Dear Daddy,
We haven't met yet, but it's me, poetic. Kristen. Your Good Girl.
I don't know what you'll look like, where I'll find you, or if instead you'll find me. I don't know when it will happen.
But I know, someday, it will happen. One day, you'll be there, as if you had always been there, and I will feel full.
I think about you every day. Not about how you'll look, or your walk. Or the way you'll hold my hand, or caress my cheek, or stroke my hair. Instead, I give my pleasure over to you. When I masturbate, I call out your name, thanking you for granting me the gift of my ecstasy.
Right now, I'm imagining what it will feel like to be in your arms, holding me, protecting me, embracing me.
I'm imagining your smell, whether you'll wear a heavy cologne or a light musk.
I long to be at your feet, to love on your leather, to kiss your boots.
I look forward to the day when your collar will be around my neck, when I know I am owned, loved, cherished as a precious thing of yours.
I cannot lie; I dream of your fucking me every other moment of every day. Your hips. Your thrusts. Your cock inside me. I dream of pleading, begging you, asking my permission to cum. I dream of our sweat staining my sheets, our moans and grunts. Your growls. I dream, and dream, and dream.
And I wait.
I often remind myself that life is a path I am traveling, and that I do not know what lies beyond the next bend. I remember that my life has changed so much in just the past year, and so much for the good. I recall the struggles I've gone through and overcome. I keep a candle in my heart lit and burning for you.
And I wait.
I go about my day, trying not to wonder if you will be the next person I meet, the next person who says hi, the next face to cross my path. I try to not think about you, to not dream about you.
As much as I love wrapping myself in the glow of you, I fear it is a folly. How can you possibly live up to the fantasy in my head? You do not deserve to have to compete with a dream.
And so I wait. And hope.
Yes, that bitch again. I wait and hope for you to enter my life, soon please.
But, if not, I am patient.
With undying love,
Your Good Girl
The Immigrant "Invasion" Is Just WMDs All Over Again
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There is no immigrant invasion at the southern border of the United States.
That needs to be said at the outset any time you wanna talk about What's
Wron...
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