Seven Wonders of the World

27 June 2016

A-ri.

Imagine me whispering that in your ear, all drawn out and breathy like that first time in the club. Remember that night? Does it still make you hard like it makes me wet? God! I’ve danced on the laps of a thousand men since that night and you are the only one I came with. I can’t believe it’s been three years ago.

Ah well. That was then. I haven’t even seen you in months! You haven’t forgotten me, have you? I’ve been good and I’m following the rules. ‘No stalking.’ But I had to write to you. I just had to. You went around the fucking world! Without me! I read every word you posted on Facebook and in your blog. I loved the pictures! I wanted to be with you. I wanted to go around the world with you. (Get it?)

I know. I still have two years before I get my degree. But maybe we could have another couple weeks together before school starts this fall. That last time was a riot. I didn’t think I’d walk for a week. And you! How long did it take before you got another woody?

I’m focusing on my education like you said, and I’m working weekends and socking away the money. No drugs. No alcohol. No partying. At least not much.

A girl’s got needs, you know?

I even had a boyfriend for a while last year. The sex was good, but ... well, you know. He was so insecure. When he found out what I do for a living, he dumped me. It’s not as though I was giving away the milk, you know. Then, you know what he did? He had the nerve to show up at the club with a bunch of friends to watch me dance! I don’t care about that, but when I refused to do lap dances for them, he got all pissy. Big Jack took my side, though. Told him that if he didn’t think I was good enough to date, it was up to me if I didn’t think he was good enough to dance for. While he was lecturing them, I took off. I didn’t want to go walking out to the parking lot after the club closed and have a gang-rape waiting for me. Jack’s good about walking us girls to our cars, but I didn’t trust my ex not to hit him from behind. Or follow me to a lonely stretch and run me off the road.

Well, that’s all behind me now. The ass flunked out and hasn’t been seen since.

So. Anyway. I read about your trip. Come on, Ari! I know that wasn’t all that happened! I know you. I’ve read all your stories. Even the hard ones you write under that other name. You’ve told me that some of the things came from your experiences. But when it comes to your trip around the world, you are all talking about this temple you saw and that monastery and some art museum. (That was kind of a cool post about the painting in Sofia, though. I liked that.)

But where’s the real story? The one where you fuck cute girls in every country you visited? You described me in the club and you didn’t even get to the part about actually doing it. That was a hot story. Sometimes I read it, you know, at night when I’m playing with myself and wishing it was your fingers in my hot little pussy. When are you going to post it? Thank you for immortalizing me.

I want the details. All that primary research you did. Remember? I provided some of it. You remember my taste. You remember what it felt like to sink your cock into my nineteen-year-old pussy. Am I still the youngest girl you’ve fucked since you started traveling?

I’m twenty-one now. I don’t want you to forget me. But I want to hear about the girls of the world that you had on this trip. You know how the idea of other girls turns me on. Write it for me, will you, Ari? Please? Just for me? Swing up to Montana before you head south for the winter. I’ll make sure it’s worth the trip.

Kisses,

Alice