This morning I found Keiko’s electronic-mail message sent yesterday. She starts by asking me about my family life. Then she complains about her rôle in my life, and she repeats that she does not want to be involved with a married man. However, she makes sure I do not misunderstand her:

Please don’t think that I am saying I don’t want to see you any more. In fact, I sometimes sneeze in my bed in the middle of the night recalling how you made love to me. (Boy, I just started sneezing!) I do miss your nibbles and having wine with you in bed.

I responded immediately and in kind. I start my message by answering her question about my reasons for wanting to see her:

Why do I want to see you, spend time with you? Because I like you. Because I feel love for you. How does this fit into the rest of my life? I have no idea. There is no consistency in my needs, desires. They are all over the place, as wishes are wont to be.

I do not beat around the bush for long, though. Without a pause, I make sure she understands that making love to hear means a lot to me:

I must admit one little thing: as of late, I want to make love to you. We are good together. We are very, very good together. In fact, I think you are my No. 1 lady ever. You excite me without making me come. I make you go for a long time. Once you have enough, you know how to take care of me. It is amazing how good are your hands when you try to take care of me. In short, we are very compatible as lovers. As you can imagine, I am growing ever bigger as I write this… Yes, Keiko, I want to fuck you. Plain and simple.

I finish my message with a few words about the selection of pieces I am appending to my message, as I usually do when I write to her:

I am sending you more of my pieces. The last one is from this morning. I dreamt of a gay experience. It was quite wonderful. I hope you will enjoy that piece, too. By the way, you are the only person in the world who will see this piece. Which only goes to show you how I feel about you.

A few minutes later I sent her another message, entitled “P.S.” Once again, I do not beat around the bush:

As soon as I finished writing to you I went to the toilet to jerk off. But I could not. I need you now, Keiko!

Oh, how good it felt to write to her like this! How liberating and uplifting are plain and simple words! The entire morning I basked in the glow of my dream and my exchange with Keiko, including my piece about wrestling. That combination was so delicious that I could feel my prick in my pants all the time. At the center of attention, it kept purring and purring.