The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced in the shadowed corners of the neon nightlife. There was a rhythmic, almost mechanical precision to the way I was being handled. Every time I felt my resolve weakening, a new sensation would pull me back from the brink, only to push me higher. Specifically, the warmth of the mouth that was currently enveloping me seemed to possess a life of its own, a vacuum-like suction that left me no room for tactical retreat. Despite my reputation for legendary stamina among the women of the basement districts, I felt my defenses crumbling. The intensity was too much, the sensory overload too complete. With a jagged gasp that echoed through the silent, dark hotel room, I finally lost the battle, surrendering completely as a tidal wave of release
