Dear Miss Angela:

This cock you now own is stiff.  These balls now under your control are full. Erections are frequent, and leaking pre-cum is plentiful.

All I can think of is your beautiful voice and your sexy ways, but …

… if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake, Angela, why you undid me.

I have neither words nor measure, and I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength.

I have only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging.

To say to you that I shall die is true, but for lack of cumming, by the Lord, no. Yet I would cum for you.

_____________________

He quotes a bit of Shakespeare.  His manners are impeccable.  He is obedient. He is focused on ME. He performs any assigned task with nary a complaint. He is, indeed, a very good boy.

Miss Angela,

I sit with this email account and your twitter feed open, slavishly hoping to see a (1) pop up next to either of them. The email is the crueler of the two, alerting me with petty things that I could care less about. Every time it comes up, I rush to see if it is you and my heart aches when it is not.

It’s as if I’m searching in the dark, hoping for a ray of light…a taste of your attention. When I get it, I exult. When denied the void engulfs me.

Yours, Scunt

Kink  Love is in the air!

 love, Angela

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Your Feet

Pablo Neruda

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

I had a dream that I was deep inside of you and just thanked God for the perfection of the moment.

Love you, Science Nerd