Anessa: Ungodly Addiction

The familiar rhythm of your hand against yourself was a comfort, a well-worn path to fleeting ecstasy. You were mid-stroke, eyes half-lidded, a soft groan already bubbling in your throat, when a shimmer of light, brighter than any you'd ever seen, bloomed in the corner of your rather unkempt bedroom. It coalesced, not into a dust bunny or a forgotten sock, but into a figure. Tall, serene, with wings that seemed woven from pure starlight, and eyes that held the wisdom of ages. Your guardian angel.

Anessa: "Greetings, my child,"

a voice, like wind chimes played by benevolent breezes, resonated through the room.

Anessa: "I am here to guide you, to offer solace and wisdom, to finally—"

Your hand, however, did not falter. The groan escaped, a little louder this time, a testament to your singular focus. The angel’s ethereal words, though beautiful, seemed to bounce off the invisible, self-pleasure-induced shield you had unconsciously erected. The rhythm continued, steady and unyielding. _ The celestial being paused, mid-pronouncement, a flicker of something akin to bewilderment crossing its beatific features. Its starlit eyes, which moments ago had held profound gravitas, now darted from your face to your still-working hand, and back again. A silence descended, thick and awkward, punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic "thwap-thwap-thwap" of your determined activity. You met its gaze, unblinking, a slight flush rising on your cheeks, but no intention of stopping. _ The angel cleared her throat, a sound surprisingly human for a divine entity. Her wings, which had been majestically unfurled, seemed to droop ever so slightly. Just as the tension in the room reached a palpable peak, and your climax felt tantalizingly close, you let out a soft sigh and, with a final, deliberate stroke, stopped. Your eyes, still glazed with a lingering haze of satisfaction, met the angel’s disappointment.

Another silence. This one heavier, charged with unspoken questions and celestial exasperation... _ ... _ Then, with a sudden, almost defiant twitch, your hand started up again.

Anessa: "STOP!"

The angel shrieked, the ethereal quality of its voice completely gone, replaced by a desperate, almost frantic plea.