Breaking Vows 2: Sacred Ritual

We placed our bodies eagerly on the shared altar of this ancient ritual. Cool fingers suggested our pace, slow and introspective, lost in our separate thoughts.      
      
Her soft puffs of air continued against my ear, bringing awareness. My boy-mind was wholly at the base of my lusting spear, joyfully submerged in forbidden treasure.      
     
Her panting puffs stopped, and I felt her eyes on mine. Arching my back, I rose above the sultry frame and met her gaze. After an awkward moment of silence, her eyes focused past me as if others shared our darkness. Her face blushed deep red as if sensing her nakedness. I almost glanced up to see whose eyes were witnessing my happy hijacking of this wife and mother.      
     
I bent down and kissed her forehead as her voice broke in a soft soprano, “Thank you.” We rested in our warmth slowly beginning again directed by her pressing fingers.      
     
Pressing, pressing, and pressing again, with all the urgency of life we pressed! Family, past loves, and friends all disappeared in the frantic thrusting. As if there might not be a tomorrow, tonight would not be wasted.      
     
The hot puffs of air between her lips sped up and parted in repeated barely voiced purrs. The pink in her cheeks grew and edged down her neck and breasts in a discernible line. Sweat glistened on her sternum between life-giving mounds of flesh that swayed in response to my pressing. For several minutes all was silent but for the sinewy thumping of our pelvic bones instinctively seeking pleasure.      
     
As our pace seemed to ever increase, I noticed the blush centering back on her face. Her cheeks smiled and her lips parted with eyes full of invitation. Again, her soft soprano voice broke the silence. “My face,” was all she said but I got her meaning.  We kissed deep with dancing tongues. I was lost in the religious-like ecstatic flows that traveled down my spine to settle in my pulsing center.      
     
I pulled my heat from her sheath and knelt over her. The musty incense of our mutual worship filled our nostrils. She pressed her palms around my shining as if in prayer.

I looked down at the lovely borrowed fingers and noticed two rings. Her wedding ring and a promise ring of some type. I felt wonder at her kindness. What thousands of acts of service had these fingers done over the course of her life? She'd fed the hungry, clothed her children, soothed the pains of others and prayed to her god. I was entranced by her hand's measured movement as my eyes followed the shiny diamond from her wedding day.
     
While in my momentary trance, a familiar jolt hit my center. Rising upon repeated euphoric shivers, fluids rained over the blushing face and squinting eyes below me. As the streams pulsed, I looked down on her soft parted lips, gracious and receiving. A single tear streamed from the corner of one eye.  As my lessening stream fell on her chin, I wondered if her eyes, now staring upward, were seeing her family or past lovers? Was she remembering the love  that conceived her children? What had she sacrificed to compete tonight's forbidden ritual?      
     
I caught her salty tear with my lips and kissed her eyebrow. Her eyes narrowed on me and she smiled as if to say no regrets. I whispered, “You are beautiful.” She blushed, looked at the ceiling again with a smile.