Gift of Another for my Valentine

Valentine's Day Story Contest 2017 entry, Please vote!

Enjoy this Valentine's Days treat! Be prepared for sweetness and sentimentality. With maybe a dash of saccharine, this delightful treat is laced with a rich chocolate coating of desire and inside is dripping with dense sensuality, leaving you salivating and tingling (I hope!) This delicacy won't pack on the pounds or rot your teeth!

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We'd traveled four hours to get to our final peaceful, solitary destination in Vermont. The road leading to the farmhouse had been a mile of bumpy, deeply gouged and rutted dirt roads. Wintry overgrown leafless tree limbs and scrubby, gangly hedges had brushed and scraped our SUV. Was there really a tiny little cottage all the way out here? We wondered.

When we finally emerged from the tangle and overgrowth of nature, the soft glow of a lamp beckoned us to the safety of the farmhouse. The owners of the cabin were kind enough to leave the light burning for us. Gas fueled the lights, refrigerator and stove in the old home. Only a small generator provided minute amounts of voltage for personal electronic devices and a hot water heater. Cell service was spotty.

We were truly in heaven, away from the world, just the two of us, nestled among the tall pines and naked deciduous trees, at the end of a lonely country road. The nearest neighbors were miles away.

This was our first 'official' Valentines Day. We were together, inseparable, at long last. A few Valentines Days had past but none spent together. The agony of being separated from the one you love on this holiday was heartbreaking. We'd understood why separated lovers believed February 14th tasted less like sweet chocolate Valentines candy or the flavor of your lover on your lips and more like a hard, bitter pill forced down your throat with an acerbic liquid called despair.

The broken heart, shorn apart with sad jagged edges is highly symbolic of the separation of the two meant to be one. However, when the edges join again they fuse in such a way that super bonds that one heart, once two halves of the whole, that bond is stronger and unbreakable.

That was our heart, my lovers and mine. Through all gut wrenching trials, separations and fights we'd weathered them all. At last, our collective demons, vanquished to the past, their terrible evaporating trails of hurt, pain, sadness and regret could shake, rattle and rage on the outside but they'd never again gain entry into our bubble. Not ever...never again. With all we'd endured how could anything even slightly toxic and damaging pierce the healing scar tissue on our shared heart so deep, so gnarly, thick and impenetrable?

Later that night, after we'd settled in, a snowstorm beat its wintry wrath upon the tiny, rural cottage to the foundation. The wind was wailing, rattling the ancient windowpanes. Icy snowflakes were pelting the old pitted glass. Inside our rented rickety Vermont farmhouse a fire popped in the hearth. Inside was-oh not anything like out. Ensconced in this three-room snow shrine I was truly safe, or so it seemed, warm and sultry, a sugar sweet bubble.

A homemade Valentines dinner was cooling on the battered homemade table, half eaten. Beaten up, over used pots and pans lined the countertops in a dollhouse-sized kitchen. The shabbiness added to the charm, the nostalgia of so many meals before. Delicious scents of Foie Gras and accompaniments lingered in the cabin. A luxurious bouquet of fresh pink roses, sprayed with Baby's Breath stood as a regal centerpiece, a stark contrast to interiors overall threadbare sparseness. The heady aroma of the flowers mingled with the savory scents of dinner. Lest we forget the piquant aroma of two lovers merged as one. Fused in a deep primitive dance. Sultry sex, raw and primal enhanced exponentially when in love. (I'll serve up more of this scene later for dessert; this is offered to whet your appetite!)

Earlier that day, we made a pact to curtail our passions until after dinner. The obedience to the pact frazzled our nerves. Desire mixed with a healthy shot of insanity kept us teetering on the fringes of madness.

When in love I am a whore to my female passions, unabashed, unregulated, unfazed by outsiders indoctrinated shortsightedness. I push the limits with what is socially acceptable in our polite, cultural milieu. My ability to survive and even thrive a horribly exploitive, traumatic childhood and ensuing early adulthood had my lover curious to a fault. My forthright lust, zest and zeal drove him to distraction from day one.

When we'd first met my Ivy League educated, buttoned up lover had been reserved, a bit chilly and stoic. After a short time I understood why he'd built those walls. His cool reserve and detached manner had enabled him to endure a deeply troubled marriage to a mentally unstable drama queen. To survive he'd been forced to counteract her emotional deregulation by numbing himself. Emotionally neutered, yes, it is as horrible as it sounds! She'd steam rolled his spirit. Crushed his zeal and had gorged herself gleefully on his soul. He'd been a shell, devoid of the meaty, dense and lively insides, adrift in a lifeless ocean of soul stagnation.

My lover had escaped the marriage. Divorced only recently after many years of separation. He'd been bound, nay shackled to duty, bound to her for so long. My beloved finally had been able to break free after realizing he'd die a bitter old man with only a sense of duty to comfort him.

As our hearts had begun to fuse we'd allowed our emotional barriers to crumble to dirt. Imagine my surprise and absolute delight to discover he was a reflection of my shadow self. My lust filled passion was blatantly overt. He was a covert freak. Under all that seemingly highly polished glossy veneer had been a long repressed voracious and rancorous fucking machine.

So I learned early on---never estimate on first sight the depths of any acquaintances ravenous desires or the pits of his despair. As such, we forever are marred by the scars, under wraps mostly but ever present and pervasive when dark shadowy emotions run high.

My pensive reflection on our history served only as a slim distraction from this evening's tasty carnal delights. While the dinner grew colder, the candles flickered and the fire roared hot, my lover was ravishing me.

Clutching the cool sheets atop the shaky metal bed in the remote cottage, I writhed and coiled like an overexcited serpent. He devoured my pussy, licking and sucking thoroughly. His nose grazed my mound with each stroke of his tongue. He bobbed and ducked between my spread legs. I clung to the precipice hanging on with only a pinky finger. He was wickedly prying away my tenuous grasp. He was savoring my tiny bud, full and ready to burst. Yes, let the pleasure, the eminent release, the tightness and swelling of my clit combust.

Those dark eyes materialized from my between my outstretched legs. His head emerged. In the candlelight they glowed like a spooky cat startled, creeping around a pitch-black room. His face glossily coated in my sticky viscous sweetness. He smirked knowing he had the ultimate power he wielded heavy-handedly while I was stretched wide open for his dining pleasure.

"Stop---teasing me!" I pleaded. I tingled, sizzled.

Thick black hair disappeared again at the juncture of my thighs. The tip of his tongue grazed my tiny bundle of engorged flesh. More sizzle, more jolts, almost, almost. Agony! His tongue danced across my flesh with a steady pace of licking, sucking while he swallowed my pussy juice. He moans. It's deep, guttural, soul satisfying.

He's taking this slow tonight. My lover wants my nerve endings and insides hyper aroused so when he plunges his cock into me I'll feel every sensation a woman craves beyond reason. My beloved wants me to scream his name when I come for him. When I wield the power he is compliant. When I suck him off voraciously or ride him hard and fast, I decide when he comes. Tonight he brandishes the primal power with consummate finesse so I acquiesce. I'm the pliant lover, moldable and yielding.

He's allowed any secret, unspoken, dark sexual indulgences, as am I. For so long this deeply sexual man was deprived, emotionally, sexually. Our sexual quotas are unmatched however. This is the ultimate sexual healing for us and we revel in each moment shared.

One slow lick across my clit and I dive into the abyss. My legs shake. I scream, a primal howl. My chest empties of air. My insides grasp and expand violently. Cum bathes my insides and trickles into my lovers eager mouth. I clutch his thick luxurious mass of dark hair, urging him to suck me deeper and harder. Encouraged, he thrusts two fingers in my pussy and another into my ass prompting a waxing fiercer orgasm. I nearly fly off the bed.

Moments later my heart steadies. My insides a molten fire now begins to cool. He crawls over me, hovering at my midsection; his cock hangs heavy and hard, urgent for my pussy, the heat, and the bliss. He traces a heart around my navel then kisses the tiny indent. My pussy quivers, sensing the nearness of his mesmerizing, gifted tongue. I tease my hand over his smooth muscular belly and encircled his meaty cock. He moans, closes his eyes while jerking his head up, like a lion ready to roar, ready to mate hard and ferocious.

His phone vibrates on the side table shaking us both from our erotic stupor, breaking the magical, sexual spell. His eyes flash open. He sighs deeply and his mood shifts immediately. A darkness I know too well crosses his face.

"I love you" I whisper caressing his cheek, assuring him I was and would always be his safe harbor in deep, dark and frantic seas.

He kisses my forehead tucking me into his tall frame. When he's silent he is going dark. Not good. Past traumas were triggering him.

We're careful to navigate with extreme caution around our deep pains from the past. I'd spent most of my life crawling, clawing out of those infectious wounds. So his brooding silence always triggered my pain and unease. Truly, a no win situation.

He was deep in thought. I kissed his closed eyelid. "Am I misreading the situation? Don't you want to fuck?" I teased.

His eyes fluttered open. "I'll fuck you into tomorrow, into eternity my dearest but I need to tell you something, something very important."

I forced myself to take a deep breath then another but my heart was beating frantically 'A flashback,' I reminded myself, 'a trigger, you're safe, you're safe.'

"Hey, hey, oh my love I'm so sorry." He cooed stroking my long blonde hair, taking me into his arms soothing away the fear as he'd done many times before.

"I wanted to talk with you about a dark fantasy you have."

"What fantasy?" I raised an eyebrow.

I was on guard of course, armored up. Was he judging me? I'd bravely fought collective insecurities, but decades old demons never shrink to dust sized particles and blow away into the wind

My lover studied me as he steadied me. "You'd wanted a stranger to fuck you from behind, raw, hard and fast. 'Pound you into oblivion' is the way, I believe you described it.

I gulped hard. Too stunned to move. Oh, that fantasy...

"You were..." he cleared his throat and squirmed '...rather explicit" his voice wandered off.

My eyes widened. We shared all our fantasies, no matter how dark and disturbing. That particular night we'd been blithely swimming in a bottle of a fine burgundy wine. Apparently, in my highly intoxicated state, I'd been very descriptive how I'd wanted this lascivious scene to play out. Now, with crystal clarity I realized the lasting impact this had on my lover.

"I told you then I didn't think I could share you with another."

"I remember." I murmured.

"Tonight I want to share you my dearest--- with another. I want to make your dark fantasy a reality."

I was speechless, felt as if someone encircled my head in layer upon layer of sticky cobwebs. A mental murky cloud rolled in suspending me in disbelief.

"It's a fantasy, my love, just a fantasy. I only want you, I'd never..." "The deal is sealed. Its all been arranged." The other, the stranger, he just texted me. He's waiting outside in his car."

"You what?" I jumped from the bed my feet barely touching the floor, pacing frantically. "We have never discussed this!" My arms crossed defensively.

He lunged out of bed and seized me in his arms.

"I knew you'd say no, that's why I didn't ask for permission. You said the element of surprise is what'd make the fantasy so erotic and intense. My deep insecurities will always create an emotional impasse with us. This is the ultimate Valentines gift. To prove to you and myself that nothing will part us again, no circumstances, no person and no stranger's cock fucking you. This is my gift of unconditional love."

My beloved held me so tight the embrace was nearly painful. He kissed me hard. A deep bone-scorching kiss that'd always turned my knees into an unstable, gelatinous mess.

I was shocked and a bit appalled at my lover's surreptitiousness but wouldn't pretend I wasn't turned on. Since I'd been a young woman in my twenties, I'd dreamed off this encounter almost to obsession. I'd always be alone masturbating, wanting a cock inside me so badly. In my fantasy a strange man had entered my bedroom. I'd beckon him to feast on my pussy and then he'd take me hard, raw and fast then disappear into the darkness.

"What if you can't handle it my love? I pleaded. "What if it's too much? What if you crumble? We've come too far to mess things up with a trivial fantasy.

"You've hinted at these yearnings so many times over the years my love, this is not a mere trivial fantasy. I want this to come to fruition. I'm a jealous man and your profound yearning will haunt me, until you're fulfilled. After, I'll know nothing; absolutely nothing will stand in our way.

My lover guided me to bed. He held me in a tight embrace. Our bellies touched. His dark eyes bore into me.

"Text him and tell him to leave. I promise I'll never mention this again." I snuggled into the crook of his neck.

"It's already done" He reached over to the table and jabbed a few quick keystrokes into the screen of his phone "don't worry, I vetted this man out long ago. He's very trustworthy, dependable and safe."

I shook my head in disbelief. My lover was exceedingly logical, fair and reasonable but this, well this tested the limits of logic!

Mixed emotions were running multiple relay races inside my frazzled brain. I was scared, nervous and fuck I was beyond aroused.

My lover was my anchor. I began to panic. What if the fury of this decision upended us? He'd always held me fast in the furious wind. He'd kept me safe and stable. I didn't want to get swept up and lost in the storm ever again.

"Here're the rules my beloved. My limits" as if reading my thoughts he calmed me with his rational and well-devised plan "He will fuck you from behind so you won't see his face nor will his identity ever be revealed to you. There is absolutely no talking. I will hold you while he fucks you. Also, to ensure you're not tempted to peek, you'll wear a blindfold. He is a stranger in every sense. I'll take no chances; I don't ever want your shared carnal delights to turn into his cravings. I know all too well how hungering you can develop quickly into a dark obsession.

"Don't get ahead of yourself my love" I stroked his arm gently "we've come too far to ever get mired into that toxic and diseased mindset again."

My voice seemed to sooth him. Regardless he was brusque and businesslike. I appreciated his attention to detail but I also understood, underneath his business-cool exterior was deep-rooted angst.

"He knows the limits. I was very clear with him. He knows you like it hard but you'll use our safety word if he's too rough. He can finger fuck you, play with your clit and make you come. However because he'll fuck you from behind clearly there'll be no kissing your sweet plump lips. Not here" he grazed his finger against my lips. Then dropped his hand and slipped a finger into my wet folds "or here" he snarled to define the point.

"You're so wet" he removed his fingers from my sensitive flesh, licking the fragranced dampness away "is this making you wet, thinking of him inside you? Answer me honestly!" He jerked my chin so I'd meet his intent gaze.

"Beyond all compare." I melted into his arms.

My beloved trusted almost no one. He wouldn't have chosen a random man. 'Whom had my lover chosen for me?' my mind kept wondering. He wouldn't trust a stranger. This had to be a man he knew. Do I know him? I let that deep sense of unease marinate for too long inside my brain.

I wouldn't let my anxiety or ruminations ruin the experience for me though. However he'd decided to craft and hone the encounter, I'd roll with it. I trusted him implicitly and didn't feel guilty. I spent years waging a war against guilt and assailed it with courage and conviction and god awful hard work.

A loud knock on the front door brought me back to reality. I jumped, startled like a tiny, timid rabbit. My love calmed my unease with a reassuring stroke on my naked arm.

My lover got out of bed, blew out all the candles in the cabin sans one. He went to the door where the stranger was waiting in the snowstorm.

"Give me three minutes" His commanding voice barked into the roughhewn wood.

The room was dim, barely glowing. The eerie single flame was haunting but the low lighting provided a respite where my fears could hide and cower, nearly discernable or so I hoped.

"Now for the blindfold my dearest." He whispered, breath hot on my neck. The hair inside my ear, the skin, electrified.

My lover rolled a tea towel into a stiff blindfold and secured the material across my eyes. The fabric was scratchy across my face and smelled faintly of lavender and of a sunny outside day. The scent was a soothing respite for my nerves.

"You trust me?"

"Implicitly." I nodded fervently.

Everything I do, every breath I take is for you. I love you." He sealed this oath with a deep kiss that ached.

The door to the old farmhouse creaked and moaned open. A wicked, angry gust blew into our warm cocoon. I shivered from the cold blast. My lover kissed me, hunkered down under the covers and pulled the bedspread protectively over my nude body. He stroked my belly then eased his fingers into the folds of my sensitive nubile flesh but retracted leaving me wanting.

Just then I was acutely aware of another presence in the tiny bedroom. This stranger, this male who was sent to fuck me hard and raw loomed like an erotic ghost lover.

Bravo my love! I wanted to weep grateful tears. He'd executed my fantasy with ultimate precision. I was beyond aroused. My scent pungent and needy, wanting and lusting, my sweet unique pussy fragrance permeated the air.

My lover showered me with kisses more and more demanding. I was so anxious as I shivered in unnerving anticipation. His agile hands groped my body more possessively and more demanding than I'd ever remembered. Was all this part of the distraction, perhaps a way to ease our frenetic apprehension?

Being blindfolded blocked out visual stimuli so my hearing was especially acute. My ears prickled with excitement when I heard the distinct sounds of un-zippering, unbuttoning, shoes dropping to the floor with a muffled thud as they rested on the worn, braided area rug.

The stranger was impeccably dressed, no doubt. My beloved wouldn't choose any man with standards lower than his, I mused. No doubt his sexual appetite was equally insatiable. He must be patient and precise and I was sure he was folding his fine garments and placing them neatly on a nearby bedroom chair. My lover wouldn't choose a fumbling idiot intent on fucking another mans beloved just to get off but he would be sure the stranger had sexual stamina to match his so to enrich my experience.