This story was written by Chaos Grey.  Don't steal it.  Any
resemblance to real people or actual events is coincidental.
I am not resonspible for anything that may result from someone
attempting to do anything written in this story.  Though, please
send any accounts, photos, sketches, or videos that you may get
while attempting to recreate events in the story.

To contact the author and tell him now much you liked the story
or send him photos, videos, accounts, etc.of actions similar or
pertaining to those found in this story,
email: thechaosgrey@yahoo.com

This story contains:
Snuff (kind of - more romantic, in my opinion, the a snuff story)

Porphyria’s Lover

     The storm raged outside, shaking the tree branches with
wood-splitting force.  Twice now, I had heard the strained
groans of elms, moaning low in pain before the sharp crack
of breaking branch.  The rain splattered against the window,
and I, sitting on my bed, propped against my headboard,
started out at through the glass pane as the lightning
ripped and exploded and the thunder shook my home.
     
     It was a storm unlike any other that had swept passed
through the years of my remembrance, and it suited the
evening just find for me.  The fire was low, now, a chill
creeping quickly into the room and the light dimmed with
every ember dying.  It fit my mood – the sorrow and
melancholy of man dwelling in the night.  These fits were
all too common, and my mind was full of dark thoughts.
     
     I saw the horse come rushing through the rain as the
lightning flared, and thought my eyes deceiving me, for who
would be out in weather like this, and riding like mad for
my abode?  But moments later, the door down stares opened
and I heard her gentle footsteps upon the wooden floor.  My
Porphyria, my sweet and gentle love – what would she be
doing here on a night like this?
     
     She was in my chamber in but a few moments – I could
scarcely see her through the gloom.  She pulled aside the
fireplace grate and stirred the embers, bringing the fire
roaring back to life, once more, and then, adding a few more
logs, the warmth and light spilled into the room.

     She turned at once, and pulled off her hat and cloak,
dripping with the cold rain, and slung them both over the
back of the chair to dry.  Her riding gloves, slicked with
mud from her wild ride, slid from her delicate fingers, and
once dropped, she unwound her shawl from about her neck and
shook out her long, blond tresses, soaked right through
despite being bound up under her hat.

     She moved to the bed and sat next to me, her pale skin
colored warm and rosy in the fire light, and her hair, now
flung wide across her back, dripped cold dropped onto my
skin.  She called my name, but I did not reply, lost in
looking deep into her blue infinite eyes.

     Porphyria could see my mood, it was palatable with my
room, I knew, and she slip down her sleeve to bare her milky
shoulder to me, and winding her arm about my waist, she
pulled me close and pressed my head into her neck, burying
deep my face into her yellow hair.

     She murmured to me then, of why she was there, of how
the storm, terrifying and beautiful, broke her heart to see,
and so wounded, she sought me out, sought my company and my
love.  She loved me, she said, and she spoke true and
sweetly, with the wonder of a child who had found out
something wild and new.  She loved me, she swore, and told
me of her longings and passion left buried in her heart and
soul, passions of the body she had, for pride and vanity,
feared to set free.  And now, she knew, seeing the primal
storm with such power and force, now she knew such forces
could not be contained by man or woman, and she had come to
me this night.

     I looked once more into her eyes and saw it there, that
love and passion, and without a word from me, she leaned in
a kiss my lips with her own, so cold from her night’s ride.
And soon, with trembling hands, I pushed away her untied her
from her skirt and corset, and pushed away her shirt.  Her
soft blush skin, untouched by man, shivered, fevered,
beneath my fingers and I touched and caressed her.

     And, unto me, did pull off my night shirt and,
fumbling, pull down my trousers.  Her passion enflamed, she
kissed across my chest and down my body, only to slow and
marvel at the manhood before her.  A thick and long thing
unknown to her eyes before, and hot when she grasped it, she
mewed as she touched it, and at my moaning, she sighed with
contentment, and too my shaft into the velvety warmth of her
mouth.  How she knew to do such a thing, I know not, nor
would I ask – women trade stories at their tea parties, and
these stories are not for the ears of man.  If such a tale
had prescribe this, then thank the lady for it, and Godspeed
that tale to ears of every woman.
     
     I could take not more the inactivity on my part, and I
raised her head and turned her round so that she was on the
bed, and I upon her, looking down into her pretty face.  She
whispered more to me, and I took in her words and her breath
and every scent of her body as I slowly, carefully, joined
with her.  She sucked in a shuddering breath, a look of pain
across her face, but when the air escaped her lips, it was a
sigh and moan of pleasure.
     
     It took little time for her body to warm and meld to
mine, and just a quickly she was purring beneath me, her
face ago with life and light and warm like the fire in my
hearth.  Her arms wrapped about my body, clinging to my back
as our bodies moved in time.  She spoke, then, and whispered
of the wind passions and how she loved me.
     
     Loved me, love me so, I heard the words run through my
brain, and she called herself mine, mine forever.  Mine, and
as I looked down upon her, look down at her beneath me,
surging and sigh beneath me, rising her body in time to meet
mine as she swore her love, I knew it then: Porphyria
worshipped me.
     
     She worshipped me!  And my heart grew at the thought,
at the feel, and I knew she was mine, and mine forever, and
with that my whole heart did burst.  I felt her moving
beneath me, and as her voice rose with ever breath she
shuddering drew, I knew just what I had to do.  She would be
mine forever, worship me forever.
     
     I took her hair, and holding it tight in one long
strand, I wrapped it tight around her throat like a
hangman’s noose and held it hard against her.  Her eyes went
wide, at first with shock, but the features softened to a
look of love and adoration.  Her blue eyes shimmered as the
shallow tears pooled, and she reached up with one delicate
hand to gently touch my cheek, as soft and graceful as a
kiss from a angel’s lips.  At last her face contorted as her
passion erupted, silently, from her body.  One great quake
of pleasure, and I shuddered with her, holding her hair
tightly bound, and my own body responded to hers, and we
were, at once, together and joined forever – now inseparable
for all times.
     
     And then, once calmed, I looked down at those eyes, now
free of tears and locked forever in that gaze of pleasure
and absolute adoration.  I unwound her hair and kissed her
lips, still warm, her cheeks still hued of roses and flames.
I sat my back against my headboard, and once more she sat
with me by my side on my bed, and the fire burned down and
down.  Her head now rest upon my shoulder, her tresses
cascading down my chest.  And her love I had, now, for all
time – unchanging, unbreakable, eternal.