Evilangel
Jessica Portman, Raul Costa Pic(s)
The warm Mediterranean sun poured over her skin like liquid honey, its golden rays tracing the delicate curve of her spine and the gentle swell of her hips as she took her first tentative steps onto the soft, sun-baked sand. A soft, salt-kissed breeze whispered across her bare shoulders, a novel sensation that made her acutely aware of the complete absence of fabric, a feeling both terrifying and profoundly liberating. She could feel the gaze of the open sky upon her, not as a judgment but as a warm embrace, its vast blue mirroring the tranquil sea that lapped rhythmically at the shore. Her own heartbeat was a quiet drum in her ears, syncopated with the gentle crash of distant waves, each pulse sending a new wave of self-awareness through her unveiled form. The fine gra of sand shifted beneath her feet, a grounding, tactile counterpoint to the dizzying freedom of the air on parts of her body that had only ever known confinement. She watched the way the light danced on the surface of the water, and for the first time, she saw her own body not as something to be hidden, but as a natural part of this beautiful, unadorned landscape. A deep, calming breath filled her lungs, the air feeling purer, more direct agat her skin, as if she were breathing through her very pores. A slow, genuine smile touched her lips as she walked further, the initial tension melting away to be replaced by a serene acceptance of her own exposed state. In that moment, surrounded by others who were equally unashamed, she felt a profound connection to the elemental world, a raw and honest belonging that was more intoxicating than any secret.
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