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A Tale of Two Doctors

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Dearest John, what did you think of Roman Holiday? Too romantic? Anyway, I thought of you the whole time and could swear that you were sitting next to me, holding my hand, nuzzling my neck and caressing my cheek. Mordo has managed to kill another sorcerer—a woman. She wasn’t part of the sanctum, but we still felt her loss. I’m sorry, my letters must depress you. On another note, I explored a new dimension, the other day— the compact dimension. I wouldn’t recommend it. It felt like being squeezed into a million pieces. It didn’t hurt, it just felt weird. I haven’t been able to sleep, jacking off helps, but then I just feel devastated afterwards.  Tell me again how your thumb would feel pressed against the corona of my cock. Tell me of how it would feel if your tongue rested itself in my meatus. Shit, my whole body is pulsing with need. I’m going to get a cold shower. Promise, you will always let your thoughts flow freely in our letters, leave nothing out.

I’m back. I enjoyed Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure more than I imagined. All references to 69 aside, I liked it. It felt good to belly laugh—different. What were you like as a teenager? I was a pain in the ass, opinionated, stubborn, arrogant, judgmental and hyper-critical. I once made an instructor cry. Should I write him a letter and apologize? I will never forget the stricken look on his face when I said, “You’re average, and will lead an average life, with average problems, an average wife, average kids, and when you die, your death will be listed in the obits under average.”  I would give anything to live an average life with you, because every average day would be better than any brilliance I’ve achieved in the past. I’m crying into my shirt sleeve now. Okay, back to the movie, my favorite part was when Bill called the Knight, who he thought killed Ted, a medieval dickweed, and of course “Put them in the Iron Maiden,” was funny too. Thanks for making me laugh—John Watson. I would be your loving medieval dickweed in any dimension, Strange.

Dearest Strange, when talking about my tongue and thumb touching you, please refrain from using medical terms—it’s a turn off. Okay, I’m lying, I got off just the same. Let me reword things for you. When my thumb presses against the mushroom head of your cock, you’ll see stars, you’ll fucking beg me to stop, every vein that leads to your meat will begin to boil. I’ll show you mercy after a few moments of my thumb tormenting you.  I’ll pause, before I lick your slit, spearing my tongue into its narrow opening, tasting your precum on the tip of my tongue. I’ll then lean back, while you watch me swallow it down. You’ll then come so hard and so much that it will be felt in all dimensions—a cumquake. I’m full and throbbing as we speak, back to the custodial closet.

I loved Roman Holiday, I’m not as unromantic as you assume. I felt the ending, it ripped at my heart. I would never have let you leave if you were Audrey Hepburn, but I’ve had to, haven’t I? Okay, my favorite part was the Mouth of Truth scene. I’ve seen way too many horror movies, because I thought that Gregory would lose his hand for sure. I almost got out my sling ring and left a lock of my hair in its mouth for you to find later, but then I thought that if I put my hand in the Mouth of Truth and found a lock of your hair…It would be too much. Strange, send me a lock of your hair, so that I can touch your DNA. Find a way, send it to me. I must take a break, will continue later.

I saved a patient today, a young girl, that had gotten impaled with a metal spike, a freak accident. It had punctured her thoracic cavity and we had to act quick. I know it’s impossible, but I felt you there, guiding me. When her parents thanked me, I felt overwhelmed by the love and gratitude in their eyes. I felt you—you are love, Strange, at least for me at any rate.

As far as the letter of apology, I think you should write it. I am shocked that you could be so cruel, but youth is often so. Don’t be too hard on yourself though, you’ve changed, made sacrifices that no person should have to make.

Brownie is doing well, despite being neutered. Sorry, but I had to do it. I got sick of him humping my leg. I feel his eyes accusing me every time, I shut my door and wank one off. Maybe I should get neutered. No, I’m looking forward to the day I can make you mine, lowering my shaft deep within you. I miss you. I want to fuck you. I want to scream at you for being a sorcerer. I want to shake you, slap you, then weep in your arms. I need another break.

The sun is shining, it’s a glorious day. I noticed it’s raining where you are. Sometimes I want to be a bleep on the weather map, so that I can blink at you. Well, I’d better enjoy the sunshine, fall will soon be upon us. I love you, my free-flowing thoughts are yours, as is my heart. Ever yours in every dimension, your medieval dickweed, John.

Dearest John, I’m enclosing a lock of my hair. Wong has put a protection spell around it, so that it cannot be traced back to you. I await your lock in return. Who would have thought a lock of hair could be so important? I’ve misjudged the Victorians and their hair jewelry. I miss you, too.

We’re preparing for fall classes and the sanctum is abuzz with activity. Wong worries over me like a mother hen and I smile when he does. He is convinced that you will kill him, if I lose too much weight. Though, you haven’t mentioned it, I know you are concerned. I am eating, just not too much. I am fasting so that my body can regenerate. It gives clarity to my thoughts.  You must take care as well. I want you fit for our reunion. I am working on new leads now. We will be together.

I wrote the letter to my instructor and felt better afterwards.

Now, for the salacious part of the letter. I tried experimenting with lube, while sticking a finger up my ass. Umm, I didn’t care for it. I think I will heed your advice and wait until you can teach me in person. I spared a little time to research rimming. It sounds kind of gross. I love watching it on porn videos and I’m sure it feels marvelous, but I would never ask it of you. I find myself at a loss. I don’t know what to ask, when we finally consummate our relationship. Okay, yes, I know, fuck me, but other than that I’m not sure. I’m used to being the dominant one, but find myself willingly to submit to you. Sometimes I lie spread eagle on my bed, wondering what you will do to me first. What will you expect me to do? Will we need to shower first? Will anal sex make me to go to the bathroom? Will it hurt so much that I will never want you to touch me again? I’m sorry, I should erase this, but we promised that we would let our thoughts flow freely, without regret. I ache for you. Yours in every dimension, Strange.