Dark Bush

Sweat covered his flesh and he felt warm and hazy, but her soft lithe body focused him. He dropped upon her, grabbed his slickened cock and stuck himself back in. Her defenseless moan compelling him further, he pressed her into the boards to fuck her. His head was clearer down near the floor. His breath was easier. Locking his hands into hers, he pinned her. Her moans of despair as he pounded her prone only fuelled his exhilaration. He grunted in lust with each rutting stroke that thumped the floor as he inched her excruciatingly along the slatted planks.

"Harlot," he taunted her. "You bring this on yourself with your treachery. You tempt sin with your indecency," he huffed at her ear. Then he shook her for a reaction yet she gave none, simply resigning herself to taking his reproach, limp and whimpering beneath him on the floor. "Have you no shame, woman?" Still, she did not respond. Enraged, he vacated her and rolled her over onto her back, locks of coal strewn across her face, her breasts flopped apart, taut nipples splayed out towards opposite walls. "Painting yourself with unholy lewdness," he sneered in his righteousness as he thwacked the backs of his fingers against the red flower above her thicket, dislodging flakes of the pigment.

He straightened to fix her legs and descended upon her once more, slipping himself into her wet cunt with ease. Her body rocked beneath him on the floor, pointed nipples bobbing atop her soft breasts as he swept her hair from her face. Her dark eyes looked up at him as if pleading, but her slackened mouth otherwise remained expressionless. Her lack of repent riled him to the edge of madness. Reaching back, he hooked both of her thighs up and apart and plowed her body savagely, thumping her pelvis into the creaky floorboards, puffing the breath from her lungs as his climax approached.

At that moment her lips eased wider into a clever grin. Her arms vined around his back and her thighs tightened about his waist, ankles crossing behind his ass. He felt her walls clench him, squeezing, sending rapturous sensations into his core. He buried himself. His eyes rolled back. His crest raced forth and he toppled headlong over the peak with a heavy shuddering groan of bliss as his balls tightened and his cock pumped his seed forth into her cunt, warm and gooey, coating her depths and backing up about his bell end.

He lay upon her, carelessly crushing her into the floor as his lungs languidly recovered. Her limbs remained wound gently about him in the tranquil moment. Her nails traced the skin of his back while his cock softened inside her and slowly receded until her entrance clung to his lank knackered knob.

When he finally popped free, he snapped alert from the grip of his doze. Tenting up from her body, her limbs disentangled and he gazed down upon her. She smiled back with a shameful blushing warmth. The sheen in her dark eyes and the sincerity in her thin lips softened his heart. He brushed her hair back from her face and admired her. She was beautiful.

"I was harsh," he admitted tenderly. "Callous even." His knuckle traced her cheek with affection. "Forgive me."

His flesh was covered in a greasy sheen. She had cleaned him yet he was already grimed so quickly. Her body was patched with perspiration as well, the roots of her scalp dampened, the thick tangles under her arms dewy and her dark bush matted on her mons.

He smelled smoke, not the tangy pungence of incense but the char of burning wood, and he realised that their sweat was not just from their rutting coupling. The whole cottage was uncomfortably warm. Looking up, the air above them held a sooty haze. Snapping back into reality, he remembered that the forest was ablaze around them.

"We really must go," he said urgently. "I'll get you out of here."

He straightened up and stood, eyes squinting as the smoke stung them. Waving the air clear from his face, he turned to leave the room. His things were scattered on the kitchen floor. Fetching his breeches and boots, he scurried to his chair at the table and hastily began pulling on his trousers.

Calm and collected, she exited her bedroom behind him and crossed the kitchen for her own boots near the door. With one arm braced on the wall, she stepped into the first, lifted her foot with simple grace and tugged it past the heel. Then she did the same for the other. Black smoke poured in through the edges of the cottage door and licked its way up the wall to spill across the ceiling.

"Hurry! Hurry!" he clambered as he struggled with his tunic.

She retrieved a heavy plain brown cloak from the peg and threw it around her shoulders. Then casually she crossed the floor to the back of the room to the smaller table near the window decked with the candle shrine. She picked the crystal orb and turned it up in her palm. Then she procured a small velvet sack from the shelf behind her and dropped it in. Her inked hands tied the cloak shut over her bare chest. Then she hung the sack from her shoulder. He was in a frenzied panic yet she kept the same methodical grace that she had carried when she had brewed his tea. He gawked incredulously at her. She grinned deviously in return.

"Hahah," she laughed quietly. "Hahahahaha," her mirth grew pleasantly, too sweet to be so underhanded. He coughed and cleared his throat as the candles flickered and weakened, and looked up at her in bewilderment.

"I can lead you to safety," he pleaded.

She turned and unlatched the window. It swung open and the wind rushed in, snuffing the candles and lanterns, and rattling the shelves of her trinkets and tomes. He fumbled in the sudden darkness to pick up his boots, gather his cloak and sword, and clambered to her side. She sat on the ledge, swung her legs out with ease and stood outside the window. Then she drew the hood of her cloak up, shading her eyes as the wind whipped at the ends of her hair, her contours aglow in devilish dark orange. Tossing his things out after her, he hobbled, his lungs fighting the clouding smoke. He hopped over the ledge and stumbled, falling at her feet in the muck, his uncinched breeches slipping to expose his buttock. He grabbed the waist of them as he staggered to his knees. He could hear the sharp crackling. The cottage was on fire. The trees on either side were ablaze. A black path led on before them.

"Follow me," he coughed. "I'll save ..."

"A-hahahahahaa," she laughed again, her playful tone giving way to a sinister edge.

He looked up and she was unseen somewhere in the billowing smudgy blackness before him. Struggling to his feet, he left his boots, his cloak, his sword in the sticky mud and staggered to follow. The heat seared his back and the cold chilled his front. the wind whipped his fringe into his eyes. He swept it aside with his hand, smearing his brow with muck.

"Wait! No!" he called after her. Then choking, he fell back to his knees in the sloppy mud. "Who are you?"

"Hahahahahahaa!" her laugh cut through the smoke unseen, mischievous and cheerfully cruel, "A-hahahahahahahaa!" quieting in the distance, yet slicing just as clearly as he felt it slash open his soul.

The cottage and the trees crackled and popped all around, His lungs heaved and burned and his throat parched. Sick then in the wake of her betrayal, his heart emptied hollow. His eyes stung as he sought her out in the smoldering blackness. She was gone, vanished into the dark bush.