Dripping.
I was dripping wet.
The dildo kept slipping out, but the slickness made the repeated thrusts faster, harder, smoother.
I moaned into my pillow, and continued to pound the toy into my wanting needy pussy.
My moans turned into a growl.
I rolled over, got up on my knees, piled up the pillows.
I reached from my vibrator, nestled it into the mound, and flipped the switch to low.
Threw my head back as I rocked my hips, rubbing my clit against the deep vibration.
A hand reached for the wall, steadying myself against the growing wave.
The other gripped the vibrator against a pillow, getting the right angle as the tension built.
And built.
And built, until it broke.
I screamed, back arched, tears flowing as the orgasm ripped through me, muscles tensed and pulsed and released.
I fell forward, sobbing my ecstasy into the pillow as the waves kept breaking, beating, billowing into my body.
I saw deep gold and blue cloth sown together into a cape and then draped over my shoulders.
God stroked my cheek, then kissed it, and told me I was their loved child, I was doing great, and I would be okay.
I cried more tears of joy and ecstasy and faith, hope suffusing me, and collapsed over onto my side.

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