Izzy Is on Her Own

#Izzy #nsfw Izzy was alone with her thoughts and finished her shower in peace. No matter what she felt between her legs, this would not be the place where she could indulge in her own sexual pleasure. She didn't have any romantic options anymore. There was no sense of self. Masturbating in this environment would not be fulfilling.

When Izzy looked at her life outside the church, there was just a void. Izzy didn't know who she really was. Her intense emotions of rage had subsided, but over time, she felt the same despair that crushed her that morning.

“Keep it together, Izzy,” she said to herself. She couldn't falter now. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Her wet and well-manicured feet lead her golden brown body out in front of the mirror. She took a look at herself and slowly studied her stunning nude female form. In a slow fluid motion, she did a pirouette watching her body move and jiggle in all the right ways.

“Izzy, you are beautiful,” she said to herself. Even if no man sees her body, she will always remind herself she is beautiful. Izzy was coming to terms she might be a spinster. It didn't sadden her. It was just part of her new identity.

Izzy dried her body, put on lotion, and got dressed in her evening wear. Usually, she would open her bible and read one of her favorite passages. At this moment, she didn't feel the need. Today, she had more important work to do. She needed to find a place to stay. A private space of her own to explore herself away from her parents' prying eyes.

Her parents were oddly silent this evening. They were watching TV down the hallway in their bedroom. The door closed. She didn't pay them any mind.

First thing Monday morning, Izzy found an affordable apartment and signed a lease by the end of the week. Her parents acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened Sunday. Her mom never talked about raising her voice. It was a very uneasy feeling. Her mother just gave her short, sheepish glances after that. Nothing more. It was just more confirmation that Izzy needed to get out.

The only thing in her favor was that she had quite a bit of savings. Managing finances was probably one of the few things her parents had taught her. The move was quick and efficient. Her dad helped her load her car; her mom was rarely present during the transition. She often made excuses about other matters to attend to.

Her dad, who was usually the quiet one, gave her a wealth of advice and tips to help her transition to this new chapter in life. He even suggested she buy a new phone all of her own, reminding her she is a grown woman who doesn't need to be under their wing. It was almost like her father was a different person now that her mother was not there hovering and interjecting any sort of control. She was actually able to bond with him.

Once the move was done, she hugged her dad goodbye. Her mom made her appearance on the last move day, gave the apartment a once-over, and walked out. She didn't hug her daughter, but she waved goodbye, teary-eyed.

She clutched her husband's hand tightly. Trembling. A little fearful. Her husband gave her a knowing look, sensing something was off.

“Don't let the world change you, baby,” she said, her voice quivering. She started to sob. She told no one the truth, not even her husband. What she heard from her daughter that fateful Sunday, a sound that shook her to the core, was the sound and weight of spiritual pressure that was not from the God she knew.

Later that afternoon a technician came by to set up her TV and internet service. Izzy's nervous and awkward innocence glowed like a neon sign as she let the stranger in her home. She could barely make eye contact. Her anxiety grew as the man showed her how everything worked with her new equipment. She didn't want to keep him long, so she nodded, acting like she understood. When he left, she sighed in relief. For the first time, Izzy was alone.

“Everything is new; this is a fresh start. Take it slow” — Her inner self reassuring her.

Then it dawned on her. She's never had access to a normal TV. She barely checked her new phone. Parental control banners at every turn conditioned her online and TV watching habits almost automatically at this point. But this was much different now. None of that existed in her home. With nervous anticipation, she turned on the television. Bright lights and harsh music filled her ears. She turned the volume down. A black woman stood before her, scantily clad, more exposed than she had ever seen. This woman had no shame. She had power and presence and didn't worry that she was practically naked for millions of people.

This polarizing, brash, and shameless woman turned and presented her ass to the camera. Her ass cheeks were hanging out, barely covering any of her modesty. The woman began gyrating provocatively, making every effort possible to advertise what was between her legs. She was chanting and rhyming. She yelled affirmations of feminine empowerment and obscenities. Then she said, “Fuck.” Izzy didn't know that was an actual word.

“Fuck!” Izzy gasped. She dropped the remote in complete shock. She couldn't look away. The stunned innocent woman was frozen in place by the hypnotic bombardment on her screen. The woman was still gyrating, and the crowd was cheering. Everything was telling her this was wrong, that this was not what she was supposed to be watching. But she didn't listen to that voice anymore.

A new sensation overcame her. The throbbing sensation between her legs was more intense than it ever had been. This walking embodiment of pure sin electrified her loins in ways that she never thought were possible.

Izzy had just watched her first music video.