Whatever it is, she’s practically putty in your hands now. She never once vocalizes any pleasure, not even that nickering you’ve deciphered means satisfaction, but from her big sighs to her increasingly-frequent stretching, you can tell you’re having an effect. Damn, maybe you should have been a masseuse this whole time. Something about mighty mares melting to manual ministrations makes your mind meander merrily. But your current line of work is the only reason you’re doing any good.