Contact Us
25-09-2006, 09:24am
WARNING - The following letter has sexual references and may offend.
(I am not in favour of censorship though and thought the message must be passed on)
Dear Natalie,
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
"cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left,
I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little
boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make
contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to
me.
I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a
lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care
about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as
long as one of us does.
Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this
is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, Connie." I look for you in
the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you.
They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I
don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my
desperation.
She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth
and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect
body. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit.
Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this
stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It
s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her
better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at.
Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my
moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of
that before.
I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I'd tossed
her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I
feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her
slutty, shameless hunger, but something else.
Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then
It hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus,
Connie, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do reminds me of
you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last
year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she
figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she
meant till later, but that's not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're
banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the
sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she
s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear
us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother
s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we
can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause
I can't help thinking, "Why didn't Connie ever put the mirror on the floor?
We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex
toy."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order.
I mean, Vicky's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her
shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's
given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She's
pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is.
So we're doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier
times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do
is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18.
And that just about makes me cry.
And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole anal thing, that gets me
to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how
that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But
do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's
cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, Connie. In your
heart you must know it.
Don't you think we could start over? Just wipe all the grievances away and
start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fu***ing remote is.????
Love, Paul
Rgds BUSGO
"TAKE MY ADVICE"
I'm not using it anyway!Edited by: BUSGO at: 25/9/06 9:51 am
(I am not in favour of censorship though and thought the message must be passed on)
Dear Natalie,
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
"cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left,
I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little
boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make
contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to
me.
I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a
lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care
about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as
long as one of us does.
Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this
is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, Connie." I look for you in
the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you.
They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I
don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my
desperation.
She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth
and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect
body. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit.
Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this
stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It
s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her
better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at.
Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my
moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of
that before.
I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I'd tossed
her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I
feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her
slutty, shameless hunger, but something else.
Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then
It hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus,
Connie, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do reminds me of
you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last
year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she
figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she
meant till later, but that's not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're
banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the
sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she
s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear
us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother
s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we
can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause
I can't help thinking, "Why didn't Connie ever put the mirror on the floor?
We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex
toy."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order.
I mean, Vicky's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her
shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's
given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She's
pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is.
So we're doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier
times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do
is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18.
And that just about makes me cry.
And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole anal thing, that gets me
to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how
that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But
do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's
cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, Connie. In your
heart you must know it.
Don't you think we could start over? Just wipe all the grievances away and
start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fu***ing remote is.????
Love, Paul
Rgds BUSGO
"TAKE MY ADVICE"
I'm not using it anyway!Edited by: BUSGO at: 25/9/06 9:51 am