Bitch

Then two fingers plunged deep inside me once again.

He was relentless, merciless, using mouth and fingers to ravish me, his free hand moving up my body and toying with my breasts. My body pressed against his face and fingers, my pulse quickened to at least Mach 4.5, and my voice sang loudly, my hands and thighs trapping him to me as my love poured onto him. Between his actions between my legs and Nature's actions outside the cabin, I was in heaven, my body rocking violently in response to the parallel events beyond my control, my senses overwhelmed and my mind thus casting me into a haze of pleasure - both sexual and otherwise.

I was suddenly aware that I was sobbing happily between my cries of pleasure, but I was much too overcome with passion to be embarrassed. Just as suddenly, he was gone, then was suddenly kissing me, my sweet taste still upon his lips and driving me insane as if it were the most powerful aphrodisiac known to the universe.

Then he was suddenly gone, but seconds later was sheathed within me once more. The solid invader burned me like molten lava as my soulmate slammed into me again and again and again, battering me so severely that I was certain I would sport significant bruises by nightfall, but I simply did not - and could not - care. Only the roar of the thunder could match my cries; only the driving rain could match the amount of salty water joyously cascading down my cheeks.

Nothing in the universe could match the intense passion.

Suddenly, there was an emptiness inside me, and as my eyes fluttered open and unfocused, I could just barely see a streak of white arcing over my body, and then felt the first of many splashes upon my neck and chest and stomach. At last, my desire had come true: I had been painted, marked.

Kneeling again beside the sofa, he kissed the joyful tears from my face, his fingers gently stroking my head and playing with my hair. Slowly, my body calmed, just as the massive storm subsided gradually and moved off the mountainside. I felt exhausted, used, loved, cherished, exhausted, and my eyes closed once again.

When my eyes finally opened, heat emanated from the fireplace, providing the only light as darkness had obviously fallen upon the mountainside. The storm itself had ended, but I could still hear the quiet, relaxing tapping of a gentle rain on the roof. And, still fully nude, he lay on his stomach by the fireplace, using the firelight to read a book.

Gingerly, I sat up on the sofa, definitely feeling a bit sore between the legs and conscious of slight discomfort where he had bitten me on the shoulder and chest. Most importantly, however, I could feel the dried "paint" cracking as I stretched, and it felt wonderful.

I slipped to the floor and slowly crawled toward him. Looking out through the curtain of my hair, I watched his eyes drink me in, caressing me, devouring me, and he smiled in appreciation as he closed and set aside his book. I wondered if he was starting to become erect again as he watched me slowly crawl toward him.

I reached him at last, and lay upon his back, resting my head against his shoulder. He was propped up on his elbows for reading, so I wrapped my arms around his chest, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"What am I?" I asked quietly, my voice no louder than the gentle crackling of the burning wood a few feet away.

"You're a bitch," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of a smile. "You're MY bitch."

The telltale warmth began to grow inside me once more.