Suffering abandonment

As I write this, Charlotte is preparing for her date with Mr. A. I’ll be o.k., but, predictably, I’m using this opportunity to revisit my history of abandonment. Lucky me, though: Charlotte promised me six orgasms between the scheduling of the date and an hour after its start. And Charlotte is a good girl. Very kind. Very generous. Very eager to take care of me.

Here are the first three:

Sent at 6 p.m. on day 1.
Sent at 6 a.m. on day 2.
Sent at 6 p.m. on day 2.
Sent at 6 a.m. on day 3. This one was quiet….

And one, intended for 6 p.m. on day 3, was sent prematurely, at 6 a.m.:

Charlotte messed up a little on the day of the date. She was excited about the date, and I understand, but it didn’t feel great. I gave her instructions. I wanted her to follow them. In addition to sending the 6 p.m. orgasm early, she sent me some pictures of her dressing, but she skipped a few steps. I didn’t see her put on her panties or her bra. Or her shirt. Instead, she sent two very sexy photos, for which I’m enormously grateful, but which skipped those key steps. And which she asked me not to share with you, for reasons about which I’m not sure, but which I suppose I’ll learn. I imagine that the current moment is complicated for Charlotte, as it is for me.

Mr. A. is one lucky guy. (As, of course, am I.)

“I’ll send you five more selfies,” she said, by way of recompense.

That doesn’t work for me.

I’m not sure what I’ll ask for, but it’s not five selfies.

I told her that, whatever I ask for, it will be after the date. I don’t want to increase her stress on the day of, or to push her away from me. But. I do want what I want.

In addition? There were some hot face pictures (which I can’t share) and a shit-ton of hot thigh/cunt pics (which I also can’t share).

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