The push-stretch pinch of the bulbous glass head pushing past my pubic bone is, for a moment, a sensation I’m not sure I can withstand.
My inhalation is as quick-sharp as his response.
He stills – poised without pressure, pressed in place without pushing – at my hissed intake of breath.
Do we go on? is the unspoken question in his gaze when his eyes meet mine.
Forcing my muscles to relax, one by one, I reshape my hurried insufflation into measured breaths – innn, out; innn, out – and push the small of my back into the lumbar pillow beneath me.
Tentatively, I nod. Regardless of not knowing the measure of their truth, “It’s okay” are the words I give.
And, once he tilts his wrist slightly higher and presses the remaining belled surface past the tense-tight barrier my body has created, it is okay.
It is more than okay.
Ohhh, sooo okay.
Letting out in one long exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, I release the remaining tension in my limbs — bone, blood, sinew, muscle — allowing the pent-up What if…?s to flow out of me into the atmosphere.
What if I can’t?
What if I won’t ever be able to again?
If it hurts…
But it doesn’t.
Worry, wonder: Gone.
The pain I’d been expecting — fearing — did not come.
.
.
.
.
.
No, the pain did not come.
But I did.
Sweet!
It’s the little things. 😉
Gotta love happy endings. 🙂 🙂
😀
Feve, you do have a way with words! Though I’m supposedly a very visual person, the mental images produced by your prose are much more erotic than anything Peter Hegre has put before my eyes.
Gracias. 🙂
I found myself leaning closer to my screen, feeling the tension, wanting to see… brilliant writing!
Rebel xox
Thank you!
Sometimes it’s difficult to know how clearly the feelings translate on the other side of the page, so to speak. I’m glad to know those elements came across for you in the reading. 🙂
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I really like the way you’ve structured this!
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Thank you. 🙂