Ill-Met by Moonlight

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania."

W.Shakespeare, A Midummernight's Dream, Act II, Scene 1

(Dedicated to the memory of Arthur Machen [1863-1947], although he would never, NEVER, have written a story like this.)

*

At age 79, Arthur Benjamin, a retired chemist, was an over-weight, diabetic widower on the wrong side of his first heart attack. He also had a classic case of erectile dysfunction, probably as a consequence of his medical problems. Since the death of his wife six years previously, he had not tried to have a sexual relationship with a woman, whether a friendly encounter or with a professional. For several years he had contented himself with masturbation, usually while watching one of the several XXX VCR tapes he had acquired, but recently he had encountered increasing difficulty in achieving orgasm. He often read the newspaper advertisements for massage parlors, and was occasionally tempted to visit one of them. The thought of lying naked on a table while a woman, more or less undraped herself, massaged and pummeled his body, concluding with a "hand job", was intensely exciting. But an active imagination concerning the possible fraudulent use of his credit card, or stealing his identity, combined with a very real hypochondria, had so far kept him away.

This difficulty was not a topic he dared discuss with his few male friends, of whom a few were, like himself, widowed. Unexpectedly, one day, one of them, Bill Withers, told him about a vacation retreat in the Adirondacks at the edge of Lake Tetrahedron where couples and singles, both men and women, gathered for fun and games. Although nothing was said about it in the brochure Bill showed him, apparently almost all of the attendees were writers or would-be writers. Arthur had never written anything other than project proposals and reports, but he thought he might like to try his hand at short fiction, something along the lines of the pulp fiction he had devoured as a boy.

Bill had already signed up, and without saying anything explicit, it was clear that he was anticipating a couple or three romantic encounters in the two weeks. Arthur had no such dreams, but at the least, he could enjoy the mountain scenery, do some walking, perhaps write a

page or two, and enjoy good food and drink with convivial company as described in the brochure. Arthur was not find of driving, so he gratefully accepted Bill's invitation to go in Bill's car.

The ride up was pleasant. Arthur was bringing his laptop computer, and he found himself anticipating writing on it in a sylvan glade.

He was disappointed to find that the brochure's description of the accommodations was mostly copywriter's hyperbole. In reality they were at best a degree or two above those of a Motel 6. And the food was much closer to a high-school cafeteria than to a gourmet restaurant.

There was no assigned seating in the dining room, and there were not many changes after the first night. Bill quickly managed to get a seat at a table with four or five women of varying ages and degrees of pulchritude, while Arthur found himself at a table with two couples. One of the women talked ceaselessly throughout the meal, but said little. One of the men was deaf, and mumbled constantly, but whether to himself or to his companions, Arthur never found out.

The camp was managed by a middle-aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Albert Holland. Mrs. Holland did almost all of the work with little assistance from Albert, except when heavy lifting was needed. Mostly Albert sat on a porch swing, smoking an ever-present pipe, eager to talk with anyone who sat on the porch. Somewhat to his surprise, Arthur found chatting with Al (as he preferred to be called) to be quite pleasant, especially about Adirondack mountain lore. Once Arthur asked whether there were legends about fairies hiding in the bushes.

"Fairies!" Al chuckled. "Not on your life, Mister." (Al never learned anyone's name; they were all "Mister" or "Missus.") "The only place there are fairies in these parts is in children's books. But we do have elves!"

"Elves?" said Arthur. "You mean little creatures with pointed ears dressed in green and brown who go around stealing milk from cows, that sort of thing?"

"No, no!" said Al. "That's story book stuff, too. Have you read Tolkien's Lord of the Rings? Do you remember the elves described in that book? Tall, handsome men, lithe, beautiful women—that's the kind of elves we have in these mountains. Except for one difference: Our elves are all female, no male elves, ever,"

"No males?" Arthur queried. "Then how do they reproduce?"

"Dunno. Of course people say these elves are very, very long-lived, so maybe they don't need to reproduce."

"Have you ever seen even one of these elvish women?" Arthur asked?

"Nope—and don't want to, either, I'll tell you, Anybody 'round here will tell you, having anything to do with them is bad luck any time, an' that goes triple on moonlit nights. Ol' Johnson down the road apiece, he apparently met up with some of them two years ago, on a night when the full moon was out, an' he ain't never been the same since. Believe me, you couldn't get me to walk out in them woods on a moonlit night for all the tea in China."

Arthur tried to get more information out of Al, who changed the subject and stubbornly refused to say anything more about elves.

On the fourth day of Bill and Arthur's stay, an unexpected newcomer showed up. Her name was Lola Lilychild. She was a tall, statuesque woman with a head of flaming red hair, that shade of coppery red hair that is seldom seen other than in Titian paintings.

By good fortune at dinner that evening, she seated herself at Arthur's table. She was wearing a sheer tight-fitting low-cut blouse out of which popped a magnificent pair of mammary glands. The other guests at table hardly seemed to notice her, but Arthur could barely keep his eyes off her, especially when she occasionally leaned over the table to reach for the bread basket or the butter, revealing an enchanting vista of a dark canyon between two white mounds.

He desperately but unsuccessfully tried to engage her in conversation. She would look at him, smile briefly, but her replies were monosyllables, mostly yes's or no's. After dinner he gathered the courage to ask her to go for a walk with him, which she politely declined, saying she wanted to unpack her suitcase. And with that, she went into the women's bathroom. Arthur thought of waiting for her to emerge and then at least try to walk with her to her cabin, but after a long wait, he gave up and went to his cabin.

To his intense disappointment, she did not appear at either lunch or dinner. Feeling depressed Arthur wandered around morosely after dinner. He knew that he ought to go back to his cabin and do a little writing, but there was a gorgeous full moon shining, so on a whim, he decided to walk at least part way around the lake. At first this was easy, because the well-worn path showed clearly in the moonlight. But soon afterwards this path led through a grove of tall trees which blotted out the moon. Fearful of falling in the dark with no help nearby, he started to turn back when suddenly he noticed a light just ahead of him on the path. As he stared at it, it rotated as if to indicate, follow me. Puzzled, as he stood still trying to make up his mind, the light's movement became more agitated. Finally, he thought, What the hell!, and went after it. Once in a while he stopped, sometimes trying to determine was where he was, and sometimes thinking of turning back. At these times, the light would start its rotating "Follow me" motion. Intrigued, Arthur went along with it.

After some fifteen or so minutes, the trees thinned out, and Arthur was able to make out the path. He noticed a well-worn set of tire tracks, set wider apart than would have been made by a car, more like those of a large motor home. Even in the semi-darkness, he was able to see that this vehicle left a distinctive herringbone-like track. And then not far off, he saw the vehicle itself, which was indeed a large motor home.

As he approached it, a door in its middle opened and a tall woman came out and walked toward him, her arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. She was sporting a ring with a gorgeous reddish stone that sparkled when it caught a moonbeam. As she came closer, he saw that she had ash blond hair gleaming in the moonlight. They met and she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, saying, "Welcome, Arthur! Lola and I had been hoping you would come for a visit." On closer examination, Arthur saw that for all her erect frame and prominent bosom, the wrinkles around her eyes revealed her age as being at least sixty, and maybe even older.

At first Arthur was unable to speak, but then he managed to gasp, "Lola! I thought she lived in one of the cabins at the camp." He didn't add that he had thought Lola was pretty much unaware of his existence.

The tall woman continued, "My name is Lillian, usually shortened to Lily." And then, as if reading his mind, "Oh yes, Lola was very much aware of you, Arthur. Apparently you were so busy staring at her you could barely eat your dinner."

Arthur blushed at this because it was so true he could not possibly deny it.

"Don't be ashamed, Arthur. After all, you're only a human male. And believe it or not, Lola and I were hoping you'd come by."

"You're joking!" Arthur said, although he dearly hoped that this was true.

"Oh yes, it's true enough, dear Arthur. And Lola and I want to make a deal with you."

"A deal? What kind of deal?"

"Please don't laugh when I tell you, but the truth of the matter is that Lola has led a very sheltered life and has been raised by women only. Although she has seen lots of pictures in books, she wants to see at first hand what male anatomy is like. And we both believe that you would like a closer look at her chest. So we would like to make an exchange, so to speak."

Arthur started to mumble something, but Lily went on, "Come now, Arthur. You know you can't deny it—you have thought of little else since you first saw Lola last night, and I'll wager that you fantasized about her breasts as you were going to sleep last night."

"But, but... how do you know this?"

"What matter? Come now—do we have an arrangement?"

And without waiting for an answer, she took Arthur by the hand as if he were a child and led him to the doorway where she had emerged earlier.

It took Arthur's eyes a few minutes to adjust to the bright interior after being in the dark for the past half-hour. He was surprised see how spacious the interior was. He was in a good-sized bedroom whose main feature was a large bed on which Lola was sitting. There were several closets along the walls, and behind him, he could see the fixtures of a bathroom.

Besides Lola and Lillian, there were several other youngish women.

"Okay, Arthur. You go first," Lily announced. Arthur dutifully unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out.

"Oh put that worm back!" Lily exclaimed. "C'mon now. Don't delay. Drop your pants and your panties or whatever you're wearing under them."

Poor Arthur! For all his fantasizing and dreaming, he was shy and even a trifle prudish. But when Lily started towards him, indicating that she was about to take matters into her own hands, he did as he was ordered, until he was standing bare from the waist down, shivering not so much from the cold as from nervousness. And to make matters worse, his penis had shrunk to the point where it was almost entire buried in his scrotum

"Hmph! Let's face it, Arthur dear—you're not much of a specimen, are you?" Lily laughed. "Well, let's see if we can give you some encouragement. Lola, take off your top."

With no hesitation, Lola, who had been slouching on the bed, sat up straight, and, with her arms crossed across her body, slowly started to lift the edges of her tank top. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled it up, revealing first the bottoms, then the middle, and finally all of her gorgeous endowment. When her arms were fully raised above her head, her breasts were white hemispheres with a red dot in the middle of each. And as she lowered her arms, her breasts sank until they were perfect pears.

Arthur gasped. Never had he seen such beauty and so close, too. (The women in his collection of porno and sex-instruction films were almost all rather flat-chested.)

"Go ahead, you can touch them if you want," Lily said. And Arthur did so, and was gratified not only by the sensation, but also by the sight of Lola's nipples becoming erect as he massaged them.

While Arthur was lost in ecstasy, Lily had advanced next to him and pulled gently at his penis. It had by now swelled to perhaps twice its length and girth, but as Lily bent it up and down, it remained soft and flexible.

"Oh dear, poor Arthur. Your manhood has become infantile."

Poor Arthur! Although intellectually he knew that his failure to achieve a stiff erection was a physiological matter out of his control, and was not something to be ashamed of. Had not a presidential candidate admitted to the same problem on national television? Nevertheless he felt demeaned by Lily's deprecating comments.

"Just wait a minute, Lily. It will get bigger. And I'm sure if one of your attendants would give it a kiss, or maybe even suck on it, it will stiffen up."

"Suck on it!" Lily exploded. "What a disgusting thought!" And with that, she gave Arthur a backhanded slap across his check, so hard that her ring slashed his cheek open. Arthur felt blood trickling down his chin, and screamed out, "What the hell have you done, you bitch!"

"Tsk, tsk, such bad language," Lily laughed. Lily let go of his penis, and produced first an alcohol swab which stung as she wiped his bleeding cheek, and then what looked like a styptic pencil over the cut, which immediately stopped bleeding

She rubbed his penis again, but it did not respond, so said, "Well, girls, I do believe that Arthur here needs a treatment. Go to it."

Arthur had no idea what the "treatment" was to be, but instinctively realized that he did not want one. He released Lola's breasts, and bent over to pull up his clothing. Just as was about in position to raise his underpants, the young women who had been standing behind him moved to either side of him, and he felt bands of plastic being placed around his upper arms. These bands tightened until Arthur was screaming with the pain, at which they were loosened just a trifle. The women pulled on the bands so as to keep him bent over. One of the women bent over him and spread apart the cheeks of his buttocks. He felt a wet, cool jelly being pushed into his anus; he realized that it was a so-called personal lubricant. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a blue plastic instrument, which he recognized as a prostate tickler.

He felt it being inserted into his anus. He tried to constrict the opening but it was futile. The instrument was gently pushed as far as it would go without rupturing tissue, and then it was slowly turned back and forth. It was not entirely unpleasant, and Arthur relaxed somewhat. And suddenly he felt an orgasm such as he had never ever had in all his married life. The most intense pleasure momentarily filled his entire body; it made him forget his surroundings, his anger, his discomfort, everything. And at the same time he felt his penis emitting a huge volume of semen. By craning his neck he saw that Lily had caught the entire discharge in what looked like a giant syringe.

The woman behind him carefully removed the prostate tickler, and he was allowed to stand up. At the same time, Lily inserted the plunger into the syringe and approached Lola. Arthur had concentrated so much on Lola's breasts that he had failed to notice that she was totally naked.

"Spread your legs, dear Lola," Lily said. As Lola obeyed, Arthur saw that her genitals were completely bare, not a trace of pubic hair anywhere. Lily gently pushed open Lola's labia ("the lips that do not speak," Arthur recalled from a sex manual) and then inserted the syringe. She slowly pushed the plunger home, waited a moment, and then withdrew the syringe. Arthur never saw how it was disposed of.

At the same time He suddenly was overcome by an intense need to urinate. Lily, who had the uncanny ability to read his mind, sensed his discomfort. "Need to pee, do we!" she laughed as she spoke the vulgar word. "Go right there and relieve yourself. Come out when you are dressed."

Arthur obeyed, and soon afterwards, emerged unsteadily, still shaken by his experience.

"Arthur, dear boy, you need a refreshing drink," Lily announced as she poured a greenish liquid into a glass which she held out to him.

"Er, no thanks, I don't need anything, just some fresh air, that's all."

Not saying a word, Lily nodded to three of the women standing near him. Two of them clasped him tightly around his sore arms, while the third forced open his mouth and poured the draught into it. It had a sweetish, somewhat astringent taste, and he swallowed it without further resistance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sunlight pouring through his open window awakened Arthur. He felt thoroughly refreshed as if after a full night's sleep. His recollections of last night's incidents now seemed a dream, a wet dream, although he had not had one since age ten. But search as hard as he could, he could not find absolutely even the slightest trace of any emission in the bedclothes. He stretched out his arms to get out of bed, and winced at the pain. He looked at his upper arms, and saw large black and blue bands around each of them. He got out of bed and walked to the wall mirror, and saw the traces of the cut made by Lily's ring.

As he was dressing, he noticed with great surprise that his two pairs of shoes were shining like new, and that they both had new heels and soles. He dressed quickly and went to the dining hall for breakfast, and was relieved not to see Lola there. He was surprisingly hungry and ate much more than was good for him.

Feeling full and cheerful, he sought out Al Holland, who sat smoking his pipe in his usual place on the porch swing.

"Say Al, I didn't see Lola at breakfast this morning. Have any idea where she might be?"

"Who?" Al asked, removing his pipe to stare at Arthur.

"Lola, you remember her, she was the lovely red head at dinner last night."

Al replaced his pipe, took a puff, and then answered, "A red head, huh? A tall gal with big boobs?"

"Yes, yes, that's the one."

Al looked at Arthur for a long while before replying. "Say, mister, what have you been smoking, or drinking? There weren't no redhead like that at dinner last night or any other night."

"There weren't, er, wasn't, huh," Arthur persisted. "Then how did you know her description? I never said anything about her height or her boobs, either."

"Well, I heard about her a year or two back from one of the fellers. But you look here, mister. If you see that witch again, you turn around and run away real quick, you hear. You'll get nothing but trouble messing with her."

And with that, Al picked himself up and walked away. For the rest of Arthur's stay at the camp, whenever he came across Al, the owner suddenly remembered an unfinished errand and walked away.

That afternoon, Arthur decided that he had to look at the spot at the edge of the lake where he had encountered the motor home the previous night. In less than fifteen minutes' quick walking, he found the unmistakable imprint of the tires with the herringbone pattern. They were in deep ruts, but the ruts themselves were overflowing with grass and some wild flowers. Clearly they had not been disturbed for two years or more.

Deeply perplexed, Arthur walked back to the camp. He stayed the remainder of the two weeks because Bill was having a hell of a good time, with a different bed mate almost every night.