She heard the shrill request for her presence slice through the silence of her room.
“Not now, Mom!”
She put her head in her hands, feeling the taffeta of the communion veil sift forward with her hair, grazing her bare shoulders. It wasn’t the same as the one she would be asked to wear, the stiff white cotton of a nun’s habit, but it would do.
|photo provided by http://advizortoall.blogspot.com/|
She felt so close to God, to the point that she could feel him humming through her whole body. It scared her, because she’d felt that desire before. With a man. God wasn’t a man, but his presence was safe, protective, commanding, and all-encompassing. And the thought of him filled her with want.
Her hand, palpably bare and eager for the ring that would signify her marriage to God, moved across her thigh, as she lay back on the white comforter of her bed. She spread her legs wide to the ceiling, opening herself up to the sky.
Her head rolled back and she licked her lips with a little moan. Removing her hand, raising both arms above her head, she lay exposed, knees up, legs splayed, and willed his energy to enter her, to take her. Her lithe, young body writhed, her breath caught, and she grabbed the sheets, the pillow.
Without touching herself, she felt her skin become electric, her nipples and sex nearly vibrating on their own. Shuddering, she gave herself to the moment, back arching in ecstasy, and felt the orgasm rush over her body like warm water, flushing her cheeks pink.
(Just want to point out…I made EXACTLY 275 words, avoided the word “wedding”, and DID NOT take the obvious route – I don’t think.)