Kristina, I’m a little worried since I didn’t hear back from you yesterday. I reread your email late last night and stared at your photos — as I often do while lying in bed wondering if I can come twice without the woman making me a sandwich in between — and I noticed that you mentioned being very tired twice in your last correspondence.
I’m wondering if your exhaustion is a sign of some dire physical condition. Maybe Cancer-related fatigue, or Fibromyalgia, peripheral arterial disease, or Trichomoniasis. Have your doctors run a contrast MRI, start you on steroids and high doses of prednisone, perform a biopsy, and check for a family history of neurological problems. I was pre-Med for two weeks back in college, and now I watch a lot of House. I know.
Of course the other possibility is that by writing to you many suggestive emails, sending you a photo of a random black man, and worshipping you and your nipples from afar, I have triggered some sort of Footloose-inspired Internet snowball of events, and gotten you pregnant.
Oh, Kristina! My love! My soulmate! We are having a lovechild, aren’t we?
I eagerly await your next email, your response and, especially, your next photos. Let me know what is going on.
I think we will have a wonderful life, the three of us. I am thrilled that your breasts will get much larger over the next months.
I love you.
Your Penis, Peter xoxo