There were six million, three hundred fifty-two thousand, five hundred and eighty-three wavelets on her face this morning. She refused to be a victim of dawn tides, exalted in the event she was able to do so. Lying on the beach, body of sand, spirit air, mind spent and set aside, she fell into the waking side of a dream.
Three directions surrounding, vertical columns, fortresses of stone, up and through a lavender/pink firmament she stared. Eyes wide open, other than a hint of a smile wearing her lips, one might imagine her quite dead. Water tickling, gooseflesh wearing, the three-walled prison of her existence suited her fine. “How did I end up here?” The question threatened but she pushed it away. Stone mansion, earthen room, ocean door; she needed them all and nothing more.
Startled by thunder, the incredible percussion of earth quaking, she closed her eyes. Not long though, this respite; she opened them just a bit, peered down across her body supine. Two rosebud nipples erect, extant reminders of her humanness, her flesh, met her gaze and pleased her. “I am woman.” She pushed the thought away.
They came to visit then, magnificent and marauding, a stallion and three mares, manes and tails flying, rays of eos filtering, slices of dawn-light instantaneous, erected, broken, furious, wide-eyed and alive. Her arms, goddess tentacles, feathers lifting, rose from her sides to receive them. Mud silt exploded from their hooves, dappled her white-flesh, excited to ecstasy her nether regions, filled her with white-heat fantastic, orgasmic.
Body arched, wings supporting, she welcomed the tide, water caressing, purging her pinto/appaloosa and leaving her ivory/white. The stallion’s voice roared as he mounted the precipice, the armor of his limbs taut, aquiver, a single gasping breath, and Grayson let it all go. She watched the mares disappear into the clouds behind him and entertained the thought, considered her options, that she might just follow. But no, she smiled and pushed it all away.
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