Authors: Michel Farnac
Good
morning
then,
dearest,
and
know
that
I
have
dreamt
of
you
this
night.
Yours
always,
Michel”
The
masturbation
that
followed
brought
an
intense
orgasm
to
Michel,
one
that
required
fairly
little
work
to
achieve,
one
that
involved
not
just
a
release
of
semen
and
pleasure
but
also
a
release
of
stress.
The
malaise
that
had
evidently
just
ended
had
brought
a
number
of
aspects
of
their
relationship
to
the
fore
for
Michel,
not
least
of
which
was
the
clarity
of
his
feelings
towards
the
at
once
tenuous
and
precious
nature
of
the
bond
that
united
them.
His
quest
for
pleasure,
while
enduring,
was
not
meant
to
be
overwhelming
and
was
not
that
of
a
reckless
hedonist
enthralled
into
addiction
by
a
constant
need
for
pleasures
unknown,
quite
on
the
contrary.
He
believed
in
finding
the
pleasure
within
one’s
life,
and
though
this
did
imply
a
willingness
to
be
open
to
new
ideas
and
relationships,
as
was
evidenced
by
his
affair
with
Catherine,
the
main
tenet
of
that
approach
was
underscored
by
the
repugnance
he
felt
toward
the
phrase
“you
don’t
know
what
you
got
‘til
it’s
gone”:
always
know
the
good
things
that
you
have;
never
let
a
good
moment
go
by
without
knowing
it
is
a
good
moment.
But
while
freedom
can
enhance
or
even
bring
pleasure
it
is
not
always
congruent
with
the
fostering
of
shared
delights.
And
while
his
affair
with
Catherine
gave
rise
to
an
unparalleled
sense
of
freedom
to
be
himself
and
reflect
unfettered
on
life
and
love,
it
was
only
a
sense
and
as
in
any
relationship
between
two
beings
the
boundaries
of
freedom
are
self-‐imposed
in
the
discovery
of
the
feelings
and
needs
of
the
other.
If
he
had
imagined
that
a
relationship
based
in
intimacy
was
congruent
with
total
freedom
it
had
been
out
of
an
arrogance
for
which
he
was
now
sorry.
He
knew
himself
to
be
a
snob
in
many
ways,
a
by-‐product
of
a
very
bourgeois
education
which
he
had
at
one
point
in
his
late
adolescence
decided
to
embrace
rather
than
combat
but
under
the
strict
agreement
with
himself
that
he
should
endeavor
to
never
be
arrogant.
The
repeated
failures
of
this
ongoing
endeavor
served
as
reminders
of
what
he
felt
was
an
irremediable
inability
to
be
a
truly
gentle
man.
Catherine
knew
nothing
of
arrogance
and
was
gentle
as
most
men
cannot.
He
called
her
the
next
evening,
and
they
spoke
for
over
an
hour.
She
made
him
smile,
he
made
her
laugh,
and
while
their
conversation
remained
fairly
chaste,
the
sexual
tension
was
clearly
being
ratcheted
up.
She
told
him
of
her
youthful
indiscretions
and
asked
him
about
his,
though
he
had
little
to
answer
to
that.
Her
own
restricted
upbringing
had
left
her
eager
for
conversation
about
subjects
which
had
for
her
always
been
labeled
"forbidden":
female
organs
were
typically
referred
to
as
"down
below".
She
recalled
for
him
the
story
of
her
first
orgasm
in
the
back
seat
of
a
Mustang,
something
that
remained
for
her
a
wonderful
memory.
It
is
unbelievable
how
time
flies
when
I
am
talking
to
you
or
reading
your
words.
It
is
quite
paradoxical
that
the
more
we
speak,
the
greater
the
desire
I
have
to
continue
the
conversation.
How
near
you
felt
to
me.
Almost
as
though
I
could
reach
out
and
touch
you.
Yours,
Catherine”
“Dearest
Catherine,
my
desire
for
you
is
long
lasting
and
deep.
Our
relationship
will
continue
for
many
months.
Last
night
was
magical.
There
always
comes
a
point
in
our
conversations
where
I
find
myself
awash
in
gentle
warmth
and
all
is
calm
and
voluptuous,
a
luxury
of
the
senses
and
the
mind.
It
gives
me
great
pride
that
you
have
the
trust
in
me
that
you
do.
Your
humble
servant,
Michel”
I
look
forward
to
arriving
each
day
to
your
message,
and
I
hope
the
same
is
true
for
you.
Our
stories
are
rich
with
imagery
and
pageantry.
I
think
that
is
one
of
the
reasons
why
we
are
so
polite
in
expressing
our
appreciation
to
each
other.
I
imagine
a
Japanese
tea
ceremony
where
it
is
of
the
utmost
importance
to
follow
the
rites
and
rituals.
I
realize
that
you
are
being
careful
not
to
jostle
me
too
much
after
my
moment
of
anxiety
last
week,
but
I
am
feeling
the
need
to
take
things
up
a
notch.
Perhaps
it
is
the
heat
of
the
summer
sun,
combined
with
the
intriguing
topics
of
conversation
and
the
titillation
of
this
somewhat
forbidden
communication.
Anyway,
you
said
you
would
look
to
me
for
direction
and
here
it
is.
I
hope
that
you
will
stay
by
my
side
as
we
continue
to
explore...
I
take
your
hand
to
lead
you
in
from
the
garden.
Up
the
stairs
to
the
deck
and
then
into
the
porch.
Floor-‐to-‐ceiling
windows
surround
us
with
some
partial
screening
from
large
evergreens.
A
fan
circles
lazily
overhead.
I
invite
you
to
be
seated
in
one
of
the
cushioned
chairs
and
pour
you
a
glass
of
champagne
from
the
bottle
which
is
chilling
nearby.
I
ask
if
you
are
comfortable;
I
want
to
see
to
your
every
need.
After
sipping
from
my
own
glass,
I
stand
before
you
and
drop
my
robe,
revealing
myself
to
your
hungry
eyes.
Silently,
you
gesture
with
your
hand,
signaling
that
I
am
to
turn
slowly
for
your
inspection.
I
can
tell
that
you
are
pleased
and
also
that
you
are
aroused.
Seeing
your
erect
member
ignites
the
fire
in
my
own
belly.
I
kneel
before
you
and
draw
aside
your
own
robe.
Your
phallus
stands
at
attention,
yearning
for
my
touch.
I
bend
my
head
down
until
my
lips
hover
near
its
tip.
I
breathe
in
your
musky
scent.
Your
phallus,
with
a
life
of
its
own,
extends
a
little
further
until
it
brushes
my
lips.
I
open
them
wide
and
pause
just
a
moment
before
taking
all
of
your
length
into
my
mouth.
Your
hand
cradles
and
guides
my
head
as
I
slowly
begin
pleasuring
you.
Reading
such
prose
had
on
Michel
the
desired
effect.
Catherine’s
every
message
was
a
gift
to
him
and
he
reveled
in
her
prose,
allowing
her
every
word
to
resonate
with
his
deepest
longings,
his
passions
and
indeed
his
very
manhood.
His
only
necessity
was
to
respond
in
kind.
When
we
are
together
I
am
Man,
sum
homo
,
made
whole
with
humanity,
those
who
came
before
and
those
yet
to
come
and
take
their
place
where
you
and
I
once
stood.
You
are
my
anima
and
by
permeating
my
soul
you
elevate
it.
When
I
am
in
your
hands,
I
am
a
man,
sum
vir
,
made
one
with
myself,
willing
to
take
what
is
mine
to
take
and
is
willingly
offered,
eager
to
give
what
is
mine
to
give
and
is
eagerly
received.
What
you
and
I
share
has
been
lived
many
times,
throughout
time
and
in
all
lands.
We
are
archetypes
of
something
deeply
human,
you
and
I.
It
is
like
people
who
inhabit
the
alcoves
of
that
softly
lit
room
in
the
Canadian
manor,
our
brothers
and
sisters.
We
are
creatures
who
have
tasted
the
breath
of
life
that
emanates
when
two
stories
collide
for
the
sole
purpose
of
passionate
abandon.
and
are
replaced
with
the
golden
sunlight
streaming
through
the
windows
of
the
porch.
The
afternoon
light
is
so
intense
that
the
trees
can
only
see
their
own
reflections
in
the
glass.
You
stand
before
me,
looking
out,
naked.
I
unclasp
the
necklace
that
you
are
still
wearing.
I
let
it
descend
on
your
torso
until
the
jewel
brushes
against
your
nipples,
oh
so
gently.
You
seek
the
touch
of
my
fingers
on
your
skin
but
can
sense
only
the
gold
playing
on
your
skin.
I
put
the
necklace
aside,
unfasten
your
earrings,
carefully,
and
I
slide
the
bracelet
off
your
wrist
and
take
a
step
back
to
look
at
your
back,
your
buttocks,
the
back
of
your
knees.
It
is
the
last
time
I
look
at
you
without
knowing
what
if
feels
like
to
touch
you.
Each
step
we
take
together
will
be
for
me
a
new
deflowering.
I
will
take
you
to
an
Eden
I
have
been
told
of
and
you
will
be
my
guide.
I
break
the
silence
to
ask:
“Are
you
ready?”
and
I
patiently
wait
for
the
signal.
I
am
in
no
hurry.
I
have
long
known
where
I
would
first
touch
you
when
the
moment
would
come.
You
must
be
wondering
where
as
you
say
“I’m
ready”…