One By Candlelight
by Jonathan Quince
Monday, August 9, 2004 22:10:25
Light flared in the shadows of dusk as the match, crisply struck, roared out its tiny life. The faint aroma of perfumed wax filled the air as the candle took light.
“When the light of this candle dies,” he told her solemnly, “you shall no longer be a virgin.” The match died in a wisp of smoke at these last words, leaving the shadows of eventide flickering with the candle’s warm yet haunting glow.
The candle-lamp was a simple device, potterywork of greyish-umber hue made as lamps have commonly been crafted for hundreds of generations. It had traveled thousands of miles, from distant and holy lands; and this night had been designated as special for this simple object’s maiden debut. After the candle within burned away, the tiny lamp would be filled with oil and a cotton wick threaded through the dainty hole in the pottery-work opposite the handle. The seal would have been broken, and the lamp would be primed to yield light for years to come.
His hands moved over her body in silken caresses, playing her body as the strings of a finely-tuned instrument, lulling her into a dreamy daze of warmth. She let out a sigh of contentment tinged with wistful desire.
His fingers played over her vulva, teasing her with a thousand tiny sparks of excitement. She was wet—and she had been for some time now. The scent filled his nostrils, overpowering his senses and awakening in him that primal hunger of Nature’s strongest compulsion.
He tested the waters with his pinky-finger, probing her sacred entrance. She was so tight that he could not fit past the outer edge of her opening without eliciting a whimper of pain. Soothingly, he drew his fingers up and down her vulva, caressing the edges of her labia in the downstroke and tenderly touching the middle of her slit, wetting his fingertips as he brought them back up to her clit.
He placed his mouth on hers, and they kissed. Such kisses of passion challenge even the most ingenious poet to describe in words; for they speak in communications that transcend the physical and let two spirits touch through their tongues. As they made out, he kept up a steady rhythm of fingering her; and as the heat grew in her cunt, so grew her need to mirror his lust for her. The moments slipped by as liquid time froze and the Earth stood still, and they could not have said whether they kissed for seconds or for hours; yet at long last, the yearning grew too great for her to contain, and she whimpered, breaking the kiss to whisper urgently in his ear.
“Take me,” she breathed. “Break my hymen. Take me now.”
He moved atop her, his weight bearing her down into the white silken sheets; his chest pressed to hers, the twin hard points of her nipples kissing the strength of his muscles. Aligning himself so his body fit to hers exactly, he positioned his cockhead at her entrance; she surrendered herself to him, yielding her body to his touch and to whatever pain and pleasure that touch was fated to bring. And taking her in his arms, holding her in the closest embrace, he thrust deep into her.
Lights danced before her eyes. Her heartbeat thundered from afar; the distant roar of her breath filled her ears, then disappeared beneath the firestorm of pain that screamed up her spine to blot out all other senses. Her body was still blazing with the heat of her desire, and now it felt as though it might explode from overwhelming stimulation.
After an eternal moment frozen in space and time, the world shifted, flattened, and she became conscious of the outside world again. Her body was awash in sensations. Heated waves of electric pleasure cleansed her in counterpoint to the stabbing pain that flashed again and again. Had she cried out? Had she screamed or struggled, immobile in his unyielding grasp? She knew not and cared not, for her consciousness was consumed and overawed by the maelstrom of feelings that assaulted her, buffeting her about like a willow tree in a hurricane.
The fiery pleasure grew heavy as molten metal in her veins; and with it, desire solidified into an aching hunger, a need for the sensations to continue, a need for them to climax and keep going and never, ever stop. Pressure built deep within her, flowing throughout her body; electric heat frisked over her sensitive areas, coming to a peak between her legs.
She could feel him inside of her, fucking her with a slow and steady tempo. He absorbed her even as she took him in; his arms enveloped her even as he pushed into her so deeply that it felt as if he might brush her soul.
It seemed to pass in mere moments; it seemed to take an eternity. She lost all consciousness of time and space, indeed, all need for consciousness; swept away in the maelstrom, she rode as a leaf on the river’s surface in a thunderstorm.
His rhythm shifted, quickened, grew in a crescendo of passion. She had never orgasmed before, and the explosive pressure building within her was new and unbearable. Writhing in his embrace, she seemed almost to resist him even as she clove to his body and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him into her deeper still. The pleasure suffusing her body became excruciating, an unendurable torture of heaven crossed with hell’s fire, as she careened over the edge and slammed into her first climax.
Lights flashed before her eyes once again. Her body convulsed as if in agony, thrown wild beyond control by an explosive pleasure she could not withstand. The pressure grew until she could no longer contain it; somewhere off in the distance, her conscious mind wondered if she would shatter into a thousand pieces. Once again, and this time from the searing travails of pleasure, she neither knew nor cared if she screamed.
Her consciousness had become a being of the spirit world, soaring over the heights of Heaven and diving into oceans of radiant light to bathe in the energy of pure bliss. She no longer knew of her body but as a vessel for pleasure, a physical manifestation of her love for him by which she could unite with his flesh and thereby take shelter under his spirit. Yet even as she lost touch with her body, she was all the more aware of it: Aware of herself being in his arms, of his mouth stifling her moans and screams with unyielding kisses, of her cunt spasming on his cock as he grew larger and harder still within her and finally exploded, sending spurt after spurt of his seed streaming hotly to fill her innermost sanctum.
As aftershocks rippled through her body, he cuddled her to his chest. Then taking a moment to let her lie exhausted on the rumpled sheets, he moved carefully down to examine her. He kissed her cunt, tasting the blood of her innocence mixed with his cum and with the libations of her excitement. Dabbing it carefully with a white handkerchief, he watched the dark red stain spread over the virgin cotton. Then he moved back up to embrace her, entwining her arms and legs with his own, and hold her as she drifted, reborn, in a new state of consciousness.
Long hours had seemingly passed; and as time returned to normal, the moments ticked steadily by. The candlelight flickered and sputtered. Exhausted, she drifted off into a hypnagogic meditation, aware only of the new wonders of her body and of his strong and protective presence. And at long last, as the flame of the candle died in a gasp of smoke, she floated off into the realm of dreams.