Her thoughts were nothing more than trails of colors streaking through the cloud that was her body, endlessly fascinating and ultimately beyond unders...anding. She could see them changing colors and directions, and she wondered who guided them…but to wonder was to think, and it was always easier to know than to think. She didn’t think about how she knew. She didn’t think about why she didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to think about it. Marie felt herself cumming. The orgasm felt like only a. The wisp gathered in the direction of his resting mouth and clear nose, gathered as it collected into a denser form. It abandoned the balance of his person as unimportant. It condensed and where it came to rest, it remained patiently to be drawn. His breathing was not affected when he inhaled the essence of Belladonna, pretty lady, perfume of nightshade. She was sweet in the humidity of his lungs, kind to the tissues that welcomed her, and gentle to every cell she hushed into a comfortable. More

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