The Nature of Faeries

Afterward, Momma walked me around the house, pointing out things that needed to be fixed so I could make a list. Clara finished her morning routine, and I drove into town with Mom's credit card to pick up a load of lumber and hardware. By mid-afternoon, I had lubed and adjusted the hinges and knobs on several doors, patched a half-dozen screens, and repaired a handful of drawers and cabinet doors. Gramma's car had fresh oil and a new filter, and I'd flushed the radiator.

"See, Carol?" Gramma said. "It's good to have a man around the house again. That boy is smart as a whip, and he's not afraid of work. Not all of 'em are like that no-count ex-husband who left you high and—"

"Ma!" Aunt Carol shouted. "Enough, already."

"Just sayin'." Gramma always got the last word.

~~ 5 ~~ STORM ~~~~

Clara had finished everything before lunch, which left us free until the evening when we had to bring the cows in. After a couple of sandwiches and tea, we ran down the hill to the pond together. I was naked in a minute and dove off the dock.

Hoisting my elbows up on the old, splintered wood on the end of the dock, I perched my chin on the back of my folded hands, enthralled by the sight of Clara unwrapping her sumptuous, ivory body, layer by layer. Reaching behind her, she unbuttoned her dress and pulled it over her head, then folded it just so before laying it on the grass. Her cotton nightshirt—which she apparently wore all the time—came off next. That, too, was folded into quarters before it was stacked neatly on top of the dress.

Perhaps the greatest surprise was her makeshift bra. A simple, wide band of cloth swaddled her chest, creating the illusion that she was flat-chested. She watched me as she unwound the fabric slowly, beginning with the lowest part, around her ribs. Finally, only one strip remained, held tightly to her chest by her forearm.

"Easy's being a tease," I said.

With a coquettish smile, she peeled the final layer away to let her perfect boobs drop free. She massaged and squeezed them, shaking them out from their bindings.

"Hey, let me do that," I begged.

"You'll get your turn," she said.

With a single pull, the bow at the waist of her petticoat came undone. The frilly crinoline fell down her legs, disclosing a second surprise—underneath, she was naked, no panties. My mouth watered, and under the water my manhood pulsed with desire.

After carefully folding the petticoat and leaving it with the rest, she walked onto the dock and set her glasses atop one of the pilings. God, she was lovely! With two quick steps, she vaulted over me gracefully, arms spread as though she were flying, and in mid-air curled tightly for the best cannonball I'd seen since adolescence.

Finding my legs underwater, she climbed my body, broke the surface, and delivered a hot, juicy kiss.

We swam and played like children the rest of the afternoon, chasing after each other, diving from the dock, floating lazily, then starting over again. I lost track of time in this serene, magical place. We flirted for hours, moving and touching suggestively, our sexes brushing together as we swirled and drifted in the cool pond.

Though I wanted her desperately, I held my lust in check. The teasing became its own sport. Knowing where this would inevitably lead, we toyed with how close we could come to the erotic edge without falling over.

We were cuddling and smooching near the dock, her arms around my neck and her soft thighs around my waist. The depth was just over my head, and I was holding onto the dock to keep us above water. She moved her hips slowly, enticing my hardness, which poked gently at her lower lips. I was sure that, with only a little push, I could be in heaven again.

"Jack?" she said. "What we did—last night, and this morning—have you ever done that before?"

"A few times," I answered with thinly disguised pride. Then I considered the other side of that coin. She knew too much to have been a virgin, but I needed to ask. "Uh...have you?"

She nodded.

Neither of us said anything. I looked away.

"Is that a problem, Jack?" she asked.

"No!" The strident insistence exposed my lie. That, and my flagging erection.

She squeezed her thighs and gave me a sweet kiss, then said, "When I was thirteen, I tried to learn how to bake a cake. None of them turned out. The ones that didn't fall were either too dry or they weren't completely done. I thought it was supposed to be fun, but I didn't enjoy myself at all. I knew there was something missing. Then, Gramma asked me to bake her a cake. That one came out perfect. It made all the difference in the world when I was doing it for somebody I cared about."

We kissed again, and eagerness flooded my sex.

"Mmm, cake," I said. "Makes me hungry." Pushing on the weathered planks, I lowered myself underwater, down to the mucky floor of the pond. With my hands around Clara's waist, I focused all my energy and stood up, lifting her butt onto the edge of the dock. Encircling her thighs with my arms, I thrust my face into the dense, black hair at the apex, eagerly parting her plum-tinged lips with my tongue.

My experience was limited to only a few times with my girlfriends, but they had seemed to enjoy this. It was clear that Clara did, too.

"Oh, Jack! Yes! Oh-oh-oh! Mmm, yesss..." she hissed. Her hips twisted and thrust against my face.

I licked all over, sloppily devouring her. She moaned when I reached deep inside with my tongue, then fucked her with quick, insistent jabs. The taste of her made me want so much more. She grabbed the hair on each side and led me to her pleasure, writhing and bucking like a wild filly. Finally, clamping my head between those marvelous thighs, she tensed, shuddering in waves of joy.

She slid down into the water with sleepy eyes and a contented smile to kiss me, long and soulful, while we swirled lazily in each other's arms in the cool pool.

Clara brushed her fingers over my beard.

"I really like this."

From a distance, a long, deep rumble echoed from the mountainside.

She reached between my legs to fondle my raging dick with her damaged hand.

"Do you want me, Jack?" she whispered seductively, then nibbled on my ear.

"Yesss..." I sighed. Goosebumps raced over my skin.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes."

Tightening her arms around me, she clamped her teeth onto my shoulder. Thrills coursed through my body. I half expected my dick to explode.

Another roll of thunder sounded closer.

Moving back to my mouth, she kissed me.

"How much do you want to fuck your cousin?" she said, but sucked my lower lip into her mouth before I could answer.

Then she bit, hard.

"Ow!" I tasted blood. "What the f...?"

Clara pushed off from my belly with her foot, then fell into an easy backstroke. "All you have to do is catch me," she taunted with a devilish grin.

So I went after her. I was the faster swimmer, but she was elusive, disappearing in the murky water to resurface ten feet away. Every time I thought I had her—by a wrist or ankle—she slipped through my grasp like a bar of soap, laughing and kicking water in my face.

The booms were coming quicker and louder. We needed to get out of the water. As if reading my mind, Clara scrambled up the far bank, her butt bouncing as she ran through the grove of saplings at the edge. I chased her across a small field of knee-high white flowers. She scooted around an old oak, and I tried to head her off on the other side. I should have known better. What ensued was a classic standoff. We dodged back and forth. Then she made a break for the water.

About halfway across the flowery field, I reached out to grab her shoulder but got a handful of her thick, black mane instead. She screamed, "Jack!" when I yanked then grabbed her around the waist and took her down among the long stems, falling on top of her. She fought to throw me off, twisting and wriggling under me, grabbing my biceps to push me away and snarling like an angry dog.

Yet, I couldn't miss that her legs were spread wide. An unmistakable fire blazed in her eyes.

My fingers were still tangled in her hair. Ignoring her half-hearted struggles and comical warnings of, "I'm gonna' tell Gramma!" I used my free hand to maneuver my cock where it would do the most good. I couldn't believe how slippery she was down there. One thrust, and Clara arched high above the ground as I buried myself in her sheath. I believe she actually climaxed.

With a flash and a boom, the storm broke over the mountain. The wind blew the saplings nearly in half, and a stinging torrent pelted my back and my butt. I don't know which was worse, the tempest above me, or the one underneath me. There was no acquiescence, not from Clara.

"Fuck you, Jack," she raged, her good hand trying to push me off while the two fingernails of the other clawed desperately at my shoulders. All the while, she pumped her hips, weaving side to side, practically sucking the semen from my balls.

I pulled her hair, jerking her head back and exposing her vulnerable throat, then planted my teeth into the side like a tomcat and sucked at her sweet, tender neck.

Her back lifted from the ground again as she moaned long and loud, "Fuck, fuck! Ohh, Jack...yes... Fuck me!" Her nails dug into my ass and jerked me into her, again and again, brutally slamming our bones against each other.

A close lightning bolt was followed almost immediately by a loud crash. Clara screamed, and my world exploded in rapture. Within seconds, another brilliant light flashed with a cataclysmic crack that shook the ground. I buried my head into the crook of her neck, certain that we were going to die, but Clara began laughing convulsively while my essence poured into her body.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the storm moved on over the next mountain, and the only things left were the delightful scent of the soft rain and the marvelous feeling of my cousin's body, rocking gently, murmuring sweetly and kissing my cheek. Her delicate fingertips traced the muscles from my nape to my ass.

The sun had reappeared low over Cowan's when we swam back across the pond, me stroking backward, my cousin's arms around my neck, riding on top of me and kicking. Our clothes were soaked. It would have been nearly impossible to get them back on. Hand-in-hand, we trudged up the muddy path. How were we going to explain this?

Clara suggested going in through the front door. At Gramma's house, the kitchen in the back was the center of everything. We could sneak down the front hall to the stairs without more than a glimpse of our nakedness from the kitchen table or the sink. Slow and quiet, Clara eased open the screen door. We held hands, clutching our cold, dripping clothes as we tiptoed into the hall.

Then we froze. There, looking up at us from Gramma's front sitting room, were Mom, Aunt Carol, and Gramma. Nobody ever sat in Gramma's sitting room. As kids, we were never even allowed to step foot in there.

After a dazed moment, Clara yanked on my hand and we ran down the hall and scurried up the stairs, laughing.

Gramma called sharply after us, "You chill'en stop trackin' that mud through my house, y'hear?"

It wasn't until I was halfway up that my brain registered what it had seen. Momma was sitting next to Gramma on the old sofa, her head lying on Gramma's shoulder. She was crying.

~~ 6 ~~ A DIFFERENT DINNER ~~~~

We dried each other off in the bathroom, and Clara dabbed ointment on the scratch marks her nails made in my back. Since evening chores still had to be done, there wasn't much use in getting too clean. Clara and I each went to our rooms to dress, then we came downstairs, ready for the hell that we knew was going to land on our heads.

Together, we went into the kitchen, where we heard the normal clatter of dinner preparations. No one seemed to notice. Momma was stirring something on the stove, Aunt Carol was at the sink washing the pots, and Gramma sat at the table with her never-ending cup of coffee, telling both of them how to do it better. Neither paid any attention to her, or to us for that matter. We just stood, waiting.

Gramma eventually looked up at us. "What in tarnation are you two chill'en dawdling around for? The cows is waitin' at the gate. Get your fannies out there and get them chores done! Supper's almost ready."

We grinned wide and ran outside before anybody could change their mind, letting the screen door shut behind us with a loud bang.

"Stop slammin' that screen!" Gramma yelled.

After helping Clara with the cows and putting the chickens and the goats up for the night, we stayed outside. Clara told me not to worry, but I was certain that this episode wasn't over. There was still supper to get through, and although I was technically an adult, Momma still had subtle ways of hauling me around by my ear when she wanted to. Aunt Carol called us in, and we resignedly marched up to the house.

Everybody was ready to eat when we came in, and nobody even raised their head. The table was different. As long as we could remember, Clara and I always sat opposite each other so we wouldn't pester one another during meals. Tonight, on the far side were two empty chairs, side by side. Not wanting to stir any coals, I put on my best gentleman's charms, commenting on how good everything smelled, even pulling out Clara's chair for her. Everyone held hands while Gramma gave the blessing, then I cautiously and politely dipped into my food.

The good manners didn't last long. Clara started it, first with sly glances and winks. I looked nervously around the table, but everyone else was chatting, ignoring us. Her foot slid to the side, running up and down my leg. I glared a warning, shaking my head, but she just grinned deviously and set her disfigured left hand on my thigh. I pushed it off, but it returned, and this time grabbed the inner thigh between her two fingers and thumb, causing me to gasp. Again, I looked around, but no one appeared to notice. My eyes went wide when her feathery fingers caressed the crotch of my jeans.

I couldn't let her challenges go unanswered. While I took a long, slow drink of Gramma's delicious sweet iced tea, my hand extended to Clara's thigh, pushing down on the fabric of her dress between her legs to stroke her pubes. Still, though the movements of our arms were plainly visible, there was no sign from the women that anything was amiss. I wondered what sort of alternate reality we'd stumbled into. I began to think I could fuck Clara right here on the table and not a brow would be raised.

After dinner, we excused ourselves and went upstairs to bathe together in Gramma's huge clawfoot tub. There was no rush, no fondling, not even a kiss. As sure as the north star, we would arrive at those things in their own time. I discovered the satisfying sensuality in the simple pleasure of washing each and every inch her body.

I followed Clara to her room—half the size of mine—and laid across her twin bed, waiting in reverence while she sat at her mirror and unhurriedly performed the ritual of preparing herself for me. She raked her fingers through her wet hair, separating the kinky strands. Moving to the open window where the evening breeze would dry her hair, she polished her toenails a slutty shade of red while she waited, then blew on them. A vanilla fragrance wafted through the room when she dabbed a finger behind each ear, in the hollow of her throat, and on the inside of each thigh. I was sure that scent would forever return me to this moment. She wiggled into a clean, linen nightgown that would soon be discarded like Christmas wrapping. After a few dozen slow brush strokes through her hair, she pulled it back with a sky-blue ribbon tied in a bow just so I could pull it free.

We fucked like crazed wildcats that night and made my old bed wail. First, with her ankles over my shoulders, I fed my cock to my cousin's hungry lower mouth, then I rolled her over on all fours. After my first release, she restored me with her exquisite lips and tongue, then mounted me, climaxing loud and lewd as I squeezed her swaying tits. Without losing our embrace, I stood up and shoved her back against the wall. With her powerful legs clasped around my waist, I impaled her ruthlessly while she cursed me with a stream of epithets like I'd never heard in the wildest frat bacchanals.

When I sucked on the other side of her neck, making a twin to the mark I'd left in the storm, Clara spasmed again. I followed soon after, and we slid to the floor, spent.

We sat at the window. The night air chilled our sweat-covered bodies, so I wrapped an old blanket around us. Fireflies dotted the night above the pasture.

"Look at the faeries," I said as a joke.

Clara furrowed her brow. "No, Jack. Those are just lightning bugs," she replied seriously. "Faeries don't advertise with neon lights. You have to search for them. That's what makes them special."

I still didn't get it, but it didn't seem important.

Leaning against each other by the window, we nodded off for a while, then stumbled back to the bed. We couldn't sleep because we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Side-by-side, Clara's leg thrown over my thigh, we held each other and kissed. With only a small pivot of my hips, my clever dick found itself immersed in her heat again. I don't remember finishing—I must have fallen asleep still fucking.

~~ 7 ~~ TOUCHING IT ~~~~

We were a tangle of limbs come Sunday morning. An uncommonly cool mountain breeze blew in through the window, a gift of the storm. One of us had pulled the blanket over us in the night.

In the faint light, I stared at her perfection—the innocence of her face, the graceful lines of her collarbone and the scattering of tiny blue veins on her porcelain breasts, and that mess of wild, untameable black curls that surrounded an equally tenacious and beautiful mind. Even the scarred shape of her left hand was attractive now. When I was young, it terrified me, and I teased her about it mercilessly, as boys do. Over the years it became just another part of my cousin's singularity in an otherwise homogenous world.

In a brief instant of clarity, my heart ached with the sobering reminder that Clara was still my cousin, and despite how I might feel, nothing could ever come of this. Some man was going to be real lucky, though.

Slowly, Clara awakened. With sexy, half-lidded eyes, she smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. That was all either of us needed. When she felt the twitching at her belly, her smile turned seductive. "Yes," she whispered, answering the unasked question. She rolled over in my arms, pushed her ass back against me, and guided my well-worn manhood back into her luxurious female flesh.

The bed sang a poignant aria as we moved together as lovers, slow and easy. I curled my arms around her voluptuous body and held her bosoms, cuddling them and squeezing her stiff nipples.

She smoothed her deformed hand over the back of mine. "I like this," she whispered.

Then I felt her good hand cuddling my balls, lifting and caressing them in time with my motions.

"This is just right. Keep going, just like that...right there...yes..."

Her body was becoming familiar, the way she moved, what aroused her, and the subtle signs like the ones I saw now—a growing tautness, the shallow breaths, her head tucked forward. Sensing the imminence, I met her rhythm, kneaded her breasts more firmly, and drove myself just a little harder.

"Yes...yes...oh, fuck, Jack!" and she sucked in her breath and held it as her body curved backward in that inimitable way, her half-hand clenched around my wrist.

My thrusts pressed more insistently, then stopped, holding myself as deep as I could, enjoying the feel of her body contracting in waves along the length of my shaft. Exhaling a long, piteous moan, she slowly unwound. She lifted my hands from her chest to tenderly kiss each finger. With only a momentary pause to catch her breath, she sat up and straddled my thighs, her backside toward me, and pushed my glistening dick back inside herself.