Ocean

"Contact. Of the most amoral and private variety. This is when time stretches out for both of us. Her propriety collapsing against words and fingers. She was made to have it taken from her. She adorns herself with refinement so it can be removed. Slowly at first, then in waves. Hunting out the live wire she hides. A fingertip against it. Then two. Sweet to coarse. Pulling it out of her. Quiet words forcing it to grind against the false modesty she was taught. Feeling it give. The snap so loud it can’t be heard. Grasping her hair in my fingers. More. Pulling her and bending her and kissing her while she explodes like stardust"