Dear Belt,

Dear Belt,

What was that little tug in my chest as I watched Ben slide you out through the loops of his jeans for the last time? We've been together for oh, so long. What is it, twenty-eight years or so? I remember choosing you with care, wrapping you snug in a little square box and carrying you all the way to Ben's house in my hands. You were his high school graduation present from me. At that time I had no way of know what an important part you would play in our history together.

You were right there all along. Not the wedding, of course, he wore a tux. But certainly at the birth of our children, through the building of two homes and the remodeling of this one, and every foreign country we've ever visited. You've been to every concerts we've rocked out to, every picnic, every dirt road we've traveled.

You were there as we explored the feel of leather on my ass for the first time. Oh I was scared, alright. But I let him spank me with you, feeling the soft snap that was surprisingly delicious. Oh yes, then I grew to love you more and more. Maybe even craving that powerful pulse over and over and over.

Oh, sure it's exciting to imagine what it's going to be like with the new belt, after all, it's younger and stronger than you. It doesn't have the comfortable broken-in feeling that you have. I don't have a relationship with it yet. That will come later.

But for now, I am going to roll you in a neat coil and place you lovingly in our hope chest. And maybe, somedays, when we want to reminisce, we will take you out for a nice workout, for old time's sake.

With all my love,
Carly