I'm having difficulty breathing deeply enough to satisfy my longing
for you. You make me catch my breath and I forget to breath. That
first bit doesn't even make sense. What I mean is I can't breath
because you take my breath away when I think of you thinking these
things in your brilliant mind and not only that but thinking them
about me. Emma. It's all too marvelous for words. I think I am the
luckiest woman who ever lived because I got to be alive at the same
time as you in an age when this was made possible and the chances of
me finding you were tiny but I did. I could almost believe in God.

On 11/10/10, Barrett Brown <barriticus@gmail.com> wrote:

No, I love your e-mails, and I assemble some of the more erotic ones into a
single file for my perusal. I look forward to the grinding and the mouthing,
but especially the grinding. Primitive pressing upon. Screams and grunts and
tongues in ears.

On Wed, Nov 10, 2010 at 5:24 PM, emilieduchatelet8@gmail.com <
emilieduchatelet8@gmail.com> wrote:

I can't go outside because its raining.

Are you mad with me now? Do you need a *cop* to shout at you to counteract
the lovey dovey effect of me which makes you all soulful and deep and
fucking GREAT? Because I want to grind on that soulful you.

I have known love, Barrett but I have never felt anything remotely close
to
this. The message from you which I quoted from reads like you wrote it in
my
blood on my heart. This is a very adult love. Ironic because one of the
first things you said to me was that you were still a boy. You're more
mature and thoughtful and raw and deep than most *men* I've known. You're
everything I imagined a man could be in my dreams and didn't believe he
could ever be real.

--
Regards,

Barrett Brown
512-560-2302