As I write this, I sit adjacent a lit fireplace with ambitions of keeping me warm, defending me against the frigid and windy day outside. Having just worked on a handful of documents that made my morning a productive one, my work ethic pride is almost as present as my anticipation of you, although I know that to be an overstatement. I’ve decided to take a break from work for a while so that I may reminisce with myself over the sublime feeling of you.
I recapture the memories of you that I continue to swim in time and again. Those memories, of what the contours of your insides feel like as I enter you. I recount how you taste when I bite your lip. What your hair feels like when I grab it, run my fingers through it, pet it, and pull.
I recall in the best vivid memory I can summon how I feel as I witness your orgasms come into focus, defiant against God for not building me in a way that I can remember every single detail, yet still somehow thankful to him that I get to make new memories with you, yet again.
My orange sky, forever. You and only you.
I ache for you and soon again you will feel the wrath of my passion, little one. The clock has been ticking and your Daddy is in planning mode. That realization alone should make you wet and nervous at the same time.
For you know that my seed will be filling you up, bubbling out of your overly-satisfied kitty, all while my best intentions drip from you like a faucet. I will have all your holes – I am not in the asking mood – and I’ll have your submissive soul as well. I hope you don’t mind that I give you every part of my soul in return.
So as you read this, my 144.
So as you read this, my orange sky.
So as you read this, I want you to get excited, wet, and I want you to think long and hard of what you will reminisce with yourself about, in no time at all.
Will you recall all the tasks Daddy had you do leading up to me? Will you recall the taste of my cum mixed with yours, with the clarity of a wine connoisseur? Will you try and count the orgasms that fire out of your body like artillery? What will it be that you hold onto most? What will you repeat to me months down the road?
What will you muse me with?