Barking Up the Right Tree

Barking Up the Right Tree: A Short Erotica

The glow of the fire only seemed to accentuate heaving forms and flushed cheeks, its crackling drowned out by the music being played and the conversation of the forest inhabitants. The summer solstice was coming to an end, with the fall equinox just around the corner. This would be one of the last warm nights for a long while. A full moon, clear skies, and a light breeze made it feel almost magical.

Mir played a few notes on his pan flute, happy that the sound came out right. Taking up his stool, he sat on it to make sure he could control his breathing while sitting down. The scent of apples and grapes were in the air, with freshly poured wine being passed around in a skin. Small reddish-purple threads trickled down chins and cheeks, occasionally dropping onto the ground.

Holding up a hand, Mir shook his head and continued to play on his flute. The dancers would be arriving soon. It had taken him many summers to get this front row spot, he wasn't going to lose it. Licking his lips in anticipation, he found himself crossing his legs as his body began to buzz. Spirits appeared to not need to be ingested to feel their effects.

Suppressing a nervous giggle, he saw the bark of the trees around them begin to ripple. Twists and knots in the wood formed faces that began to push their way through. A translucent film covered them for a moment, before peeling off their skin and snapping back to the tree. Shoulders, chest, torsos, waists, and finally legs came free of the tree, shaking off the bark and wood shavings.

Before too long, the meadow was filled with various naked women, their hair the color and style of their respective trees: wavy and reddish brown for maple, short and spiked for pine, long green braids for rowan, although many had faded to yellow when the chill and dryness had filled the air. Most of their skin was dark brown, with swirls of texture and color where their barks had warped and changed with the tears passed. Like their hair, the color of their nipples also reflected the change of the season. As well as being hard and pointed.

"Mir!" The voice drew him out of his staring, and he closed his mouth, working his jaw like he'd made it sore with the flute playing, even giving it a few rubs and moans of discomfort.

"Focus, if you go slack jawed now, we're going to be thrown off!" The lute player strummed the strings of his instruments, producing an in tune and harmonious wave of notes that made Mir's hair stand on end. Although he was sure the sight of the nymphs did not help matters. He was grateful for his hair below his waist being so long. It hid his sheath well.

Once they had arranged themselves again, they rehearsed again, the soft melody filling the forest. The nymphs took note, a few whispering to the one next to them, occasionally pointing to the group of musicians before they turned into a huddle (showing rather round buttocks) away from the satyrs. A tall willowy one even had to bend over to hear properly, something all the satyrs seemed to suddenly have a need to cross their legs in response to.

Mir looked to the others, who were nodding in agreement. He looked back and forth between them all, wondering how much he was out of the loop. Trying to hide his frown, he looked over his shoulder at the nymphs. They were laughing and nodding at their own conversation, before separating.

"Alright," The drummer gave a few taps. "Let's run through this again."

Mir was glad he had something else to focus on.

When the meadow had filled with fae and other members of the forest, they started a fire, roasting various fruits and nuts. More wine was served in everything from acorns to actual tree stumps, the volume seeming to have the same effect on the people who drank it. Those who could fly were now grounded, stumbling into or leaning on people who were near them.

The conversation slurred and slowed, with demands of songs filling the air. At least, that's what Mir inferred.

They began, with the opening notes overpowering the conversation and drawing attention. The nymphs made their way to the center of the crowd, pushing or gliding through the people like they did the trees. Their faces were stoic and unmoving as they took positions in front of the musicians.

The red headed maple had taken up the spot in front of him. Her body shivered in the light breeze that stirred the air around them. When she turned to look at him, he could see her erect nipples in her silhouette. Nervously, he licked his lips and brought the flute up to his mouth. For a moment, he thought he saw the flicker of a mischievous smile when the light of the fire danced over her face.

Then, they began to move, holding up their arms and swaying side to side. It was a simple movement, following the gentle notes of the melody. There were a few wolf whistles and lewd remarks, but they were a tradition.

Each girl began to move as the instruments were played, following the rhythms of the musician who played them. Mir tried to not swallow when he saw Maple was following his flute, her body gyrating and twisting around, hair streaming behind her.

Then, the music came to a stop, a pregnant silence following. Slowly, the nymphs each turned, before walking up to the musician their dance had been imitating. Maple stopped in front of him, her legs apart, hands on her wide hips as her eyes scanned him up and down. The tip of her tongue came through her lips.

In challenge, Mir held up his flute and began to play. The first note squeaked out, but the melody that followed was a lot more controlled. His nymph began to dance, slowly trailing her hands down her breasts and torso, pausing before she touched the space between her legs. The eyes on them were unblinking, the talking having died down.

Then, she leaned forward, reaching for him. Her feet seemed glued to the ground, hands opening and closing on empty air, pulling and climbing with an invisible rope. But she didn't step closer, only bent over, standing on the balls of her feet.

The song came to an end. Mir brought the flute down to take in a short breath, only to smack the hand of the nymph with it. Her face twitched in surprise. Then, she reached forward and swatted at the air, miming slapping him. Only, she too had overestimated the distance between them. Her middle finger brushed against him.

It had barely grazed his lower lip, her ring and pinky finger brushing against his goatee. His back had arched, and he had fallen off the stool. With both hoofed feet in the air, he had stumbled backward and into the other bandmembers, the cacophony making the ground shake. The other nymphs had broken their silence to giggle at the goat man flat on the ground.

Hands went under Mir's armpits as he was hauled to his feet by the drummer, who pushed him in the direction he now headed.

"Go sober up, if all it's going to take is a nymph dancing to close to you to send you to the ground," He scolded, wagging his finger at Mir as if he was a child. Mir resisted the urge to lower his head and charge, wondering if he would be able to move in a straight line.

Mir was barely able to hold himself upright as he staggered away from the crowd as they danced and clapped in the light of the bonfire and the silvery glow of the moon. Sweat clung to his skin as he watched the dancers move their bodies around, the light gliding over their supple forms.

As he leaned against a large boulder, he stared at Maple, seeing her head tilted to the side in curiosity, the fire behind her making her hair all the brighter.

While the crowd was focused on the willowy nymph dancing, Maple began to slowly move toward him, occasionally looking over her shoulder to make sure no one noticed. When she got close enough, she stopped, chest heaving.

"I didn't mean to do that," She apologized. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, well," He set the flute atop the boulder and stared at her. "Pride seemed to be the most damaged thing." He felt his stomach quivering as he stared at her. "I knew nymphs were powerful, but I didn't think a single touch would make me fly back." A smile came across his lips despite his cheeks flushing. Running his hands over the length of his horns, he turned back toward the stream and debated on drowning himself.

"Ha," Maple clapped her hands together, the sudden noise making Mir jump and nearly lose his footing again. He managed to brace himself on the rock and keep himself from slipping on the mud and into the stream.

"I'm not even the strongest of my kind," She said, twisting a wavy lock around her finger. "I'm a mere sapling." She shrugged and stepped closer again, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was warm, sending relaxation through Mir as he started to slide down the rock.

"Hey, no fair!" He batted her hand away and sat, his legs splayed out in front of him. Maple giggled and sat on her haunches in front of him, lips pursing as she studied him closer. "Have you never seen a satyr before?"

"Of course, I have," She stuck out her tongue and leaned over him, her breasts nearly touching his chest. Her eyes were the color of honey. "I've just never seen one that I had such an effect on." Extending her forefinger, she jabbed it square into his sternum.

A jolt went through Mir as he pressed himself against the rock, his body shaking as sensation coursed through him. He managed to barely avoid kicking Maple as she continued to hover over him. Her calves brushed against his knees, before she straddled his thighs. Slowly, she leaned forward, pausing a hair's width away from his lips. Her warm breath tingled. Eyes flicking back and forth, she continued to study him.

"Interesting... most Satyrs are resistant to me..." As she spoke, the crackle of energy brought him out of his sheath. A gasp escaped them both when he felt himself brush against her. "Oh, my." Her cheeks flushed crimson as she stood up, her breasts jiggling with the movement.

Mir looked down at his length, seeing it was glistening with moisture and pre cum already.

"Maybe you haven't been around the right ones?" He tried, before feeling his head spin. The stream drowning was starting to look more and more appealing as he opened his mouth.

Maple mulled it over, lips pursed again, a finger on her cheek. "At this rate, we should stop. If you are this way from me touching you." Mir couldn't help but notice her glance down at his cock. "If I go further, I might actually kill you." Her eyes tracked back and forth as she continued to think it over.

"What a way to go," He mumbled, slowly getting to his feet. The blood was still in the logical head, barely, and he could see her point.

"Tell you what," Maple lifted her leg and placed her foot next to him on the rock, leaning forward to where her body pressed against him. His cock rubbed against her stomach, leaving a streak of fluid when she pulled back. "If you can survive the foreplay, we'll take it from there." As she spoke, her fingertips brushed against his balls.

Swallowing a moan, Mir looked up at the sky above, and focused on the moon to ground himself. Her soft hands moved up and down his length, increasing speed and friction to try and draw cries out of him. His nails scraped against the rock as he tried to keep himself upright.

"How will I know when the foreplay is over?" He gasped out, seeing more pre cum drip out as she placed her free hand on the side of his head. He stared at her chest as it jiggled and heaved with the effort. He moaned and pushed himself further against the rock to keep his balance.

"When I tell you it's over," She murmured into his shoulder, her lips traced down to his collar bone, before he saw a flash of white and saw stars. When she pulled back, there was a dark red bite mark. "You seem to bruise like a peach, Sir Satyr."

"Mir," He grunted, placing a hand on her active one. "My name's Mir." The stall in movement was enough for him to clear his head, although his pounding heart echoed in his ears. Panting, he slipped a hand over her and gave a wry grin, "And this is a better way to do it." He guided her hand over his length, feeling his knees grow weak at her touch.

"Sir Mir," Maple chuckled, before she gave him a couple more strokes. Goosebumps rose on his skin. She traced a nail across his cock, releasing it and going up his waist and chest, circling his left nipple, which was about as erect as hers. "I always knew we could bring a satyr under our control, but never so quickly."

She gave his thigh a hearty slap. "Lie down."

He half slid; half fell. Panting, he watched as her tongue danced across her lips before she began to bring it across the head. Shuddering, he found himself ripping up a fistful of grass to keep himself from exploding over her face. As her tongue moved across his length, she began to fondle his balls, each touch sending another spark through him that made his head lull back.

"You've survived so far," She whispered, her lips brushing against him. He grunted in response, before he felt his legs shake. "Easy there, don't maim me."

"Instinct, sorry," He managed to stifle a laugh, feeling himself twitch in her grip.

She pulled away, eyeing him up and down. Sweat covered the both of them, their ragged breathing drowning out the hum of music in the distance. He could see her wetness, smell the arousal in the air. Their lips met, and she released his cock with her hand, only to grip it tightly as he slipped inside her.

He gasped and grabbed her ass, slamming her down onto him. She let out a surprised gasp, bracing both hands on the ground as she began to rock her hips, sliding up and down, yet somehow keeping him tightly in her grip.

His mouth found one of her breasts and bit at it, leaving marks upon it like she had him. It was her turn to gasp in surprise. His mouth rooted, finding her nipple and beginning to suck at it, his tongue and teeth both exploring. She seized a fistful of his hair and brought her lips down to his ear.

"Ah... Fuck... Mir... God..." The language soon seemed to leave her, devolving into something more primal.

Every sound made him thrust up into her, making her moan or whimper in surprise. He moaned into her flesh, before he felt himself on the edge. He debated going faster or slower, but he could feel himself unraveling.

He slammed her down on him on more time, feeling himself pump inside her and spill out. She stared down at him, her hair forming a curtain around the two of them.

They spent a moment untangling, before she laid in the grass next to him, chest heaving.

"Well, you didn't die today," She looked over at him, before she rose. "That's a good start." Her feet seemed unsteady as she made her way back to the celebration. Mir watched her go, noticed her hips were swaying as she did.

Looking down, he wiped at his fur, before grimacing at the sticky liquid that had begun to harden. Putting a finger in front of his nose, he smelled maple and realized it was sap. So, at least he wasn't the only one who enjoyed himself.

Rolling over, he awkwardly crawled to the stream and began to splash water onto his crotch. The coldness shocked him out of his aroused stupor. Thousands of questions began to race through his mind.

But before he could think further on it, he noticed the silver reflection of the moon seemed to be rippling despite the creek's current. Cocking a brow, he started at it a moment longer, before a silvery blue head merged, showing a woman's face and shoulders. She stared up at him with blue-grey eyes, before smiling.

"Terribly sorry," He started to move back, only for her to reach up and grab his wrist.

"You seemed to have invited yourself into my home," She said, her voice softly trickling into his ears. "Allow me to help you enjoy your stay.'