Where Fire Meets Syrup

Author's note: I'm trying to build up some structure to my story "The Spark" which I have published elsewhere, and here on Literotica as separate chapters. I've have nearly 270,000 readers of my story, which I originally named "Public Secrets". The reason I renamed it is because I want to take my characters on a deeper journey, to storylines that reside in places in mind and heart which I couldn't do with the original name.

If you're reading this, please leave a comment. "Yes" so I know you're there, or if you have any questions, ask away, and I'll reply. Over the next few months, I'll be adding chapters which tie in all the scenes and carry the characters forward, you'll discover their motivation.

This chapter is based in a beautiful place in Canada. Jasper, specifically Marmot Basin & The Jasper Park Lodge. If you haven't visited, they are truly spectacular gems on this planet. Again, please say hello in the comments if you like this chapter. Enjoy!

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Sophia's voice was quiet, thick with memory. Wired from the drive back home from the mountains.

I sat on the floor in front of her, her on the couch, my hands on her knees, eyes locked to hers. She wasn't just telling me... she was re-living her weekend in Jasper.

I lit the fireplace. It sparked for 5 seconds, then the gas ignited with a deep boom as flames filled the fireplace.

The warm glow lit Sophia's radiant skin. "After we sparked, I stared at the ceiling. At the knots in the timber of my cabin. At the absence of air. I wanted to get home quickly after it happened."

"I'm glad." I didn't know what else to say, but let the words pour out of her.

"I saw him on the hill," she said. "It was my third run. I was flushed, sweating under my jacket, waiting in the singles line. He slid in beside me confidently. Blue jacket, helmet under one arm, snow-dusted lashes. And that smile... boyish, but cocky. Like he already knew I was his."

I felt the heat rise through my body beyond the warm of the fire gently heating the room. "What'd he say?"

"Asked if I was local. I said no. He smirked and said, 'Alone?' I told him I was here for some space. Let him see the wedding ring, let it catch the sun just right. I saw his eyes drop to it. He didn't back off. That's when I knew."

The corner of her mouth lifted. Her fingers wiggled, bearing the wedding ring I bought for her, then upgraded to a larger one over the years as our love grew stronger.

"His name is Jake."

She continued. "We skied together. Two runs. Jake would race ahead, stop, wait for me. The second run I blew past him, kicking his ass. He shouted 'I still won because I got to watch the way your hips carved into the snow.' I beat him to Knob chair, skiing into the couples lane. I looked back, and he was still a bit up the mountain, I was going to get on without him to teach him a lesson. My chair swung around with my time to get on, he blew-in and stood next to me, leaning in, I felt the warmth from his breath fill against my cheek, he whispered in my ear that seeing my butt ski in front of him was making him hard."

I swallowed, and paused, my cock already throbbing against my jeans thinking about this young guy admiring my beautiful wife Sophia. "And the lift? Did you take it up together?"

She exhaled slowly, her thighs shifting under my palms.

"Yes. But two others from the couples' lane sat next to us, so we were pressed against each other. I could feel the energy growing between us as the lift climbed."

She looked down, a faint smile on her lips. "Jake asked, 'Do you ski Marmot Basin often? Or come to Jasper?'

"I said, 'I do. It's such a close escape.'

"Then he smirked and said, 'Let me guess where you're staying... JPL?'

"I laughed. 'Yes, Jasper Park Lodge is my special place.'"

She paused, fingers brushing the top of my knee.

"We chatted a bit more about each other. But really, his questions were all focused on me."

"The second time up, it was just us. Empty chairs ahead and behind. Up above the trees, the valley stretching beneath us, must've been lunch hour because everything emptied out. You could hear that silence you only get in the cold. Mist from our breath rolling across each other's faces, like we were wrapped in each other already. It was just the two of us in the middle of the chair, surround by stunning mountain views of the town of Jasper."

She closed her eyes for a beat. I run my hand on her thigh back and forth. Friction heated the palm of my hand as I felt the tingling of closeness grow as she shared.

"Then his hand was on my thigh like the way you're touching me now, he squeezed. I didn't move, the strength from his large hand excited me. He unzipped the front of my pants... just enough, I unzipped the rest, he reached over, I took him by his wrist and shoved his hand between my thighs. His fingers were freezing."

"Jesus," I breathed. Imagining Sophia's soft, smooth, supple thighs in his cold, large hands getting to touch her.

"The jolt when he touched me between my legs, lit me up. Jake felt so cold at first. He pushed my panties aside in the front, then slid a finger inside me. My pussy clamped around his icy thick finger like it was trying to melt him, but I was the one melting, my pussy was soaking. The contrast... his icy fingers and my heat, it made everything more intense.

He whispered, 'You're fucking hot. Literally.' Then slipped two fingers in, hooking deep into my pussy. He slid his fingers in and out while the vibrations from the chairlift riding up the mountain added to the pleasure I felt, every time the chairlift past a lift tower, it would cause the chair to shake, I would bounce up and down on his hand, his fingers blasting my pussy.

My breath hitched. I looked at her in wonder imaging her getting finger fucked by this young stranger in the picturesque mountain views. I didn't know what to label it, but it was a version of the mile-high club.

"And when he pulled them out, he tasted them. Sucked them slow, then slipped his saliva and pussy soaked fingers into my mouth. Saying, 'I want more.'"

"Did you give him more?"

"I didn't answer. I just smiled."

"We got off the lift. Didn't speak. Just this electric silence between us. I skied away, afraid things were moving way too quickly. I didn't see Jake after that.

"You didn't see him again though?" I swallowed and asked curiously.

"I did. I did another run solo, sad I had lost him. I then headed back to the parking lot, my car was covered in snow. I fumbled for the brush, but before I could start, he appeared behind me. No words. He had his snow brush in hand, and started clearing my windshield."

"Chivalry and control." My jaw clenched, as I knew there was more.

She nodded. "He had no ski jacket, his snow pants open, just a t-shirt, his body gorgeous and fit, the bulge in his thermal underwear protruding."

"He cleared the mirrors. The roof. Every edge. I stood there like a girl in a high school crush, watching this young man sweep the snow from my car like it was foreplay."

"Did you tell him your hotel and room then?" I asked eagerly, rushing the whole story, where I knew I should've let it unravel.

"No. Well yes, he knew I was staying at the Jasper Park Lodge. I didn't want to say my room number."

"Were you scared?"

"No, I wanted him to earn it. So I challenged him. Told him we'd play a game of X's for my O's.

"Cute" I smiled at the pun as she wagered her hole, specifically making it pural.

"Where did you play that?"

She smiled. "Using the snow, on the hood of my car. He laughed, played along. Used his glove to draw the grid, fingers sketching each X, each O. We took turns. Flirting between moves."

"Who won?"

"I did."

"And?"

"In the final square, I wrote it. Just three numbers."

"Your room."

"637."

"Hot."

Sophia reached to the side table without looking, grabbed the paper bag she'd brought home from the trip. She set it between us. The fire glowed behind me.

She pulled out a tall, phallic shaped glass bottle with a maple leaf embossed in neck the glass. It was nearly empty, just a thin gold ribbon of syrup clinging to the inside, like it had been poured thick and slow and deliberately. She held it between her fingers for a beat, then looked up at me.

"This was supposed to be for you," she said.

I didn't speak. Just watched her hands as she turned it slowly, the syrup clinging to the sides like sweat.

"I stopped at the hotel boutique on the way back to my room," she said. "My thighs were still trembling from the lift, and my pussy... was still wet. But when I walked past the shelves and saw this... real Jasper maple syrup, local, small-batch... I thought of you."

I felt it. That twist. The contrast. My wife walking through a gift shop still soaked, opened from another man's fingers, and thinking of me, buying a gift for me.

"I just wanted to bring something back," she continued. "Something sweet. Something that felt like love. Like home."

"You picked syrup?" I said.

She smiled. "You love it. On waffles. On pancakes. Even in your chai sometimes. It made me feel... I just missed you. Like... I wasn't just a slut about to leave her door unlocked for a younger guy I just met that day. I am still your wife. Still thinking about what you'd want."

I watched her turn the bottle in her hand again, the liquid thick and slow like memory itself.

"But," I said.

She nodded. "When I got back to my cabin, I set it by the fireplace in my room, started the fire. I lit the side lamp, took off my clothes, I showered, then left the door unlatched and I got under the sheets."

Her voice dropped, and I felt my breath catch. Thinking about her beautiful body, so fresh and under the sheets, vulnerable.

"I laid there thinking back what I had done that say, I could feel the energy of the new experience cover my body. I heard a knock, and I said 'come in...'"

"The door slowly creaked open. Jake entered the room," she said, "he didn't say a word. Just gently shut the door behind him like he was sneaking in, and looked at me. I was already bare under the covers, my butt covered, my back exposed. My hair still damp from the shower. My body warm from the day of skiing. Clean & Open."

"I just looked at him."

"And my gift, the syrup?" I questioned

She held up the bottle now, shaking it gently. "It caught his eye. Sitting there like a gift waiting to be misused."

I shifted, hard under my jeans, needing more but not speaking.

"He walked over, picked it up, unscrewed the top like he knew exactly what to do," she said. "Then pulled the covers off me. Slowly. I didn't stop him."

She leaned in slightly, her cheek touching mine, her voice lowering to a whisper. "He said, 'You look like breakfast.' And I said, 'Then eat.' I spread my legs for him, my ass completely exposed."

I groaned. As I thought of my beautiful wife, laying there, just like the times I would admire the perfect curves of her heavenly body, as she laid before me, right before I took her. I could imagine a new set of eyes scanning her like I would.

"Jake's poured first on my lower back," she said. "A slow stream. Warm from the firelight. It ran down the curve of my spine and pooled in the small of my back."

"You are absolutely delicious. Tell me more." I asked.

"I arched. The contrast, the syrup on my hot skin, it was decadent. Sticky. Intimate. And he didn't rush. He took his time, waiting, let it run over each of my ass cheeks. The syrup made a sound when it hit my skin. A soft splatter, like rain against warm stone. It shocked me how much I liked it... being covered, ready to be fed to him like I was a meal."

"He let the maple syrup pool over my asshole and dribble down the slit of my pussy, dribbling off my clit and across the tops of my thighs. Then he got on his knees behind me and started licking."

My breath was shaking, imaging my wife's beautiful scent mixed with maple syrup filling the room.

"He licked every drop. Eager, long, hungry strokes of his tongue. He moaned when he got to my pussy. The mix of warm syrup and me... he told me I tasted like maple syrup pie. I pushed back on his face with my ass, arching my back, I said he could stay between my legs as long as he likes."

I stared at the bottle in her hands. "And that's why there's barely any left."

She nodded. "He used most of it on me. My back. My ass. My breasts. He poured it over my stomach, let it leaked it between my legs, then pushed my thighs apart and just... feasted. It was messy. It was so sticky, I had it behind my knees, in my hair."

"And you let him do this to you?"

"It was new at first, but as things got dirtier, and he got hornier, I was getting more turned on and I wanted him to. I wanted to be consumed. Devoured by him."

She held up the bottle now, showing me the thin amber line left at the bottom.

"This was for you. And somehow, it became the kinkiest thing I've ever done with another man."

My hear raced, as I felt Sophia's erotic glow. I reached out and took the bottle from her hand. Held it. Felt the weight of it. It was warm. I raised it to my nose, smelled her. Syrup, skin, faint traces of sex.

"I should hate this," I said.

"But you don't." Sophia smiled, tilting her heard, her hair flowing over her shoulder.

"No," I said. "I want a taste."

Sophia smiled.

"Then finish it."

She stood, slowly peeled off her top, and stepped out of her pants, bare in the glow of the fire. She knelt in front of me, but facing away, stretching in a downward-dog yoga pose. She looked back, and said, "Lick me like he did. And make it mean something different something more."

Sophia got on all fours exposing herself to me. Her ass flickering with light from the fire. I licked, running my tongue around and salivating on the tip of the maple syrup bottle.

"I want to drink the syrup out of you." I lined up the bottom of syrup to her beautiful ass. I slid the smooth tip of maple syrup bottle between her pussy lips, the slickness of her juices sucking it in as I pressed in deeper. Her beautiful, silky pink insides opened up around the thick glass. Her labia vibrating on the embossed maple logo that ribbed the top of the glass bottle. I tilted it up, the syrup slowly dripping inside her.

Sophia moaned, as I gently pumped the bottle in and out of her.

Tell me the rest of the details, I commanded, licking her left butt cheek as the syrup every so slowly drizzled, pooling inside her.

Sophia gasped as the syrup crawled deep inside. Thick. Slow. I twisted and pumped the maple syrup bottle with deeper strokes.

Both of us naked in the warm glow of the fire. The maple ribbon of sweetness slid into her pussy, coating her folds, spilling over my fingers as I tilted the bottle again, pushing it deeper, her pussy engulfing the entirety of the embossed maple logo.

Her back arched, her butt and body trembling. I kissed the dimples where her lower back met the rounds of her ass cheeks. As I talked through what I craved of her. "I want to lick the syrup out of you."

I kissed the soft slope of her ass, sucked the flesh into my mouth and bit down just enough for her to wince with pleasure. I ran my tongue across the sticky sheen covering her, dragged it over the syrup trailing down the inside of her beautiful smooth thighs. It tasted sweet... but underneath it, unmistakably her. Sophia. My sexy wife. My everything.

I licked up every drop. Taking my time. Cleaned her like a man-so-hungry.

"Tell me the rest," I said between licks. "You taste is so amazing. So good."

She was panting now, but nodded.

"He stood up behind me," she said, voice shaking, "still holding the bottle. He ran it down my spine, dragging the cold glass over my skin. I was dripping, wet from him, from the syrup, from everything."

"His cock slapped free like a ski snapping loose from a tight boot... surprising and heavy. His pants dropped to the floor."

I circled her swollen clit with my tongue. Tilting the bottle further, making space for my face. The tip and weight of the glass pressing against her G-spot. She cried out.

"Then what did you let him do?" I knew the answer, but wanted her to tell me.

"I told him to fuck me," she moaned. "I said, 'Just take me.' I didn't look back at his cock. I wanted to feel the surprise, I looked up at him, locking onto his eyes as he looked down at me ready to conquer my slopes. Aligning the tip of his huge cock against my maple coated pussy, he rubbed up and down my slit while he tore a wrapper of a condom with his teeth."

"Placing it on the tip of his cock, he then leaned forward, thrusting inside me using my tight pussy to unroll the remaining condom over his cock with the muscles from my vagina. I was nicely surprised, as he took my breath away. But I craved to feel his veiny thick cock inside me."

I pressed the flat of my tongue against Sophia's entrance and moaned.

"How big was he?" I imagined his cock stretching out Sophia like the bottle I had shoved in her.

She swallowed. "I didn't look."

"You didn't look?"

"But he felt thick. He stretched me right away. He felt new. My pussy clenched so hard around his girth, and from his grunts, I think he almost came from his first thrust I was so tight. He wasn't not long. But I felt full."

I slid the bottle out of her, slowly, syrup and slick dripping onto my hand. I leaned in and spit on her, mixing it with the rest.

"Did he fuck you hard?"

"Yes, but I did something so naughty." she said, her voice ragged. "Once he started, he went hard. Grabbing my hips, spreading my cheeks, and slamming into me, I could feel his big balls slap against my click. He fucked me like I was his. The only thing separating us, a thin piece of latex from the condom.

He was such a cute good boy, he earned more. I reached back during his pumps, and paused him with my hand. His hips gyrated against the pressure of me holding him out of my pussy. I grabbed the tip of his condom and yanked it off his cock with a snap. He'd earned to feel the inside of my pussy."

I slapped her ass, then leaned in and kissed the red bloom it left. "That's so sexy. That's why I love you. Did you make him come? Did you come."

"So many questions. Yes, but not yet, but I did. Twice," she said. The math didn't add up. Sophia continued "Once when he bent down and bit my neck from behind. I wasn't expecting it. He said, 'You like that your husband's not here to stop me?' I moaned. I told him I wanted you to know. I said, 'He'll hear about all of this.' That's the first time I came so hard, screaming into the pillow."

My mouth was back on her pussy, devouring her flavour. I tasted everything, her slick wet pussy. His memory he left inside her. The syrup.

She kept going.

"The second time... was when the phone lit up."

I stopped. "What do you mean when the phone lit up?"

She looked back at me, flushed. "Your face. The lock screen. That photo of us on vacation. It lit up just as his cock thrusted inside me, fucking me from behind, growing harder with each pump. My phone was face-up on the bed next to us. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. You, smiling. Us holding each other."

I was shaking imaging Sophia looking at the photo of us on her phone screen while Jake was enjoying my wife.

"And that's when I came again. Because it felt like you were watching. Like you knew. Like you were letting it happen."

"Fuck that's hot."

"He didn't stop. He was grunting by then, pounding me, grabbing my hair. Said he was going to come inside me. I didn't stop him. I begged him to."

I pushed two fingers into her, hard and deep, curling them up, dragging her orgasm to the surface.

"Did he?" I already knew the answer as his milky white cum poured out of her.

"Yes," she whispered. "He groaned and filled me. I felt every pulse. I was still spasming around him as he splashed inside me. My legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel him throbbing, unloading."

I pressed my lips to her asshole, tongue darting inside her flower as far as I could reach, then slipped below into her pussy, cleaning every trace of that story out of her, even though I didn't want to erase it.

I wanted to take it in. To taste all of it. "Yum, I love that he came inside you."

"Yes, emptied his balls"

"I love you," I said talking into her her pussy.

"I know," she breathed. "I love you more." As she pushed back onto my face.

I stood up, pulled her back against my chest, her ass resting against my cock through my jeans. I held her syrup-covered body in my arms, sticky and soft, my heart pounding behind hers.

"Are you mine?" I whispered into her hair.

"Yes, I'm yours.."

"Even after him?"

"Before, during and after he finished with me. I'm still yours."

The glow of the fire settled as the room grew hot. Her skin, still sticky in places, clung to mine like a second thought. I traced the curve of her shoulder with my fingers, slow, like I was trying to remember the exact shape of her.

She hadn't spoken in a while.

I didn't push. I didn't need to.

Then, softly, almost like she didn't mean to say it out loud, she whispered, "It didn't feel like cheating."

"It wasn't." I assured Sophia.

"Did it feel like anything?" I asked.

She shifted. Her body still half-draped across mine. "It felt... clear. Like I wasn't pretending to be something smaller than I am."

I closed my eyes.

"And what are you?" I asked.

She pulled herself up, propped on one elbow, and looked at me. Not like a wife. Not like a woman who just got fucked by someone else and had her husband clean her with his tongue. She looked at me like a question I hadn't answered yet.

"I'm yours," she said. "But not in the way you used to think."

I didn't respond. I just watched her.

She let the silence stretch, then reached across me and picked up her phone. It lit up. The lock screen photo... me kissing her cheek, her eyes closed, mid-laugh... glowed between us.

There was a text.

Same number.

"Still thinking about how tight you were."

I wanted to delete the text. I wanted to memorize it. I wanted to be the man who sent it. I wanted to be the man who never had to see it.

She didn't flinch.

She turned the phone to show me. "I didn't respond."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know, I did it for you."

She meant it.

And somehow, that was worse than if she'd said yes.

She set the phone down, face-up, on the nightstand.

Then turned back to me.

"I don't want to lie to you," she said.

I nodded.

"And I don't want to be punished for telling the truth."

"I won't punish you," I said. "But I can't promise I won't feel it."

We stayed quiet for a while.

The fire glowed, tongues of flame licking bright, the fireplace metal banged from the heat, the flames then went dim.

Then she moved. Straddled me. Her thighs wrapped around my hips. Her breasts, syrup-slick and shining in the firelight, rested against my chest.

"I don't want to hide," she said. "From you. From myself."

I looked up at her. My wife. My obsession. My undoing.

"You felt powerful with him?"

"I felt wanted. Owned. But free."

"And now?"

She leaned down, kissed my mouth slow. Tasted like sugar and sweat and something unnameable.

"I want to be fucked like a woman who just told her husband the truth."

I grabbed her hips. Her panties were still damp from him. Her lips still swollen from me. And somewhere in the silence between, the spark waited, lit and watching.

She wasn't mine because I held her. She was mine because I watched her burn and stayed anyway.

"Then ride me like you still have something to prove."

She didn't move right away. Her eyes stayed on mine, quiet and heavy.

Then, slowly, she swayed her hips back and forth. No rush. No playfulness. Just intention. Her hips pressed down, her body warm and damp and still slightly sticky from the syrup. As she sank onto me, I groaned... both from the sensation, and the meaning behind it, my cock grew fuller.

She wasn't trying to make up for anything. There was a time she wouldn't even let me look at her when she came. She was afraid of her cum-face, like pleasure was shameful, trauma carried over from her past boyfriend. Now? She was straddling me, wet from another man, staring me down like I was supposed to be grateful for the truth. A warrior.

She was claiming something back.

Her rhythm started slow. Grounded. Deep. My hands found her waist, not to guide her... but to stay tethered.

Her breath caught. And she whispered, "The syrup made a sound when it hit my skin. A soft splatter, like rain against warm stone. It shocked me how much I liked it... being covered."

She moved again, deeper. Her breasts brushing against my chest, firelight gleaming off the curves of her body.

I thought about that sound. The syrup. The bottle. The way he looked at her like he was allowed to. Like I let him.

Her phone still sat on the nightstand. Glowing faintly with notifications I hadn't read. I tried not to look.

But I did.

One text. Still there, unopened.

"Still thinking about how tight you were."

She noticed. Didn't say a word. Just kept moving. She looked down at me--open, raw--and said, "You didn't lose me tonight."

"No?"

"You just saw how far I go for you."

I blinked.

Her pace quickened. My breath with it.

I held her tighter.

She leaned in, whispering against my cheek, "You felt me tonight, didn't you?"

I nodded. Swallowed hard.

"And when you licked me... when you devoured me... did you taste you? Or did you taste him?"

"I tasted us," I said.

Her eyes flickered in the glow of the fireplace.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I need to know I can carry both."

My hands slid up her back, across her ribs, cupping her breasts. I sucked one into my mouth, syrup-slick and warm. She gasped, arching again, grinding down harder.

"I want to be ruined by you," I said.

"You already are," she replied, not unkindly.

She began to tremble. Her rhythm faltered. Her hands gripped my shoulders, and I saw it--her undoing happening in real time. Not from pain. Not from guilt. From power.

From telling the truth and being loved anyway.

She came with a sharp cry, her nails digging into my skin, her head thrown back, the fire crackling behind her.

I followed seconds later. Deep inside her. Pulsing. Wrapping my arms around her and holding her like I was afraid she might vanish.

Her breath slowed. Her body melted onto mine.

We stayed there.

Breathing.

Listening to the fire settle.

I stared at the ceiling.

Then whispered, "You're mine."

She didn't open her eyes. Just murmured, "In a way neither of us has words for yet."

The sheets cooled. The fire dimmed. But between her legs, on her lips, and in the slow pulse of our joined bodies, the spark still lived... silent, sacred, and waiting to be fed again.

"You didn't lose me tonight," she whispered. "You just saw how far I go for you, for us."

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