My letter to her, unsent

My letter to her, unsent

I never should have agreed to that threesome. His fucking birthday. You made it all seem like it was for him. But it was for you, you selfish bitch. You knew I wanted you. And you just toyed with me. But I wanted it too. I let it happen. 

We met up countless times after that. Just you and me. He didn’t know. Because you had to feed your desires. You fucking want to have it both ways. Well, you can’t. 

I can’t do it anymore. The lies. The secrets. The sneaking around. I want the real thing. The thing that you have with someone else. When we’re together, we have to hide. We can’t go out. We might get caught. I’m done. The feel of your body next to mine gives me life, but knowing I can’t have it when I want it? I want to die. 

I can’t have you. He has you. He doesn’t love you. I don’t even know if I love you. Do you love him? Could you love me?

You’re fooling yourself. You’re confused. You were where I was before I came to terms with being bi. You don’t want to be attracted to another woman. But we can’t control these things. I don’t want to be attracted to a woman who’s engaged to a man. But here we are. 

You said you never came so hard. You said our sex was the best you’ve ever had. You said I made you cum more in one night than he had in a year. 

I believe you. The way you use your tongue on my clit. I know you want more. You might like sex with him, but you need sex with me. 

My lips on your clit, making you tremble in pleasure. My fingers deep inside you, making you squirt.

My pussy, grinding on yours until we both cum together in unison, and our bodies collapsing together. Limbs intertwined 

Why do you do this to me? 

We have entire nights of passion together. We cum, we sweat, we cum again. We binge on each other. We overdose on each other. But when the night is over, you go back to him. I go back to nothing. I am alone. When I’m not with you, I want more of you. I touch myself thinking about having you all to myself. What we could have. What we could be. 

You’re really going to marry him? I know you don’t want him. You’re only doing this because you’re afraid of what you really want.

You really want me. Are you still going to fuck me when you marry him? Am I still going to be your side chick? What if he finds out?

When his throbbing cock is fucking you, do you imagine that it’s my fingers deep inside you? When he’s fucking you, do you think about me licking your clit? Does he eat your pussy like I do? Does he even know how? Does he lick your tight asshole the way I know you like it?

I hate you for this so much. I hate that it just makes me want you more. You’re so fucking sexy, and I fucking hate that you know it. 

I want you to be mad at me. Yell at me. Tell me I”m a cunt. Choke me. I like when you’re rough with me. 

As I’m writing this, I can’t stop touching myself. I can’t stop imagining your perfect body. I’m so wet. I want you to feel it. I want you to touch me. You eat pussy way too good to just throw this away to pretend you want to be with that guy. Fuck you for putting me through this. 

I’m done. Spread the love.

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