[This was first published in January, 2003.]
Our tryst began in playful exploration, gentle caresses and kisses explore new terrains and textures. Her skin was soft, silky, tasting musky sweet as my tongue darted across her neck, her breasts, her belly. She turned and savored me as I probed with longing lips and quivering anticipation for secrets deep and hot. The girl sighed, moaned; we clutched as she exploded, my own selfishness thrusting into her beckoning countenance. She tasted the reward of my desperate act and discovered she wanted more, not letting me rest or recoup but engulfing me before I could recover. I lay and enjoyed her passion, a willing slave to my lasting desires.
Fair-play gave way to her own need as she craved the weight of my body, pulled me down upon her, did nothing to allow retreat when my moment of truth suddenly arrived. She took it willingly, abandoning all sense to fulfill my self-centered and cruel want; I held her down and filled her with my desperation as she pulled me in, an insistent vessel offering no resistance and no escape.
Again and again we repeated our purposes, bringing each other to points of no return. At last we could take no more; over-sensitized, wearied, sore, we lay bathed in sweat and cum and warmth, playing and laughing without second thought or consideration of consequence. Soon want and need again ripped through pretense as we again forced ourselves upon the cravings of the other's flesh. We sacrificed, we consumed, we took and gave and took again. Our twin flames made all the other had to offer a wild sex-fuel for the continued heat of the moment. We loved and made a meal of the other; such a feast I had never had.
At last, we arrived at our goodbyes. I left her hurriedly, not wanting to perceive the wonder that I had beheld only an hour before take its leave. She made her voyage home, where familiar and less tumultuous fires burned in waiting, while my own embers screamed for replenishment of what I had consumed so hastily.
I reflected on the night's depravity, and how once I was a man impressed with displays of technique and intelligence, willing to perform self-sacrifice to witness what now appears to have been superficial beauty and artificial grace.
The truth burns! I am not an admirer of refinery and disposition, but one of a pair of exquisitely untamed animals, each the object of a glorious killing on the plains of the heart. We had swept in, snarled sinister knowing smiles, and in our lustful quest for love and blood and cum willingly sank our glistening claws into the other, again and again, both prey and panther. I loved it, craved it even as her carriage pulled away.
We shall not partake of that fire again, my love; we shall never rule those once-empty plains. Our world will succumb to no eternal flame.
