I remember how you trembled in my arms last time. How your body arched toward mine, how your fingers gripped the sheet, how your moan broke against my lips. I want to repeat that. Again. And again. One more time. My sensuality is an obsession with repetition — the desire to experience the same high, only stronger, deeper, brighter. I surrender to the moment with a grace that knows no satiety, and with a fire that blazes with each new flash. We pass through pleasure as through circles of hell — each new level hotter, more intimate, more dangerous. Orgasm comes as catharsis — pain and pleasure merge into one, tearing you apart from the inside and putting you back together. With me, you don't just come — you are reborn. And I will be there to witness that rebirth. Again. And again.