Until the Morning Comes, My Love

I can’t believe how handsome you look tonight. I love it when a man dress up for his woman. There isn’t any man in this world that doesn’t look good in a tuxedo. And with that black silk cape and high black hat, you look like a gentleman from the 1800.

And you behave accordingly, too. When you picked me up at me door, you brought me a bunch of dark red roses, my favourites, and you bowed deeply and kissed my hand before you complimented me on my dress.

What a charming couple we make! As we walk down this street, surrounded by tiny princesses, devils, ghosts and superheroes, out trick-or-treating with their parents, I see a lot of heads turning to give us more than one look over. You, the handsome vampire. Me, the alluring Morticia Addams.

You take me to a very nice restaurant, and the waiter bows deeply as we enter, and immediately shows us to their best tables. The menu is in French, and I don’t understand a word of it, unfortunately, as Morticia herself spoke it fluently when she wanted to seduce her husband. However out of character, I leave the ordering to you, I trust your good taste, and I trust that you know exactly what will please me. I listen to your deep, dark voice, that seems to drop a tone when you speak another language, and I feel myself getting turned on by that little detail. I shift in the chair when you order us wine, and I see you smile wickedly. I know that you are fully aware of what you are doing to me, and you love being able to have such an effect on me, without even touching me.

We toast to our love, our everlasting love, and the overwhelming passion between us. As we dine, our conversation circles around art and music and history, and as always, your wide knowledge of these matters, your experience of travelling around the world and seeing all the things you tell me about, stirs up admiration and envy inside of me. I want to know all that you know, I want to see all the things that you have seen, I want to go to all the places where you have been!

You take my hand across the table, you kiss the palm of my hand and the inside of my wrist, and promise me that you’ll take me anywhere I want to go, and show me anything I want to see. The solemnity of your gesture is somewhat lost on me, as your kisses on my skin light a fire inside my body that has nothing to do with solemnity. I can hardly finish the dessert, but you insist, telling me not to deny myself the pleasures of life.

-I know of one pleasure I’m very eager to taste... I say, entwining my fingers with yours, to stop you from kissing my hand.

You smile.

-Some pleasures, my dear, only get better when you wait for them, you say, and feed me another spoon of chocolate mousse.

I force myself to remain calm, and we finish our meal like civilised people. You pay for our dinner, and help me put my coat on. It matches your own. You offer me your arm, and we go back out in the cold night. The children are gone by now, probably at home enjoying their bounty. Grown up monsters and rock stars pass us by, on their way to parties and dance clubs, but neither one of us is in the mood for crowds and loud music. We walk slowly through the streets, quiet, breathing in the crisp, cool air, and head towards the park. The moon is up, a clear, white crescent, and behind some light veils of clouds, one can see a million stars. A wind makes the withered leaves twirl around our feet.

-Are you cold, my dear? you ask. -A little, I admit. My coat is more a beauty item than a protection against cold.

You open your coat, and take me in your arms. You wrap your wide coat around us both, and hold me close as we stand there, together, under the moonlight. I lift my head and look into your green eyes. You close them, and kiss me. It’s a romantic kiss at first, a loving kiss under the moonlight, but as I answer it, it grows more intense, more passionate, more craving, and when my hands pull the white linen shirt out of your trousers, and my fingers touch your skin, I hear a growl coming from deep inside your throat, and I know that I will finally get the pleasure I’ve been waiting for, yearning for, all night.

You lift me up, and carry me into the bushes, where we are safe from prying eyes. You lay me down upon my own coat, and lean over me. You kiss my neck, nibble on it, continue down my heaving breasts, and I cry out when you rip my dress apart. You don’t give me any time to wail, but starts kissing, licking, sucking my breasts, like a starved infant. Your touch erases all thoughts but one from my head. My hands are shaking when I pull my fingers through your thick, black hair, and when you pull my legs apart and violently rips my lacy panties off, I know I won’t get much foreplay tonight. It suits me fine. I’m already so worked up, that I’m whispering repeatedly, urging you to come to me, to take me, to make me whole, to plain out fuck me!

But I have underestimated your strength and your self-discipline. You want to tease me, to make me wait for my deliverance, and do you ever let it be so! When you start to make love to me with your tongue, I can’t help but shout, as your tongue finds my most sensitive spot, and rubs it gently, making me squirm and shiver. It’s unbearable, it’s torture, it’s...heaven. With a shriek, I reach heaven, and my orgasm is so strong, that I’m not aware of you opening your trousers and bending over me, until you lift my legs up and thrust into me, making me moan again. I reach up and embrace you, and you kiss me all over my face, while you thrust into my cunt, into that burning hole that has a life of its own, and when I come again, you press your mouth over mine, so that my cries are silenced.

Your ability to control yourself is amazing. You make me come three more times before you finally let go, and with a howling cry, your face is contorted, and I feel my inside being filled with your seed.

We lay a moment in silence, breathing heavily, embracing, kissing. Then you get up, help me to get on my feet, and we repair my torn-up dress the best we can, and you wrap my coat around me to hide the worst of the damage. We walk through the park, through the city, quiet. There are no need for words, when I can look into your eyes and read in them all what I want to hear.

The night is passing. You take me home with you, and we celebrate the last hours of the night by repeating our passionate mating in the park, this time slow and loving, on the purple cover of your large bed. We lay in each other’s arms, hugging, until the dawn comes.

Then you go to your coffin, lay down in it, and we kiss one more time, before I close the lid, put on my clothes, and go out into the morning light, to go home and get some sleep.