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The Cat Who Caught the Canary

It has been a long while since I had the time to invest in a well-planned, well-executed session.

Manscaped, showered, bed set up with comfy pillows, towels, cleaned out, lubed up, music, headphones. Quiet, warm room.

Lady Syn is inserted, headphones on, listening to my "session selection."

She does not waste time. With in minutes, my beautiful black and red companion is making me twitch and wiggle. Oh, she is so sweet.

Warm, electric, buzzing, energy paths running around me. Deep sighs exhale satisfaction. Breathing is quickened and a bit shallow.

Then, they come in rapid succession - Dry O's and Super O's over and over. Dozens. Whole body shaking, flailing, precum flying.

My nipples are sparking, and there are cellular critters running all over me, dancing and singing. Mitochondrial entertainers.

The moans are low and guttural. At one point my head begins to swim and I feel as if I'm going to black out. I close my eyes and push the energy back to my amygdala.

Mental bliss.
Physical bliss.
Emotional bliss.
Spiritual bliss.

That was more than four hours ago.

As I write this, I'm sitting watching a movie with my family - feeling full, satisfied, whole. I'm the only one who has this secret inside of me.

I am the cat who caught the canary.

Brian