Dear Daddy,
If you're reading this, it's unmistakable that I received your voicemail and decided to compose a twisted truth teaser text reply via email to the cryptic message you left as soon as I managed my mildly muddled mind.
I'll let you find out the facts from the fallacies of this femme's fatuity.
The curse of climate change is real and it's fucking my motivation like life hasn't fucked my life enough for my publisher to send me on a fucking writer's retreat! It's gelid here, 15° Celsius of tropical Summer heat that feels like 13°! I asked for a Summer-like spot. What's hot with that? For about a couple of weeks, it has been a cold and whiny wet spell of storms. Perhaps the gods heeded our petition, our fervent prayer, from the unworthy mortals that we are, to be graced by its warm sunshine.
Luckily for us, after those seemingly endless days of snappy stormy rain, we get one full sunny day today. Tomorrow and the next few days will be back to doused dilly-dallying days mostly indoors - thanks to the first tropical cyclone of the year! It would be better if I could insert dalliances in that alliteration, for a weather that calls for cuddles on cosy couches. Ugh! The plushy pillows don't help much. If only I had remembered to pack in some toys to hype my ceasing sexual vibe.
Fine, I'm not moaning like a sex-starved spinster. I just wish I had chosen the place to find inspiration so I could bring my mojo back to writing best-sellers one after the other like hotcakes on a busy street. Such as a place buzzing with life, not a stormy silent sanctuary! Kidding aside, getting all sexed up isn't bad either.
I like the cold water though, even in baths and showers. I don't recall that I have told you but when we go mountain climbing, I'm the only one in our group who takes an ice-cold bath. I can't do it with wet wipes only.
I still remember that skin-numbing feeling when the frigid water touched my exhausted, warm skin. There's that thrill of anticipation followed by a tingling pain, culminated by the lingering sheer pleasure that comes right after. It was invigorating once you sense your skin again. It could be orgasmic. I am sure it was mentally ecstatic!
Still jet-lagged, I was awake at dawn but can't squeeze any creative non-sexual juices from my brain until sunrise. Bored as fuck, I wore my courage coat and braved the unusual brumal Summer ocean breeze for a shivering, bone-chilling, and teeth-chattering walk along the sandy beach shore this morning. Beneath my sporty set of windbreaker jacket and pants, I wore a full-body suit of horripilation naturally accented with two hardened mammary nubs resting on the mounds on my chest.
I know that from a couple or so paragraphs prior, you've been thinking of my bronzed nakedness, wrapped in goosebumps while you pet your angry bird of a man. Your hands digitally pleasuring my softness, making me squirm under your touch. You have been imagining you were holding that crystal of ice, rubbing it on my erect teats, alternating it with your warm and wet mouth on each udder, sucking to quench your thirst and biting to feed your hunger through me.
You know I can deliver more than you desire. Name your fantasy and I'll make it a reality. I'll please you in ways you have never imagined.
You love your horses in your dude ranch like they are your children even though you didn't have any. I can ride your rigid rod like a rodeo, giddyap like your good cowgirl while you pull the reins clasped on my nipples, let you watch me rub my pearly lady button until your last cum drop. Or I can reverse cowgirl, pull my reins while you spank my ass as I speed up to climax with you.
I remember you're a naturist. We can trek nude to the woods and let the wild animals or anyone witness how wild sex with a true vixen should be that even rabbits would be shameful of the term "fucking like rabbits". It will be an understatement. You can fuck me doggy as rough as you want, too.
We can go on a road trip wherever you want and I'll suck your steely schlong at every other stop when the red light is on. Just don't blame me if you'd be sore by the time we reach our destination because I'll make you pop before the next red light is up.
You know what to do. Get me out of this boring island and convince your old wife to let me write what I want to write about. The children's stories were my forte when she discovered me when I was teen. I want to venture my writing prowess to your erotica line. You own the company after all.
I am only being assertive. If I get a spanking, know that I will do it again until I get what I deserve.
Twerking to show my twat,
