See the Flash Fiction Friday challenge and image here!
No! She could feel it coming, and she didn’t want to let go. To let go meant losing control, losing the framework that kept her life in neat boxes. Letting go was scary, was hard, was …
No choice. She had no choice at all – it was all swept away, tumbled and flung into the foamy oceans of orgasm – any semblance of balance destroyed in a majestic wave of intense feeling. Her back arched, her teeth bared, her cunt clenched as she followed the tide and came.
Later, blissful, she was drifting, floating, crashing to earth. Limp and drowsy, she couldn’t help but smile at the voice susurrating near her ear, “You’re allowed to let go. I’ll always keep you safe; bouy you up.”
No need to hold on. Letting go was fine. The ocean would nurture and keep her, until she returned to land. Washed clean.