The Christening
by Jonathan Quince
Thursday, July 22, 2004 18:02:36
It is a sacred assignment, the calling of things in intimate knowledge. She begged him, shuddering in his arms and biting his neck as she held him inside of her. She begged him, anointing her mouth with the taste of his blood and kissing him; he adhered to her words, for they fell upon him as duty, as obsession, as desire raging beyond all human boundaries and becoming a wish to mark her forever.
He would do this right; for by his birthright, he knows well the secrets of a trust far deeper than simple identification. Faith and the respect of the soul demanded no less of his integrity. Raising his consciousness to a higher plane, meditating even as he fucked her, he sharpened the focus of his instincts. He could feel a roaring in his ears, the roaring of power — of his power, of the power of his mind reaching out beyond its normal limits. As electricity grew, coursing through the circuit that his body made with hers, so grew the roaring to a thunder that followed lightning from its source in his head, straight down his spine, and through his cock into her cunt as he convulsed in orgasm.
With great reverence, he spoke her name for the first time; and holding her close in a unity of the flesh, he christened her from within with his cum.