I sit and watch the flames in my fireplace. I am almost hypnotized by their dance. The flames take on shapes of two people dancing. Their bodies move to the beat of music only they can hear. Sensuously they dance, around and around the fireplace. Swaying and leaping, but always together.
Finally they part and I can see clearly their outlines, one is a male, strong and proud, and the other a female, her body curvy and sexy. She swayed in a teasing manner, almost like a striper on a stage, but she had no clothing on. Her movements grew faster and more erotic and she twisted and turned, contorting her body, and arousing me as I watched. The male appeared to finally reach his limit and they reached for each other at the same time.
His hands grasped her hips and lifted her, her legs wound around his waist. I watched as the flames made love. His hips thrusting him deep into her body, her back arched at his thrusts. Her breasts thrust out proud and true, his mouth closing about one nipple, then the next. I wanted so bad to join in on their play, but knew I could not.
Over and over he thrust into her, rocking her body against his. Only his arms about her waist and her legs about his held her up. They kissed, their tongues swirling in each others mouths. The fire around them began to die out. I let it, knowing that to bank the fire again would be to stop them, to kill them while they made love, so I let the fire die. Just as they appeared to orgasm, the last flame went out, taking them away from my sight.
I don’t know what made me see flames making love in my lonely fire, maybe it was a hidden voyeur streak, or a need for company, maybe it was an illusion brought on by lack of sleep, but whatever it was, it has never been repeated. I have wanted it to happen again so much, but it never has.
