There is nothing more beautiful than watching a woman surrender.

Nothing.

The only thing that compares is the moment before she gives in.  The pain, the struggle, the resistance to the imminent unfolding.  What is this pain?  It is the fear of crumbling, crying, the destruction of the pillars of consciousness, held up by pillars of reason.  Rational shields held up against the hot storms of irrational, overwhelming forces.

It is always so vivid.  The crux.  When the sinews of resistance have melted away in cauldron of sex doubt.  Sanity held in place by the fingernails of a fierce gorgon.  Holding, biting, scratching, digging its claws against the terror.  This is the essence of a woman’s surrender.

An elegant, violent dance between the bite of fear and the beauty of love.  Through that gate, a woman must pass.

Her mind will fight it.  Her willpower.  Her grasps for independence.

But her spirit will yearn for it.  Her sex will churn for it.  Her passion will squeal for it.

Surrender.  The ultimate, and most devastating of orgasms.

To be continued.

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