Celtic Mist Ch. 16

He yawned and closed his eyes. "Jaysis, I'm exhausted...I think I'll have a wee snooze."

"Declan!" she squealed, smacking his shoulders.

He opened one eye. "What? Am I squashing you?" He eased his weight off her, back onto his elbows and knees. "Am I still?"

They were both laughing as she exclaimed, "Aye!"

Back upon her his weight again flopped. "When? Now?"

"Oh ye brute!" cried she, giggling. "Stop or I shall piddle!"

Awash with giddy joy, Declan was seized by the wild letch to feel her piddling upon him. Ah sweet heavens, he was going mad with love, so he was! He rolled them over so that she was now atop him. "Your turn. Now you squash me."

She lay full length on him, her teeth gritted as she heaved her slight weight against his body. Declan arched an eyebrow. "Come now, squash me, do. This is pitiable...are ye even trying?" Her squirming was most rousing, and in the still open front of his breeches and drawers, his swelling organ expanded to full, battle-ready, reverberating rigidity. Their giggles were quelled in the hungry re-fusing of their panting mouths.

"Aoife," he groaned, pulling her shirt free of her breeches, and sliding his hands under the linen to grasp her bare, writhing back. Her eager mouth was showering his face and neck with kisses, rubbing in the bristles upon his jaw. He tugged upon the shirt. "You're wearing too many clothes, lass!" As she paused and lifted her torso, he yanked the garment over her head...there was a brief flash of her jiggling, pink and white breasts, then she was lying forward on him again. A moment later they both were dragging his shirt up so that her warm, firm mounds were tight to his naked chest.

His hands roved over her slim torso, feeling the smooth skin and the motions of her spine and shoulder blades as they strained together with their kisses. From the narrow, incurved waist, his hands continued under her previously loosened breeches up onto the rise of her arse. A moment later, he withdrew from the limited space, only to frantically tug the garment down over her swelling cheeks with sharp jerks, she lifting her hips to assist. He got the waistband down to her thighs, and his large hands slid up to clasp her now bared bottom.

Oh what luscious handfuls of female flesh! So supple and round...the skin so satiny and warm! The curve from the small of her back to the impudent protrusion of her adorable bum was a sweetly lilting song! "Boyish figure, like Hell!" he growled. In a frenzy did Declan's splayed palm spread a cheek aside for the exploring fingers of his other hand. As he stroked down the tempting cleft, he felt the resilient wriggle of her buttocks against his wrist.

With what bawdy wonder did his eager, fumbling fingers feel her secret lass parts from behind! In alluring succession, he caressed the taut, silky pucker of her anus, the bridge of dense flesh forward of it, and the downy sprinkle of hairs on her cunny. The lowered breeches were tethering her legs close together...likewise her soft lips. His fingertip delved between them and discovered the well-moistened, hot little furrow and the alert turgor of her clitoris. Aoife sighed at his detailed, stroking survey.

"Oh, love!" Declan moaned, stirring his big middle finger in the creamy inlet, then with deliberate pressure, gradually insinuating the entire digit up her wee, clenching vagina. Against the wet velvet he wiggled his finger, rubbing her with short, gentle excursions.

"Oooooh!" she gasped, squirming against his cockstand.

"Are ye in a state to think on me kindly now?" Declan murmured.

"Oh, pray! Let's..."

"Aye, love?" he prompted by her ear.

An incoherent sound escaped her lips as he withdrew his finger and tickled her standing bud. Her body quaked atop him. "Declan..." she whispered.

His hands abruptly lifted her hips. "Aoife, I want ye so fierce! Get these damned breeches off!"

She scrambled to her feet, naked from the waist up. Her breasts shook as she kicked her shoes off and thrust the breeches down, Declan helping her pull them off over her stockings.

"By God! What is that?!" she cried when she straightened, gaping at his stiffstander. "I thought Saint Patrick banished all the snakes from Ireland! 'Tis surely a scandalous falsehood!"

Declan grinned. "Aye, 'tis your own fault, awakening this python." Looking up at her, he was spellbound. "Oh sweetheart, dinna move...let me look at ye!"

Aoife came over in evident self-consciousness but heeded his plea. As he lay upon the ground, she stood with one foot on either side of his hips, and Declan drank in the splendid vision of her nearly naked body above him. Grey woolen stockings were secured with black ribbon garters below her knees. Above that, her lissome, milky white figure was completely bare. The blue sky and clouds behind framed her head and torso, and a small blue butterfly, no doubt drawn by her irresistible scent, flitted about her. It settled for a moment upon her shoulder till a light breeze stirred the flaming red locks, chasing it away.

Lower, Aoife's proud little teats stood out so succulent and round...the pale pink nipples emphatic stiff points at the peaks. Her slender waist curved into sinuous hips, and with her legs braced, the strong, lithe muscles were visible in her thighs. "Aoife, you're so incomparably lovely!" he exclaimed.

Declan's enraptured eyes roved on. The sunlight that set her tresses aglow was likewise rendering radiant the wee cluster of curls upon her privates. In her present stance with her legs separated, Declan had a beguiling view up at the little split at the bottom of her belly, rosy under its lacy mantle. His overjoyed cock bobbed stiffly on his belly. "Oh God! Come hither! Sit on me face, sweet lass!"

Her face flushed red in astonishment, and she gaped open-mouthed down at him.

"Sit on me face!" he beseeched hoarsely. His excited fingers beckoned against her calves, urgently guiding her forward till her feet were on the ground above his shoulders.

"Oh! You're a right shameless lad, so ye are!" Aoife giggled as he pulled to her knees. Declan felt the tickling brush of her dainty red fluff against his nose and lips, then he seized her bottom with his hands, pulling her closer and holding her fast as his mouth in ecstasy plundered her precious jewel box. All over her swollen kernel and petals did his tongue flutter and stroke, and Aoife's swiftly abandoned reticence bespoke the exquisite, erotic torment he was visiting upon her delicate parts. Her knees spread upon the ground, opening her vulva above his face, and her hips writhed in his hands.

In his peripheral vision, her creamy thighs tensed alongside his head, whilst above he sighted up her flat belly to the quivering hillocks of her breasts. Grunting in lecherous elation, he lapped in her parted crevice and burrowed the tip of his tongue into her muscular grotto where the telltale pulse escalated, and the cream welled with her pleasure. Oh, sweet Aoife! Even more intoxicating bloomed her lass essence with the sustenance of their earlier lovemaking.

'Twas not long ere her soft imploring moans, uneven breaths, and flexing buttocks heralded the approaching crisis. Declan dropped one hand to yank his breeches and drawers down to his thighs. "Aoife, I want to be inside ye!" he groaned and urged her up with his hands. "Move down! Sit on me cock!"

Aoife hastened to scoot back. "Can we do it so?" she gasped, her face aglow with wanton delight.

"Aye, love!" Declan pried his overeager iron from his belly, where it was distilling its lubricating fluid into his navel and angled it skyward, stroking his palm over the turgid head to smear the moisture. "Get over it and plant yourself upon it," he rasped as she knelt up and aligned her cunny over him. The next moment, his robust crown was lodged in her wee, buttery notch, and the excited lass bravely forged ahead.

Even as her tender little hole bore the brunt of the joining, Aoife did not falter. Indeed, her face was the very picture of voluptuous agony as she eased her weight onto the bold pillar. Well-anointed with its nectar, her aroused orifice stretched to the utmost to admit his mushroom shaped knob. "Nnnnnhhh," she moaned as her cunny accommodated his cockhead...then she pressed determinedly on, her breaths coming in short bursts.

"Aye, love! Take it in!" Declan croaked, watching astounded as the darling little lass valiantly impaled herself on his throbbing truncheon.

The sensation of her restrictive, wet sheath lasciviously widening and elongating to cover him was nothing short of paradise --- Declan watched transfixed at his ruddy, bulging-veined shaft disappeared, embedding itself inexorably into her small body.

At last they were full joined...Aoife sat upon him wide-eyed and panting --- her red and his dark curls amorously enmeshed. He could feel her straining passage clamped round the full length of his organ. Their glazed eyes met in rapture. "Aoife, me cock is full up your wee cunny!" he growled.

Without further words, they set to in a mutual frenzy, his grasping hands upon her bottom initially guiding her up and down excursions. Soon however, the ardent girl understood the mechanics of the rousing game, and rode his rampant cock in glee, her arse and thighs squeezing, her outthrust teats boisterously bouncing, her face alight in libidinous joy. Her soft voice and mingled breaths rose and fell in a stirring, chaotic chant of sexual pleasure among the birdsong and rustling leaves.

"Ohhhh...nnnhhh...Oh, pray!...ohhh...oh, Declan! We're fucking...we're fucking!"

He nigh spilled his seed at that. "Oh, God, Aoife!" he moaned. The gripping, lubrified sleeve of her overstuffed vagina was rhythmically riding up and down his aching organ, and with each downward thrust he saw in her spread notch the pink nose of her clitoris rubbing against his pelvic bone. His hands stroked up from her hips to her waist, then reached up to cup her springing breasts. From the tension in her body and increasing compression of her little channel, Declan sensed that the pleasure storm was mounting as fast for her as himself...aye, God!...the transports of erotic communion were too exhilarating to tarry!

Aoife flung herself forward upon him. "Someone's there!" she gasped by his ear, struggling to dismount as he held her fast, still in the spell of the brinking pleasure.

"Where?!" Declan endeavored to shift his attention as their whispered exchange continued.

"Down the hill! Two people!" She motioned with her chin, her hips squirming under his hands, her cunny still on the spit of his cockstand.

"What manner of people?"

"Oh, let me up! A farmer and a lad, I think."

"What were they doing?"

"I dinna ken! They were carrying a basket and a table."

"How far away?"

She raised her face from the hollow of his neck and stared at him incredulously from a few inches away. He grinned as he held her bottom fast and arched his pelvis against her. After a blink, she whispered, "Fifty paces or so."

Declan twisted his head on the ground to glance behind him at the flowering blackthorn tree, another blooming shrub, and the waving flowers and grasses among which they lay. "They canna see us if we stay down."

"But what if they come up here?! I'm naked!" she hissed.

"Then they'll be blessed to witness a lovely faery maiden granting a rare benediction to a lovesick mortal lad," he murmured. He planted a soft kiss on her shocked mouth. "They'll not rob us of this time together."

"But..."

"Shhhh."

Declan clasped her buttocks, and with the insistent, sensual gyrations of his hips, he persuaded her dilated aperture and bud in caressing synchrony, watching as he did her eyes grow glossy with resurgent arousal. "But..." she protested weakly.

"Here it is!" a lad's voice called out from downslope.

"Aye, a good flat spot it is," responded an older man.

Declan and Aoife tensed and suppressed giggles next to each other's ears, her cunny squeezing his indriven pillar as her body shook atop his. When she lifted her face, her glowing eyes were animated with mischief at the audacious frolic.

"The spacing is correct, lad, but look here...ye made the holes too small for the legs."

Aoife stretched her arms and braced her hands upon the ground above his shoulders. Spreading her thighs even wider she strained to augment their tight junction to the fullest. Their lips, then cheeks, brushed together.

A mumbling drifted uphill.

"No, the legs need to be this stout to keep it steady in the wind and rain. Give me the hammer. Without a spade, we'll just have to drive them into the holes by force."

Declan raised an eyebrow, his sly gaze meeting hers. "Aye, sometimes 'tis the only way," he whispered.

Aoife's eyes sparkled and she bit her lower lip to keep silent. Her body was struggling again, but now in rapport with his...her hips salaciously rolling and humping. Where his shirt was pulled up, her coy breasts, with her back-and-forth motion, were squeezing and shaking against his bare chest.

A heavy, repeated thwocking sound filled the air, such as a sledgehammer on a sturdy post would make.

Declan bent his knees and dug his heels into the ground, his hands tight upon her arse as he pumped his hips up and down, fortifying and lengthening the in-and-out strokes of his rigid cock. With every blow of the farmer's hammer, Declan squelched a groan and plunged deep into the quivering, muscular friction of her wanton little vagina, whilst she thrust down to take him full in.

The pounding of the hammer stopped.

"Aye, 'tis level. Now we'll affix the skep."

Between hoarse pants, Declan whispered, "'Tis a beehive. They're installing a beehive."

In defiance of all that was decorous and mannerly, he and Aoife swived brazenly on the ground a mere few dozen yards from the farmers...hidden among the flowers...the vigorous undulations of their joined, overheated organs curiously apposed to the nigh utter silence...silence save for their smothered breaths and the intermittent, faint thlip...thlap...thlip...thlap of his piston driving in her slippery, distended inlet.

"Think ye that we'll get some honey this year?" asked the lad.

"Mayhap, I hope we're not too late in the season," the man's voice said.

Declan bit back a moan as the rhapsodic pressure suffused his pelvis, and his ballocks drew up for the onslaught. Even as Aoife's body grew tauter and tauter, so too did the exquisite trembling sheath of her sex organ...clutching the full length of him, her inner female flesh as dense and congested as the external flower that she was lewdly grinding against him. Her wide eyes fixed upon his, all sweet urgency.

From downslope the man said, "'Tis a right fine spot what with all the flowers on the hill. With a fertile female well-mated, the honey should flow, so it should."

"So true, that," Declan said in a strangled whisper. There was a sudden abatement of Aoife's panting, then she went rigid atop him, her eyebrows drawing together and her mouth opening, wetly pink and quavering with unvoiced cries as her cunny convulsed round his thrusting organ. Declan's eyes devoured her face and his teeth gritted. Then his hips lurched up and drove home his spasming cock to deliver the jubilant salvo of Love's lusty liquor into the milking embrace of her little vagina. Round her waist his arms clenched, locking her pelvis fast to his whilst she rode the sperm fountain with prolonged shudders.

...and then they were quashing their pants into each other's hair, their bodies languid.

From the hillside, the man's voice floated up. "Excellent. A fine erection, so it is. 'Twill serve well even in intemperate weather."

"Aye, so it will," Declan whispered. He and Aoife shook with helpless silent laughter, his yet swollen organ shifting inside her.

"Grab the hammer, lad. Let's be on our way."

Declan rolled them over to lie atop her, maintaining their happy junction. His eyes smiled down at her flushed, blissful face among the flowers and shamrock. "There you're safe --- if they venture up here, they can gawk at my bare arse if they want."

* * * * *

Give to these children, new from the world,

Silence and love;

And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,

And the stars above...

--- W.B. Yeats

Love! Oh, sweet Love!

The intruders' voices having long receded, the hillside was once again occupied only by Nature: the lower slopes by sheep and lambs, and the higher elevations by birds, butterflies, bees...and the entwined lad and lass --- naught but creatures of Nature themselves. They lay in the flowers, shamrock, and grasses next to the ancient standing stones that had been erected centuries ago by their Celtic ancestors...the lichen-speckled boulders shining in the cool May sun.

In transcendence did they loll, the amorous torment of their hearts and bodies momentarily appeased by the tender succor of Love's lustrous remedy. The lass with her head upon the young man's chest was lulled by the thud of his heartbeat under her ear, whilst the lad's heart was soothed by the soft rise and fall of her back under his arm.

In like languor did their sex organs --- felled and filled --- bask in Love's lilting elixir...his eased cock was gilded in her female fluid...her cunny luxuriated in the balmy benefaction of his spunk.

Aye, miraculous Love!

Among the drowsy sounds of birds and bees, the lovers lay wordlessly --- their hearts full and their minds possessed of the same, single, unspoken thought: Oh God! Please let this moment never end!

* * * * *

Declan's eyelids slowly opened...the soft ground, surrounding greenery, flowering trees, and sky recalled to him his present happy circumstances. But where was Aoife? After a brief befuddlement, he spied her crouching next to her knapsack at the foot of the standing stones, her white shirt re-donned. She jumped when he spoke.

"What are ye doing?"

"I was washing...in the stream." She met his eyes shyly.

He saw now that she was wrapping a sliver of soap in a piece of cloth. No doubt he himself was due for a wash after...by God!...three stirring rounds of hide the truncheon...and a fourth pearly shower in Aoife's sublime mouth! But soporific contentment rebuffed any consideration of rising from the ground. Instead, he rolled to his side, folding his arm under his head as he watched the fair damsel.

When she stood, 'twas evident that she had removed her stockings and wore nothing save the shirt --- his admiring eyes traced over her pale, agile legs visible below the shirt's shifting hem.

She approached and bent to retrieve her discarded clothes, uncovering a captivating glimpse of her comely little arse as well as the goosebumps and water droplets upon her thighs. "Aoife," he murmured, beckoning her with his hand. "Come lie with me."

With a small hop, she jerked up the oversized breeches and fastened them. Her eyes widened with exaggerated astonishment. "Again?"

Declan grinned sleepily. "Just lie beside me. I'll warm ye, so I will." Her blue eyes shone soft and clear as she sank to the ground before him, whereupon he reached for her, pulling her snug against him, her small back curving into his chest and belly, spoon style. Tucking his thighs under her bottom and kissing her hair, he adjusted his embracing arm so that its weight would not hurt her. "Let's lie so forever," he whispered.

Under his arm, he felt the rise and fall of her chest gradually slow with her deepening breathing. In concert did his breaths lengthen and his eyelids droop closed. In the warmth of the spring sun, the soft buzzing of a bee lulled them to sleep once more.

The sun arced towards the western horizon and the clouds drifted overhead for some time ere Declan roused again...this time to discover Aoife kneeling at his feet, slipping off his shoes and unbuttoning the cuffs of his knee breeches to tug his stockings down. He raised his head, arching a brow as he observed her. "Are ye wanting another tumble, sweet maid?" Cooperatively, he held his foot off the ground. "My forces are indeed full recovered, and I am most eager to oblige you, but you're uncovering the wrong limb, so ye are." He winked.