"Will you make love to me?"

Trembling, I spoke the words I was so afraid to speak. My eyes spoke only of desire.

He nodded, almost trance-like in his silence, looking through me, not able to speak. He seemed almost frightened, shocked and overcome with a passion that surprised him.

Smiling softly, I gently took his hand, lifting it to my lips. Our bodies were so close. Lightly kissing the very top of his hand, right above his strong knuckles, I closed my eyes, wanting to feel his strength and truth. Pressing his hand against my cheek, the place kissed with my desire -I held his hand, hot and tense now, so warm against my face. I could taste the intensity now. He was filled with a deep longing and need a luxury to me. I breathed it in.

Tears filled my eyes as I captured the knowledge of a forgotten dream come to life.

As if he knew my joy, as painful as it was delightful, he placed his remaining hand under my chin. Lifting my face, he looked in my eyes, not wanting me to be ashamed of my passion for him or of the sadness still inside me.

He gazed intently into my tear-filled eyes. His eyes seemed overwhelmed with understanding, and a need to dissolve the pain and loneliness. He couldn't deny the passion he felt, so strange, yet it seemed lovely and right to him, too.

Still holding his hand, I led him to our bed, once so empty, now we would fill it with a myriad of wishes, dreams, and hopes.

Lying down beside him, closely, I watched his face, feeling the full length of his body, tense with emotion and need.

I longed to loosen him, to relieve him of his tightness and tension.

He kissed my swollen lips, very slightly, withholding his hunger and lust, almost afraid to set free his torrent of emotion; his masculine need for me, building in him, quickly now.

My rhythm of pleasure began, as I undressed him, button by button. My lips trembled and played upon his shoulder, upon his chest. I savored each inch of his body and tasted the essence of him, until at last his shirt disappeared as though it was never there.

My breasts became so taut and full of desire, pulling and grasping, as if they were reaching out for him, needing him, wanting him to make each one a part of himself.

Stroking his back lightly, my hand moved down to the lower parts of him, so lovely, yet so masculine and strong. I pressed the tightness of his body and his hardness against me. I wanted to pull all of him inside me. I wanted him to fill me up with himself; with all of him - all of him inside all of me.

My breath caught in my throat and became quick and shallow, as I allowed myself to lose control. I felt his desire all gathered in one place, so hard and driven, the part of him soon to fill me - every inch of me - and empty me out of all my passion, my lust, my sorrow, my loneliness.

Like a vision, soft fiery gleams of light became cloudy and still, but not at rest. Not at rest at all. Because now his time had come.

In a rhythm all his own, this man with eyes full of understanding, and loins strained and tested by lust, came fully to life, abounding with the pleasure of our beginning.

Mariah Wyat