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Message-ID: <30616asstr$991728604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: ealexissiefert@yahoo.com (Alexis Siefert)
Reply-To: Alexis.Siefert@lana.pathlink.com
Subject: {ASSM} <Dulcinea> Golden Ages (MF Rom) by Alexis Siefert
Date: Tue,  5 Jun 2001 04:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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   This is a work of adult fiction and should be read only by
adults. It is also my work. Although I receive no compensation
other than your comments, it is still my work. Please respect
this and do not repost it somewhere else without talking to me
first about it. If you are not allowed to read works with sexual
content, either due to your age or by virtue of the laws in the
geographical location in which you reside, please do not
continue. 

   I'd love to hear from you - please, please, please let me know
what you think.  Like most writers, I take what I do here very
seriously, and I'd appreciate any feedback, suggestions, or
comments that readers are kind enough to send.  

        Alexis Siefert (ealexissiefert@yahoo.com)

~~~~~~~~

It has been said that the hottest fires burn the 
brightest, and also that they burn out the fastest,
leaving only wisps of smoke and an unsatisfied feeling 
of regret for time lost.  True?  I doubt it.

~~~~~~~

It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.

They sat, always the same, on the porch outside her 
room.  He brushed her hair and pinned it back, careful
to keep the curls lying flat against the nape of her 
neck.   She had always kept it like this when she had
been able to care for it herself.  Now, like so many
other things, he did it for her.

She had a beautiful neck; it was one of the first
things that attracted him to her.  He could still
remember the first time he saw her.  It was her neck
that he saw.  More precisely it was her throat, rising
gracefully from the high lace collar of her fitted 
blouse.  She was selling kisses at a booth.  Fund-
raising for something or other. That was the second 
thing that attracted him.  She was always trying to 
help.  Great causes, small causes,famine in Africa, 
kittens in the pound.  It didn't matter.  Downtrodden,
bedridden, cold, hungry.  She wasn't picky about her
causes.  

$1.00 a kiss.  He went broke that night.   

Oh, how he wanted her that night.  She kissed him, the
$1.00 kiss, a chaste, demure kiss.  Then she kissed him 
again.  And again.  And again. He ran out of dollars 
before she ran out of kisses.  So, with a light in her 
eyes, she kissed him for free.  The free kiss wasn't 
the chaste, demure kiss. The chaste one was reserved 
for the paying customers.   The free kiss was one with 
fire and passion and the promise of things to come.

And those things, they did come.  Not quickly, like
with today's young couples.  They didn't jump into bed
after exchanging first names.  They dated, really 
dated.  Movies, dinner, dancing.  They danced the night 
away under strings of lights hung from ballroom 
ceilings.  They danced beside candlelit tables in
smoke-filled rooms.  They danced beneath the stars with
sand under their feet and the waves crashing at their
backs.  They danced in all that they did, their bodies
moving together to a rhythm they shared with the 
universe.  Their souls met in the heavens and segued 
into a samba with the seraphim.  Then, when those 
passions did come, they danced again.


It was on the beach at dusk.  The sun dipping into the
horizon, burning orange and purple behind the gray 
clouds of impending night.  She pulled him close, 
lifting up onto her toes and wrapping her delicate
arms around his neck.  He was taller than her, taller 
by far, and she had kicked off her shoes as they 
floated across the beach.  He bent down to her ear,
letting her whisper softly to him, "Please, make it
tonight."

It was her first, and although it wasn't his first, he
was far from expert. So afraid of hurting her, he was
tentative, reserved, gentle.  He entered her slowly,
pressing against her tight opening.  He could feel the
resistance of her virginal opening, and he stopped to 
let her muscles adjust to the new sensation of being
filled.  His cock throbbed inside her--impatient
despite his best intentions.  He held himself over her, 
waiting for her to feel the same pleasures he was
feeling.  Gazing down at her he was suddenly 
overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was staring at
the most beautiful creature in the universe.  He was
held captive by her eyes.  

Not until he heard the sharp hissing of her breath
between her teeth and her soft moan of pleasure was he
able to let go of his desire to protect her.  One word
escaped her clenched teeth.  "More."  It was all the
encouragement he needed. Her legs wrapped around his 
hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.
Driving him faster and harder.

That first time was forever, indelibly burned into his
soul.  As the sun melted into the horizon and the waves 
continued their steady crawl onto the sand they became 
one. No prose, no songs, no poetry could contain the 
wonder of them.  Only the music of the stars rivaled 
the wonder that was their coupling.   

Now, years later, lifetimes later, she was still as
perfect, as beautiful, and as wondrous as that first
night.  Although she could no longer wrap her legs
around his waist, she could no longer hold him in her
arms, and she could no longer stroke her delicate
fingers along his chest, he loved her.

They sat this way every night.  Her meal finished, her
thin legs wrapped in a blanket, her eyes seeing 
something all her own, they sat on the porch. He lifted 
her gently and sat her lovingly in the padded rocker 
facing the ocean.  He sat beside her in his wicker 
chair, and rested his hand ever-so-lightly on her 
fragile arm.  And together they watched the sun melt 
into the water, and always he remembered that night.

It was at sunset when she meant the most to him.
        

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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