I flow like a river. In some places I am calm and in others it gets rough. But right now I am focusing on the area where the constant rush is flowing a little too close to the shore and I can feel the scrape of the rocks in the most delicious way.

It doesn’t stop and I have no intention of putting my energy elsewhere. This feels too good. The anticipation and knowing that something is happening is making me open my mind to the grit of the real sensations that my body is going through.

My blood is moving like molasses on a hot day.  I am floating in my own nirvana, nothing can touch me here and I am waiting for my rapture.  It is imminent…

I can’t calm myself, I can’t be more content. I am a hypnotic contradiction, swirling and churning, grinding the best bits harder while pushing my conscious mind back to make way for the ecstasy that I await.

I swirl my fingers to twirl eddies against my skin in the small, unexpected places around the roughness of the stones. Breathing out, more than in, groaning and sighing.

When I run my hands over my body, the path over my skin ignites into bursts and flares and heaves my torso towards an imaginary touch. I conjure him crouching over me, the water rushing over his feet, running his thumb over my lips with intent in his eyes.

My breath catches while my hair floats out around my face in the sudden halt of the river’s motion. It all stands frozen, waiting, aching, until I breathe again and he is gone.

My river flows, ragged and wild.


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