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translations

dear e,

it’s new year’s eve. i didn’t even realize that until about 20 minutes ago (it’s around 4 pm). one year is the same as the next, as far as i’m concerned. the fact that it never even crossed my mind this year indicates that i have not made any plans. what plans would i make?

f works tomorrow so i will be on my own…again. always on my own. that’s a good thing, though. my day started out horrible today. well, you know. you and i talked frequently this morning. i talked to you off and on all night and into the morning hours. i’m so glad that…well, e, i’d be broken without you.

people who read my letters probably think i’m a whiney nut-job. yes. i’d say that’s accurate. but i used to be fun. remember? and you make me laugh. you make me smile. you make my heart and body and mind come alive. the reason i get so down when i leave you? because i leave you. it’s not rocket science. if you liked me, as a person, as i like you and enjoy your company, you’d understand the pangs of leaving the one you enjoy. if you loved me as i love you, as you claim you do, you would understand the silent tear that happens within…almost as if we are ripped apart. if you were in love with me, as i am you, well…that one is self-explanatory. lastly, if you craved my body as i crave yours, then i’d suspect you’d lack the self-control i have and would not be able to say goodbye. not fast, anyway. not without it ripping your body to shreds.

this morning f was all over me. started as soon as he woke up. nonstop verbal bashing. normally he waits a bit. normally he does not wake me up with the verbal garbage that spews so easily from him. he tries, generally, to be civil in the morning. yesterday he was kind in the morning before it all went to hell. today, he skipped kindness and just went to hell. you know why? because i didn’t wake up and act like nothing had happened. sometimes i get tired of pretending.

it is late now. still 2018, though. 11:18 pm, to be exact. here i am, spending my night writing you. there is a saying that goes “how you spend your new year’s eve is how the rest of your year will go.” i’m a firm believer in that. you know me. not one to ever be superstitious, but this has held true every year. however i ring in the new year is generally the tone and move of the following year. so, with that in mind i suppose my 2019 will be lonely and depressing. great. can’t wait.

today i asked you if you thought that f was abusive to me. you never answered and instead turned it around and asked me my own question. that makes me think that you do not think he is abusive. he isn’t all that nice sometimes. a couple of times he got a bit…violent. but nothing horrible. baby violence, you could say. if anything it would be his words. verbal. so i thought about it. my conclusion? he’s not. it’s my fault most of the time. i always do something that upsets him. i always do, or don’t do, something. if i was a better woman, a better person…i am sure he would have nicer things to say.

you had your work party you had to go to tonight. i wonder how it went. i’m sure you are home by now. you went home and ignored me. let’s add that to the list of how i brought in 2019, too. sounds pretty much like 2018. fuck this life. that’s what i have to say. year after year after year. and for what? why? nothing.

i did occupy my mind earlier with delightful thoughts of what i, we, would do if i was at the party tonight, though. would you like to hear them? it’s 11:51 pm now. seems appropriate that i usher in the new year lost in a fantasy world. that will be how the year goes, as well. so…let me tell you about it.

in all of my worlds i create with us, i completely leave out our…other obstacles. i mean, after all, they are my fantasies. my dreams. my wishes and desires. it would make no sense to complicate them with real life. however, i try to always design a storyline in a way that it would still technically work…obstacles included. that way if you ever get…well, just because.

i’m sure your party was full of the usual staff. i’m also sure your party was full of your residents. perhaps even random community members? family members of the staff? blah blah blah. it was busy, no doubt. i could care less about any of that, you know. not for this story, anyway.

ideally this story works best if you have already taken me, multiple times, in other locations. here in my bed. here on my couch. here in the guest bed. on the kitchen table. on the kitchen counters. the shower in the master bath. the shower in the hall bath. the closet. the third bedroom. the living room floor (the area rug is soft). the recliners. the back deck. the garage. everywhere in my house. yes. i am thinking about all of the spots now, how you would look, how you would move, how you would feel, how you would taste. we might as well have already had sex in your office, too. multiple times. on the floor. on your desk. me riding you as you sit in your chair. up against the wall by that closet. in that closet. damn. what story am i even talking about now?

yes. i was thinking about the fun we could’ve had at the party together. the sneaking off would provide a certain amount of adrenaline that would intensify our orgasms, and most certainly would intensify the roads we traveled down to reach orgasm. hearts pounding fast. i would suspect that when you see the look in my eyes that i give you from time to time…the look that says if i don’t have you i might die…the look of thirst and hunger for every inch of your body…i would suspect that when you see that look, there is a part of you that warms instantly. even if you wish it not to. being desired so fiercely has to be flattering. and flattery in itself is a turn on.

i would give you this look, with a smile, when i saw you at the party. i’d probably have to bite my bottom lip to keep from creaming my pants at the mere sight of you and the thoughts of everything you had already done to me. keeping in mind that in this story you would have actually already done plenty to me. i’m sure i would know plenty of people at this party so i’d have to say hello. i’d look for you throughout my polite greetings. you’d look for me throughout your obligatory conversations. but once that was over, i’d look for you again. you’d look for me again. we would find each other and our eyes would lock. you would nod your head in the direction you wanted me to go.

we would meet each other in the crowded room, amongst all of the other guests. my heart rate would be going so fast and so hard, i’m sure you could see it beat through my shirt. you look nervous. you are always nervous. but your desire and your need will outweigh your nervousness and fear this day. i am so excited to see you that i can barely contain it. i rush up to meet you but have to pull back hard and fast before i go crashing into you. you have to resist laying your hand on me, on my shoulder, on the small of my back, on my arm. there is an electric current firing between us. e, when you decide to take me up on my offer…there really will be an electric current. and it will grab you and never let go.

you look at me with your beautiful hazel eyes and tell me hello. even though words are hard for me to form at the moment, i manage to eek out a muffled and shaky greeting back to you. people come up to us and interrupt, wanting to talk and bs. some just want to say hello. they are all wanting to occupy your time, of course. so eventually i give you my defeated look. you respond with your don’t go look. we compromise on me going to find a quiet and secluded space to retreat to. i have had enough of people and you have my heart about ready to explode.

now, at this part in the story you will have to help me. i don’t know that building very well. i know the main rooms, but not all of the rooms. so as you read, you decide which room would be the most secluded, unused and untouched for this evening’s party. can you picture it in your head? what room is it? is it someone’s office? is it a conference room? janitorial room? a bathroom? i don’t know. so, i will guess. you can tell me what it actually is and where it is at when we speak next.

my imagination has me going to an upstairs office. no one from the party is going upstairs. the stairs i am imagining (is there even an upstairs there?) are off to the side, not really noticeable. you never take your eyes off of me as i walk up them. i never take my eyes off of you. the warmth within you is intensifying. i disappear around the corner and find the rather extravagant office space. it has a modest couch, a very large and official desk, countless bookshelves stocked full of books and a few file cabinets throughout the room. beautiful green plants and flowers lay atop tasteful end tables and shelves. it is completely dark in there with the exception of the moonlight and streetlights flowing through the three windows that are along the west wall. they provide enough light for me to see my way around. and i use the light on my phone to light up any additional space for me.

anxious. anxiousness and nervousness begin to creep in. time goes by so slow. i sit on the couch and i wonder to myself if you are, indeed, coming. and, in typical p fashion, i fear that maybe you have woken up and realized i was ugly and not anything like what you desired. i worry that i have been up there alone for too long and that perhaps i should just leave. skittish. i am skittish. eventually i stand up and head for the door. just as i reach for the doorknob, the door slowly opens. the light from the hallway and down below shines upon your face. the moonlight shines upon mine. you are frozen where you stand. just looking at me. the sight of each other takes our breath away.

when you regain movement in your legs you nudge your way in. your body is pressed up so tightly against mine and yet you still have so little room between us and the door that you can barely get through to get the door to shut. i seem to be completely unable to move. frozen at the sight of you, paralyzed by your smell, and drained at your touch. when you move in closer and we are chest to chest. the door is shut now and all we can hear is ourselves. our own irregular breathing patterns and the loud and steady thump of our hearts. my body can’t handle much more.

you ask me where i was going. i explain to you that i was lonely and that i couldn’t take it anymore. i was unsure if you were coming. that is where you cut me off and say, “will you ever learn? will you ever trust me? i am never going anywhere. i am never leaving. if i say i will be here, i will be here.” my eyes cast down to the floor. even in the moonlight you knew. i was ashamed of the way i was. i tried to help it…but my fear of abandonment is too strong for me to handle. you said, “my darling. i am never going to go. now come. let’s move away from this door.”

you put your arm around my waist and draw me close. somehow you also manage to draw us closer to the couch. i sit on the arm of the couch and look up at you as i absently run my fingers up and down your forearms. we wait in complete silence and stillness for a few minutes, and we get lost in each other’s eyes. when a sufficient enough amount of time has passed to convince you no one will be following us up, you crook your arm around me again and lift me to my feet. your body is pressing hard against my body now. unwilling to give me any room to move on my own, you grind yourself closer and closer in. trapped between the arm of the couch and your arms and body, i give in.

finally your mouth meets mine. hot. wet. steamy. greedy. i moan. so much for starting out slow. wishful thinking. such urgency in our kiss. always as if that is the first and the last kiss we will ever know. our shoes come off. we unbutton and pull down each other’s pants. i am always amazed at how you feel in my hand. warm and welcome, and yet powerful and in charge. in am effort to get my bra off you just rip it off. your hands are so strong. gentle. enthusiastic. and your mouth is ravenous. eventually the raw physical needs take over and our hands, our tongues, our eyes…can’t keep up with what we need.

i run my hands under your shirt to feel you. muscular, in an everyday sense. hot, from the inside out. mine. even though you are not mine, you are mine in this moment. i pull you closer. my hand slides down inside your boxers. it never fails-my breath catches every time you fill my hand. hard. inviting. ready. i turn around and put my ass up against your dick. your left arm wraps around my upper portion and you take a breast in your hand. not so gentle, you squeeze and pinch and play. your mouth finds my neck. your tongue finds my earlobe. you glide your other hand very slowly down my side, over my naked and exposed hip and your fingers tickle my upper thigh. i back my ass further into you and you let out the smallest whisper of a moan. your hand comes back, reaches inside my panties and your fingers make themselves at home. she is hot, wet and very ready for you. your breathing catches in my ear. i turn my head around to see you and am met with your lips. softly i whisper to you, “now.” and as if you were thinking it the same time i was, you move me toward the arm of the couch to stabalize us. i bend forward a bit and spread my legs for you. you rip off my panties-there wasn’t much to them. you pull your boxers down. i can feel you, hard as steel against my ass as you stand there for a moment, running your fingers all over my body. i lean up, growing frantic. and then, with one swift move, your hands on my hips, you thrust yourself inside of me.

thank God. sweet, sweet beginning of relief. i straighten a bit and you get comfortable. your one hand keeps manning my breasts, your mouth moves back and forth between my mouth and my neck and your other hand finds my clit. it is a struggle, at times, for me to remain quiet. in the heat of the moment, the excitement of where we are, missing you and seeing you after so long…we don’t waste time. as my excitement builds my legs buckle and i lean over the arm of the couch now, letting it support my full weight. you are in so far. your one hand stays out, slowly bringing me towards finishing while your other hand can’t decide where it wants to stay…my hip, for extra leverage? my back, to squeeze and push? my hair, to grab fistfuls with each mind blowing ramming in and out? my neck, to curl your fingers around and softly run your thumb along…to feel my heart exploding beneath. you can’t decide so your hands moves about freely.

time begins to get squashed together as everything prepares for time to stand still. my breathing has increased and i am now begging you to go harder. faster. deeper. you comply. hand in my hair, you comply. my body begins to tense up as i climb to the top. your hand moves to my shoulder, your other hand making love to my clit, while your dick makes love to my innermost part. i softly, and breathlessly, announce to you that i am close. don’t stop. i am cumming. but you already knew by the way my body was now responding. bouts of tension, then trembling, followed by more tension and trembling. i can’t hold in my moans any longer and they escape. they are quiet, but real. my arms and hand grab handfuls of the couch as my leg shakes. she goes into convulsions, unable to take control of her muscle spasms that grip you hard, and then let go. hard and then let go. at an impossible speed. you move both hands to my hips now and pound fast and hard. it is not long after me that you, too, have crossed over. i feel you desperately try to get deeper, and stay there as you rock your hips back and forth. i feel you inside of me, spreading everywhere. providing a warmth that i so desperately needed. i moan again, as do you.

then you pull out of me and i feel a sadness take over. a sadness you had already anticipated. just as fast as you were out of me, you had me pulled on top of you, and we were laying together on the couch. sweet and loving kisses mixed in with your warm and safe embrace. i ran my hands all over your body and buried my head into your neck.

it is always the leaving you that kills me the most.

we laid there together so much longer than we should have. around 30 minutes or so. no one came up and we heard the party going on below us in full bloom. at long last i decided to come up from your neck, my hiding spot, and tell you that we should go. you agreed, but instead of moving began kissing me. i moved from your side and straddled your body, leaning in to kiss you back long, hard and deep.

suddenly you took off my shirt and i was left exposed. my first reaction was to reach for my shirt back. that didn’t work. you are stronger than i am. plus, you tossed it. my second reaction was to put my arms in front of my chest, hiding my breasts from the world. you did not like that either and removed my arms for your view. your hands gripped my breasts and began a slow, heavenly massage. i rocked back a bit on your lower abdomen and to my great surprise, you were ready for another round.

my eyes lit up. i was still ready from our first round. you smiled. i took your face in my hands and admired how beautiful you are. how sexy. and then i lifted myself up a bit so i could lean in and give you one hell of a kiss. and it was one hell of a kiss. as my lips began to leave yours i brought my lower part down on you so slowly i felt you quiver beneath me. then slowly i raised up on you and purposely slid you out. purposely, so that i could place my hands on your chest, look you deep in your eyes…and like liquid gold, slowly slide down on you, all around you, again. the seductive motions added to the intenseness of you leaving my body to then turn around and break it open again. yes. she opens for you. smoothly i guide you in…and out. teasing. torturing.

the driving force for you intensifies and i begin to lose control of my game. i make a minor adjustment on you and connect us exactly where i want us to be. you fit perfectly inside me. tight. hard. warm. i begin to move faster now, no longer letting you leave my body. i ride you with a mixture of bounce and grind. sometimes i steady myself on your body with my hands. sometimes the ecstasy is too much and i lift my arms above to fist my hands in my own hair. this is the only kind of exercise i like. you are enjoying the show as much as the ride. your eyes seem to be calculating my every move, my every smile, my every dip onto you. as you and i both come closer to climax we get a bit louder.

when i am on top i am in charge and you are merely at my mercy. along for the ride. every movement i make is primarily for my pleasure. nearing the end, that is when i completely disregard you and begin to move in patterns that uniquely service me. i no longer care how loud i am. you flow right along with me. hard, slamming you inside of me with no warning. just hard steel invading a cloud. we both let out audible signs of pleasure. as i near the end, you are nearing the end. it becomes impossible for me to bump anymore. i am frozen. legs are tense, my ass is tense. i’m arched forward towards you, leaning down, searching for breath. i cum. a light flickers in your eyes as my eyes go quiet.

i make a vain attempt to ride you again, but i am spent. happiness flows from me like a fountain. i keep going, though. you feel so incredible, all the time. there is a lazy smile spread on my face. a lazy smile that you, and you alone, seem to be the painter of. and just like that, our eyes connect and we see love. love in each other’s eyes. silently you fill me up. you come into me with love in our eyes. it’s unexpected. the love. the moment. it has caught me off guard. it doesn’t seem to have shocked you.

i’m not for sure why, though. yes, you know i’m in love with you. however, up until this moment i have been careful to keep it within. especially during our naked times. it is a vulnerability i cannot afford. what is the most shocking in that moment-that your eyes are returning the love. given and received on both sides. mutual.

completely spent, i fall onto you letting you support my weight. also, i want to break the eye contact. you wrap your arms around me and say my name. you are still inside of me. i hold you in as long as i can. you say my name again. i slightly lift my head and look at you. you meet me with a kiss. i meet your kiss with a kiss. slowly i move up towards you, putting my hands in your hair, caressing your face. you slide out of me.

i’m suddenly aware of a great sorrow building. i tell you that we should probably get dressed and go. you feel the sorrow, too. we dress in silence. we are lost in each other’s eyes and in our own thoughts. it feels like it takes hours to get dressed. when we are completely clothed and put back together we stand together. overwhelmed by you, the two orgasms, the exercise, your love…a tear escapes my eye and slowly trails down my cheek. you know. you know why. you feel it, too. i say it anyway, that i miss you already. that it hurts to say goodbye.

my eyes stay on yours. it is for this reason that we should’ve stuck to the “one time” rule. because if you keep going, there will come a time when you go “one time” too many…and you will never be able to look back. from that point on, you will never be able to go back to where you were. it stays with you from that moment on. it stays with you in a deep spot within and can only be accessed by the person who lit it on fire. this was our “one time” too many.

we walk toward the door. we stop at its threshold. you grab me and hold me in your arms. it was “one time” too many for you, too. your hands take my face and your lips take my lips. your tongue takes my tongue. my hand grabs a fistful of your shirt, in a subconscious attempt to hold you forever. it has been agreed upon that you will walk out and downstairs first. before you leave i tell you that i love you. hand in hand, i tell you that i love you. something i have never said aloud before. you realize this, and the pain of having to leave hits you harder. you touch my cheek and catch one more silent tear that has escaped from my heart. you tell me that you love me, too. and then…you are gone.

damn. that was a great story! i would much rather live in my dreams than in reality, e. i care not what you say. i mean, come on. two orgasms. a party. you. your tongue. your warm, sexy body. me. your undivided attention. yes. i know reality, but reality is awful. i choose to live in the foreign lands that i make up. that we visit here. the foreign lands where great love stories are made, and told. the foreign lands where i get you.

“one time” too many. the reason. see. even this story had a point. several points, actually. but this is the one you need. i need. you always say, “why once? what makes you think i will only want it once?” and what makes me think i would only want it once? and i told you…we will want it more than once. and yes, i believe you when you say that you will make me want you more than once. but this is why. because the more we join, the more we give to one another. and which time will it happen, e? the 7th time? the 30th time? the 2nd time? which time will our eyes meet and love will escape from me to you…from you to me? which time will it happen that that one part of us will join? the more times we do it, the more the chances are increased.

and if you are asking yourself ‘what is the problem with that?’ then you are in love with me, too. because only someone in love with someone who is in love with them back would be unafraid of that emotional exchange. it opens up a world of pleasure. it opens up a world of pain. only pain if it is a one-sided love. pleasure if it is reciprocated. but God, e. for us, in our situations, it would open up both. a pleasure i am sure i have never experienced. but also a pain i am sure i have. we love each other. there is no “we” in the “in love with each other” department. take me once, because i have to have you. take me once because you know that you want to. and then we leave it at that. we survive on the memory of the “one time.” we just make that “one time” last. and you make sure we have enough time for you to take me multiple times. i want many memories.

now, to switch gears a bit. i have told you that i no longer wish to speak about going bowling. i have told you that i no longer intend on going bowling. one of those statements was a lie. i, indeed, no longer wish to speak about it with you. why? because you have figured out a way to use it as a weapon against me. something i do not appreciate. i’m actually not even for sure that you are aware of what you are doing. however, not much happens with you that is unintentional. you tend to know exactly what you are doing at all times. i suspect it is no different here.

as far as the actual act itself, it is, in fact, always on the table. not a day goes by that i do not think about it. i suppose i should clarify for the total of three (ha ha) readers reading this-“bowling” is a term i use to talk about suicide. long story. anyway, it is always on the table. e, when i wake up in the morning it is the first thing i think about. before my feet ever hit the floor, i curse God that i am awake and i have to live another day trying to figure out a way to die. a way to summons up the courage, again, to go bowling.

my gun, “fate,” has slowly moved from a drawer, hidden under clothes, to in the drawer not hidden. then, it moved to the top of the dresser. now, it is on the floor at the foot of my bed. i took it with me the other day, clip too, when all hell broke loose here. i was teetering on the edge. 50/50. that day was close. it was, ironically, the alcohol that saved me that day. it mellowed me too much and i lost my nerve.

so the part of this letter that will really piss you off is this: i lied to you about this. i lied to you about my intentions. i will always have every intent on ending my life. that is the battle i face daily. sometimes hourly. sometimes on a minute-by-minute basis. which part will you be most upset about? the lying, i am sure. we have a very open and honest relationship. i guess the old rule still rings true though. i only lie to you about one thing. death. sometimes because i am afraid. sometimes because i don’t want it used against me. and honestly, sometimes because it feels like you don’t care either way.

lie, don’t lie. talk, don’t talk. it’s fluff to you at this point. even with what i have just said. there’s no actual need to worry because i am still alive, writing to you about it. the worrying only needs to come into play when i stop speaking about it. a fact you know. which is another reason for my request to no longer talk about it. you don’t need to know. you don’t need to know if i am not talking about it because i don’t want to, or if i am not talking about it because it’s actually time to worry. the days are dark, e. you are unaware how dark because you never bother to enter the room anymore.

now, i suppose i should go. you are messaging me. i have a feeling i’m in for an ass chewing tonight. i never take my own advice, which is foolish. i need to shut up and not talk. lol. it’s hard for a woman to do. it’s hard for me to do. i must go suffer the consequences of opening my mouth “one time” too many now.

i love you.

-p

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