Michael Lentowski's Messages

From: [email protected] [[email protected]]=0A=
Sent: Sunday, November 11, 2012 11:45 PM=0A=
To: xxx xxx=0A=
Subject:=0A=
=0A=
You're Olivia... :-)  Your Fievel's laid low with New World sickness...he n=
eeds that hot blue pampering thing and a nice warm bath...I wonder how exot=
ic our micey little kid bodies seem to each other, based on their London an=
d Ukrainian roots?  Wherefore the romance in that, in we two seminal mouse-=
children crossing a continent and an ocean and coming together, overcoming =
distance and countless other mice to mate...? (Pssst pssst...am I deriving =
a certain sexual enjoyment from the fact that Olivia is also the name of my=
 brother's daughter?  It certainly brings everything, and I do mean EVERYth=
ing, together....) You are Olivia and you have made me chee...I've already =
earmarked some children to collect, though we've touched on the legal wrink=
les involved...heads would be even more sticky, but if I were a ghoulish Bi=
g Brother, i'd mount the guillotined heads of my enemies on my office wall.=
..hmmm...as micelets, London and Fievel's village are worlds away...and it'=
s the fact that we tiny mouselets come together from worlds away that does =
it for me...in premodern times, we'd never have found each other, as mice o=
r people...*rubs sleepy brown eyes* Beddy bye time.  Beddy bye, Olivia.  If=
 you don't fear catching cold, you're welcome to bed with your boy tonight.=
...=0A=



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Fwd:  I masturbated in full view of neighborhood kids playing outside today.  It was just a coincidence, but I came a little faster.  Especially since their parents were nearby.  ;D
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________________________________________
From: [email protected] [[email protected]]
Sent: Sunday, August 26, 2012 12:55 AM
To: [email protected]
Subject:

To be held captive, to be free of responsibility and compulsion to personal doing by becoming a pet...it is indeed seductive, though I enjoy playing owner as much as I do pet.  Liberating, too, is the idea of losing one's identity and "starting over," albeit with haunting, soul-grinding memories of the life you lost.  Both are compelling variations on the Number 12 story (I'm partial to the story of Spider-Man's clone, though this is exceptionally geeky).  And i'd love to explore all the variations with you.  But for pure erotic satisfaction, for muscle-quenching catharsis, the "classic" Number 12 tale, in which I systematically strip you of your dignity, mind, and body, remains the chilling S&M standard.  And oh, how i'd appreciate you as you "died," Olivia...as I realized the full horror of what I was doing, what it was too late to stop....


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________________________________________
From: [email protected] [[email protected]]
Sent: Wednesday, October 31, 2012 8:43 PM
To: xxx xxx
Subject:

Is it sick to say i'd find it utterly beautiful to watch you suckling our small son's penis to calm him to sleep?  Is it foolhardy of me to seriously consider fucking you without protection on Monday, seeding you with days-viable, boy-virile Michael-sperm?  Is it sad how much I need the big boobs your small body grew, how much I need to rest my face in them, squeeze them, fuck them?






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Oh, no, no, foreign and distant were poorly chosen and misleading words. I =
meant that it seemed as if you were saying I made your pips squeak til you =
squealed for the first time, such was the understatedness of your saying so=
. *hugs* Thank you for sharing that, Olivia. Alas, everything you wrote about=
 "The Lonely" having a horrific ending got snipped.

Olivia, did you know that you and I, if Hansl und Grytl'd, would taste very m=
uch like pigs? What if the witch got us borne aloft on hooks, the both of u=
s screaming as our throats are cut, or we're baked alive, or we're skewered=
 from ass to throat while in living child-agony? Why am I saying all this? =
I don't know...maybe because it makes me feel a little closer to you after =
yesterday. To suffer so wickedly together (like the two little mice you hel=
d up as your model for sexing)...and yes...all of this happens in Tim Burto=
n's candy-spurting candy-house!

What would that mean for us, Grytl-Hood? Could we clasp and hug each other =
tight on the hook, somehow...even if you could only hug me from behind, the=
 hook literally puncturing you and then me...as if a cock fucking us both a=
t once? (And it surely goes without saying we'd be incestuously coupling si=
nce youngest kidhood...I wonder if, in the oven, we'd even fuck each other.=
..our brother-sister fuckle our way of comforting each other as we cried, m=
elting to our deaths, our baby-fatty bodies plumpening as we died together?=
)


*hot as hell* description of us fuck-canoodling on the witch's spit for pla=
ymate-comfort, our need to blanket each other overwhelming the pain from th=
e merciless hook threading deeper into us as we began baby-fucking...sister=
 and brother literally fucking one another to death...


To be baked alive is a nightmare for you because you're a witch! And, as Gr=
etyl, a witchlet (would the wicked witch catch on in time?). Which of us wo=
uld be fuck-hooked through the body, and which of us pole-fucked through th=
e genitals? Either is possble, either is arousing. And to go back to baking=
...while I would quickly nestle you all snug in my arm and let you burrow i=
nto me and away from the stark jungle horror of the images...I must admit m=
uch of baking's eroticism is the ballooning of baby-fat, boy and girl, as i=
t cooks...only for that fat, if then boiled, to melt and drip away. It's li=
ke an artificial growth spurt and then age regression...or like the putting=
 on, and taking off, of weight...


Uncle Buck? Or Uncle FUCK? Amirite? No? Too soon? Poor John Candy. I only g=
ot the first half of your *hot as hell* description of us fuck-canoodling o=
n the witch's spit for playmate-comfort, our need to blanket each other ove=
rwhelming the pain from the merciless hook threading deeper into us as we b=
egan baby-fucking...sister and brother literally fucking one another to dea=
th...=20