26 April, 1937 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

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@lilcuddlewhore
26 April, 1937 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov
On my babygirl shit again.
Me sexting : come cuddle under my warm blanket.
Orchard House, home of Louisa May Alcott, in Concord, Massachusetts.
It's been so long since I've known what it's like to be Little
drifting off to sleep feeling safe n warm in their arms, and waking up a while later with their fingers being forced into your tight little holes.
I'm not a complicated specimen. I like oral sex, being fed, being cuddled, and reassurance every day.
i hope you find someone that matches your capacity to love
When the end finally came, it was shocking in its swiftness. Clean, detached, unburdened, clear. Almost too easy.
But, just as it had hurt to look too closely at everything she couldn't have when it was sitting there in front of her, she knew that if she dwelled too long on the finality of them she would find something else.
Something dirty, clingy, desperate, burdened, murky.
And no one wants that.