Fire Crackles

Ever pass your hand through the center of a flame? If you have,
you know it's cool, as in low temperature when you keep your digits
moving. Ah, but those burning coals, sizzling their peachy
booties, down at the base of the fire? Well, they produce flesh
wounds on contact!

Prior to exploring coitus, my erotic release took two tangible
forms: pyromania and masturbation. Pushing hot coals to and fro
using a thick forest stick, arranging logs to burn hotter or
colder, my skin would begin to sweat and tighten as I stared into
the fire; awareness of my pussy became as focused as sun rays
through a magnifying glass. And, my pussy conflagration would burn
deliciously as crotch sensations were made to surrender to full
body scorch, like a marshmallow plumping on a spit.

Later, while negotiating synaptic stroke commands, memories of the
gathered heat crackled, energizing my touch to move eradicately as
the campfire, fast, then slow, some swirls. Over on the left side,
given full splits spread, tiny electric shocks kept me oiled for
hours. Oh, yes, riding the orgasmic state is every bit as
pleasurable as an intense orgasmic release!

Only now do I realize I never once pulled down my pants and
masturbated right there at the edge of the fire!

So, cum on baby, light my fire...