Pardon Me … Is That a Stick Up Your Ass?


Dear Jack:

I did not realize until recently that you were hurting too.

I know it must be difficult to dance around with that aura of perfection that emits from your flawless body and your brilliant mind.

I know there is so much pressure that comes with being surrounded by the undeserving imbeciles in life who profess their love to you and have the audacity to expect something in return.

And that stick you have had up your ass lately?  That must hurt like hell too, but oddly enough you seem to enjoy it. And that scares me Jack.



Simply Brilliant


Dear Jack:

Sometimes I find it hard to breathe. Not just because I’m sick, but because I’m awed by your brilliance.

I wish your brilliance was intimidating and pushed me away. Instead it intrigues me and sucks me in.

Remember those first words that touched you so much?  I wish you still had the screenshot saved.  And I wish what I said to you still mattered. If it ever did.


Mind Games


I want you to fuck me.

I know it wasn’t just sexual.  How could it be?  We live hundreds of miles apart. Is this the true definition of “mind fuck”?

As I lay here I remember your wet kisses.  I remember watching you as you cupped my tit and swirled your tongue around my nipple.  I loved feeling your cock get hard as you went from one nipple to the other.

I want you here.  I want to watch as you run your fingers down my stomach to find my hot pussy waiting.  I want to nudge you in the direction to the feast that waits for you.  

I can see you clearly.  I can feel your hands squeezing my tits just hard enough to hurt as you start eating me.  I remember reaching down and playing with myself as your tongue went deep inside of me.  I can hear you, “ taste good babe”.

I’m starting to lose control Jack.  My hips are moving in a circular motion and up and down as you suck my clit.  Never stopping.   I’m moaning.  I’m wet.  I can’t wait.  

Just as I’m about to come you reach up and pinch both of my nipples.  I grab you by the hair and raise my hips so there is no where for you to go.   All stops as I orgasm except for the flow of my cum into your mouth.

My cum is hot and sweet.   I know this because of the tender kisses you gave me with my cum all over your lips.

I miss you, now more than ever.




Dear Jack,

Today is one of those days that I want to contact you.  Send you an email.  Invite you to play a game.  Look at your blog.  Something.

I’m trying to stay strong. To stay away from you.  But it is gorgeous here.  And your weather is miserable.  I pampered myself today and enjoyed the long awaited sunshine.

I remembered all the times that you were with me while I got a pedicure.  I was getting a pedicure when I “came back” and you said “I’ve missed you”.  We laughed alot that day.  Then I remembered all the recent pedicures where you were absent, like today.

I remembered the days you would walk in the park with me.  And I would see my Uncle.  I hate the park now.  Still the same amount of people there but I feel like I’m alone.

I’m weak today.  And glad I have this outlet so I don’t bother you.

Always, Jackie

A letter for Jack


Dear Jack ~

Remember what beautiful weekend we had when we first met?  Those memories I can never forget.  Some days I want to forget.  Other days I hope I never do.

Remember walking along the river hand in hand stopping every few minutes just to hold each other?   Remember the moonlight on my face when you told me?

Remember that blanket we took to the lake but ended up not really needing because all we could find were rocks to sit on?

Remember how we dared to take the bottle of wine and wine glasses to the lake where no glass was allowed, laughing at ourselves if “this” is how we were to get caught?

Remember sitting in that dessert bar eating the bananas foster while I read  the emails and looked at pictures on your phone from the past six months,   especially the erotic ones I sent to you when you were on vacation with your wife.  Did I really write that stuff?

Remember kissing each other for what could have been the last time at the airport?  I will never forget the look on your face when you turned around and waived goodbye.

I don’t have any of those emails anymore.  The poetry and pictures have long since been deleted.  But I do still have that blanket.  In time it will be worn out and thrown away, just as I was.

Always ~ Jackie