Golden Ages (MF Rom)(Alexis Siefert)

~~~~~~

This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by adults. It is also my work. 
Although I receive no compensation other than your comments, it is still my work. 
Please respect this and do not repost it somewhere else without talking to me first 
about it. If you are not allowed to read works with sexual content, either due to your 
age or by virtue of the laws in the geographical location in which you reside, please
do not continue.

I'd love to hear from you - please, please, please let me know what you think. Like most 
writers, I take what I do here very seriously, and I'd appreciate any feedback, 
suggestions, or comments that readers are kind enough to send.

Alexis (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com)

~~~~~~

It has been said that the hottest fires burn the brightest, and 
also that they burn out the fastest, leaving only wisps of smoke 
and an unsatisfied feeling of regret for time lost.  True?  I 
doubt it.

~~~~~~~

It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.

They sat, always the same, on the porch outside her room.  He 
brushed her hair and pinned it back, careful to keep the curls 
lying flat against the nape of her neck.   She had always kept it 
like this when she had been able to care for it herself.  Now, 
like so many other things, he did it for her.

She had a beautiful neck; it was one of the first things that 
attracted him to her.  He could still remember the first time he 
saw her.  It was her neck that he saw.  More precisely it was her 
throat, rising gracefully from the high lace collar of her fitted 
blouse.  She was selling kisses at a booth. Fund raising for 
something or other. That was the second thing that attracted him.  
She was always trying to help.  Great causes, small causes, 
famine in Africa, kittens in the pound.  It didn't matter.  
Downtrodden, bedridden, cold, hungry.  She wasn't picky about her 
causes.  

$1.00 a kiss.  He went broke that night.   

Oh, how he wanted her that night.  She kissed him, the $1.00 
kiss, a chaste, demure kiss.  Then she kissed him again.  And 
again.  And again.  

He ran out of dollars before she ran out of kisses.  

So, with a light in her eyes, she kissed him for free.  The free 
kiss wasn't the chaste, demure kiss. The chaste one was reserved 
for the paying customers.   The free kiss was one with fire and 
passion and the promise of things to come.

And those things, they did come.  Not quickly, like today's young 
couples.  They didn't jump into bed after exchanging first names.  
They dated, really dated.  Movies, dinner, dancing.  They danced 
the night away under strings of lights hung from ballroom 
ceilings.  They danced beside candlelit tables in smoke-filled 
rooms.  They danced beneath the stars with sand under their feet 
and the waves crashing at their backs.  They danced in all that 
they did, their bodies moving together to a rhythm they shared 
with the universe.  Their souls met in the heavens and segued 
into a samba with the seraphim.  

Then, when those passions came, they danced again.  

It was on the beach at dusk.  The sun dipping into the horizon, 
burning orange and purple behind the gray clouds of impending 
night.  She pulled him close, lifting up onto her toes and 
wrapping her delicate arms around his neck.  He was taller than 
she was, taller by far, and she had kicked off her shoes as the 
two of them had floated across the beach.  

He bent down to her ear, letting her whisper softly to him.  
"Please, make it tonight."

It was her first, and although it wasn't his first, he was far 
from expert.  So afraid of hurting her, he was tentative, 
reserved, gentle.  He entered her slowly, pressing against her 
tightness.  He could feel the resistance of her virginal opening, 
and he stopped to let her muscles adjust to the new sensation of 
being filled.  His cock throbbed inside her--impatient despite 
his best intentions.  He held himself over her, waiting for her 
to feel the same pleasures he was feeling.  Gazing down at her he 
was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was staring 
at the most beautiful creature in the universe.  He was held 
captive by her eyes.  

Not until he heard the sharp hissing of her breath between her 
teeth and her soft moan of pleasure was he able to let go of his 
desire to protect her.  One word escaped her clenched teeth.  
"More."  It was all the encouragement he needed. Her legs wrapped 
around his hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs. 
Driving him faster and harder.

That first time was forever, indelibly burned into his soul.  As 
the sun melted into the horizon and the waves continued their 
steady crawl onto the sand they became one. No prose, no songs, 
no poetry could contain the wonder of them.  Only the music of 
the stars rivaled the wonder that was their coupling.   

Now, years later, lifetimes later, she was still as perfect, as 
beautiful, and as wondrous as that first night.  Although she 
could no longer wrap her legs around his waist, she could no 
longer hold him in her arms, and she could no longer stroke her 
delicate fingers along his chest, he loved her.  

They sat this way every night.  Her meal finished, her thin legs 
wrapped in a blanket, her eyes seeing something all her own, they 
sat on the porch.  He lifted her gently and sat her lovingly in 
the padded rocker facing the ocean.  He sat beside her in his 
wicker chair, and rested his hand ever-so-lightly on her fragile 
arm.  And together they watched the sun melt into the water over 
the sand, and always he remembered that night.

It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.