Golden Ages

by Alexis Siefert

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, First, .

Desc: Sex Story: The Bronze Medal winner in the Dulcinea Memorial Festival.<br>They say that the hotest fires burn the brightest, and burn out the quickest, 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, not 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."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / First /