There was a certain way that the shadows wrapped around her slender torso that he admired…delightfully admired. Her breasts were so young, so full, and stoutly erect. The flickering glow of the firelight danced across her smooth flesh in the most beautifully, magically, majestic way that he had ever seen.
Her long dark hair glistened in the firelight, a youthful shimmer glowing in her dark brown eyes. She had left just the smallest amount of hair above her crotch, trimmed shortly, wickedly inviting like a thin veil concealing the entrance to a concealed temple. She leaned against the brick mantle with her young hands hidden nervously behind her, and her firm legs crossed in a most seductive form.
It was a bitterly cold night, a harsh wintery wind that screeched across the rolling plains of the Texas Panhandle as loud as that of a banshee’s wails. The freezing cold of the moonlit evening did nothing to quell the raging fire that burned in the woman’s husband.
Her husband stepped out of the shadows of the room, moving into the flickering firelight, the fingers of its warm glow cascading across his firm body…his manhood stiffened and erect as he looked towards his beautiful young wife. As if she were suddenly the Helen of Troy upon seeing the bare form of Paris, the young wife cast her arms above her and beckoned him into her awaiting embrace.
They met in a passionate fire, lips locking, hands grasping, two firm bodies lost in the beauty of love. The firelight enraptured them, dancing across their flesh, stealthily groping at every feature of their young forms.
It was as lovely as love can be, like an art of the most spectacular design. She lavished the gentle touch of his lips against her neck. Her groom, pressing himself firmly against her.
He watched it through the window. Beautiful dancers lost in the speckled fingers of the firelight, and the cold wintery wind hissed through the seams of his heavy wool jacket. It was time now.
He pulled the burlap sack snug over his head, held tightly onto the worn wooden handle of his axe, and grabbed the cold rock off the nearly frozen ground.
Deep breaths as he stepped up to the window, misty clouds of moisture escaping from underneath his scratchy mask. The rock flew straight and true, the window shattered like a broken heart…and into the dancing firelight, he charged.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ip1ztg/dancers_in_the_firelight_mf