The Cabin

The warm northern light spilled onto the cool, dark timber of the cabin's enormous kitchen bench. Outside the room the afternoon was all gentle breezes and autumn calm. Inside there was stillness but it was electric with tension and the only conscious movement I could attend was the pounding in my chest.

We had booked the cabin months earlier on a whim, and at the time it never seemed quite real enough since there was little likelihood we would ever get the chance to follow through.

Though unspoken, we took this step together in truth because of our of shared desire to escape from the sensibilities our of daily conventions, our restraints, and our shared morality.

Her skin echoed the rich brown flesh of the timber. She lay there upon the bench, as though embraced by the loving touch of the wood.

And always she kept her eyes hidden from me. If I would walk to one side of the table to catch her gaze she would turn her head away, although once I was certain I caught the hint of an impish smile.

Her body was relaxed and languid, and when she moved, she did so only to the gentlest extent, and usually in a way that deliberately revealed a little more of her nakedness.

The effect was powerful and provocative. I had never possessed her and barely touched her at all but for some casual affections marking my irregular arrival and departure in her life.

Our time together was rare and precious, and mostly spent deep in conversation about literature and poetry, love and gods, art and song. And she was all these desires for me and while I knew it from the start, I barely dared to hope that I was all this for her also.

She gave me no warning that afternoon. Or perhaps all our time together had all been colored by caution but I was too in love to read the danger of our temptation. The smiles, the flirting, the laughter. Or the times when she would speak in barely a whisper so that I would have to lean in close to hear her words.

Months... years of preparation delivered us to this moment.

She had covered her body in a bouquet of white talc for me, the smooth, soft power accentuating her dark rich shadows and the luscious undulating curves of her vulnerability.

All this while I kept my distance from her in that room, devouring the very sight of her and shocked by the power she held over me.

My arousal was complete.

Slowly, deliberately I shed my clothes and I could tell from the slight curve at the corner of her mouth that she could sense my nakedness at her periphery.

At last my arousal overcame the torment and fervor that kept her just beyond my reach.

I approached the table, ran the tips of my fingers across the wood enjoying its roughness until at last my hands reached her firm, beautiful brown behind and wood's texture gave way to the fleshly touch of her delicious rump .

Just to her left was a little mound of powder. I took a handful and sprinkled it over her back, down across her ass and onto her thighs and with my hands which felt so course against her bare skin I began to massage her body. I heard her breath and watched her whole body engage with my touch.

Kneading her cheeks and thighs like fresh warm dough, I was lost in a rapture, and as the scents of the wood and powder and her dripping sex upon the timber overwhelmed me I felt a rising urgency that came upon me so unexpectedly I feared my control might abandon me altogether.

She lifted her belly just slightly from the table as if bending for me in an act of submission. At that moment all the certainties and safety of my life far away from her were abandoned and violently sacrificed on the altar of my lust. I thrust my arm around her belly, pulling her up on her knees. Then I roared, angry at my capitulation, bur also thrilled at the exquisite submission to my guilty craving.

My hands grabbed eagerly at her hips, I bent forward and hungrily thrust my face between her cheeks. I almost cried from the pleasure of the taste and fragrance of her juices as they soaked my hungry mouth.