Letters I'll Never Send

The world will never be the same, we are dead now and sometimes it seems like hell is our eternal destiny because we denied what God brought together. You wanted me to not talk to you anymore, so here we are. All I wanted was for you to find love but when you found it and I congratulated you told me to stop. So I did. The thing I wanted to tell you but couldn’t was that there is a demon attached to you and I. I had a dream of a scene and the demon was there, then you posted the same scene on Instagram a few years later. I believe it could be something to do with your ancestor being a 33rd degree freemason. Maybe this is all just my religious programming or whatever but I know there is more to all of this than coincidence. This won’t make me feel better, time to get to work.

But I think I’m recovered, for the most part. I’m not im Agony anyway so I’ll take it.
I’ve been going back through some of Mike Flanagans older work with the husband after the great success with Fall of the House of Usher. This weekend was all about that Haunting up at Hill house, which he found slow at first but it’s starting connect. We ended the night with an episode I knew was going to have me in tears. Even though I’ve seen it before, I was still weeping for more than half of the episode it felt like. The conversations around mental health, paired with the scripted tragedies gnaw at me, Nells plight is relatable and even to a lesser degree the night terror sleep paralysis. My husband teases me and exasperated “still!?” When even after the episode is done I still have rivers running.
I tell him to shut the fuck up, he doesn’t get to tell me how long I can cry for.
It’s taken in good humor, he tries to make me laugh to replace the tears by reminding me about earlier in the day when I was talking shit to him and accidently ate the full bit of Wasabi that came with my sushi and the dramatic reaction that follows.
It works I’m laughing . I chase my sorrow with a shot of honey whiskey.

“Undress for me…” You recline on the black satin sheets, watching me as I eagerly comply. “Slowly,” you growl.

I lean down and bend over to leisurely unzip my red leather boots, playfully tossing them toward you while revealing my red thigh high fishnets.

“Good girl,” you say with a half smile. “Now the dress.”

I start at the top of my white sundress, teasing you with bare shoulders. As I begin to pull down the dress, you see a bright red bustier. I lean forward to give you a better view of the cleavage almost spilling out of the top. Then I slowly push my dress past my hips and let it fall to the floor.

You gaze at my garter belt and then move your attention to my lacy red panties. You can see that the gusset of the panties has been removed.

I smile at you as I await your next command.

“Turn around.”

I work my hands over my body as I turn away from you, affording you a nice view of my backside. Upon closer inspection, you can see that my panties have a thong made of large white pearls.

“Come to me,” you urge.

I turn around gracefully and find a place next to you on the bed. As I climb past you, you slap my ass hard. I let out a sound that is half surprise and half ecstasy.

“Good girl,” you intone, your voice thick with pleasure. You sit up in the bed and push my head between your legs.

Knowing exactly what you want, I start teasing you by licking the head of your eager cock like an ice cream cone. Firmly and slowly tracing swirls with my tongue. You moan, wanting more. All at once I stop, and you look at me quizzically. I smirk at you and move my head back between your legs. I lick gingerly and I gently suck until I can hear the sounds of your frustration.

I turn away from you and position myself on all fours. I can practically feel your wicked grin. I know what’s coming and I can’t wait for it.

You grab my hips and mercilessly start fucking my ass. I scream from the pain. The string of pearls massages your cock faster and faster as you take me.

“Oh God,” I moan.

“You love it, you filthy whore.”

“I do. I love it…” I pant.

You close your eyes and I can feel you cum deep inside me. “Good girl,” you say as you pull me to your chest and stroke my hair. I will sleep well tonight.

This year… Well, god knows….

As wonderful as this site is, the waiting times are getting ridiculous. I’d help them out, but that’s beside the point.

I need to connect with you more often with Skype or Whatsapp or even just over the phone. I’ll send my numbers to you on your business Skype and you can decide from there.

Here is a joke for you:

One day, a woman was walking through the park and she found a magic lamp. A genie popped out, as they are wont to do.

“You will receive three wishes,” he said. “But beware: whatever you wish for, your husband will get 100 times over.”

The woman says “I understand. I wish to be incredibly beautiful.”

The genie replies “You know your husband will become so irresistible that people from countries away will come to pursue him. Do you still want to make that wish?”

She nodded and became incredibly beautiful. “I wish to have a billion dollars and, yes, I know my husband will get 100 billion.”

The genie nods and grants her wish. “What is your final wish?”

The woman looks the genie straight in the eye and says “I want to have a small heart attack.”

It’s been about a week since surgery. While thankfully I have no memory of the surgery itself, recovery has been agonizing and rough. I liken it to something out of Stephen Kings Dreamcatcher. I’m grateful I’ve had a little help picking up the slack with the around the house dailies during recovery.

I got to have a little treat last night on the full moon , visiting a few bands we love over at Red Rocks. It’ll be their last tour in the states for awhile as the band announced and Im glad I got to be there for it. Given the terrain, I did better getting around than I thought I would however the following morning that price of passage would get paid in the body screaming demands of more time for recovery.

Hope your 4oth gave you hope for the future.

Only easing up enough between each intermission to make me think maybe we could avoid the hospital.

First we tested positive for covid, which didn’t change much for our usual reclusiveness besides general comfort.

We finally thought we were in the clear last night for Thanksgiving after no incidents for three days and accepted my neighbors invitation to share a meal since I had to miss out on hometown travels for all the sick.
My neighbors had recently had covid too but were also in that returning to the world phase.

I don’t think we were at the neighbors for more than 30 minutes before my kid stared getting a sad look and complaining of tummy trouble, I almost have her out the door to return her to the house when she starts vomiting, all over the entry and walkway. The husband and I tag team clean up. If that would have been it , it would have been more than enough, but after putting the husband and kid today I’m hit. I spend a very painful night in the bathroom. My throat feeling like it’s expelling acid. The next morning I remember I had been trying to cook an orange chicken in the oven when the feel bads hit. It’s at a loss now. It didn’t burn but did sit way too long.

I had just caught up laundry on the kids exorcism reenactment, looks like another catch up day is needed.

To thrust up against your warm wet body.

To the despicable Mr. Blue,

I dont hate you. I don’t have anything I need you to hear really, but I have lots to say. Maybe just a string of thoughts.

I realize now, that standing in your kitchen saying I’d had enough was the most powerful thing I could have done.

You are diagnosably a narcissist, praying on others, uncaring of the pain you cause to anyone. Your mom. Your children. Partners. All the people you belittle and shit talk, the people whose jobs and livelihoods you actively ruin for your own games. You’re actually a bad person. I tend to think most people are either good or just trying to survive the moment but you….you’re a calculated type of evil. It was something I couldnt wrap my head around because I’d never seen someone quite like you before, someone that disgusting and abusive in so many ways.

No means no, you sorry piece of shit. I DO get to choose what happens to my body. Sadly, those moments against my will were not the worst things you have done.

The truth is, you’ll never change and you’ll never be happy. The unfortunate part is that you’ll continue hurting others, and scaring your children in very lasting ways as you spew control and rage and utter abuse at them.

I’ve nothing left for you to know. You already knew those things before they were ever a thought in my head.

I don’t hate you, and I certainly don’t wish you well. But I hope one day, you get a heaping spoonful of your own hell.

Cheers!