Playing with Fire

It was early in our marriage and a warm, sticky Florida night. I taught science to middle-schoolers during the school year, and my summer side job was landscaping. After a long day of manual labor in the hot sun, I was planning an even hotter night. But I didn’t yet know just how fired up we’d get, I spruced up our bedroom, arranged a few decorative wedding souvenirs, and placed candles around the room. Then I donned the black silk boxers with red hearts all over ’em from our wedding night. You get the idea.

Soon we’re getting hot and heavy on our bed — our mouths devouring, our tongues intertwined, straining for more. Clothes are coming off. I’m groping her amazing breasts, my hands beginning to trail down between her legs. She’s rubbing my cock and balls gently but insistently…

Then out of the corner of my eye — what the…?? FIRE!!

In our sexual frenzy we’d managed to push a pillow toward the edge of the bed, dangling over the burning candle on the night stand. The edge of the pillowcase was fully involved.

There was a split-second of dumbfounded mental context shift from fucking to firefighting, then we sprang into action. I snatched up the pillow (or was it her? it all happened so fast!), threw it to the ground, and stomped it out. Thank goodness for wood floors!

After the adrenaline wore off, we laughed one of those long, uncontrollable, feeding off each other, I-can-barely-breathe laughs. We’ve recalled it and laughed again many times since. And, while it’s one of the best stories ever from our marriage, it’s still a sex story, and we get an additional chuckle out of not often being able to tell it.

I still like to put candles around the bedroom on a romantic, sexy night. Anywhere but the night stand, that is!