Ink could feel Lara nearing her peak, doubling her efforts, tongue lapping and swirling in rhythmic motions as she eagerly pushed her bedfellow--airfellow--toward release. She could practically hear Lara's pulse pounding, feel her pussy pulsing on her tongue, the way she squeezed her fingers.<br/><br/>Even as she brought Lara off with her mouth, she concentrated, wheedling her way into the upper layers of Lara's consciousness. She planted a little mental seed there, one that would respond to her own pleasure, translating it into images, sweet tastes and messages of joy and euphoria. It was a talent of hers: to morph a person's orgasm into a buffet for the senses beyond the already sublime nature of release.