Amy The Second Letter

Author's note:

This is a work of fiction. Any kind of resemblance with the reality we live in, is purely serendipitous. All characters over eighteen.

You may consider reading "Amy" for the first letter and context. For sexy times to take place, I feel, more time might be needed. However, I do hope you enjoy the tale Ash's trying to tell us through his letters.

***

Amy,

I feel lighter today. Though words can never quantify the depth of my love for you, but sharing my feelings for you with me - just me for now - makes me feel a less lost and a lot more calmer.

It's like destiny has written our romance as a slow-burn one. Few years ago, when things weren't falling in place for me, I remember telling you how Destiny is a bitch! But what you told then changed my outlook for good. Yes destiny might be a bitch, but once you show her you won't let that bitchiness get to you, once you show her your big and thick cock made of grit, determination, perseverance, passion, hard-work, discipline and conviction, then she'll be YOUR BITCH...

Destiny may or may not have been a bitch to me, or might or might not have been my bitch in other matters, but I'm pretty sure when it comes to our love, she's my companion for life.

Under the accounting standards presently in force, certain financial instruments are measured at amortised cost. Calculations for the entire life of such financial instruments are made at measurement on inception itself. And over the life of such financial instruments, the accounting treatment is given effect to based on such predetermined calculations. Now you might be confused as to why am I bringing an accounting concept here? Well I feel destiny, just like the accounting standard on financial instruments, has predetermined the course of our love and is unwinding the same day-by-day...

Today was an awesome day, you know. Well why wouldn't it be, after all today was our movie date! You might not see it as a date, rather you might always see this as some quality time with your bratty little brother. But to me these are dates; after all I get my big sis all to myself...

I wore a flannel shirt over a plain t-shirt and torn jeans. I liked how I looked in them. But when I heard you say, "Doesn't he look sharp, Mum," I became a self-indulgent narcissist!

Now I couldn't see you when you complimented me, but when I saw you, Amy, you took my breath away (just like you always do) and god knows how I didn't inundate our city with my drool!

You know how Dad is the hottest man in town, and though he has eyes only for Mum and Mum likewise for him, Mum never misses any opportunity to tease him in the cutest of ways. When Mum saw you today, she looked at him and giving him those dagger-eyes, told him, "Why did you have to make her my daughter?" We all laughed at that. I was jealous - how can Mum hit on my girl?! So I accordingly said, "Mum, that's my sister you're talking about!" We all laughed again.

But after this borderline consanguineous sapphic flirting, what you said made my heart (and also my cock) go ballistic! You called me 'Ashley boy'!! I feel like I'm the king of the world and so very special, whenever you call me by that name. And I also masturbate with extra fervour. Though I have to confess, stroking my cock thinking about you and cumming, with you in my head, gives me tremendous guilt once the post-nut clarity kicks in. I feel a bit disappointed in myself: one, because I used you as the object of my desire, and two, because I know I would masturbate again dreaming of you...

Well locking that guilt aside for now, it was 'Tenet' we were going to watch today. We were psyched for it. I drove us to the theatre. And during the drive, you were singing in your melodious voice as usual. When we stopped at the red light and you tickled me, Amy, I never wanted that red light to ever go green; though the gentleman behind us would have disagreed. I'd have said "fuck you" to that gentleman, but I know you raised me to be a better man than that.

Once we reached the theatre you held my hand. We've been going movies for over a decade now and you've always held my hand so that I don't get lost. Even though I became an adult somehow, we still hold hands. And I won't leave your hand. Ever. If you decide to leave my hand, Amy, I'll get lost and I'm not sure I can ever be found or redeemed...

Our seats were in the last row. We ensconced ourselves there and since we were farthest from the screen, the view was just spectacular. But you know right, it was spectacular because you were next to me, not because of our seating arrangements. We might as well have sat on the ground and it would've been equally spectacular... (Not that in my life I'd have made you sit on the ground.)

Five minutes or so into the movie the bad guys were pulling out the Protagonist's teeth using a cutting plier. I grabbed on to your hand for my life. You might remember how I was frightfully afraid and disturbed when in season four of 'Breaking Bad' Mr. White had Don Salamanca blow up Gus Fring by setting off the bomb in his wheelchair. When I saw Gus' body literally half blown up because of the ensuing blast, you might remember how tightly I held you. And god during 'Game of Thrones' I was next level. I refuse to recall the specific scenes as the entire series had gore on unprecedented levels - atleast for me. But you know Amy, you scare my fears away. Just like that? Yeah babe, just like that.

When the Protagonist and Neil were executing the heist to take the MacGuffin of the movie in control; when that high bass background music was in full flow; we then held hands again. And we kept holding them till we sat in our car.

That smile you gave me during the climax of the movie when they executed that temporal pincer move; that smile you kept on giving me during our ride back home when we were discussing the movie... Amy, those smiles might've added ten years to my life.

Back home, you looked so incredibly adorable, beautiful and cute (I'm working on finishing this till Z!) while explaining Mum the dynamics of entropy reversal and time inversion.

Back in your room after I explained you my interpretation of the scenes shot in reverse i.e., backward in time: the flurry of kisses you painted my face with and the tight hug after, Amy, every cell, every fibre of my existence is still feeling that as I write this.

I'm painfully and shamelessly hard... the guilt... I can't control myself and I need to cum... it feels horrible but I hope you can forgive me, I hope I can forgive myself... but I know I'll be back at it again because I'm helpless - my body needs to physically feel what my heart does for you. Stroking myself reminiscing your voice, your touch, your look, and crying out your name during the orgasmic highs of my eruption: it doesn't feel like a depraved sin, it, in its own crooked way, feels like worship to me. Saving grace these kind of feelings are, believe me...

One's tenets might open either the right doors or the wrong ones for him/her. I'm certain that mine'll open the right ones for me. I hope I am.

I'm off to close my eyes, think about you, wait for sleep to take over my consciousness, and hopefully lucid dream where it's just me and you.

Love always and evermore,

Ash