The heat rising between our two bodies was palpable, and I felt as if I might suffocate if I did not crush her to me. Yet, I fought the urge to do so, as my mind and all my senses became rapt in the beauty of her physical being. "Are you very certain," I cajoled, running a tentative finger along the line of flesh and bone between her pert, pink breasts.
"Do not ask me again," she sighed, arching her back involuntarily, as my fingers moved to cup the underside of one perfectly-shaped orb, my thumb grazing her nipple. To my surprise, it hardened under my inspection and grew deliciously taut.
"Then, I will not ask. I will take." Unable to resist for another moment, I brought my malformed lips to her dark, rose-toned nipple, and kissed it. Christine exhaled a moan from deep within her, and hastily set herself to separating the remaining clothing from our heaving bodies. I flicked my tongue across the bud of flesh and gently nipped for a scant moment, eliciting a squeal from the girl. I would have pulled away out of concern that I might have caused her pain, but I was quickly dissuaded from such an action by the new sensation of cool air over my whole body.
I looked at my angel, bare before me, beautiful. . .virginal. . .loving, and held her at arms-length. Like myself, I was certain that she had never stood so open and vulnerable to another human being; her shivers running through my hands as evidence to the fact. I was humbled by what could only be a sacrifice for her- to offer her body and her bed to the living corpse that I was.
Yes, Christine intended to prove to me that she loved me. While I relished the intimacy we were approaching, still not even certain I had not left the hostility of reality for this vision, I could not deny that I was ashamed that my dearest girl believed I would only trust in her affection if she were to prove her love with the ultimate 'gift'.
Neither one of us would be the same after that night. Still, we pressed on unquestioningly, bewitched by the dynamics of desire and the forbidden, the meeting of the darkness and the light that would destroy its mate.
In a matter of moments, I had pressed her lithe body onto the soft palate of the bedclothes, aligning her head to rest on a plump feather pillow. As her weight met with the eider down, she exhaled a barely audible sigh of what I took as contentment. I dearly hoped so.
I could not fathom the repercussions of the evening, should I push Christine beyond her self-imposed limitations. How did one go about making love to a woman; and not just any woman, but the one he prizes above all other things he has known in a half-century of life? I was less than a novice in the realm of the fairer sex. It was one thing to pick up some girl of the streets and take her roughly in a dingy back alley- a task that, despite my very human urges, I would never seek.
"Erik," she crooned, outstretching her arms to me with eager impatience.
I hesitated, suddenly devoid of the guise of control and dignity that had long been my shield from all those that had ever crossed my dark path. In order to be worthy of Christine, I must divest myself of all secrets and all barriers, both physical and emotional. Was I prepared to do such? I was not certain, and decided it might be best not to think at all, not of logic and repercussions, at least. She wanted me, wanted me to hold her and show her that she was loved. And wasn't that what I had pined for my whole life?
Do not think of consequences, I told myself silently, slowly lowering my body to sit beside her on the bed. I cursed my own self-doubt, and my inability to make either one of us feel at ease. It was the time to act, wasn't it? With growing confidence, I took the girl's hands and brought them to rest upon my chest, right above my own heart. Blanketing her fingers with my own, I searched her eyes, met her intense gaze,"I hold you here, Christine. Always. Here."
She smiled gently before grabbing me about the waist and pulling my bare flesh down so that I rested above her delectable figure. She was the epitome of loveliness. No second thoughts, just tonight, I remember thinking. Just tonight. . .
There are no words adequate to describe what it is to make love to a woman. No music is comparable, and that language, the sounds of song, the greatest of all tongues, could describe the feelings running between our minds, our joined flesh that precious, singular evening. To recall every caress, every tightening of muscle, every ounce of pleasure would be to trivialize the experience. Christine was unlike any other woman, any other human being I had known. Yes, she had her own faults, but she was young. And as she had shown me in that one evening. . .to love someone was to love them as they were, to accept their faults.