Faerie Love

Later that morning, I was working on a big history project (which I was behind on, by the way), when there came a discreet knock on the door.

I opened the door and there stood Mrs. Merryweather. She was nicely dressed in a green frock, Bermuda shorts, and sandals. I noticed for the first time that she was slim, with a hint of shapeliness in years past. She was wearing a straw gardening hat and holding a plate of cookies.

"Why good morning, Robert! And how are we today?"

"I'm good, Mrs. Merryweather. What can I do for you?" I did not want to sound rude, but I was late with my history paper.

"Oh, I won't keep you, young man. I just brought you some cookies. I hope you like them. They're made with peanut butter and honey." She smiled and held out the plate.

I took the cookies, somewhat bemused. "Uh, thank you, ma'am. I'm sure I'll enjoy them."

"Is everything all right, Robert?" asked, concerned.

"Everything's fine, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"All right then," she said and started to turn away.

"Oh, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Merryweather, how long have you lived in this house?"

"Why, all my life, young man. It's a fine old house. You know, this house is built entirely of oak wood from a local tree. I got the house from my parents, and they got it from my mother's mother." Mrs. Merryweather looked up at the house and smiled. "Yes, there's lots of history in this old place. Why, for a while, back in the 60's and 70's, the neighborhood kids thought the place was haunted. They claimed to see lights dancing about in the yard. Eventually, those kids grew up and moved away, and a new breed of youngster took their place. Nowadays, the kids are all too wrapped up in their CDs and video games and I-pods to be aware of what goes on around them. Except for a few, that is."

It could have been a twitch, but I could have sworn that the old lady winked at me.

"Are you all right, Robert? You've gone a little pale," she asked.

"I'm fine, ma'am," I said, forcing a smile. "Well, I've got a paper due..." I made to step back into the door.

"Oh dear! Don't let me keep you from your work. Well, ta-ta!" she said gaily, walking away with a smile over her shoulder.

As she walked away, I was struck by something in Mrs. Merryweather's appearance. I had been in the house a little more than two months. When I moved in, she had seemed to be at least 72 or 73 years old. She'd had the usual gray-haired, wrinkled, slightly jowly look that elderly women get. She'd look tired and a bit disheveled.

Now she was completely different. Her clothes were colorful, her manner sprightly and energetic, her smile warm and genuine. What was the difference?

I worked on my paper until my eyes smarted from staring at the computer, then decided to break for the day. It was Friday, and I was off the next day from work. So I decided to call some friends and see if they wanted to drink a little beer and maybe shoot some pool.

At seven that night, I was at a small sports bar downtown. I had dinner with a couple of friends from the history department, shot some pool—which I lost because I suck at pool—and drank a couple of pitchers of beer. At 9:45, I was full of food and beer and tired of getting beaten, so I pulled out and headed for home.

I didn't realize how drunk I was until I started walking to my car. I was indeed a bit tipsy. However, I pulled myself together and drove home carefully, watching for the police the entire time. When I got into my apartment, I barely remember locking the door behind me and stumbling off to bed.

A couple of hours later, I awoke to a soft thrumming near my ear. Through my eyelids, I could see the by now familiar blue light that Cleft emitted. My head was pounding and my mouth was dry. I opened aching eyes and there was Cleft, hovering in the air about ten inches from my face. Her eyes looked worried, but as soon as she saw I was awake, her aura flared red and she crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned crossly.

"Oh. Hi," I said sheepishly.

She began chirping at me angrily in a language which, though I could not understand it, conveyed its meaning to me very clearly. I put my hand up to my head to ease the pain, which did no good, and got out of bed. I walked unsteadily to the kitchen, where I drank two glasses of cold water and washed my face in the sink. All the while, Cleft hovered nearby, haranguing me in faerie language.

I brushed my teeth and drank more water. Then I undressed completely—I had begun sleeping nude a week or so before, and crawled back into bed. Finally, I had heard enough.

"Cleft," I said tiredly, "I get your point. I've learned my lesson. Now could we please go to sleep?"

Her expression softened, becoming one of tolerant bemusement. She flew close to me and kissed me on the nose. I held the covers open for her. She also got undressed and slid in beside me. Her little body was warm against my side. She folded her wings, her aura faded to a faint dusky blue, and we went to sleep together.

Cleft was gone, as usual, the next morning when I woke up. Strangely, I was not hung over, despite the amount of beer I had drunk the night before.

I got up, made coffee, and sat down to think about my situation. It was insane, on the face of it. I was living with a faerie! She was real—of that I was certain. But if I told anybody, I would most certainly be locked away. So I had to keep it a secret. But what should I do now? I could move away, but that was out of the question. I had become too attached to Cleft. I could not leave her.

On the other hand, some part of me kept warning that I was being drawn into Cleft's influence. I was behind on my paper, and my studies were suffering. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on school when all I did was think about Cleft. I needed to snap out of this or my college plans, my life plans, would be ruined. I made up my mind to tell Cleft, when I saw her again, to leave me alone. I would tell Cleft that she shouldn't come around anymore, that I didn't want her.

With that resolve firmly in my mind, I got out my books and worked on my studies and my paper all day long. I stopped only for lunch and the bathroom, and by four-thirty, I'd made substantial progress on the paper and caught my studying up.

As the shadows lengthened, though, I found myself looking forward to the evening with a mixture of emotions. I was still determined to send Cleft away, but I knew it would hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. There was a big part of me that liked, no loved, her company.

At about that time, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and there stood Mrs. Merryweather, holding a plate wrapped in aluminum foil and a bottle.

"Why hello, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"Good evening, Robert," she replied. She looked very chic this evening in a silk blouse and a tailored skirt.

"You look very nice this evening," I said.

"Why thank you," she replied, smiling. "I like to dress nicely. I believe it is the mark of a quality person."

"What have you got there?" I asked.

"Oh!" she said. I brought you some dinner. Really, just some of my leftovers."

"Thanks, but you really shouldn't have..."

"It's no trouble, Robert. Let's just call it returning a favor. There's roast beef with mashed potatoes, gravy, and fresh green beans seasoned with butter and garlic. And," she held up the bottle, "a bottle of my homemade blackberry wine."

"I'm quite overwhelmed," I said truthfully. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Merryweather. But I don't understand. What did you mean by 'returning a favor'?"

"Well, Robert, you're such a nice young man. Much nicer than the others. It's just comforting for an old lady like me to have a nice young man about."

"The pleasure is mine," I said. In truth, Mrs. Merryweather looked considerably younger and less frumpy than when I had first met her several weeks earlier. She would be considered an attractive mature woman now.

"Well then, I'm off. Enjoy the food and don't drink too much of the wine at one sitting. It's got a bit of a punch," she said with an arch laugh.

"Thanks again," I said.

"Toodle-oo," she said, waving as she walked away.

I took the wine and food inside. I was hungry after working all day, so I popped the plate into the microwave and opened the wine. I sniffed it. Yeah, there was alcohol in it, for sure. I could feel my nose hairs curling a little. I poured a glass and tasted. Sweet, strong, fruity, and very good. "Well, Mrs. Merryweather, you certainly have a way with wine," I said to myself.

Outside, the shadows were lengthening. It was late in October, and sunset came fairly early. The apartment grew dark. I turned on a few lights and took my food and another glass of wine into the living room. It was Saturday and there was nothing on TV, so I watched a DVD of "Star Trek, The Next Generation" and ate while I watched an episode.

The food and wine were delicious. Mrs. Merryweather was an excellent cook as well as winemaker. I wiped up the last of the gravy with a piece of bread and finished the glass of wine and sat back in my chair, satisfied. I burped loudly. It had been a fine meal. I clicked the remote control and started another Star Trek episode.

Full of food and wine, I quickly fell into a doze. When I woke up, it was ten-thirty. I got up, stretched, put my dishes into the sink, and trudged to bed.

I hadn't seen Cleft so far that evening. I wondered whether she would appear tonight. I meant to tell her that we couldn't go on like this. She had to leave. I mean, there was so much at stake. I really liked the little creature, but she was a distraction at a time when I didn't need distractions.

I brushed my teeth, undressed and got into bed. I turned out the lights and went to sleep.

I dreamed. I dreamed that Cleft stood before me, a full-sized woman. She held her arms out to me. Her lips moved. I couldn't hear what she said, but I knew anyway. "Love me," she said. "Be my love. I love you. Stay with me." She smiled at me. Her eyes got larger and larger. I felt drawn into them. I began walking toward her. We embraced. Our lips met. We kissed. I felt her warm smooth skin against me. Then she backed away, holding my hand. She started walking away. I began following her.

I woke up. With my eyes closed, I sensed the blue light of Cleft's aura before my eyes. I opened my eyes to see my faerie lover floating in front of me. She swooped down and kissed me on the lips. I smelled her faint scent—a mixture of rain and pine and wildflowers. She was smiling at me. We kissed again and I felt her tiny tongue flit across my lips. Warmth spread through my body.

My cock sprang instantly to attention.

It was all clear to me now. I was in love with Cleft, and I never wanted to leave her. I completely forgot my resolution to send her away. Nothing else mattered to me now except staying with her.

Cleft looked directly into my eyes. She chirped and trilled softly. The sounds were low and intense, fraught with emotion. Although I couldn't understand the sounds, I got their meaning. "I love you," was what she was saying. She said some words, strangled with emotion, which I didn't understand. I still got their meaning though. "I love you," was what she said.

"I love you too, Cleft," I managed to say back to her.

I closed my eyes, letting the feeling and emotions coursing through me take control. I gave up everything to my faerie lover.

"She flitted away and hovered before me. Smiling, she lifted her green smock over her head and let it fall. Once again, she did her slow dance, letting me see her completely naked. She flew up to my face and spread her legs, then lowered herself onto my mouth. I felt the small moist slit of her sex against my lips. I could taste her and smell her intimately. She straddled my face, making rhythmic rocking motions against my lips. Cleft was making tiny, high-pitched grunts and mews as she did so.

I stuck out my tongue a small distance and began licking her little faerie pussy. Or rather, I held my tongue there while she moved against it. Her pussy tasted like, well, pussy. (I wasn't a total virgin. I'd had an affair with an older woman in my senior year in high school.) While she straddled me, she gripped my face with little, muscular legs. I was surprised at how strong she was. She moved faster and faster, her cries increasing, until she tensed, cried out and collapsed against my face, kissing my eyes.

After a minute or so, she rose before me, smiling. She reached down and, grasping my covers in her hands, flew backwards down the bed, pulling them down as she did so.

For a few seconds, Cleft hovered over my rock-hard and ready cock. I could feel the breeze from her beating wings. Then she swooped down upon it and began kissing the head and shaft, straddling it with her legs, and making humping motions with her pelvis.

The feeling was wonderful, and I caressed my faerie lover with my fingertips. I touched her body, feeling carefully around the roots of her wings, then moved downward to her small tight buttocks. I touched the dimple of her anus, and moved to her vagina. Cleft looked at me and smiled, opening her legs wide to allow me free access to her private parts. She was moist down there, and she squirmed against my finger. She opened her mouth wide and began tonguing and sucking the sensitive area beneath the head of my cock.

Then Cleft got up and began pulling on my hand. With motions and gestures, she made me to understand that I was to hold my cock upright. Then she rose and alighted on my cock, the very tip at the entrance to her pussy. Her legs locked under the ridge around my cockhead. Thus, while beating her wings and holding on, Cleft was effectively able to mount me.

I looked at Cleft and I saw that her elfin eyes were glazed with lust. Her mouth moved, and the words "In me" came clearly to me.

The most wondrous thing happened then. I was "in" Cleft. Fully inside, as if she was a normal-sized human woman and I was deep in her pussy.

Making tiny little chirps and moans, Cleft began moving on me. I swear to you, even though I cannot have been more than two or three millimeters inside her, it felt like I was totally engulfed by a warm, wet, grasping, human pussy. I felt the ripple of her muscles as she moved on me, up and down. Cleft was sucking my cock, sucking my cum, my essence, out of me. Her eyes were open, as was her mouth. I caught her scent clearly; she smelled like the forest, if the forest smelled like pussy. I closed my eyes and it was as if a woman was straddling me. I felt her breasts against my chest, her lips on mine. With one hand I held my cock upright, with the other, I roamed all over her little body. I let out a moan. I heard a little laugh, and opened my eyes to see Cleft looking at me and smiling, her mouth still open in pleasure.

I heard Cleft's cries crescendo, and the tingle I felt along my spine meant I was nearing orgasm. I was thrusting upward, and I don't see how Cleft hung on, but she did.

I felt a hearty dose of sperm gather in my balls and I looked into Cleft's straining face. "I'm gonna cum!" I gasped. She smiled and nodded her head vigorously. I closed my eyes and felt the wetness, the tightness, the wonder of her pussy as my semen traveled up the length of my cock and shot out with significant force. I opened my eyes to see Cleft riding me gamely, obviously in the throes of her own orgasm, as sperm coated her lower body. She rubbed her cunt frantically in it, smearing it all down her legs and taking some in her hand and coating her breasts and belly with it.

When I climaxed, in my mind's eye, it was as if I had filled Cleft's pussy with my semen.

Cum was still dribbling from my cock, and Cleft was still grinding against the tip. Gradually, though, I grew soft, and she rode my cock down to my belly and dismounted, like a rider dismounting a horse. She stumbled up the bed and lay down on the pillow beside my head, making contented, cooing sounds. I turned to her and we kissed. There was sticky semen all over her, and me, and the bed, but we didn't care. I pulled the covers up over us and we fell asleep together.

A few days after we made love for the first time, Cleft showed me a removable panel in the floor of my bedroom. I pulled it up and discovered an open space below. There was a ladder leading down. I took a flashlight and descended the ladder, with Cleft following closely. For some reason, her aura was changing colors rapidly and she seemed nervous. She hovered close to my head, chirping softly.

The space was actually tall enough to stand in, but there was something massive down there. I turned on the flashlight and shined it around. What I saw explained a lot.

Underneath the old Victorian house that I lived in was the stump of a huge old oak tree. It had been sawed off neatly about four feet from the ground, but what remained had not rotted. I walked around it, shining the flashlight on the exposed roots. I kicked one. It seemed solid enough. There were many small openings between the roots where, I suppose, small animals had lived over the years. Small animals or faeries. Cleft flew in front of me, stopped, smiled a little nervously, and waved her hand at the stump. Her words came clearly to me. "This was my home. This is my home." Mrs. Merryweather had said the house was built from oak wood from a local tree. I guessed this was the "local tree" she was talking about. I supposed the tree had died at some point, and she, or her parents or grandparents had used the wood to build the house. Maybe Mrs. Merryweather was under the influence of faeries, or a faerie, as I was. Maybe Mrs. Merryweather was a faerie herself. I did not know. I supposed those questions would be answered in due time. In the meantime, I myself was home.

And so that's how it is. Cleft and Mrs. Merryweather and I all live happily in the big old rambling house. I get a huge discount on my rent in return for keeping her company and doing odd jobs around the place. And school, well, let's just say that school is on hold, at least for now. It just doesn't seem as important as it once did. Don't get me wrong, I still love history. My TV is almost always tuned to the History Channel. History programs and situation comedies are just about all that Cleft and I watch at night. I love it when she perches on my shoulder. I love to hear her tinkling little laugh.

The nights are ours, Cleft's and mine. She is with me every night. After we've eaten our supper and watched our TV, we go to bed together. And then Cleft, who is a very sweet little faerie, can be very naughty indeed!