I know you. You’re a good girl, trying to do the right thing. Always caring, always loving, always giving of yourself.

You see the light in the dark, the good in the bad, the small things that slip past, unnoticed in their blind spot.

And I see you.

I see you struggling to release the weight of that role. To give voice to those other parts of you. The ones you don’t really like to think about. That jar; your peace of mind, and when they intrude, unprompted, how you’ll feel.

And I feel you.

You wouldn’t have told me about them. You just couldn’t. In the dead of the night, to acknowledge such thoughts, to put them into words, to speak them out loud. You can’t. But you don’t have to. Those words left unspoken, I can hear them.

And I hear you.

I could take your body, pleasure you. But I’m inside your head more importantly. I know that secret thought, and I know when you need it; and when I taste your mind, how starved I have been.

I bide my time, push you onward, I sense when you’re ready. The way you move against me, your needs, your wants. It’s time, but carefully. I test you, secret words whispered against your ear so softly.

Your breathing, the way you clench at me, nails embedded, pupils dilated, tell me everything I need to know. You don’t have to say a word. You don’t have to admit anything to yourself.
I know.

I build you up.

And so you ride the jagged edges of that thought, right up to the razor edge of your peak. When I force it into your mind, as it melts - white-hot, overwhelming, numbing. Just what you need.

I tear you down.

Your brain grabs onto it fully, embraces it, revels in its depravity. A trap door, releasing your body to free fall into ecstasy.

And while you’re cumming to it, cumming on me, wracked in pleasure, riddled, raptured, mind gone blank….I collect that thought back up, Fold it neatly and put it away some place hidden for next time.

So when you come back down to me, collapse in my arms, there’s nothing there at all. Just me, and you - My good girl.