Letter to Christine

Sitting Here at 3AM

Its 3am on a Sunday and I am sitting here writing letters to you that you will never read. I think about the irony of all of this.  I broke up with you about 3 weeks ago and I am the one alone.  I know you are out, or in for that matter, with the new guy.  I know better than to feel jealousy over this.  You were never mine to begin with, regardless of anything you might have said to the contrary.  I know you can never be alone, yet you always are, inside of your heart.  I only feel sadness now when I reduce my memories of you down to a digital representation of the dreams you tried to make me believe in and the lies you used to cover up the truth.  I know when I am done with this project I will be completely done with you.  I won’t think about you at all when this happens.

Yes, I have other women in my life.  They are good and kind women.  Its just that something is missing with them that I seemed to have with you.  Maybe because you were the first after my wife left.  Maybe it was because I was able to give you the reigns to my life and happiness for awhile, and you were my crutch while I was falling apart.  Maybe it was because you could kill me slowly.  Maybe it was the supernatural way you were able to reach deep inside of me and see all of my most hidden needs and desires.  The weekends are the worst for me right now.  It was the weekends we spent the most time together.  It is also the weekends where I know you are with the other men, not thinking about me, giving them what you promised I would only have.

I know I was harsh to you in those letters I sent.  Maybe if you had the integrity to respond they would have been softer, maybe not though.  It’s not like you didn’t deserve the tongue lashing for what you did to me, and to the others, I make no apologies for anything I might have said to you.  I just wanted an explanation, an apology.  Couldn’t you give me at least that?  I was willing to give you my life!  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?

Its not that I didn’t loved you.  I did until I received that letter warning me about you.  I was in shock for days after I read that.  We have been planning to buy a house together.  We were starting to build real dreams together.  I didn’t know whether to trust it, or you.  I knew deep down what the truth was though, I was afraid of it, afraid of what it meant to me, afraid of what the truth could do to me.  That letter confirmed for me all of the things I tried to ignore.  It told me that I needed to trust my gut feelings about you.  I needed to run from you forever and never look back.  Even though I told you to go away from me and never contact me, I still long for a reply to a letter, a reaction from you, anything.  It is now I wish I did not know the truth.  It is on nights like tonight I wish I could still hold you, secure in my ignorance.  Like the frog on a stove in a pot of boiling water, I wanted some more time with you before I lost myself completely to you, before you destroyed me forever.

With you, a passion awoke in me that I thought was lost for good.  A hunger only you could feed.  I felt like a wild animal only you could control.  Except you fed me poison every day and you beat me with whips until I could only cower in your presence.

Nothing I do is out of revenge, it is for closure.  It is in order for me to cleanse my soul of the filth you left behind.  Like a dog that eats his own vomit, I still long for your body at times.  I now want to punish you with my passions.  I want to hurt you with the only thing that gives you any connection to another being.  I know your heart is cold and dead.  Even the intense heat of my love would never be enough to warm you on the inside.  Nobody’s love can.  Light cannot penetrate your darkness.  Your soul is black.

Some nights I think maybe I could have been that man that could warm you, that could make you good, finally bring peace to your life, but such thoughts are foolish you always know that, and so did I  You knew from the beginning it was only a matter of time before I realized you would be the death of me.

But I am still alive, and the poison you gave me is slowly leaving my body.  Soon I will be strong again.  You gave me a strong dose, and now my body will build up a resistance to your poison. You will never be able to hurt me again.

Letter to Christine

Our first Three Dates

I told you too much about me way too soon.  Shit, I think I practically told you my life story the first night we met.  Most women would run away then, because I had a truck load of baggage to deal with at that time, but not you.  You gave me your number and I gave you my business card.  I remember you sent me an email the very next day.  Of course you CC’d the the fat guy who was talking with us at that event.  I always wondered, if he called you or emailed you back.

On or first date about a week later you had me come over for dinner.  It now seemed a little strange that you had a complete stranger come to your house on the first date.  I would think most woman would like to meet in public for the first date at least.

I broke all of the rules.  I talked about my wife, my business problems and I am sure everything else that should turn off a woman.  Not you, you just smiled and asked questions.  I even remember trying to get a peek up your skirt when we were sitting on the couch, and being sorely disappointed to learn they were skirt/shorts.  I guess that’s what happens to a man when it’s been months since he even touched or smelled a woman.  We had chicken, because I grilled it for us.  I remember you asking me if I knew how to grill.

I remember telling you how when my wife left me a mere four months before how devastating it was to me.  I told you that the pain inside of me was still pretty unbearable at times.  I admitted to you how all I needed was someone to love, to express my emotions with, a friend and a lover.

I think we talked for a while and then I left.  I was nervous, seeing as I had not been on a date with another woman in over 12 years.  I wondered if you would call me again.

On our second date, we went to my friend’s house on the lake.  You were the hottest woman there in your little white bikini.  Your big beautiful tits just spilled out of your top.  Your ass was amazing.  All the men ogled you.  It didn’t bother me though.  When we took the boat out and we all jumped in the warm water, I thought for sure you and I were going to have sex in the water in front of hundreds of other boaters.  Remember that couple on one of the boats where the woman was giving that guy head?  I was so hot for you then.  I loved how you straddled me in the water, how I played with your pussy thru your bikini bottoms.  I remember how you made sure you ground my hardness into you.

The day turned into night and we barbequed that night at my friend’s house.  I still don’t know what I did or said, but you told me not to make you look like a whore in front of my friends.  You smoked a lot of pot that night and drank to excess it seemed.  I did not drink much that night.  I had to drive.

We drove home and you dropped me off at my house.  I invited you in.  I think you stayed for only a bit though.  We did not have sex that night either.  You drove off alone.

Our 3rd Date

I don’t even know if this would qualify as a date, but you invited me over for dinner and to give you a massage.  I’m rusty, but I’m not that dumb.  I figured where this might just lead up too.  I gathered up the Trojans and I was off to your house.

You answered the door in a little red with white polka dot sundress.  My god, I loved how your hips filled that dress.  I don’t remember eating or anything else about that night but I remember the massage.

When it was time for that, oh, I was ready, and probably way too excited.  I am sure you could just smell my desire for you.  I can still see you when you slowly peeled that dress off and how it fell to the floor.  You had nothing on but a black thong.  At the beginning I had all of my clothes on, but I think it was you who told me to “get more comfortable.”  I did by stripping down to my drawers.  You had the oil on her headboard, so I started.  I am not the best at massage, but I did learn a thing or two in the past about erotic massage.  I remember how the massage started innocently enough, but in short order I was rubbing your tits and then your pussy through your panties.  I would rub you sensually taking special care to pay a lot of attention to all of your erogenous zones.  My fingers would “slip” inside your panties quite often and I could feel how aroused you were by the extreme heat and how you were practically dripping wet.  I started to then use my tongue on you and I started kissing you all over your body.  You tried to play coy, but I knew that no woman before was able to stop herself when I did this.  I teased you mercilessly.  When I thought you were good and ready, I went to close the deal.   You stopped me.  You told me “I am not that kind of girl.”  Really, you’re not?  I was just barely able to muster up enough self respect to stop and get up, before I resorted to begging.  I’m sure I begged a little though.  We took some time to cool down.   I don’t remember what happened, but I know I left.  I probably rubbed one out when I got home.  I know I slept alone that night.

To the Readers: As I write this I feel that knowing what I know now, which I have only alluded to you thus far, I wonder if she called in another man to “finish” her off, and who that man was.  I can tell you the arousal for me was practically unbearable.  Her arousal was also extremely high.  I was so desperate for any woman’s touch I would likely had done anything to have sex with her during any of these dates.  I was like a fly in a trap and she knew it.  Thinking back on the massage night, or any of the date nights for that matter, there was no good reason for us not to have sex.  Come to think of it, at my age and especially at her age, she is quite a bit older than me; there is no reason to wait past the first or second date before having sex.  I’m a highly attractive and desirable man to any woman I would meet.  She should have been grateful I wanted her at all.  I have met many women like her and experienced how they flaunt their raw sensuality.  It is these same women that use their sexuality and as a tool and a weapon to manipulate men. It is disturbing that at 45 years old, Christine still behaved in this same manner, behaving without discretion.

When a woman is younger it is ok for her to make the man wait for sex for a limited amount of time in order to secure commitment from the man.  It is respectable if she would behave in this manner consistently throughout her life.  This is sexual discretion.  These women are fairly respectable and I am not talking about them.  They usually also have had very low numbers of past sexual partners.  I have a problem when promiscuous women use this waiting period as a way to manipulate a man into thinking she is far more innocent than what she actually is, or to fool the man that she has had only a “few” past sexual partners.  If a woman has given it up before on a first or second date in the past, especially an older and more promiscuous woman, this woman needs to realize that most men of high value feel will feel duped and will lose respect for the woman once he realizes the truth about her and her past actions. Women always show the truth about themselves if you just watch listen, but they normally seem to lie about the number of men they have had sex with in their past.  An older woman is just that, old, and if she did not hit the wall already, she will soon.  Reality tells me that she needs to be far less picky, especially with the good high value men, which brings up the question of my actual value dating this much older woman.  She had no reason to play that game with me, and that’s what it was, a game and a manipulation tactic to make me thing she had morals and has exercised discretion in her past.  I will elaborate more about this in the future.  I will write about more about what we did together during the first months of our relationship later, but for now I will say that I would have respected her more if I had sex with her on the second or third date.  That would have shown me then that at least she was honest about her desires and her attraction to me was genuine.  I can always respect an honest woman, but they seem to not be very common nowadays.  She told me a few months later when we were talking about some random things that she decided on the first night.  She decided within the first 10 minutes of meeting me that she knew she would have sex with me.  Maybe she should have just fucked me then?

This whole subject bothered me because that means I was not Alpha enough, or high value enough,  to either demand sex or walk away immediately or set the frame where she would have actually done the demanding of me on the first or second date.  In my defense, I was still very much in my married Beta mindset and my self esteem was also at rock bottom at this time, due to my wife just leaving me. Therefore I refuse to be too hard on myself, but it’s something I thought about.  We did end up having sex later (see the next letter).  Don’t get me wrong, I was really happy that it happened and the circumstances worked out very well. Remember, I am not bitching about having to wait a few dates for sex in general, just being made to wait by a woman with an agenda and who was obviously pretty slutty to begin with.  Nevertheless Christine is a fairly sexy woman for her age, her pussy was pretty good, and she had some mad skills in bed.

These particular incidents now just show me that even in the very beginning she had an agenda and was planning and scheming for an end goal only she knew about.  The passion was more than hot for us to have had sex much sooner.  She used sex as a weapon and a tool on these first dates.  You will see in future letters that she never let the relationship take its own natural course.  She was always trying to rush things and guide events to suit her and her timetable.  She refused to let love grow on its own and in its own time.  Hopefully you will see why.


Letter to Christine

Stained Sheets

By: MonkeyWerks

I had a dream last night.  As usual I don’t really remember it.  I was thinking about you last night, writing another letter. It is probably what brought about the dream.  I do know the dream really bothered me.  Like this morning, it seems I remember more about what happened and things you said to me.  For some reason, is in the morning when things are clear.

You told me many times that you love sex on clean sheets.  Even on the day when you came over, the day we broke up, you brought your sheets up and were genuinely mad that I did not come over and fuck you every time you changed your sheets.  Why would you be mad at such a thing?

This morning I was thinking about that. I remember thinking about that during our relationship too.  I was thinking about when you washed your sheets.  As a guy I know I don’t wash mine enough.  In general women do seem to wash their sheets more often.  This is taking in account that both the men and woman are single.  I was thinking about your sheet washing schedule.  I thought that you never washed them on a specific day or at specific interval.  When I would spend the night and look down at your bed before getting in I remember noticing all the stains on your sheets.  I did not know if they were new or old stains.  I did not know if they were fresh from the night before or made long ago.  I do know however, you and I did not cause them.  It would come to my mind the question of how many men have you had sex with on your bed and on those sheets.  It would come to mind who was the man that you were with when the different stains were made.  I would get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I though how you liked to have sex with me on clean sheets because the dirty sheets were recently made dirty by you and someone else.  It made me think that it was like a new start for you somehow, more manipulation of yourself furthering your own delusions, hiding your infidelities.  I always felt like you were having sex with other men when you were supposed to mine alone.  I don’t know why, but it was always there, in my gut, tearing me apart.  It was draining.  This was probably the reason I did not like spending the night at your house, or even being at your house.  There were too many ghosts of your boyfriends and lovers past.  It was all those stains on your sheets.  You had sex with Mark, Terry, Francis, the boat guy, and me on that bed, at least that’s the ones I know about, the ones you told me about.  I wondered how many more there were?  I wondered how many more men were invited into your house for the very reason to make more stains on your sheets. I only had sex with my wife and you on my bed.  All the stains on the new mattress pad are from you and me.  I have to change that now, so I can start new.  I need to start new.  I don’t want any stains on my sheets.

I told you about this once and you responded that I was being immature.  No, I am not immature at all.  I just realized the truth about you and female promiscuity long ago.  I realized in my heart, that when I start to fall in love with a woman, the thoughts of her many past boyfriends and lovers do in fact bother me, they haunt me somehow.  This issue gives me pause, when I think if a woman is deserving of my love and commitment.  It makes me want to find a woman who was not so promiscuous, who has less stains on her sheets.  This issue came up when you were trying so desperately to convince me to move in with you.  You knew deep down why your bed bothered me, it was not the dog, it was the stains on your sheets.  I always knew that you did not care about my feelings about that issue or any other issue really, but you did try to manipulate me to accept all of your bad behaviors, telling me I should never worry about the stains on your sheets.  You tried to make me believe you had changed, that you would behave with me.  Maybe that is when you decided that we needed a new house together.  Maybe you thought that in a new house your past lovers would not haunt me or torment you so much.  Maybe you thought that you could change who you really are with me, but we know the truth, don’t we?  I knew we would keep your bed, and we would keep your mattress and the sheets with all the stains on them, so the ghosts would always be there, forever, with us and between us.

Letter to Christine


By: MonkeyWerks

A man usually never has solid evidence of his woman’s infidelity.  It is usually small hints he notices.  Red flags, such as the feeling she is lying, being uncommitted to times they would meet.  She will also leave physical hints.  Wetter than normal vagina (remaining semen from other lover), not wanting sex, takes a longer than usual time to orgasm (she just did with her other lover).

He will sense something.  There will be dots to connect, texts and emails with underlying sexual tones, hiding her phone or locking the keypad on it, changing passwords, ambiguous about where she is or is going, and the list goes on.

The man will normally block out such hints because the truth hurts the super ego of the man.  The man would have a difficult time dealing with the now shattered false impression his woman was good and faithful.  His subconscious mind does not want to face the fact he was so wrong about the woman.  This creates a cognitive dissonance in him and that it what potentially will cause long term emotional trauma.

These things mentioned are working here in my mind and heart.  That is why the pain is practically unbearable when I have to deal with these memories and emotions.

My guts are burning as I read about all the men you have fucked that you never told me about.  Every line I read sends a wave of revulsion coursing through my body.  I have to write this down in order to purge myself of the disgust I am feeling for ever trusting a word you told me.  Relationships are built on trust.  Haven’t you learned that at your ripe old age of 45?  No, you have not.

In the beginning you told me you have been single for some time.  You told me no man has touched you for months.  I felt safe in trusting you then.

I read about how you were fucking the other men when you told me you would be faithful only to me.  I believed you then.  What I believe now is that very few women can be trusted because you seemed so sweet and honest when you told me I was the only one.  How could I have been fooled so completely?

Even though you could never love me you NEEDED me to love you with all of my heart.  You are the one that needed to own my sexuality and my desires while you gave yours away to every other man but me.


Letter to Christine

Your Passionate Poison

By: MonkeyWerks

Seeing as we met at a political function in August of 2012, there was much more politicking to be done before the election, especially for me.  Meeting you and the time we spent together gave me a new lease on life it seemed.  My self confidence started to return as with my self esteem.  I was happy that now I had a reason to get off of the couch.

We made plans to attend the weekend long event together.  I don’t remember who broached the subject, but we decided that it would be cheaper if we shared a room.  The drive was anticipatory for me.  I knew that I would be having sex with you this weekend.  I just wasn’t expecting what happened next.

After we checked into our hotel we went up to the room to drop off our things.  I thought we would go out for dinner or something afterwards.  After we walked into the room and dropped our bags, you were on top of me. It wasn’t five minutes before you had my pants off giving me head. Afterwards, I enthusiastically returned the favor, basking in your aroma and savoring your wetness.  I cannot remember a time when I desired a woman so much as I did you right then.  We had sex, and more sex, and then even more sex that afternoon.  I was hooked right then.  We did some of the things we were there for that evening, and then it was back to the hotel for an entire night of sex.  I was literally drained.   I think we slept for only two hours that night.

The next morning we had to get up early to do the work we were there for.  It was so hard to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing that day.  I was like this every day afterwards, until we broke up.  The weekend was filled with sex, kissing, affection and your total attention being given to me.  I absolutely loved it.  I knew then that if this is what I could expect from you in our relationship, I could keep you forever.  I thought then that I would do anything for you, that you were my master.

Your pussy was so tight as you milked me when we came together.  My head was swimming in your lust, your scent filled my mind, my soul.  We fucked so many times I was drained, raw, my cock chaffed. I felt then that you saved yourself just for me, that I had been the only one to touch you for a long time.  That I was the man you have always longed for, but never found, until now.  It felt like our bodies were designed by God to come together, you were meant to be mine, I was meant to be inside of you, that no other would be able to fill you, satisfy you as perfectly as I did then.   You took all of me, bearing down on me as you came, as I filled you up with my very essence.

On the way home as I drove, you guided my hand inside your pants and under your panties so I could play with your pussy.  Our combined juices still dripping from you, I bathed in the afterglow of passions I had missed for so long, passions I though lost forever, passions I had to bury deep inside my heart and hide in my marriage and from the world.

I thought you were the one I had been secretly longing for my whole life.  My wife offered me security and children, but you gave me my masculinity.  You opened up my passions again.  I finally felt like a man after so many years.  I felt desired like I always deserved to be.

This was your first hook.  This hook penetrated my soul the deepest; it also hurt the most as I extracted it from my core. You used powers not of this realm to read what I needed the most from a woman.  You knew that your seductions would work with me just as they had with so many men before me.  Your methods were perfect.  Over four weeks, you built up my desires for you to the point of exploding and only then offered me the release I needed just at the last minute.  You knew that if you gave in to my lusts sooner you would lose the power you so desperately worked to establish, that you planned for, that you needed to live.  If you gave in to my desires sooner, you would forever lose your control over me, my body and my passions.  If you gave yourself over to my passions sooner, I would know the truth.  So you waited to strike, until just at the last moment before the drug of your previous seductions wore off completely.  You struck with perfect accuracy, injecting your poison into my soul.  It was then that you knew that I was lost to you forever.  You now controlled me with my one and only weakness.

After that weekend I craved your body every moment of every day.  I needed to seed your womb with my life.  When we were apart for more than a day I felt my addiction for you overtake my rational mind.  Like a heroin addict, you were the only thing I could think of.   The memory of your scent still filling my nostrils; I would long to feel your touch on my body, to be inside of you once again.