It came upon a midnight clear...
by Valentine Bonnaire © 2005

It came like a stealth bomber, like a weapon of mass destruction, atomic, auto erotic, hard, harder, hardest.  Rising off his thigh, it towered gargantuan, heart-headed, veined, thick, pushing up like a tree of life from the crust of past broken things.

It came without any Viagra, without sex toys, without anything but lust for the way she liked to fuck.  And it didn’t just come once.  No. 

Once was never enough for a woman like her.  It came until it was sore-sided from the hot, heated bliss tunnels it sought.  It came seeking all her kama sutra movements.  It couldn’t help itself, actually.

It came like a big fat Christmas present for a greedy grown-up child who was laughing gleefully as she grabbed it again and again, making it bob and wiggle just for fun while he smiled and rolled his eyes at her in disbelief as she wrapped some pretty ribbon around it and said, “This is mine.”

It came first at the restaurant, under the table, lifting hard against the fabric of his pants, as she met his eyes over tapas and Mojitos. 

It strained to be freeform plunging inside of her in a rip roaring push of vein and shaft that ground her into the sheets like a beautiful twisting doll curling up against his steady hands.

It lifted later, into her mouth in the bath, as she flicked her tongue all along its surface and kissed its little head, sweetly, as he sighed and closed his eyes against the cool wall, while she floated toward his lips, suspending herself fully against him in the perfumed water and slipping her tongue deeply into him.  With a little help from her fingers it burrowed into a perfect fit against her tight pink walls and he smiled to himself to hear her little cry of surprise as he filled her.

Later, that little good-spirited mojo maker came back again with glee like a twinkling ornament.  Bing, bam, boom and hurrah!

“I have to stop now,” he laughed.  “I’m starting to get sore.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “But...”

“You could just use your fingers for a while and kiss me.”

“Ummmmm,” he rumbled.  “Sounds nice.”

“Want your presents now?”

“No.”

“Should we just?”

“Umm, hmmm...”

And then he was kissing her, wildly.

“God, I love the way you make me come,” she shuddered into another one.

“Is that so?”

“Umm, hmmm...”

“You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.”

“I am?”

“Umm, hmmm...”

And then it was back again, like a giant candy cane, harder than stone against her thigh. And he rolled her against him until they were locked and coupled all over again.

It came, finally, for the last time, upon a midnight clear inside her; pouring star streams and atoms and life and bliss and beauty and love and hope and peace and good will towards all men on earth and unborn thoughts and good tidings and it sang like a poem of the sea between her thighs, writ inside a dream.

 _______
© 2005 Valentine Bonnaire.  All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is Valentine Bonnaire? Read her bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

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