A Dryad's Music Lesson

I was with my sisters at the woodland pool we frequented when a strange sound came to my ear. It was the sound of a pan flute, skipping gently along mingled with the sounds of the woods as though a singular yet confident part in a much greater symphony. I bade my sisters to hush their giggles and gossips and when they had the lot of us sat trembling with wonder and fear at this new sound. The music grew louder and my sisters began to whisper and fret with one another, I bid them again still their tongues, but they did not hear me, their anxiety having built to a fervor. Then, in ones and twos, then in a great rush my sisters fled into the woods, leaving me where I sat, ears straining to catch each note.

So enchanting was the sound I could not help but drift to my feet and step into the clearing which was awash in golden sunlight and swelling with the hum of honey bees and the careless flight of butterflies. I swayed and wove, sending my delicate feet to drift above the grass as the leaves which gathered about me swirled and waved. I danced as the sound grew louder, soon overtaking the other noises of the forest. It was as though the forest itself was hushed to listen to those lithe and merry notes. My eyes were shut as I danced, my body felt as though it were being joyfully pulled about by the power of what I was hearing. When suddenly the music stopped.

Mid twirl I came to a halt and I trembled. my balance was weakened by the dancing and my shut eyes. I fell like a leaf, softly to the ground. I recall how my heart was pounding and my limbs shivered, but when I saw him I felt myself still. It was a satyr. One of the wicked creatures of the wood, scoundrels and heathens all. Or so I had been told. But this figure looked nothing like a heathen, though there may have been a touch of scoundrel in his glittering eyes and tousled black locks. He held a well used pan flute an inch from his lips which smiled in a crooked and disarming way. He was tall, his goats legs were clothed in black fur, I could see his triangle of a tail rising at his back, just below where the sun tanned flesh of his skin began. He wore nothing but a woven grass belt over one shoulder and a silver chain wrapped about one of his spiral black horns. Yes, I was certain he was a satyr, like the ones I had been warned of. But I did not fear him.

On cloven hooves he stepped silently into the clearing, I could only stare as he came closer and the sunlight covered his muscled torso. My eyes traced the curling black hair upon his chest, down to his belly, and then lower. It was then that I gasped, for I could see, for the first time the majestic gentle curve of his cock. The base of him was buried within the thick black hair upon his pelvis. His shaft rose thick and veined to a gentle curve ending in the glistening black head. He stepped closer to me, his pelvis level with my face. I lay there on the ground, helpless and transfixed. With a smile my satyr offered a hand. He was close enough that I could see a single bead of moisture trembling at the tip of his cock, rising like a crystal jewel from the line at his cap. My mouth grew wet with desire for that bead, my lips parted further, my chin tilting up to drag my sight away from his erection, I struggled to focus on his face. I accepted his hand without thinking and he pulled me to my feet.

Realizing I had been holding my breath I filled my lungs with the afternoon air. He smelled like sweet tree bark and the emerald green of a shadowed glen. His scent flooded over me like a thick incense smelled from far away. I could feel the softness of the black hair which thinly covered the back of his hand. I was surprised to find no claws, instead musicians' calluses and strong smooth skin. I was so close I could count the spiraling lines on his magnificent horns. He looked at me expectantly, I gaped, saying nothing.

"Is this how you Dryads say your thanks?" His voice was low and soft, I could hear the smirk on his lips tucked away behind each of his words. I could feel myself melting, yearning to touch him, and there, between us, his cock stood, hard and direct, inches from my body.

"No sir" I stammered, "I mean to say yes, when we find ourselves so shocked by a creature such as you, our thanks must be acceptable in the form of stunned silence."

"So you have met one such as me, sweet creature?"

"Nay, never."

"But you know what I am?"

"I have heard the stories but I find that you standing before me..." My eyes darted downward, that crystal orb had grown larger, barely holding on, the surface tension felt a manifestation of the tension within my own body. Seeing my glance the satyr smirked more broadly and shifted his muscled animal legs further apart. I could now see the sway of his balls, heavy and covered in the same black fur. My fingertips twitched as I imagined cradling their warm firm weight in my hand. "Being next to you" I continued haltingly, "puts all the stories to shame."

"How marvelous that must be." He stepped forward the tiniest step, I imagined I could feel the warmth of him radiating to my skin, like a summer sun nourishing branches of green. I realized my hand still lay within his, I could feel him tracing gentle lines along my fingers, each sensation threatened to overthrow the last of my restraint. I trembled.

"Yes, marvelous." I whispered, the force pulling me towards him was building to unbearable levels. The leaves around me swirled and fell as an unruly wind danced about our feet, I could feel the spiral of leaves tightening, as though straining to push our two forms together. Was this my magic? Or something else?

"Do you like it?" he asked

"Oh my, Oh very much." I responded with an eager moan, leaning forward with my parted lips.

He leaned back from me, I started surprised and looked up at his face. My satyr raised an eyebrow, holding up his flute.

"Yes, the flute, of course." I gasped, my voice higher in pitch as I recognized my mistake. My cheeks flared pink beneath the plant green shade of my skin.

"Of course." he said with a touch of indulgence.

"It is very beautiful, how does one play?" I struggled to turn my thoughts away from his body (or the response my body was having to his for that matter.).

"It takes practice to play it right, but with the right touch and a tender mouth I am sure that you could learn to make it sing."

"I would very much like to play, to learn to play I mean, with your instrument."

"I would be very happy to teach you, my pretty one. Open your mouth and I will put it to your lips and we can begin."

I was obedient and at the touch of the flute he held to my lips I shuddered with pleasure, my sigh running across the delicate tube and I heard my first note, it was as a miracle to my ears, I tested the row with my lips and a gentle breath. My satyr still held the pan flute to my mouth, sometimes shifting it, helping me to find a note. After a few minutes of this he pulled the flute away and asked nonchalant, "Do you sing? Knowing how to sing is the first mark of a gifted player. When you know your own instrument it is much easier to learn another's."

"I sing often, with my sisters."

"How beautiful, I wonder if, perhaps you have practiced your instrument on your own."

"As often as I can sir, the pleasure of it is well worth my while."

"What a pleasure it would be to see you, practicing your instrument with such care."

"It is with time and attention that I reach my peak."

He nodded approvingly, "You must have a truly beautiful voice."

"I would like to think so."

"A proper duet is a fine test of one's skill."

"Certainly, I have heard such."

"Would you, perhaps like to play with me, my dancing vision?"

"Oh yes, I would like that very much. But only I wonder, might I play your instrument first, and then you may test mine?" His cock had grown even larger beneath my gaze and I in turn could feel wetness between the press of my thighs.

"How forward, fair dryad!" My satyr responded with a tsk. "Is it not proper to get to know your partner before playing their instrument?'

"Perhaps, but I can think of no better way to get to know you than to explore how my lips and tongue might handle your exquisite instrument."

He threw back his head and laughed, a loud and joyful sound, "You ask so prettily how can I refuse? Very well. You may touch it if you like. Let us see how you play, my goddess of greenery."

I needed no second invitation, the word games would end here. I dropped to my knees on the soft moss of the clearing, he tilted his hips towards me. The sweet musk of him filled my senses and before I realized it my mouth was open to receive him, my tongue hanging out, the color of new shoots of grass, wet and eager. In a trembling but gentle movement I leaned forward, my first taste of him was but an inch away, but I felt a tug at the back of my head where his fingers entwined in my long ornamented hair.

"Plenty of time for that little one, do not rush. First, touch it."

I whimpered quietly with desire, but still he held me back. It was delicious agony. I reached out with trembling fingertips and caressed the black skin of his shaft. At my first touch I heard him moan aloud and his member jerked upward, almost leaping into my hand. I started slow, tracing the veiny lines, caressing the underside of the shiny head of his cock. Admiring every inch of him. With my other hand I reached beneath and wound my fingers through the curled fur I found there. His balls were warm and firm in my hands, I could feel the two orbs within his skin and I let my fingers drag over them with the lightest pressure. I turned my eyes upward and found my satyr with lips parted and eyes closed in ecstasy. Feeling like a thief I ran my whole hand up and down his cock, slowly, before finally bringing my tongue down to feel the perfectly smooth dome. At that touch I moaned deep in my throat as I slid my drooling mouth down over the head of his cock. He cried out with ecstasy and I felt exaltation at the power I held to give him such pleasure. With just one taste I found myself nearly frantic to serve his every desire.

I tried my best to take all of him, but I was barely midway down his length before I found myself gasping and choking.

At my efforts my satyr stopped me again with a hand in my hair.

"You truly have a gift, precious. But I have yet to test your singing voice, fair is fair little one. Now get on your hands and knees."

I obeyed immediately, the taste of him was still on my lips and my pussy was swollen and desperately wet, beads of moisture were rolling down my thighs and I could smell my own sweet scent on the heat rising from those sweet petals. I felt the softness of the moss under my knees and between my fingers. I saw the hooves of my satyr as he slowly walked around me, sounds of appreciation coming often as he admired my body.

I felt his hand on the bare skin of my back and his fingers trailed impossibly slowly down my body. I gasped again when his hands came to rest and tighten upon the curve of my hips.Then, his cock was there, pressing against my thigh, drifting up my inner leg, taunting me. He reached between my legs and traced one finger around the slick nub of my clitoris. I cried out at the sensation, so powerful it was overwhelming.

"Very good. You do sound beautiful." He said quietly as his fingers gently explored my pussy, "But I think a more direct approach will yield what we both seek." His cock was pressed against my opening now, then he was sliding into my skin, spreading my labia and pressing tightly to all sides of my eager pussy. I moaned, long and low as he tested me, sliding in, then pulling out to rub over my lips, before sliding in again, but each time deeper. My moans became more luxurious, then louder, and suddenly I found he was pumping his cock hard and deep into me and I whimpered and convulsed with pleasure. I could feel every inch of him as his cock pushed into me, harder, faster, his hands planted tightly on my hips, even my wanton writhing could not shake him loose.

"Please. Please," I called desperately, begging though I knew not for what.

"Sing for me, creature divine." His voice shuddered with the thumping of his body within and against mine.

The last scrap of inhibition I held evaporated, my mouth opened wide and I cried out, nearly screaming for pleasure as his cock slammed into the deepest part of me again and again, my fingers dug into the moss and I found my shoulders collapsing, my breasts pressed to the ground while my shapely ass remained up, held there by the strong hands of my satyr. I suppose the birds a mile away might have taken wing at my sounds. It is possible that forest creatures fled to the underbrush at my cry. I do not know if they did or not, I was blind and deaf to all the world, except his body pulsing in mine.

His rhythm stuttered for a moment, then burst into renewed vigor, I felt myself drifting almost as though in meditation, consumed by the sensation and rhythm. I was hardly conscious of the string of pleasured sounds I cried.

Then I heard him gasp, a sound not like anything I had heard so far, his hips rolled against me in a fervor.

"Fill me with your seed," I begged "Burst within me and I will sing for you."

He shuddered and gasped, slamming his hips into mine and tightening his grip on me to the point of beautiful pain. And I could feel his cock twitching within me, a sudden pressure and heat being stuffed into the wetness of me. And as I promised, I sang out, my voice clear, a sound of ecstasy as I too reached my climax. We collapsed together in the sunlight, sweat glistening on our bodies, as our chests heaved. I ran my fingers down his body and we lay in silence, drifting together in bliss.

When I woke up the sun had moved across the sky and shadows reached across the clearing. My satyr was gone, but on a bed of flower petals I found his pan flute lying beside me and I knew that one day he would come back to me. And an awakening yearning in my body made me wish desperately that it would be soon.

Written by Alice Glass

There is More to Come.