As the wave crashes through us, you collapse back onto the couch and I feel your hands weakly stroking my hair as your racing heart slows. I can feel your moist heat on my face as I slowly and gently lap at the flow of your delicious nectar, my tongue broad and flattened, catching every drop and trickle. You cry out again as another pulse of ecstasy rushes through you. As you whisper my name over and over, my pride threatens to overwhelm me. You don’t realize how proud I am to make you feel this way. When you told me that you had rarely felt the way I make you feel, and never more than once per night before me, I swore to myself, that from now on, you could ask me any time, day, or night, to pleasure you and I would, as many times as you wanted, or could stand. I live to make you feel like this, the intensity and pleasure of your desire washing over me in waves, each one cresting higher and faster until you almost pass out from the impossibly exquisite sensations. How I love to love. They said they were my master, but we both knew better. They had fallen for ‘Autumn’ my sexual counterpart who would attach herself to them and make them beg for more. But I made a mistake. I fell in love. He will be called Monster. Monster was from my home town, but he was older than me by a few years. I wasn’t noticed by him until he came into my work. I was wearing a white gypsy skirt and white lace tanktop when he walked in, took one look at me and claimed me as his. He and I began to hang out after school and work, his humor and kindness drawing me to him. His blue eyes shined seductively the afternoon he picked me up from work. I was wearing the same white gypsy skirt and tanktop that is my uniform, my silver bangles bouncing on my wrist as he came up the porch and hugged me. He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere with him. A surprise, he said. I agreed to go and he drove us for hours out of our small hometown. Monster parked by the beach and said that I couldn’t know where we.
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