From: francisthefaggot@yahoo.com
To: missnadiavukmir@gmail.com
Subject: Love

When I started writing this, I had to keep myself from just typing the words “I love you” over and over. When I think about you, it short-circuits the part of my brain that makes sense, that filters what I’m trying to say. I can’t make sense talking about you; all I can do is gush. I can’t think of anyone that makes me feel the way you do, Miss Nadia.

I love you. I hate that it’s such a basic way of saying what I mean, but I love you. It sounds like such a banal greeting-card way of expressing the wordless, all-consuming way I adore you, but I love you. I love you more than I can possibly express in this e-mail. I certainly love you more than I can say in person. This will have to do for now.

Your eyes are emeralds, sharpened to a razor’s edge. They’re bright and cunning and every bit as foxlike as you are. When you look at me, I feel like prey. Even when you throw a glance at me from across the room, I feel like you’re hunting me. I am a wounded rabbit, dragging myself into the darkness of the forest to hide from you; you are the hunter, following me without hurry. You know you’ll find me soon enough.

Your lips are a blessing. I’ve only been kissed by them twice, and I will remember it until the day I die. They were soft, and gentle, and tasted like strawberries. We both knew that they were too good for me, but whenever I sat under your desk to suck on your feet or laid underneath you to smother in your chest I remembered them, and I felt so unspeakably lucky. Everything I do for you is a way to feel those lips on mine again, a way to find my way back.

Speaking of your chest, my god. When you first took your bra off, I had to do a double take to make sure I was seeing them right. Not only the size of them, as big and thick and luscious as they are, but from the softness of them, covered in downy white-and-orange fur that looked so sinfully gentle. I couldn’t help myself, and I reached out to fondle one. Oh, but you were furious-I deserved every stroke of the whip I received afterwards. I didn’t ask for your forgiveness, but only your understanding-I couldn’t help myself.

I count myself lucky every time you see fit to let me worship your belly. I’m so blessed to have a mistress with such a gorgeous, shapely form that she even has a belly to be worshiped. It’s so soft and yielding, all warm fur and gentle fat, that I forget how hard you can be. I feel small again worshiping it, pressing my lips against your belly button, resting my cheek against it. I adore it.

I love nuzzling against those juicy, shapely thighs of yours, squeezing them and kissing them, making my way to your pussy-that sweet pink flower! I bury my nose in it and sniff, let its intoxicating scent fog my mind, and stick my tongue out so I can lavish kisses and licks and love all over it. You like to pin me down and ride my face ‘til you spray me with that hot, sticky femcum-I’ll always welcome it.

I love kissing your feet. I love pressing my nose against your toes and taking in deep, savoring sniffs of your warm scent-clean, but feminine and beautiful and earthy and sexual. I even love it when you trample me, when you stand on my stomach to press the air out of my lungs or when you shove your foot in my mouth and make me deepthroat it to your heel. I do it for you, Miss Nadia.

And your ass-oh, sweet fucking lord, your ass. It moves like bowls of Jell-o when you walk. It sways back and forth, taunting me, teasing me with its superiority. It’s perfectly shaped, and covered with such fine, soft fox fur. And oh, to part those cheeks and press my nose against your tight pink pucker, to take in as deep and as hungry a whiff of your scent as I can, to rest my head back and let you use me as your seat cushion. Oh, to be ignored and left at the mercy of your ass!

Miss Nadia, you are the meanest, coldest, most dominant bitch I have ever met in my life, and I love you to death. Please, let me worship you again-my fingers need your body, my nose needs your scent, my tongue needs your sweat. Please.

From: missnadiavukmir@gmail.com
To: francisthefaggot@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: Love

That’s nice.