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             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. 
             
               
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