February 2025 – Audio Version

I knew… my Valentine was far from over.

The room stood still—yet it was far from silent. The gnawing carnality inside me refused to quiet, only growing, a thirst that could not be sated. It was as if the world itself shifted, thickening with the promise of something else awakening. I rested a bit before nibbling at my dinner prepared by Jack’s thoughtful hands, the minutes stretching into an eternity. My Inner Goddess fidgeted, restless, her flames still wild and unruly, fueled by the touch of the Lieutenant and my Jack. She was an unquenchable blaze that defiantly refused to be tamed.

The stars resumed their place in the sky, but they didn’t settle quietly. They giggled as they moved into position, watching my restless form far below. Something—someone—was coming. My gaze continually darted to the window, searching for the faintest flicker of movement in the shadows, the woods heralding an arrival, the echo of distant footsteps drawing nearer.

I nibbled my nails, the familiar anxiety twisting my insides where familiarity once burned. The Woodsman would come soon—very soon. I bit my lip, my pulse quickening as the silence in the room became unbearable, each minute stretching, leaving me teetering on the edge of frayed nerves and readiness. The large screen across the room flickered with bright lights, a distraction I barely noticed as my thoughts remained elsewhere.

Jack remained calm, relaxed even on the couch as I alternated between crouching on the edge of my seat and pacing the great room. My Inner Goddess was poised for the next chapter, her whispers of a story’s conclusion only adding to the growing hunger. One story ending, another beginning.

As the hours crawled by, even the stars held their breath, waiting… waiting… waiting.

_________________

The Woodsman moved about the room with practiced grace, each step deliberate, each motion measured. The delicate, spindly legs of the tripods quivered ever so slightly as he passed, the cameras perched atop them like curious ravens, each mechanical eye fixed upon the bed from a different angle. Draped once more in noir leggings and a strawberry-hued sweatshirt, I sat cross-legged on the coverlet, watching as he wove between the slender towers with an ingenuity all his own.

My Inner Goddess wrestled my mounting unease into submission, but it was a monumental effort to bridle my familiar anxiety. I was left slightly adrift, not quite in a state of giddy suspense, but rather a blushing numbness, uncertain of how to navigate the subdued silence that hung between us. The room was a tableau of shadows and softly humming machines, a stage set for something unnamed and wickedly electric.

Jack had been summoned to the study, a client requesting his presence, his absence leaving me alone with the Woodsman. The atmosphere grew heavier, charged with possibility, as my belly stirred with something both ancient and insatiable. Yet, my body remained still on the mattress, suspended in that peculiar void between uncertainty and longing.

The Woodsman continued his work with meticulous exactitude, adjusting the delicate mechanisms until they stood at perfect attention, their lenses gleaming in silent readiness. He moved with barely an utterance, a spectral figure among the shadows, his focus unwavering. When at last he was satisfied, the tension within my Inner Goddess was coiled tight as a bowstring, poised and waiting to snap.

He approached the bed wordlessly, lowering himself onto the edge close but not too close, allowing me to make the first move. My Inner Goddess surged within me, impatient and reckless, seizing upon the moment before my silly girlish reason could intervene. The air throbbed with the faint hum of the Bluetooth tower perched on the dresser, its rhythmic cadence lending a heartbeat to the silence.

I lifted my arms, wrapping them around his shoulders—broad, unyielding, sculpted from the very bones of the earth. I pulled him into a breathless kiss, a meeting of lips and shadows, fierce and encouraging. His answering embrace enveloped me, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and wild things, a forest primeval where wolves cried to their moon mistress, fires crackled, and marshmallows melted into the flame.

There was intrigue in his touch, a thrill that prickled my skin. The stars above seemed to flush, their glow dimming as time unraveled, leaving us tangled in an endless, fevered instant. He pulled me closer, pressing me into the masculinity of his massive chest. It was the signal, the green light my Inner Goddess had been waiting for.

Time ceased to matter, tenuous in an eternity where reality was rendered distant and hazy. The heavy fog of euphoria claimed my mind, the ache from the afternoon returning tenfold, blinding me as it swept me under its merciless hold. One moment, I was tangled within the Woodsman’s commanding embrace, his lips crushing mine with a hunger that threatened to consume us both. The next, I was reclined upon the bed, clad only in my delicates, my head cradled by pillows, my limbs sprawled across the coverlet as his calloused hands journeyed down my bare abdomen, tracing along the curve of my hips, his fingertips weaving poetry over my bare thighs and down my calves.

My Inner Goddess trembled, her avidity sharp as glass, expecting a fierce ravishment. Yet, alone with the Woodsman, I found an unheralded enchantment in his touch, a reverence that sank beneath the layers of my porcelain skin. He moved with the wisdom of a practiced artisan, his hands deliberate and knowing, careful enough to tend to the wounds of a forest, skilled enough to construct havens for woodland creatures. His touch held a restrained power, wise yet tempered, capable of cradling the frailest of souls without causing harm.

I closed my eyes, capitulating to the exquisite symphony of sensation as his aura stirred every nerve within me. The susurration of starlight shimmered against my eyelids while the haunting cadence of the music’s sonnet filled my ears. My tongue tingled with the cool aftertaste of mint mixed with the heady hint of woodsmoke. His palms glided over the contours of my body, exploring each bend as a craftsman studies a masterpiece—both deliberate and devastating. A forbidden femininity unfurled within me, aching to be acknowledged. I yielded to the enchantment of the moment, letting it envelop me in its intoxicating embrace.

With unhurried elegance, the Woodsman’s lips descended, brushing against my knee before journeying along the hypersensitive expanse of my inner thigh. His head lifted at the cusp of my apex, his breath hot and tantalizing, a murmur of warmth against my apex, denying my pearl attention. My Inner Goddess frowned, yet I held my tongue. His velvet mouth continued its ascent along my sister thigh, his heartbeat thrumming against my pulse. The ache within me grew deep and relentless as I lay torn between the fierce need to be devoured and the yearning to be worshipped. The heat, languid and catlike, unfurled within me, urging my hips to arch in a silent plea, offering my sanctuary to the promise of his full lips and rugged face. A breathless moan slipped from me, a confession of my exquisite undoing.

Yielding to the moment, I surrendered to the seductive current, allowing myself to be swept away by the rapture of the undivided devotion. The Woodsman’s lips worshiped every inch of me, teasing and tantalizing, skimming everywhere but the place I ached for him most. Each calculated glide ignited a fire beneath my skin, a murmured promise that left me breathless and yearning. His deliberate restraint only heightened the intoxication. I felt regal, exalted—an empress upon her silken throne, as gods and Olympians knelt betwixt my wanton thighs.

Heavens, it was worth every breathless second of impatience. The Woodsman, his knees firmly planted upon the Burberry rug beneath my pallet, applied his cunning artistry to my nearly hyperventilating apex. The first caress of his tongue was an echo of gossamer, barely a sigh, yet potent enough to send a tremor through my limbs. I hung there, weightless in the delicate agony of waiting, unsure if he would unravel me with his unbridled acumen or drive me to madness with the purposeful possession of his mouth.

The Woodsman continued his fascinatory exploration this time of my sanctum. His silken tongue traced the outer lineation of my sanctuary with unerring, languorous strokes, each movement a brush on the canvas of my cession. He moved with the ease of a sculptor molding a masterpiece, his patience absolute, his skill precise. Gradually, his lips parted the folds of my curtains as I writhed above him, my bosom rising and falling, straining against the confines of my lace bralette, the waves of my climax not yet permitted to crest. My breath came in shallow gasps, every nerve attuned to his touch, and still, the Woodsman remained unhurried, his tongue delving into the scarlet depths, savoring each quiver of my desire.

I ached to arch my hips, to guide him where the shuddering pang was most potent, but I was utterly spellbound, caught in the web of his sorcery. His mouth worshiped with a reverence that felt holy, his attention tireless, his devotion unwavering. My pearl throbbed, teetering on the precipice, awaiting his touch, his acknowledgment. Yet, the Woodsman remained resolute in his denial, savoring the journey, tasting my crescendo as if it were the most delicate nectar.

At last, his tongue danced over my pearl with an artistry that defied time, coaxing flames to life that ignited in my core, spreading vibrations through every limb. My fingers curled around the rumpled sheets, my head tipping back as sparks flickered like fireflies behind my closed eyes. My body hummed, a symphony tuning to his rhythm, each note a testament to his mastery.

And then he moved with purpose, his tongue the baton of a maestro guiding an orchestra. He conducted my ascension, his face nestled in the pages of my music, his movements a harmony of rapid flicks and languid caresses. The symphony swelled, each note vibrating through me, a melody, a masterpiece composed by the hedonistic gods themselves.

I moaned, the sound ripped from me, a cry of surrender as my body succumbed to his skill. Each chord he struck reverberated within me, a relentless refrain that gripped my very soul. My body trembled, pulsing with an eonian power, overwhelmed by the haunting music that swept through me. But amidst the swelling climactic chaos, a new note emerged—the rare, elusive melody long forgotten. It teased, whispering its presence before retreating, taunting me with its impossible promise. I yearned for that reticent climax, my breath shallow as I reached desperately for its elusive embrace.

The Woodsman continued his serenade, his patience steadfast, his devotion palpable. Yet, that diffident tune evaded me, slipping through my fingers like smoke. It danced on the edges of my awareness, tantalizing and cruel, a promise unfulfilled as it drifted beyond my reach for good. Frustration churned within me, my brows knitting together as the Woodsman lifted his head, his whiskered jaw shimmering with the proof of his veneration.

He rose with effortless ease, his bare feet gliding almost silently across the maple floorboards. As I recovered, he adjusted each camera with deliberate ease, the smoothness of his movements a study in quiet authority. I flushed at the thought of the footage that would be captured in the stillness of the room. My Inner Goddess fluttered, ruffling her feathers with smug satisfaction, a queen basking in her power, unburdened by humility.

It was at that precise moment that Jack entered his boudoir, his presence crackling with a kinetic energy that radiated from his bronzed skin. The air around him hummed with anticipation. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease, unaware of how tightly I had been wound, fearing I had lingered too long, been too vociferously uninhibited, and perhaps embarrassed myself beyond measure in his absence. But his smile was roguish, a fiendish blaze in his eyes. My damp thighs were a certain giveaway; nevertheless, my Inner Goddess wondered just how long he had been lurking in the shadows, hoping he had witnessed my utter demise. His gaze swept over me, pulling me into his embrace as my petite frame melted against him.

Just as it had mere hours before, audacious desire clouded my vision, veiling everything but the ravenous hunger that consumed me. One moment, I was cradled in his strong embrace; the next, I was claimed—my ankles lifted high on his shoulders, my body bent in half beneath him, creating a delicious tension that only magnified his unyielding dominance. Each thrust shattered my composure, my jubilation spilling from my ruby lips in a symphony of surrender, echoing off the walls, raw and unrestrained. From his vantage point, the Woodsman’s gaze smoldered, his eyes tracing every tremor of my body, his presence a galvanizing pledge that our concert was far from over.

Together and individually, they possessed me, their overwhelming presence flooding me, seizing control, and driving me beyond reason. The hunger deepened, becoming frantic, dark, unrelenting. My Inner Goddess, wild and insatiable, dared them to push further, to break me, to make me shatter under the weight of their virile directive. Ensnared by their dominance, I burned with defiance, daring them to break me, to test my boundaries—convinced that, in the end, it would be they who surrendered first.

Part of me feared for my sanity, the crazed look in my eyes, the rapid frenzy threatening to undo me, but my Inner Goddess soared, flying in ecstasy, her soul craving the immolation without hesitation. Three bodies collided in the flickering light, glistening in the violence of our intensity, smacking with thunderous force. Our souls converged, drawn into a plane between worlds—where unholy sin blurred with holy sanctification.

I became a mere plaything. I became a queen commanding her generals. I became the dark moon, waxing in forbidden rites. As the stars looked down from their lofty perches, my small form was contorted between them, tangled in a maze of flesh and desire. The delicate femininity of earlier moments seemed lost in the ferocity of the euphoria that claimed me. The room shuddered with visceral, unrighteous power, a nexus in the madness—a force I could not escape and did not wish to.

I tasted their sweat as I licked their jewels, my moans lost in the pulsing rhythm. The next moment, sapphire tendrils clung to my damp skin, my fist pumping their thick, imperial glories, each in turn, as the other overwhelmed my floodgates. My nectar sprayed against their brawn torsos and pistoning arms, pooling at my hips, a testament to their prowess and resolve. I felt their fire, their lust mingling with mine—and I could not stop it. Their thick fingers gripped my hair, and I surrendered wholly. I came over and over, fracturing in their arms, a coruscate explosion, a flower unfurling to the night sky, to the moon, to the gods watching far above.

It was enough. And yet, not enough. I welcomed every destructive, ravaging thrust, slamming into the onslaught, feeling everything and nothing as my Inner Goddess soared high on her mighty wings and my body burned in the inferno of my desires. 

I claimed one, then the other, and time was slipping away like highland mist. Was it mere moments, or had no time passed at all? Who can say? When I returned to my senses, I found him before me, water from his momentary reprieve still glistening on his lips. Jack gripped my hips and yanked me to the edge of the bed, my eyes widening, filled with a mix of delight and quiet terror at the destruction this position promised.

My Inner Goddess was instantly seduced by his unyielding stamina, by his relentless drive. And indeed, my annihilation came. Jack wasted no time; his rounded head sought entrance at my swollen gate, his body forging ahead before even the quiet consent in my hazel eyes could catch up. He tore into me, my ankles once again lifted, my body a willing offering. My hips sloped over the side of the bed, and with gravity’s pull aiding him, his hard ridge drove deeper, mandating the last vestiges of my surrender. I screamed, my breath shattering as if to pierce the very peace of Olympus itself.

I writhed in exquisite agony, consumed by the fire Jack stoked with every relentless thrust. His potency was otherworldly, his mandate unyielding. My body swore he would break me in two, yet the wicked glint in my Inner Goddess’s eye dared him to test my limits with his brutal speed and zealous endurance. And so he did until I arched and strained from the soaked bedding, my body contorting like a marionette in the hands of an unseen master. The Woodsman watched, his steady presence a storm held at bay, and I detonated, convulsing with the ferocity of my release.

Sensing that I had reached the pinnacle of my broiling climax, Jack slowed, his hands still locked around my waist, his boyish grin stretching wide with triumph. But something was wrong. The crest of my pleasure should have ebbed, the waves receding in decadent richness, but instead, my body refused to calm. My breath stuttered, and my heart pounded in frantic rhythms that refused to steady. A slight thread of panic laced through the euphoria, binding me in its cruel stitching. My limbs trembled beyond my control, the aftershocks of bliss twisting into something unnatural—jerking, stuttering, spiraling beyond pleasure’s reach.

Frustration welled within me. I was having the time of my life reveling in the worship of two divine beings, and yet my own body betrayed me. I tried to apologize, to whisper reassurance, but my clattering thoughts and clenched jaw failed me. Desperation seized me, and I caught Jack’s wrist, dragging his palm to my sternum, pressing it down hard against my fluttering core, frantic and beseeching him for the sedative weight of his touch.

His voice, a low murmur, spun through the haze of my mind. The words didn’t matter; it was the pressure, the grounding that he brought. His contact anchored me. Then, a second, gentler touch—featherlight fingers brushing the sacred space between my brows, bringing a soft awareness as it stroked away the knotted tension. In my panic, I had forgotten the Woodsman. Ever gallant, his ministrations joined Jack’s, his touch circumspect, reverent. Together, they wove unspoken assurances to guide me back to myself with grace. Slowly, the maelstrom within me subsided. My breath deepened, and my pulse found its timeless rhythm once more.

Only then did heat creep up my cheeks, a flush of embarrassment blooming in the aftermath. Slowly, my body stilled, my breath settling, and my vision cleared in hesitant waves. The tremors that had once gripped me began to fade, dissipating in reluctant stages, as if my body, too, needed time to accept the calm that had returned. 

When I rose from the bed, a sense of solace enveloped me as the silken fabric brushed my skin. I slipped into the waiting crimson negligee, the soft fabric clinging to me like a lover, and wrapped the pale pink robe around my shoulders, the eyelash lace tracing gentle patterns along my skin, grounding me with its consoling touch. My gaze lowered, my voice a soft murmur, I excused myself, mumbling something about needing to check my sugar levels. My steps were uncertain, each one betraying the lingering tremors that clung to me, my head spinning with heady dizziness as I made my way toward the kitchen.

Mandarin juice sent sharp jets of tartness into my system, and I mused, I had been so meticulous—hadn’t I? Hydrated, fed, prepared. What, then, had led to my episode? My Inner Goddess, still smug in her triumph, pointed out that we had replaced the waterproof coverlet halfway through the night with a second of another color. The gods had wrung every last drop from my body. Still not satisfied with her reasoning, I swallowed hard and reached for the sliced pineapple and buttered bread, replenishing the stores the celestials had so thoroughly depleted.

The Woodsman and Jack lingered in the bedroom, their conversation distant, concern apparent. Guilt flared within me. Had the Woodsman thought himself the cause of my discomfiture? My Inner Goddess smirked, Not a chance, as I continued to nibble on my snack. The Woodsman should be boasting of his prowess and his partnership with Jack. My Inner Goddess was certainly tickled by our ordeal, though I was unsettled and felt chagrined.

“I did everything right beforehand,” I murmured, flashing Jack and the Woodsman a rueful smile as I returned to the bedroom, reclining back on the pillows with a sigh. Both were casually reclined on the bed, the sopping bedding removed and out of sight.

The Woodsman, ever thoughtful, tipped his head in consideration. “Next time, try an energy drink beforehand.”

My Inner Goddess preened at the suggestion, her lips curling into a sly smile. Caffeine, with its potential to spark jitters, was rarely my ally, yet the thought of how much further she could push, how much longer she could dance upon the sharp edge of rapture, sent a thrill coursing through me. The idea of riding that fine line—between pleasure and overstimulation—beckoned, daring me to test just how far I could go before breaking. I shook my head at her extravagant, indulgent fantasies. Nevertheless, the suggestion held merit.

The conversation remained light and effortless, but the Woodsman’s hands never stopped moving. His thumb pressed into the arch of my bare foot, his fingers kneading the tension from my calves. It was luxurious, intoxicating, and I melted beneath his subtle touch, my body surrendering—not to passion this time but to the sweet lull of comfort.

The hour grew late. My Inner Goddess sulked, longing for another round, but with a 4 a.m. alarm, my mortal form had reached its limit. The Woodsman gathered me into his massive embrace, his farewell a promise rather than an ending.

Pouting like a spoiled princess, my Inner Goddess was far from satisfied. She was still standing, after all, and demanded tribute—perhaps a selection of caffeine-laced elixirs to ensure that next time, we could chase divinity until the cusp of dawn.

Lights winked out, and I melted into Jack’s embrace, the thick comforter drawn close and tucked under my chin, a shield against the winter’s chill. Sleep’s gentle tide swept over me, and I surrendered completely to its hypnosis, my body sinking into the deep, sated calm that followed. My Inner Goddess, still awake in the shadows of my mind, wove dreams where masculine and feminine swirled in an eternal, erotic dance. A sleepy smile curved my lips, impossible to erase, even in sleep.

Until next time, XO. Elsie