Midsummer's Eve

It is midsummer's eve so we light a fire.

It was from my favourite book, a rite conducted the night a girl became a woman. The book itself was my own rite, a bible of grownupness to be consulted through the ecstasies and torments of my teenage years.

Now I was a woman myself, no longer identifying with the fresh-faced protagonist but instead her worldly stepmother. A muse, she embodied at once a knowingness of the ways of men with something older, primeval even, still unmistakably adult. She liked to be naked and in nature and it was a pull I understood more and more.

It seemed strange that I'd never enacted this ritual, from the book I'd read so often. But last summer (and all the summers before) I was in the city, a place where nudity and nature are discouraged.

I build the fire, a skill I had learnt from you that winter, away from the city. It catches easily, and around us the twilight deepens, suddenly inky where it presses against the flames.

You hold my hands as we pace around the fire. You solemnly sprinkle wine and tip the herbs into the flames. But we are only children, playing at a rite we had read in a book. It is time for the real ritual to begin.

I peel off my dress, a simple black sheeth. In the darkness my hair is muted, no longer red, but my body is still visible, my pale skin glowing in the half light. The long, tapering limbs, slender hips and small, high breasts all unmistakably mine. A black thong cuts lines across my milky flesh, it's geometric precision at odds with the undulating curves until it too is removed.

You strip too, unbuttoning your white shirt to reveal the torso that I love - dense, sculptural, darker than mine, but still visible in the gloom. Your manhood, in the first stages of arousal, is already impressive.

You kiss me slowly and I feel you growing, hardening between my legs. Your lips are kind, timid even, but there is an urgency in your body as you press into me, our hip bones grazing. Your hands roam my body, the palms warm and broad against my skin.

I lie down and you bury your face in my mound, kissing, nibbling, at my tender centre. Over your head I can see fireflies dancing in the fields beyond, each wavering star a tiny creature seeking sex. I raise my hips to you, my knees falling away, my whole body opening like a flower. It feels divine. My cunt is wet and cool in the night air, your tongue warm and fluttering, bringing gentle waves of pleasure. I arch into you and your actions grow urgent, licking, sucking with abandon. The waves are bigger now, building to the familiar crescendo. It comes, and I come, moaning into the darkness, pressing myself into your face as the shudders recede. You pull away and my sex is slick, glistening in the firelight, another blinking light in a field of flashing insects.

You are very hard now, your cock so swollen and full it curves eagerly upwards. For a brief moment it is above me, totemic, blocking out the sky, and I cannot resist reaching up to it, bringing it to my lips. I bob eagerly, cradling it in my hungry, salivating mouth. You groan but snatch it away, this isn't what you want, not right now.

You climb on top of me, my legs folded up as I present my cunt to you. You are so hard and warm between my folds, your manhood heavy and smooth. You thrust once or twice, running your length along my clit - a casual action that sends pleasure shooting out in all directions, an exquisite starburst of sensation centered on my sex. Then you find my slit with your tip and you push, forcing yourself into my hidden opening. I am tight, but so, so wet and slick that there is barely any friction as you work your way inside.

Bent over you smile down at me, your face open and full of love, framed by darkening clouds. Your torso is close to mine and I clutch it, pulling myself up to plant greedy kisses on your shoulders, your neck, as you pump in and out, momentum building. I finally reach your mouth and linger there in an unhurried kiss, so tender it seems at odds with our thrusting, grinding bodies. I know that no where in the world is there a more perfect coupling, two people enjoying each other more completely than you and I beside our fire. My fingers find my clit and it is almost too much, the pleasure barely bearable as I writhe against you. Within a few seconds I arrive, not with a gentle cresecendo this time but a sudden thunder clap that reverberates through my body, flooding my cunt with sticky wetness.

You pull out and now your sex glistens in the firelight, soaked with my juices. You lie on you back and I straddle you, my legs splayed in a yogic squat, my cunt opened wide for you. I hold you and engulf you and you cry out, as if the pleasure is a surprise even now. I quickly find my rhythm, bouncing at the end of your cock. I know you love this movement, my motions small and precise as your head parts my lips over and over, each delicate thrust bringing you closer to ecstasy. Looking down I see the your shaft framed between our thighs, visible as a silhouette against the fire like a filthy shadow puppet. We both watch as I fuck you, your dick half disappearing again and again.

Suddenly I lean back, sliding your full length into me, our bodies meeting bone to bone with a thud. Upright now, I am once again aware of the scene around us, the guttering flames of the fire, the fireflies flashing in the blackest shadows, the clouds backlit by an unseen moon. It is a dream-soaked night, potent and portentous, full of ancient desires. Beyond the manicured fields I can feel them, the animal wants of the forest pressing upon us, seeping up from the earth to my cunt, the epicentre of it all. I grind my hips against yours, your cock enveloped deep inside my body. Back and forth and up and down I rock, bending you, squeezing you, milking you, my movements forceful yet constrained.

I alternate these motions, bending forwards to bounce delicately, leaning back to grind emphatically. Again and again I bring you to the brink, the limits of ecstasy, before shifting once more, eliciting groans. You are prone, paralyzed by the pleasure, enthralled to my sex, my secret portal. I am Venus and Freya and Isis, every fecund goddess rolled into one as I ride you, pulling you into my sacred centre.

At last it is too much, the sensations too intense and you push me off, unwilling to finish without me. You flip me over, an effortless motion, and I am on all fours, no longer a goddess but your animal wife. I present my cunt to you and you run your fingers through my sodden folds, bringing your hand to your face to taste my musk. You mount me, drawing me towards you with considerable force, burying your dick with one swift movement. I thwack against you as deep inside you reach my boundary, filling me completely before withdrawing. Again and again you pound into me, faster and faster, savage but precise. I can feel your fullness inside me, your entire length hard and smooth as you draw in and out. I arch back into you, our torsos melding and you reach around my body, your eager hands finding my nipples, my clit, amplifying my enjoyment. I feel you getting harder, lengthening inside me and I know you are close but my god so am I. The thought of your climax, your explosion pushes me over and shuddering delight ripples through my body, every muscle febrile and shimmering with pleasure. A few more thrusts and you are there with me, gripping my hips tightly as you plunge into my convulsing pussy, coating my interior with your own ecstatic spasms.

We crumple, spent, as the fire begins to falter. In the distance the fireflies continue with their endless, ancient courtship dance.