Lessons in Love

"Don't be afraid of me," he whispered. "Take me deeper."

Instinctively, Rachel knew what he meant, and when she closed her hand over him, she had the amazing feeling that she was exploring a new part of her own body. His low, guttural moans ravished something deep in her chest.

Curiously, she caressed the pulsing contours, feeling the rough texture of the material which separated her from flesh, as well as the throbbing organ beneath it.

He held the trousers open, breathing hard, and growled as she slipped her hand inside, reveling in the softness and firmness there. His hips pressed into her hand, and he closed his large hand over hers, guiding it forcefully into the piston action that played a mounting counterpoint to his thrusting hips.

At the same time, he reached for her thighs, moving his fingers up and down with the ancient, archetypal rhythm until they met the depression between them. Urging them apart, he continued the rhythm, smooth and relentless, along the wet fleshy folds inside until her caresses were his, and his were hers, and the hypnotic drumbeat droned on with its ceaseless, pounding inertia.

He quickened the beat suddenly, and the shock of pleasure she felt made Rachel's hand grip him harder as she cried out. The forceful, throaty groan he returned startled her, and she quickly released him, surfacing briefly.

"Did I hurt you?" she cried.

"No," he answered breathlessly.

"I want in," he pleaded, sliding a long finger inside her and bringing it out to continue the cadence.

She nodded, answering as if in slow motion from the pool of sensation in which she was floating.

He spread her legs wide, and knelt between them, fingering the soft wet folds while she held him, guiding him to the merging point.

He entered her, moving gently with the rhythm, now emanating from the welded place. He rested his forearms on either side of her head, holding himself back with their powerful muscles.

Rachel winced, and he stopped, holding himself still. He stroked her face with his finger, pushing the damp locks of her hair away from it. He voiced sacred words and forbidden mantras, uttering the petitions permitted only in this hallowed place. He watched her relax back into the pool, and then he began the rhythm again.

Rachel closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. She felt full and empty at once. She was filled with Donald, yet she wanted him more. So she wrapped her legs around his hips, answering his thrusts and pulling him deeper into her, embracing both the pain and the inexorable pleasure of the moment with long, plaintive moans.

Donald thrust harder and deeper, until the fiery sweetness in the inner core overflowed, washing over them in waves and waves of exquisite pleasure. Their voices cantillated in cries and groans, tangling together in the silence of the dark room.

Rachel slumped beneath him, panting evenly, and Donald rolled to his side, taking her with him. She breathed in counterpoint to him, drawing in when he breathed out, breathing out as he drew in, so that their bellies formed an unbroken, oscillating line together.

Gradually, their breaths came in longer, hushed measures, as their bodies melted slowly away from each-other into a deep, contented sleep.