Those hours, that with gentle work did frame

May 22, 2009 15:16

Beloved Aryan God,

I do not know how much longer I can sustain without your tender hands carressing the dimpled skin of my tentacles.  My gaping mouth longs to attach to your perfect thighs, beak quivering as I lap at the flesh surrounding your most sacred parts.  Knees or no, I beg you, give me release!  Return to my side!  Let our love continue!

As I await your return, I seem to have made a friend.  She is kind, gentle, with dark eyes like a deer, and a complexion that nearly rivals yours in its sheer perfection.  She introduced herself to me, eyes cast aside, whether shy or afraid, I do not know.  But her voice was melodic, crisp and pleasant, and she did not condemn me for my wicked, sinful state.  I had truly made a friend in this Janey.

On a related note, I have chosen a name for myself.  One of your pitiful little workers mentioned it casually.  It is his sister's name, but I do enjoy how it is formed on the human tongue.  So, I shall no longer sign my letters to you with the crude initials V.S.  Instead, I shall bid thee adieu by inscribing my new name, and wait hopefully that I will soon hear your voice calling my name.

Forever Yours,

Barbara

love letter

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