blackmagicjack1
3rd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Aug 22, 2003
- Messages
- 1,532
- Points
- 0
Branches slapped against her face, breasts, and thighs as she ran through the wood. She looked behind to see how far behind he was behind, a mistake. A limb reached out to grab her ankle, and down she went in tumble of arms, legs, and golden hair. The woods were not friends tonight. Perhaps they thirsted for the same thing her pursuer did? A thought than ran a current of surprised pleasure from navel to groin. Or maybe they just were in the mood to be entertained by dark deeds. Shaking her head, she scrambled to her feet, realizing this was no time for such thoughts, the satyr had gotten to her. No, this was no time to think of what the satyr had done to her ... or would do to her once he caught her again. Bounding off, she jumped past entangling roots and grasping limbs. Her breath came fast and hard, breasts heaving, and fire in her lungs. Desperately she looked for an escape. Woods with lecherous intentions front and behind. A rocky slope to the left that would turn her feet to shreds, and rose covered embankment to the right.
Snap! The satyr was coming! She had to escape, or submit to his desires. Licking her lips, she almost considered letting the beast have her, but when he was done with her, she could not know if he would leave her or eat her ... for real.
There! A hollow in the rose bushes. She could slip in there and slide down the embankment to safety. With a leap her body slid between the roses, mud covering her front, hands scrabbling for purchase to pull her further down the slope. Then it was over. Strong hands grasped her ankles and yanked her back to the surface. Her only chance was to speak first. Only a word and he would be hers instead of the other way around. Then she shrieked as hands dug into her belly and upper ribs. This creature knew her secrets.
A hand danced across her ribs, settling a finger in her navel where it made little circles of madness. Giggles erupted from her lips, then she sighed as another hand began to knead her breast, then lightly brush her nipple. Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad. Then suddenly she found herself flying through the air to be caught by the branches of pine and spruce. Swiftly she was spread eagled by the trees, her mouth gagged by a wad of moss.
She could see the satyr walking towards her. This was the first time she had really laid eyes upon. He was an old one, gray streaking his reddish hair, but he was fit. Looking up and down his powerful body, her eyes settled between his legs. Inhaling deeply, she licked her lips. She no longer knew whether to be excited or frightened, but it matter not. The decision was out of her hands. She felt strong hands grasp her hair, the moss was pulled of her mouth, and her lips were on fire. First kiss, she was his for the next fortnight. A deep sigh came from her as he released her lips. Then his fingers began to prod her armpits, belly, and hips. She squirmed with delight, laughing as the satyr continued to move his fingers about naked flesh, drawing sensations of pleasure and irritation from her.
With this torment her breath quickened, her flesh flushed, and the heat gathered in her womanhood. A jolt went through her body as his tongued brushed her nipples. Then she felt his fingertips in the hallows that were her armpits. She want to pull away, but loathe to remove the attention from her breasts. Then she felt a new delight, as the wicked beast ran the tip of his manhood from the bottom of her mound to the top ... over and over. Howling with laughter, moaning with pleasure, she began to beg. But beg for what she did not know. Was it to be released or taken? Then she actually heard herself begging for it never to be over. Bucking at the meaning of her own thoughts, the nymph struggled in the trees grips. She was held fast though. Then the onslaught upon pits and breast stopped, to be replaced with warms hands and tongue working there was downward. As the tongue gently massaged her lower lips and pearl, strong hands began to work her hips. Once again she between torment and delight, laughter and sighs. Growling out her frustration, she pushed herself into the satyrs face, but was pushed back.
The trees pulled her to the ground, placing her back over a fallen trunk. She felt so vulnerable. Unable to see the satyr, she could only wonder what he would do to her next. She wanted to feel that manhood inside her, but he was not having it. This one was a tease, he enjoyed the torment.
Then calloused hands were tracing the lines of thighs, lips, and button. Biting her lip, she squirmed in the hopes of getting pressure to all the right places. In vain though, for the fingers would move away just as she thought she would get what she needed. Then soft feather strokes just underneath her mound caused her to buck and giggle. The strokes continued as a blast of heat engulfed her lips and pearl. His lips massaged hers, as his tongue made light flicks against her pearl. She was in agony, her head a swirl of sensation. Then it began to build. Finally she thought. She could feel the pressure building, her breathing increasing, that moment of timelessness coming upon her when the wave would crash down upon her. Then it stopped. She howled, “Why!”
Teeth nipped at her ear, and deep voice purred into her soul. Her eyes flew wide. She begged for him to finish, that he could do with her as he pleased... just finish. Then she was alone.
But she was not alone, boughs and needles began to play with her feet. An ever so light brushing of petals between her thighs, ever so teasing her. Soon she was swept up in madness again, begging for the satyr and the torments he had promised upon his return.
Snap! The satyr was coming! She had to escape, or submit to his desires. Licking her lips, she almost considered letting the beast have her, but when he was done with her, she could not know if he would leave her or eat her ... for real.
There! A hollow in the rose bushes. She could slip in there and slide down the embankment to safety. With a leap her body slid between the roses, mud covering her front, hands scrabbling for purchase to pull her further down the slope. Then it was over. Strong hands grasped her ankles and yanked her back to the surface. Her only chance was to speak first. Only a word and he would be hers instead of the other way around. Then she shrieked as hands dug into her belly and upper ribs. This creature knew her secrets.
A hand danced across her ribs, settling a finger in her navel where it made little circles of madness. Giggles erupted from her lips, then she sighed as another hand began to knead her breast, then lightly brush her nipple. Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad. Then suddenly she found herself flying through the air to be caught by the branches of pine and spruce. Swiftly she was spread eagled by the trees, her mouth gagged by a wad of moss.
She could see the satyr walking towards her. This was the first time she had really laid eyes upon. He was an old one, gray streaking his reddish hair, but he was fit. Looking up and down his powerful body, her eyes settled between his legs. Inhaling deeply, she licked her lips. She no longer knew whether to be excited or frightened, but it matter not. The decision was out of her hands. She felt strong hands grasp her hair, the moss was pulled of her mouth, and her lips were on fire. First kiss, she was his for the next fortnight. A deep sigh came from her as he released her lips. Then his fingers began to prod her armpits, belly, and hips. She squirmed with delight, laughing as the satyr continued to move his fingers about naked flesh, drawing sensations of pleasure and irritation from her.
With this torment her breath quickened, her flesh flushed, and the heat gathered in her womanhood. A jolt went through her body as his tongued brushed her nipples. Then she felt his fingertips in the hallows that were her armpits. She want to pull away, but loathe to remove the attention from her breasts. Then she felt a new delight, as the wicked beast ran the tip of his manhood from the bottom of her mound to the top ... over and over. Howling with laughter, moaning with pleasure, she began to beg. But beg for what she did not know. Was it to be released or taken? Then she actually heard herself begging for it never to be over. Bucking at the meaning of her own thoughts, the nymph struggled in the trees grips. She was held fast though. Then the onslaught upon pits and breast stopped, to be replaced with warms hands and tongue working there was downward. As the tongue gently massaged her lower lips and pearl, strong hands began to work her hips. Once again she between torment and delight, laughter and sighs. Growling out her frustration, she pushed herself into the satyrs face, but was pushed back.
The trees pulled her to the ground, placing her back over a fallen trunk. She felt so vulnerable. Unable to see the satyr, she could only wonder what he would do to her next. She wanted to feel that manhood inside her, but he was not having it. This one was a tease, he enjoyed the torment.
Then calloused hands were tracing the lines of thighs, lips, and button. Biting her lip, she squirmed in the hopes of getting pressure to all the right places. In vain though, for the fingers would move away just as she thought she would get what she needed. Then soft feather strokes just underneath her mound caused her to buck and giggle. The strokes continued as a blast of heat engulfed her lips and pearl. His lips massaged hers, as his tongue made light flicks against her pearl. She was in agony, her head a swirl of sensation. Then it began to build. Finally she thought. She could feel the pressure building, her breathing increasing, that moment of timelessness coming upon her when the wave would crash down upon her. Then it stopped. She howled, “Why!”
Teeth nipped at her ear, and deep voice purred into her soul. Her eyes flew wide. She begged for him to finish, that he could do with her as he pleased... just finish. Then she was alone.
But she was not alone, boughs and needles began to play with her feet. An ever so light brushing of petals between her thighs, ever so teasing her. Soon she was swept up in madness again, begging for the satyr and the torments he had promised upon his return.
