Dear Michael


Dear Michael,

I got your letter the other day and read every bit of it from start to finish. I wanted you to know that so you can fully appreciate what I am about to tell you. Please understand I write you in complete honesty and understanding.

You fat fuck, hell no I will not do another masturbation video. I cannot believe I let myself get so drunk and then let you convince me to do that while you filmed it. Thinking of the video I remember seeing you with the camera in one hand, your tiny cock in the other. Yes your tiny cock, which was so small that the only thing I saw sticking above your fat was the head. Now when you finally got it hard it might have been as big as my pinkie finger and I tell you, I've tried fucking myself with my pinkie finger and it is hardly even noticeable.

And, while you are at it, please quit emailing videos of your masturbating. Yes, as your wife I remain a straight woman (who knows why) and am inclined to enjoy watching a man stroking himself, especially if he is thinking of me when he is doing it, but with you it is pitiful at best and downright nauseating at worst. I mean watching you play with your nipples and seeing the tiny head of your cock crawl onto your fat belly and then harden just enough to where I can peek at a bit of the shaft is simply disturbing.

Once you get hard enough to begin stroking it gets only a bit interesting, that is at least until your stomach hides your cock from the camera lens, or your fat thighs begin to jiggle. Damn just when you get a rhythm going, the fat begins to jiggle out of step and suddenly I find myself suddenly seasick watching the waves of you build to a peak and then crash down into a mushy, vibrating mass.

I remember when you videoed me I was so, so drunk. I must have thrown up just after I came. Damn, I can't believe I came, especially with you pulling your tiny cock, your belly handing down over your hand. I remember the sound first of your fist slapping on your balls and then slapping again on your belly.

Oh fuck and now I remember, when I finished masturbating and you turned off the camera all I could do was lay there, lie there or however you say it and try not to vomit and what happens? You crawl up and slip your cock into me. I mean what little pleasure I had was interrupted when you slipped your cock into me, while my cunt was still contraction from the orgasm.

When you fucked me your stomach rolled over mine so I couldn't peek down and see a cock sliding into me, a sight I really enjoy with a real man, but not with you, oh now I just see the flesh rolling up and down over me. And then damn, you didn't pull out and come on my stomach or breasts, no you left it in so that tiny cock would spill its sticky, nasty seed into me so I could carry it around inside my body for what? Two or three days? I can't imagine you sloshing around inside me for that long.

And hey, back to your videos, don't even bother... no, I take that back, lose fifty pounds and then video you jerking off. Yeah, I'll watch that, watch your cum splatter and maybe then I'll even let you come over and film me again. But hey, that's fifty pounds, not twenty, thirty, forty or even forty-five. You lose fifty pounds and yeah, I'll play with my clit for you and I will come for you too.

I'll tell you what. You lose the fifty pounds and I'll even let you fuck me, like the time you got me drunk last time and came inside me. Yes, if you lose those pounds I'll be able to look down and actually see your cock slide into me, hell I'll actually be able to see your cock when you are around me, not just the head peeking out, but the rest of it, balls too.

Of course, until you lose that weight I'll simply have to masturbate alone, shove a rubber cock into my self or run a vibrator over my clit. I might even moan your name when I do that, if I don't moan someone else's.

Your Loving Wife


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