///My first one got some hate for being a loving wives story despite me submitting it to the loving wives category. Figure that one out. I've got another longer one in the works, but cranked this out as a way of taking a break. Please remember that any negative feelings of anger or sympathetic jealousy are part of what makes a story like this hot for me, so if that isn't your thing, you don't have to read it. Regardless...
Dear Peter,
I know letters are a bit old fashioned, but I don't think I can tell you this to your face, and I feel it's too important to send as a text or a phone call. Still, I have some things to say.
I've been missing you so badly over here in Paris, I miss your smile, I miss the way you take care of me, but maybe I miss your cock most of all. I can't count the number of times that I've touched myself in the hostel bed thinking of you.
I've missed you so much in fact that in order to ease my aching heart I may have done something to risk losing you forever. Ironic, I know, but please try to understand what I'm saying to you.
I'll guess I'll cut the bullshit and just tell you. I slept with another man. His name is Michel (not Michelle, no gay jokes please). We met at a wine tasting a week ago. At first it was just a friendship, he was helping me improve my French and I gave him an opportunity to practice his English. I have to admit he was charming from the get go, though I didn't fall for him right away. I thought his name was a bit silly, and he was tall and slim, where I usually opt for bigger men. It was the small things that added up, the way he smells whenever he greets me with a kiss (that's normal here, for the record) the way he seems to hang on my every word. At first we stuck to cafes with price points that suited my student's travelling budget, but when he started picking up the tab we migrated to fancier establishments, with wine that costs more than the meal!