The Dividing Line

Ed McCarley felt the heat of her folds radiating above his cock; he arced up to meet Sara Wood's vast oceanic pull. He felt his cock touch her lips, felt her lips parting in supplication, conforming to the shape of the head of his cock. He moaned as the warmth of her cunt penetrated the head of his cock, as the wetness of her cunt asserted itself on the fabric of time.

She felt the head of his cock as it's rim slipped past the rings of her vagina, and rise into the waiting arms of her womb. The muscled walls of her vagina gripped his cock in rippling waves. She fell down, ever downward, onto the base of his cock, thrusting back, driving her clit into his soft groin. She was daring time to intrude.

He drove his cock into her as she sank down on it, felt her contractions as the tightness of her vagina defined his progress through her womb. She began to lift, the speed of her rise not tentative, clamping down on his cock as she climbed to the light of heaven.

The arc of time stands still above two lovers. Time does not judge, does not weigh motive or intent. In the infinity of time measured between two heartbeats, two lost souls collide and dance in molecular fury, fused in the heat of love's release, bathed in the light of passion's uncertain wisdom.