A Flame in the Night Ch. 09

My jaw drops with astonishment as suddenly I see you viciously badgering your clit. "That's right," I yell, encouraging you to keep at it. "Do it again! Come again on my cock!"

Vigorously your fingers sweep recklessly across your nub, appearing as though you're fiddling with a banjo. So I maul your nipples and restart thrusting my hips, hoping I can ruffle you and get you more excited. And again, apparently you've overdone it because you're now screaming and shouting all over again.

"Sss-hhh-iii-ttt! Sss-hhh-iii-ttt!" you cry out, as your super-speedy fingertips vibrate your nerve endings. "Oh-fuck! Oh-yeah! I'm there again!"

One more time I watch you getting off, and I'm gleefully glad to see you spring it. I'm elated seeing you go wild, especially when I'm encased within your marvelous, fantastic gripper. Even more, I get to be a looky-loo and be nearby, while you're fingering your flower to a personal and comforting achievement.

Thus, likewise, the enjoyment of being linked to your climax has also put me on the brink. There's no coincidence here, it's just I'm wired to mimic that same sort of pleasure. My dick is glowing from seeing you aroused and also from feeling your heat. So it's all too apparent now. Soon, I'll have the necessity to be creaming my load.

Meanwhile, you also see what I'm doing. And through narrowed eyes, I'm staring back at you and trying desperately not to ejaculate. But wanting me to share the orgasming experience, you take your girl knockers and begin to scour your hardened nipples into my front; then on and on, you push and shake those pointy chicas into my chest, as if you're striving to press them into my heart. And you bounce on my endangered cock while quizzing me adamantly, "Do you like it? ... Do you like me and my tits?"

My cock twitches at your voice. And again, it twinges once more as I get caught auditing through the strands of your hair. Seeing those double trouble, cute ponytail locks in your hairdo has ended me. Therefore, there's no holding back my excitement. "Oh baby!" I hoot and howl and voice my affection.

Nevertheless, perpetually you smear your boobs into my skin and drown me with deep, face-sucking kisses. I'm throbbing all over and needing to release my nozzle, to put out a fire with cum. Indeed, I have the wicked urgency to take anything I want: and what I want is you! So, I grab the fleshy roundness of your ass, and then clasping it securely with a strong, manful brace, I force you into me.

"Oh daddy, yes!" you yell, as though you're bubbling over with excitement. "Give it to me, baby! Give me that cock! Make your cum and squirt my pussy!"

Ultimately it starts to blast from my quivering dick, and I fill your slender container with a hefty wad of my bodily seed. Then you sense me reaching, and grabbing, and trying to achieve more gratification as I bind your butt into me and work my rod into your distressingly cramped cul-de-sac. But I'm already into you as deep as I can get it, so I can't increase the pleasure any better. I must wait it out and let the outbursting progress on its own measure. Thus, I convulse and shake and spurt again, one followed by another--gradually, over and over.

Moreover, I go on spilling and draining my essence until I expel all my pussy-lotion into your warm, accepting cunt. And with that, I feel my balls tiring and getting bitter with frustration and fatigue. They've worked exceedingly hard and more than they should, pushing out every drop of my liquid; yet all the while that I'm spilling, your jelly-box keeps taunting me. She doesn't back down or feel any looser on my poor, worn-out scouting-tool. All that tight, sugary stuff in your thruway is prolonging things, making me wiggle and jerk, and forcing me to have more of those mushy, love-sick contractions.

And as my unrest is ending and the last of the cum spurting subsides, I happen to notice how you're looking at me with the same privileged contentment I had experienced earlier in watching you. Then our eyes meet in paradise, and we sit for a spell embracing, complementing, and even giggling. And as you're parked above me, with our sex organs still fully coupled, we begin to move gracefully, as if we're dancing side-to-side with our hips. But it's nothing like before. This time now, we go slowly, very slowly. The music has changed; the pace has changed. Our needs are different, so tenderly we move our bodies to a kinder rhythm and a sweeter tempo. Thus, we dance in our minds and with our laps, lovingly caring for each other late into the night, for a long, long time.

* * *

Later on we turn off the lights and lie down on the mattress. It's time for bed and time for sleeping. We're ready to unwind from our night's outing, so we bundle up in the dark spooning, with your back to my front, preparing for nice dreams. I wrap my arm around you, and our minds and bodies are now relaxed and feeling peaceful.

"Ah, that was fun," you reminisce about the entire evening while you begin to doze off in the darkness. You yawn once, for good cadence, and you're ready to close your eyes and fall asleep.

But there's a faint disturbance to your slumber. Your eyes are catching the glimmer of the candle that continues to burn a soft, glowing light. Exhausted now, you're cleared to dream, yet the candle light is so interesting. It flickers away hypnotically, and your thoughts follow the wavering light as it sways gently to and fro, drifting amidst a subtle current. Your eyes fixate onto the yellowish and orange radiant hues while your mind continues to reflect more about the flame, "It's so pleasant ... and so quiet. What a nice little candle."

Tired and sleepy, you hazily start to ponder about the candle's origin and the mysterious way it'd been presented to you earlier in the evening. And somewhere--as you fade away into a deep, deep sleep--you happen to marvel onwards about one last and final thought.

"Hmm," you whisper to yourself, "I wonder what else is in that bag. ... Oh, I guess I'll wait and take a look at it tomorrow."

--end of chapter nine--

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