Like she wasn’t expendable. Beyond that, my long tem desire to emasculate one of my lovers finally paid off, and he spent his evening licking another’s cum out of me. Cute. There’s something about cuckolding that I think is so fucking fascinating. I can’t wait to delve into the lifestyle further. You really should be handling me. I’m out of control. This could be longer, but now I’m thinking of all the ways you could be handling me and its doing nothing but making me cross my legs too tight and really, really need a drink. Christ, Jake. Fuck you for this. Thank you for this. For everything. I’m not going anywhere. Sort of kind of yours, I think, Haven Marie |