Winter Waings

His mind's eye drifted along a cobbled path dappled with foot-crunched snow. The world looked like a Thomas Kincaid painting. Golden light emanated through antique glass windows of the picturesque cottage as his wandering vision-scape rejoined him bodily.

Their bed was the sort of warm it gets when snowflakes melt on windowpanes heated by the fire in the hearth which warms a room. Dim lights and drowsy shadows from candles, languidly swaying on the wall in the still, heated air around them.

Wrapped in one another's arms, the smooth curve of her naked back pressed against the masculinity of Mark's bodyline; slumber was perfect and deep. He breathed in the perfumed scent of her skin as he reverently tucked away loose wisps of hair.

Time hung suspended within this inner sanctuary, one blissful moment plucked from the continuity of the world like an enchanted fruit who's succulent juices promised to reveal hidden mysteries to those who dared taste.

Dreamily, Lauren's senses felt him brush his lips against the tresses of her hair, long and silky enough for him to sleep against. Mark nuzzled against her neck, kissing her softly, a warm hand cupping breasts, gently rolling her nipples between his thumb and fingers.

She drew in a soft, sleepy breath as her husband's hand slid along the curve of her hips and over her thighs, stroking the heat between those shapely legs. Even asleep, Lauren's body responded to his touch, pressing back firmly against the strength of his arousal. He pleasured in the silent encouragement.

Gently, his fingers pressed against that sweet center of pleasure, exploring intimately the detail of her moistening womanhood. Her hips rose willfully to meet his fingers as they slipped inside, seeking her heat, the palm of his hand firmly massaging his lover toward that lingering edge.

This must be that hallowed place where the ethereal quality of emotions was heightened, purified. Tantalized until they were so intense that one was inspired to beyond words, into action. Resonating like a celestial chord through one's soul, this emotional epicenter gave birth to the profound.

Writhing against his fingers, he gently brushed dark hair away from her face and whispered softly, "Cum for me, Lauren." and willingly her voluptuous body obeyed, flooding against him in numbing ecstasy. It was the most delicious sound in heaven and earth.

Lauren's sapphire eyes flushed open drowsily and he smiled, kissing her breathless, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her on top of him. He heard her gasp, senses overwhelmed and she pressed her body now, down against the hard length of his sex.

They made love. Her body fluctuated against his so fluidly that even his willful restraint lost the urge to resist the sweet intoxication of her sex, tightened firmly around his stiff cock. Consumed with bliss beyond thought, Mark understood the origins of genius as their joined bodies masterfully composed a cacophony of movements.

The heat of his breath, laden with unbridled desire pushed her toward climax once more as she felt his body tense beneath her. Leaning against him closely, she commanded softly now, "Give yourself to me." and pressed his length against her innermost walls.

Mark could only obey, releasing into her, filling her body physically with proof of his sheer lust and overwhelming love. Lauren rode him out, her flushed sex quenching her thirst with the fluids of his manhood, drawing upon every releasing thrust.

Complete and exhausted, she laid her head against his chest and fell asleep once more, his body still inside of her own. Mark slipped an arm around her slender waist, running fingers through her tousled, dark hair. Together, their breathing mellowed until he could hear their dual heartbeats echoing in his ears.

Eyelids drowsed heavily as consciousness was lulled forth once again by the hypnotic drumming between their bodies. Mark's mind rose beyond the sea of downy clouds which made up their bed, panning over their ember-lit room as the fire subsided.

As he soared through the window and gazed upon the dreamscape around him, his elation carried him upward like the twisting strands of wood-smoke rising peacefully from the chimney. He blinked mentally, freezing this visual representation of ecstasy within his mind's eye like a snapshot.

Hours fled and eventually they were waking with the crisp, morning sun through frosty windows, nestled together under snowy, down blankets. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mark knew forevermore that when he saw a masterful illustration of a warm winter home, it was an impassioned soul behind that golden, glowing window clothing itself in a work of art so that it might be rejoiced and shared with the rest of the world.