How cozy your cabin was.

A glowing fire cracked and hissed in the stone fireplace. Shadows danced playfully in the dim light from the kerosene lanterns swinging lazily from the ceiling beams. Dinner had been so delightful. The aroma of trout grilling on the open fire had caused my stomach to knot and growl with hunger. We'd taken little enough to eat on the long trek up the canyon and I was famished. We fell on the flaky golden fish with a will, a feast for a king and his queen.

The feather comforter on the bed shut out the gathering chill of the mountain night as we scrabbled naked into its welcoming warmth. Our embrace was awkward at first. We were practically strangers, after all, and there was still this question of how do we go about doing this? You were a mystery to me. But as your strong hands ignited flickering flames of passion in my secret places I realized what I had known from the beginning. We had a oneness, you and I. You were my muse and I was your bastion. Our souls fit together fully as well as our bodies.

The fountains of my arousal began to flow. Fingers fondled my furrow and lingered to gambol in the slippery sweetness springing from my sex as I plucked your pulsating prong. You kissed me as if you only had that one moment and would never again have another as I wrapped my arms around your neck and pulled you close. I could feel the tension in your body as you struggled to hold back, but it was no use. I knew what you were feeling, for I, too, had never wanted like this before. My mind reeled with what was happening, with what was about to happen.

You grasped your painfully distended shaft and drove the spongy glans through the folds of my sodden cleft from nookie to nubbin. Oh gosh, it felt so good. I shook and moaned every time your tip pressed my throbbing button. I couldn't take this for long, and by the look of intense concentration on your face the exquisite stimulation was testing the limits of your self-control as well. You struggled mightily to master the compulsion to rush our release as I feverishly peppered kisses on your mouth.

Suddenly you rolled me over until I straddled your hips with the tip of your pestle lodged in the torrid moist mouth of my cleft. And then you left it there unmoving except for an occasional twitch as your hands squeezed and stroked my flushed breasts. You seemed to love the sensation of my most sensitive part "kissing" you down there.

You may have loved it but it drove me mad. My pelvis clenched, my body convulsed, squeezing you, trying-oh, trying-to draw you inside. I was so swollen and pulsing that I was near tears.

“Michael, help me! “

Abandoning all my feminine restraint I grasped your hips and thrust my pelvis towards yours. You slipped in a fraction and I clenched you fiercely and growled with frustration. Why did you insist on teasing me so? Fascinated, you watched my attempts to skewer myself. I looked to what had drawn your eyes and saw your glistening shaft coated with my sexual essence moving in and out of my body as I thrust and withdrew. Beads of my moisture dewed your pubic hair. Your testicles were drawn tight to your body in their wrinkled pouch and I was seized with a sudden desire to kiss them, to fondle them, to soothe them in their distress. But first I had to satisfy the throbbing tension in my own loins. I thrust harder and harder and still I could not capture you. I needed to be filled. I needed your turgid basilisk inside me fully so that I could bear down and squeeze and relieve the torment in my womb.

Finally, I nestled my head on your shoulder, drew my left knee up as far as I could and just like that you slipped smoothly inside. Oh! I breathlessly waited for you to start moving but you just laid there idly playing with my hair and kissing my face, your swollen knob lodged against my cervix.

“Michael, move! I need you to move!”

I squeezed you encouragingly, but still you lay immobile. I was so frustrated that I felt like clawing the skin off your chest. I.. need.. you.. to.. move. And with each syllable that screamed through my brain my pelvis plunged hard into yours and swallowed the pulsing, burning-blessed!-intruder into my uttermost depths, striving to unite our inflamed bodies into a single flesh.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips and suddenly your hands were on my bottom pulling as I pushed and adding power to my impalement. Your index finger found my forbidden place and I felt the pad of your fingertip push gently in the center of my opening. Oh, God, I need to come. Please let me come! And I thrust ever harder in search of the right place, the right stimulation that would yield the release I craved. I was so close. So close, but just not there.

Each time my engorged nubbin tantalizingly tapped your pubis, lightning bursts of agonizing pleasure coursed through my body. I thrust and thrust and thrust as hard as ever I could, crying out in frustration for release. But it just wouldn't come. I couldn't come.

“Michael, why, why are you so cruel? Help me! Please, please help me.”

A tear trickled down my cheek and I stopped and buried my face in your chest. The tension in my body was too much to bear. My insatiable womanhood throbbed forlornly. You cradled me in the crook of your arm, whispering to me, soothing me.

"You are so beautiful, Sara. Your skin, your hair- it's a delight to touch you and to hold you. You are too wound up. Relax; let me drain some of that negative tension from you. Just relax."

You stroked my hair and my face and rained little kisses on my nose and eyes and lips. Gradually I relaxed and let you minister to me.

You excused yourself for just a moment and disappeared into the bathroom, then returned with an armful of items and laid them carefully on the bed. I strained to see what they might be in the soft glow afforded by the lanterns. You arranged three candles on each nightstand then struck a match and carefully lit them. A soothing scent of lavender wafted through the room and I inhaled deeply of it. Mm! In the flickering candlelight the figures on the wall hangings seemed alive, dancing in the pleasant warmth of the fireplace.

You leaned over me and whispered in my ear, "I want you to concentrate completely on yourself, Sara. You are always so willing to please me, but now is your time. Will you grant me the pleasure of pleasing you?"

I nodded my assent. Your presence seemed to grow, surrounding me in love and devotion. You took my hand in yours, placing us palm-to-palm, finger-to-finger, then weaving your fingers with mine and squeezing a little.

"Let go of yourself," your hypnotic voice whispered in my ear. "Let go of all your ideas and images of making love. Let them all go." My mind relaxed just a fraction. "I want you to do nothing for a change, nothing at all, except to breathe deeply and focus on the sensations your body is experiencing. No expectations. It is OK not to climax. Do not make that your goal. Just be.”

I did not know exactly what that meant, but it sounded so comforting that I allowed myself to be lulled into a state of security.

"I will light a fire in you, Sara. Not a big raging fire burning out of control. That's what you've experienced tonight, and it is why you are so frustrated. But rather a warm, pleasant fire that I will stoke and nourish, and it in turn will stoke and nourish you. Will you let me plant that fire within you?"

Oh, that sounded wonderful. No expectations. No driving towards some goal. Just a warm, pleasant fire. Yes, I would very much like you to plant that within me.

"As the fire burns, it will lead us to where you need to go. We will listen to the fire and it will tell us. Will you listen?"

I closed my eyes and nodded, captivated by your trance-like voice.

"Remember, Sara. This is for me and for me alone. It is your gift to me."

My gift to you? Before I had worked out your meaning you whispered, "Turn over on your stomach." I responded automatically. I had decided to trust you in this, even though my loins were still congested with disappointment. You laid your palm at the base of my spine. Your hand was rough. A man's hand. And even though your skin was rough your touch was warm and tender. I remembered what you had asked and focused on the sensation of your palm exerting just the least amount of pressure on the tip of my spine. You paused for a moment to let me absorb the sensation, then your palm traveled gently along my backbone from bottom to top. When you were at the top you added your other hand and stroked my entire back from the top downward, then along the outside of my hips and legs all the way to my feet.

Oh, I was beginning to like this.

You stroked along my feet and back up along the inside of my legs and over my bottom, then once more your hand traveled up my spine. I tensed as your hands stroked the inside of my legs, but as you repeated your massage once and then twice without touching my femininity I relaxed a bit and began to trust you again.

I felt a soft warm cloth being drawn over my head and down my back, over my bottom and legs and finally off my feet. As you drew it over me it seemed to soak the tension from my body and I reveled in the touch of the downy material on my sensitive skin. Next you produced a feather and gently stroked and caressed my entire back with it in long lingering sweeps. Occasionally, just to vary the feeling you used the quill of the feather to prick me lightly here and there. I found that when you did this it kept my mind from drifting away. I stayed focused on my body. You laid the feather aside. What could be next?

Oil. Warm fragrant oil. You dribbled a little between my shoulder blades as if anointing my skin and then gently spread it with slow strokes over my whole body, your hands undulating like waves.

"That feels so good," I groaned.

"It's all in the wrist," you breathed, and I smiled. "Sh."

You sat between my spread legs and massaged the halves of my back in circles, from my head to my bottom, beginning at my vertebrae and moving outwards.

Your marvelous hands unknotted the tension gathered in my neck then moved the length of my arms and hands as if you were pulling it down my limbs and out my fingertips. You massaged each hand and each finger beginning with my thumbs and on to my pinkies. Then repeated the same motions for my legs, from my hips to my feet with special attention to each toe. I struggled to maintain focus. I was beginning to relax and my mind wanted to drift. But I was determined to keep in touch with all the sensations flowing through my body.

"Sara, now I'm going to massage your bottom, first your buttocks, then the muscles of your anus."

"My anus?"

"With your permission. Tension accumulates there. As I massage you will feel it released, drained away."

I hesitated while you waited patiently. This seemed a little too personal. But in surrender I closed my eyes and released my body to your care. Balmy oil drizzled on my bottom as you settled in. Your palms circled my cheeks, from inside to outside, at first lightly then with pressure. It felt wonderful, but I wasn't so sure about what might come next. I didn't have long to wait.

Another drizzle of oil in the cleft of my bum, then I felt your thumbs separate the globes of my bottom, exposing my most vulnerable place to your gaze. I was on edge, tense and unsure of where this was going. But you crooned soothing words in my ear as your strong hands took charge of me until slowly I trusted and relaxed.

So it was that when the balls of your thumbs found the sensitive tissue surrounding my opening I willed myself to loosen up and let it happen. You gently massaged the clenched muscles forming the ring of my sphincter, round and round, soothing, caressing draining away the negative tension that had built up in my body. The warm oil seemed to glow on my behind and somehow drew all of my frustration into it. I sighed in contentment. An oily finger gently pressed on my center and bit by bit entered my silken passage where it lodged unmoving. I was utterly within your power now. My body was yours.

Time slipped by unmarked with your digit lodged in my back passage and your fingers gently stroking me until I felt myself dissolving into an oblivion of contentment. A greater moment of intimacy I had never known. The connection between us was more than physical, more than friendship, but spiritual, almost sacred in its purity. I seemed to be floating on golden clouds of love and acceptance supported only by a fleecy vapor securely cradling my naked body.

"It is enough," your voice whispered in my ear. "I have planted the fire."

It was true. The choking inferno had been replaced with glowing embers like the fire in the fireplace, bright and constant and warm and embracing. The digit gently removed itself and I felt the roughness of a towel dabbing the oil from my behind.

"Now, Sara, I need you to roll onto your back."

I wondered hazily what might come next. And as was becoming usual you surprised me. You knelt at the foot of the bed and placed your hands on the soles of my feet, holding them, warming them in your hands, honoring them. Only one who is truly a master is able to bow with such humility and so demonstrate his true strength and courage and character. The acceptance I felt seemed to open a door within freeing sexual and erotic energies that I didn't even know I possessed. The fire flamed brighter.

You rested there awhile caressing and just holding my feet. Then spreading my legs you moved close to their juncture and began to touch and stroke the front of my body with the feather as you had with my back. It passed tantalizingly over my belly button and my nipples before gently stroking my face.

You took oil in your hands and anointed my body with it, at first using wide strokes to spread it over my shoulders and tummy and chest then focusing on individual spots, the indentation of my neck, my armpits, inside my elbows and wrists, then the palms of my hands and on to my nipples, navel, and pubic mound. When I was thoroughly coated and my skin electrified you used your fingertips to explore and entice every inch of me, increasing my sexual energy and making me feel alive to your touch.

I gasped as you rolled my engorged nipples between your index fingers and thumbs. A throbbing began within me, as if far-off drums were beating a rhythm deep inside. Involuntarily I opened my legs even wider for you and I felt a whisper of cool air on the welling wetness. There was a slight tremble in your hands as you began to very gently massage my stomach, moving round and round in a clockwise motion then raised my knees and placed the soles of my cold feet on your warm stomach. You warmed them in your hands. I felt so vulnerable that way, yet so cherished and safe that I forgot to be embarrassed.

And as if closing out one phase of fire-building before beginning the next you placed your hand directly over my heart. I felt it pound against the slight pressure you put there. The intimacy was almost overwhelming. The flat of your other hand you placed directly on my clitoris, holding it there a moment, then moving upwards across my pubis and stomach to replace the hand at my heart, which moved down to my clitoris and repeated the cycle, over and over. It was as if you were connecting my heart to my sexual parts. And then I saw. Sex wasn't just something I allowed to happen to me, it was me, as much a part of me as my mind or will, or emotions. I wondered at this revelation. It seemed so freeing.

My breath came in ragged gasps. My body thrummed with sensation. It was all I could do just to focus on what you were creating in me and not to force you to go faster. I was in your hands. I felt compelled to submit to your will. What did you call it? My present to you.

And now your hands ceased their motions. Your left covered my heart and the right cupped my womanhood. Slowly, slowly you began to massage me down there with your whole hand in a circular motion. I understood that the final kindling was at hand when the smoldering embers would blaze into glory. I opened wider, then wider still, and I felt my labia blossoming like a spring time flower awakened at your touch. You shifted and your fingers opened me, exposing my most secret place, the heart of who I was as a woman. You reached under me and slid your fingers from my tailbone to my pubic mound, over and over, one hand after the other, until the wells of arousal opened and flowed freely. Then you covered my clitoris with the ball of your hand and vibrated it a little.

Oh! It was like an electric shock passed through my body. I felt waves of arousal building in my womb, not the sharp demanding arousal that had earlier ended in such frustration, but something deeper and more powerful, yet more subtle and easier to abide. I felt so safe and warm, so protected. It was as if I was free at last to unleash all my sexual energy and give free reign to my passion.

Your thumbs pressed deeply into my outer lips squeezing the tissues together before passing smoothly downwards to my vagina. On the upstroke you gently pulled my labia apart and massaged them from the inside using your thumb and index finger. When you were satisfied with their engorgement you repeated your ministrations to my inner lips. And the fire was becoming a blaze.

Now your middle finger passed deep in the channel between my inner lips tracing the outline of my heavenly gate, teasing my urethra then up through my sopping furrow to the swollen nubbin of my clitoris. You played with my engorged bulb, at first drawing little circles around the base then tickling it lightly and finally tugging and pulling. Oh God I was going to explode. And just as I felt myself gather for the climax, you would cease and massage my abdomen and breasts for a bit until I calmed before beginning again, each time bringing me higher and higher, closer and closer.

Finally as you stroked my clit the middle finger of your other hand found the opening to my sheath and two fingers circled the inside walls from front to back, round and round, driving me mad with pleasure. The fire was raging.

"Oh, Michael, not your finger! I want.. I want.."

"What is it that you want, Sara? Ask for it plainly."

"I want.. I want your cock inside me. Oh please, Michael. Please? I need your cock to fill me before it’s too late."

Indeed, the energy within me was deepening and spreading, proceeding inexorably towards a mighty crisis. The pearl of my clitoris seemed nearly to burst and my womb hungered for your engorged maleness. I was nearing the cusp. I needed you now or I would spend myself in vain.

And in answer to my pleas you shifted, and I felt the spongy hardness at my gate. You paused for a bit and struggled for control and the evidence of your extreme state almost pushed me prematurely over the edge.

“Michael! Michael! Oh, put it in- I need you now!”

With teeth-clenching deliberateness you obliged me. I felt your phallus parting my passage at last, stretching my clinging walls. Filling me. Completing me.

Just as your belly touched mine, just as the burning oaken rod plumbed the deepest part of my being, the tension suddenly exploded and from the uttermost depths of my person a sweet shaking release burst forth and quickly crescendoed.

As I stiffened you savagely thrust once, twice, thrice-and paused frozen as the throbbing flesh within me swelled impossibly and spurting seed filled my womb. An animal cry of unendurable pleasure was wrung from your breast as you gave full voice to your culmination.

“I’m coming,” I gasped. And I was. Oh God, I was. I was!

Much later as I purred in your embrace I asked how- oh how!- you could give me such pleasure. You laughed contentedly and lifted my face to yours so that you could kiss me.

"It's all in the wrist, my beautiful Sara. All in the wrist."