I wrote this to admonish those who are struggling to find the balance in their relationships. Reminding all that we cannot be so spiritually minded that we fail to attend to the natural needs of our spouses. And to keep the fire burning, mindfully attentive to the pressures and burdens of our calling spouses are to tend to one another. It is our first ministry. First Fire by Jay Whitney (Excerpt #1 of the Fire series) He released himself from his sweat-dampened collar and flung himself on the bed in one motion. He was as sturdy as the handkerchief stuffed inside his blazer lapel. The same blazer that now lay slumped across the back of the chair in the corner. The same blazer that housed the phone that was now buzzing. She walked to the corner of the room, reached inside his pocket and put an end to the buzzing nuisance, then she met him there by the side of the bed. She relieved his palm of the collar placing it on the nightstand while straddling him. She lowered two supple lips to his ear and whispered into his gates, My King. These would be the only words spoken. The room was dark. Only a faint glow from a single street light pierced through the satin window dressing. Still her hands navigated his waisteline like they had night-vision. His belt unbuckled, his fly undone, his dress slacks and boxer briefs surrendered to her every tug. She freed the length of him. His scent lifted into the atmosphere like worship. It saturated her sinuses. It was a mixture of Dolce, sweat, and darkness. His upper half was as complying as his lower as her slender manicured digits relaxed buttons and parted his shirt like the Red Sea. A crop of ravenesque coils were revealed. She examined his face. His eyes. His mouth. His jawline. All she saw was pain. For a moment her eyes were apologetic. Somehow she felt responsible for the burdens of the world that braced his shoulders. The new church. The congregation. A brand new home in a prestigious part of town. It was her that led him to the Lord in the first place. Pondering these things she reached beneath her and filling her hands with all of him, ushered his presence into her most holy place. A single tear escaped his eye and traced the soft creases of his face. She was ministering to him. Every arch of her back and raise of her swollen hips was as if she were milking him; delivering him of all care and concern. Her hands rested slightly on his chest. Every now and then her manicured digits would gently comb through fields of chest-hairs and come to rest on his abdomen. Soon only moments would pass, but her sermon seemed to go on forever and ever. With her body she spoke the truth and her message was well prepared and powerful. He was holding on now. His embrace was strong; almost desperate as he infiltrated her atmosphere with passion over and over again. As they pressed closer to their climax her belly teemed with excitement. Slowing her hips to a rythmic pulse she raised herself higher on the bed. Her body was fit. Long and lean from her dedicated relationship with the local gym. Every wonderful curve was deliberate. Her skin was youthful, giving the dimlit room its cinnamon hue. Their intensity hightened yet still no words. Only a sprinkle of moans at times escaped them both. But they understood. Her tender thighs gripped his waist. His power hands manipulated her ample breasts thumbing at her nipples like they held potent verses of scriptures. In response they stiffened. Pulling at his erection she demanded the potent flow of his anointing and with one final plea he succumbed. He released care, concern, and ecstacy at once. She brought her pelvis to a halt slowly. Methodically. Like an exhausted pocketwatch. And for a moment, all time and space between them ceased to exist. She kissed his majesty. It was long and deep and passionate. Her dismount was slow like warm chocolate butter pouring down off of his hip and into the pink bedroom slippers waiting beside the bed. There was no cuddling. Only another study of his face. His eyes. His mouth. His jawline. All she saw was elation. And before she headed for the shower she whispered again into his ears, My King. Those were the only words spoken.
Posted on: Sun, 18 Jan 2015 21:41:08 +0000
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