The Fiancée and the Pendant

As the moon passed through its waning phase, she suddenly took an interest in the moon beyond simply whether the clouds would allow its light to reach the pendant while she wore it between her naked breasts. With desperation one evening when I returned from work, she clung to me, sobbing profusely, afraid that there would not be enough moonlight that night for her to use the pendant.

I was torn, for while I enjoyed witnessing my fiancée in orgasm, I was distressed that her sexual needs no longer truly included me, but I was elated that for the first time in weeks, I could enjoy her body without the octopus pendant interfering.

Actually, I still could not truly enjoy her body, due to the beginning of her period. She pleasured me with her mouth and her hands, but it was not the same. And even though she had done this for me many times previously during her menstruation, this was far less impressive.

Clearly, the pendant was to blame.

After three nights without moonlight and thus without the ability to use the pendant, my tearful fiancée cried in my lap. She had finally recognized that she had become quite dependent upon the octopus pendant, that she had almost completely shoved me out of her sexual life, and given that sex was one of the things which was important to us both as individuals and especially as a couple, the pendant was driving us apart sexually and could soon drive us apart romantically.

We each took the following morning off from work and drove back to Plateau Lake. She wore the necklace, and the octopus pendant looked quite stunning against her black ribbed top. We again parked hear the grassy shore, walking hand-in-hand the final short distance to the edge of the water, and with sunlight shining upon us instead of moonlight, she removed the necklace, held the large pendant in her hands one final time, and then discarded it from her life by throwing it as far as she possibly could into the waters of the lake.

It was done.

*****

It took several weeks for our lovemaking to return to normal. The process was slow, and initially it was filled with tears for my fiancée. I never could understand exactly why she had been so enamored with having the tentacles inside her and kneading her breasts, and she claimed that she could not find the words to truly explain it, especially since my anatomy was different from hers.

But most importantly, she warmed to me again. When she took my length into her throat, she did it passionately. When she allowed me to press past her tight ring, her desire filled the bedroom. When she invited me into her core, her loving flow was unmistakable. But most importantly, when she cried out in pleasure, she cried out for me, not for an object, and that is what saved our relationship.