Valentine's Day Story Contest 2017 entry, Please vote!
Enjoy this Valentine's Days treat! Be prepared for sweetness and sentimentality. With maybe a dash of saccharine, this delightful treat is laced with a rich chocolate coating of desire and inside is dripping with dense sensuality, leaving you salivating and tingling (I hope!) This delicacy won't pack on the pounds or rot your teeth!
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We'd traveled four hours to get to our final peaceful, solitary destination in Vermont. The road leading to the farmhouse had been a mile of bumpy, deeply gouged and rutted dirt roads. Wintry overgrown leafless tree limbs and scrubby, gangly hedges had brushed and scraped our SUV. Was there really a tiny little cottage all the way out here? We wondered.
When we finally emerged from the tangle and overgrowth of nature, the soft glow of a lamp beckoned us to the safety of the farmhouse. The owners of the cabin were kind enough to leave the light burning for us. Gas fueled the lights, refrigerator and stove in the old home. Only a small generator provided minute amounts of voltage for personal electronic devices and a hot water heater. Cell service was spotty.
We were truly in heaven, away from the world, just the two of us, nestled among the tall pines and naked deciduous trees, at the end of a lonely country road. The nearest neighbors were miles away.
This was our first 'official' Valentines Day. We were together, inseparable, at long last. A few Valentines Days had past but none spent together. The agony of being separated from the one you love on this holiday was heartbreaking. We'd understood why separated lovers believed February 14th tasted less like sweet chocolate Valentines candy or the flavor of your lover on your lips and more like a hard, bitter pill forced down your throat with an acerbic liquid called despair.
The broken heart, shorn apart with sad jagged edges is highly symbolic of the separation of the two meant to be one. However, when the edges join again they fuse in such a way that super bonds that one heart, once two halves of the whole, that bond is stronger and unbreakable.
That was our heart, my lovers and mine. Through all gut wrenching trials, separations and fights we'd weathered them all. At last, our collective demons, vanquished to the past, their terrible evaporating trails of hurt, pain, sadness and regret could shake, rattle and rage on the outside but they'd never again gain entry into our bubble. Not ever...never again. With all we'd endured how could anything even slightly toxic and damaging pierce the healing scar tissue on our shared heart so deep, so gnarly, thick and impenetrable?
Later that night, after we'd settled in, a snowstorm beat its wintry wrath upon the tiny, rural cottage to the foundation. The wind was wailing, rattling the ancient windowpanes. Icy snowflakes were pelting the old pitted glass. Inside our rented rickety Vermont farmhouse a fire popped in the hearth. Inside was-oh not anything like out. Ensconced in this three-room snow shrine I was truly safe, or so it seemed, warm and sultry, a sugar sweet bubble.
A homemade Valentines dinner was cooling on the battered homemade table, half eaten. Beaten up, over used pots and pans lined the countertops in a dollhouse-sized kitchen. The shabbiness added to the charm, the nostalgia of so many meals before. Delicious scents of Foie Gras and accompaniments lingered in the cabin. A luxurious bouquet of fresh pink roses, sprayed with Baby's Breath stood as a regal centerpiece, a stark contrast to interiors overall threadbare sparseness. The heady aroma of the flowers mingled with the savory scents of dinner. Lest we forget the piquant aroma of two lovers merged as one. Fused in a deep primitive dance. Sultry sex, raw and primal enhanced exponentially when in love. (I'll serve up more of this scene later for dessert; this is offered to whet your appetite!)
Earlier that day, we made a pact to curtail our passions until after dinner. The obedience to the pact frazzled our nerves. Desire mixed with a healthy shot of insanity kept us teetering on the fringes of madness.
When in love I am a whore to my female passions, unabashed, unregulated, unfazed by outsiders indoctrinated shortsightedness. I push the limits with what is socially acceptable in our polite, cultural milieu. My ability to survive and even thrive a horribly exploitive, traumatic childhood and ensuing early adulthood had my lover curious to a fault. My forthright lust, zest and zeal drove him to distraction from day one.
When we'd first met my Ivy League educated, buttoned up lover had been reserved, a bit chilly and stoic. After a short time I understood why he'd built those walls. His cool reserve and detached manner had enabled him to endure a deeply troubled marriage to a mentally unstable drama queen. To survive he'd been forced to counteract her emotional deregulation by numbing himself. Emotionally neutered, yes, it is as horrible as it sounds! She'd steam rolled his spirit. Crushed his zeal and had gorged herself gleefully on his soul. He'd been a shell, devoid of the meaty, dense and lively insides, adrift in a lifeless ocean of soul stagnation.
My lover had escaped the marriage. Divorced only recently after many years of separation. He'd been bound, nay shackled to duty, bound to her for so long. My beloved finally had been able to break free after realizing he'd die a bitter old man with only a sense of duty to comfort him.
As our hearts had begun to fuse we'd allowed our emotional barriers to crumble to dirt. Imagine my surprise and absolute delight to discover he was a reflection of my shadow self. My lust filled passion was blatantly overt. He was a covert freak. Under all that seemingly highly polished glossy veneer had been a long repressed voracious and rancorous fucking machine.
So I learned early on---never estimate on first sight the depths of any acquaintances ravenous desires or the pits of his despair. As such, we forever are marred by the scars, under wraps mostly but ever present and pervasive when dark shadowy emotions run high.
My pensive reflection on our history served only as a slim distraction from this evening's tasty carnal delights. While the dinner grew colder, the candles flickered and the fire roared hot, my lover was ravishing me.
Clutching the cool sheets atop the shaky metal bed in the remote cottage, I writhed and coiled like an overexcited serpent. He devoured my pussy, licking and sucking thoroughly. His nose grazed my mound with each stroke of his tongue. He bobbed and ducked between my spread legs. I clung to the precipice hanging on with only a pinky finger. He was wickedly prying away my tenuous grasp. He was savoring my tiny bud, full and ready to burst. Yes, let the pleasure, the eminent release, the tightness and swelling of my clit combust.
Those dark eyes materialized from my between my outstretched legs. His head emerged. In the candlelight they glowed like a spooky cat startled, creeping around a pitch-black room. His face glossily coated in my sticky viscous sweetness. He smirked knowing he had the ultimate power he wielded heavy-handedly while I was stretched wide open for his dining pleasure.
"Stop---teasing me!" I pleaded. I tingled, sizzled.
Thick black hair disappeared again at the juncture of my thighs. The tip of his tongue grazed my tiny bundle of engorged flesh. More sizzle, more jolts, almost, almost. Agony! His tongue danced across my flesh with a steady pace of licking, sucking while he swallowed my pussy juice. He moans. It's deep, guttural, soul satisfying.
He's taking this slow tonight. My lover wants my nerve endings and insides hyper aroused so when he plunges his cock into me I'll feel every sensation a woman craves beyond reason. My beloved wants me to scream his name when I come for him. When I wield the power he is compliant. When I suck him off voraciously or ride him hard and fast, I decide when he comes. Tonight he brandishes the primal power with consummate finesse so I acquiesce. I'm the pliant lover, moldable and yielding.
He's allowed any secret, unspoken, dark sexual indulgences, as am I. For so long this deeply sexual man was deprived, emotionally, sexually. Our sexual quotas are unmatched however. This is the ultimate sexual healing for us and we revel in each moment shared.
One slow lick across my clit and I dive into the abyss. My legs shake. I scream, a primal howl. My chest empties of air. My insides grasp and expand violently. Cum bathes my insides and trickles into my lovers eager mouth. I clutch his thick luxurious mass of dark hair, urging him to suck me deeper and harder. Encouraged, he thrusts two fingers in my pussy and another into my ass prompting a waxing fiercer orgasm. I nearly fly off the bed.
Moments later my heart steadies. My insides a molten fire now begins to cool. He crawls over me, hovering at my midsection; his cock hangs heavy and hard, urgent for my pussy, the heat, and the bliss. He traces a heart around my navel then kisses the tiny indent. My pussy quivers, sensing the nearness of his mesmerizing, gifted tongue. I tease my hand over his smooth muscular belly and encircled his meaty cock. He moans, closes his eyes while jerking his head up, like a lion ready to roar, ready to mate hard and ferocious.
His phone vibrates on the side table shaking us both from our erotic stupor, breaking the magical, sexual spell. His eyes flash open. He sighs deeply and his mood shifts immediately. A darkness I know too well crosses his face.
