The Story of a Lifetime Ch. 03

Granny stood up from her chair with an audible creak. She picked up our tea mugs, which had long since gone cold, and took them into her kitchen.

I slumped back in my chair and listened to the sounds of her moving about and rummaging. A few moments later she returned with a small assortment of food stacked on a wooden cutting board. She set it all down on the table, and beckoned for me to stand.

As I rose, she drew a length of twine from a pocket, and wrapped it around me with uncanny speed as she spoke. "So you had sex with a human and three orcs?"

I nodded and said nothing as she made one full loop around my middle with the string, then pulled it away and inspected it. I realized it had small knots all along its length at regular intervals, giving her an accurate estimate of a patient's... circumference.

"Did you use any kind of protection with any of them?" She took my wince as answer enough. "Not even with your boyfriend?" I shook my head and she sighed. "I have met a number of girls who have ended up in your situation after only a single night with one orc, and you had multiple encounters with three different orcs. While elves and orcs can very rarely produce offspring, it is possible. And much more common with humans, whose bloodline seems to mingle most readily with others'. I would wager that one of those three is the father, most likely this Davor. He was the most frequent with three encounters."

I nodded as she spoke, and after a moment answered. "It was four encounters with Davor, actually. I had one final tryst with him on the morning that I left, as a kind of goodbye. But he wasn't exactly the last partner in that period."

She looked up at me from a small notebook she had been consulting. "After having sex with three orcs you weren't yet satisfied?"

"Do you want to hear the next part or not?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't just send me away after all of this.

She cut a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese with delicate grace, and I watched as she set them next to a small bowl of cracked nuts, and one of fresh berries. Finally, she sighed. "Go on."

***************

I walked through the woods, beneath branch and bough. My compass pointed me South, and I followed it faithfully.

The sun crawled by as I walked, until it touched the horizon and vanished. For the first night in a year, I slept completely by myself, with nothing but my sleeping roll to keep me warm. I was walking into the Old Woods, the realm of the fair folk, and I knew better than to light a fire.

The next day came and went much the same way, with frequent stops for food and water. I had a set course and a plan, but I wasn't in a hurry. I knew enough of woodlore to keep myself safe and fed even if my dried food ran out, but my hope was to make contact before then.

That second night, I lay in my roll, waiting for sleep. But every time I thought I might drift off, I found myself suddenly snapping awake with the oddest feeling of being watched. The worst part was that I actually almost certainly was being watched, I just couldn't tell if the eyes were friendly or not. Sleep finally found me, and brought dreams of being chased through fields of unimaginable beauty by creatures of unimaginable cruelty.

When I awoke the next morning, I was sore and tired, and a little bit cranky. I consulted my map and grumbled at it - almost two full days of walking, and I hadn't even reached the river shown on it. "Assuming the river is actually there," I muttered to myself, hoping the cartographer who made this was actually competent. Worse still, thick grey clouds were rolling across the horizon, blocking the sun and threatening rain.

I got most of the way through the day before the rain started spattering down. One look at the dark grey clouds was enough to tell me it was only going to get worse.

"Fuck it," I told myself, and started looking for something that might serve as shelter.

I picked a small hill, where I was less likely to be stuck in mud, and ran under one of the taller oak trees growing there. The great branches blocked most of the light rain, but I didn't want to chance being soaked through if it got heavier. I pulled the wide roll of thin leather from atop my backpack, and started unfurling.

I wrapped thin rope around one tree limb, through the tarp, and then around the trunk of the tree. A few moments later I was damp but triumphant: the leather tarp was like an awning, covering a swathe of ground. I stood underneath the cover, happy to be out of the rain, and started changing into drier clothes.

The damp clothes were thrown over an exposed length of rope, to hopefully dry by morning.

I finally sat under the shelter, drying my hair with one of my towels I'd packed. I was humming as I worked, an old elvish tune I'd picked up from an old bard years ago, so I didn't immediately hear the noises from the bushes shifting.

I suddenly became aware of the movement, and froze in place. "Hello?" I called, trying to sound brave and confident, rather than anxious and scared.

Through the mist and the rain, I could dimly make out the outline of a figure in the forest beyond, who stopped at my call. They turned this way and that, probably trying to find the source of the voice.

"Hello down there," I called again, hoping to make peaceful contact with whomever had snuck up on me.

The silhouette turned to face in my general direction, and took a few steps forward. "Aye, hello to yourself," he called as I rose to my feet.

"Good evening," I offered, not really sure what else to say.

The figure continued picking his way forward, his dim silhouette slowly resolving itself into the picture of a man. One who evidently didn't feel the need to wear a shirt, despite the cold rain falling.

"Good evening there, miss," he said, stopping a good twenty or thirty feet away. "I don't suppose there's any room under that shelter for a second body? It seems to have gotten a wee bit drizzly out here."

I hesitated a moment, weighing my options. I could vaguely make out the form of a shirtless man, seemingly carrying nothing but a small bag on his side. If this was a fey, which seemed likely, being rude wouldn't be a particularly great idea. Finally, I decided to err on the side of politeness and adventure. "Please, come share the shelter."

"Much obliged," he said as he started picking his way forward. I got a better look at him as he passed the line of trees, and my breath caught in my throat. The shirtless part I had gotten right, as the only thing covering his torso was an impressive six-pack, but what I had mistaken for pants was in fact a naked lower body covered with a thick pelt of fur. At the bottom of his furry legs were a pair of cloven hooves, marking him unmistakably as a satyr.

Finally he was standing under my awning, smiling as sweetly as you please. "Thank you kindly, miss. I'd expected to be home 'fore the rain came down. The name's Pux"

I nodded, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "I'm Amaranthea. Uh... towel?" I asked, grabbing the semi-dry towel off of its rope hanger.

He grinned and accepted, vigorously rubbing at his hair, then his shoulders. "Say, was that you humming a tune just a few minutes back?"

I nodded again. "It's a tune I picked up some ways back, elvish in origin. I can't actually remember the name, though. Something about flowers."

He chuckled, and passed the towel over his abdomen and then behind his back. "'The Flower and the Lady', I believe."

"That's the one," I said, smiling.

He continued his work with the towel, methodically rubbing at his legs, drying the thick fur. I watched with keen interest as he worked, until I realized I was staring directly towards his uncovered crotch. I looked away, feeling a faint flush at my cheeks. "So, uh, what brings you out to this neck of the woods?"

"I was just on the hunt for some pretty flowers that grow over yonder," he said, tilting his head vaguely towards a one side of the forest. "What brings a pretty young elf to this far into the woods?"

"Only half elven, actually, on my father's side. I'm sort of wandering, looking for... something. I'm not sure what, to be honest."

"How will you know if you've found it, then?" He finished rubbing down his legs, leaving the hair fluffed up and poofy. I realized I was staring at his legs again, and made a strong effort to turn my gaze back to his face. He looked down at the towel and looked around, as if unsure what to do with it.

"Here," I told him, taking the towel and hanging it back up behind me. I kept my back to him for a moment, trying to clear my head, and keep the outline of his member from popping back into my head again.

I turned back and froze again, finding him sitting and leaning against the tree, as comfortable as can be.

He looked up at me quizzically, and I realized I was being foolish. I sat down again, leaning against the tree, a few feet away from him.

"You didn't answer my question, lass."

I frowned for a second, trying to remember what he'd asked. "Oh, right. I sort of just assume that when I find it, I'll just know."

He chuckled to himself like that was a particularly funny response, and laid back against the tree, shifting a bit to get comfortable. A few moments of silence stretched out, broken only by the rhythmic falling of the rain. I took the opportunity to eye him up and down again, starting with his light brown hair, down his muscled torso and arms, and his furry goat legs. "Would you hum that tune again?"

"Uh, what?"

"'The Flower and the Lady'. You were humming it a few minutes ago."

"Oh, right." I took a few moments to put the tune back together again, and arranged myself a little more comfortably. Then I started humming the first few bars, as best as I could remember.

"Lovely," he told me, his eyes closed as he listened to what was surely a poor rendition of a song I barely remembered. As he listened he reached into his small bag, pulling out a homemade flute, a dozen small pipes of varying sizes tied together.

"Nope," I told him, abruptly breaking him from his reverie before the pipes had even made it to his lips.

"What?"

"No playing those pipes," I told him. "I'm no fool, I did my research before making my way here. A few notes on those pipes and I forget all my inhibitions; a few more and I'd forget my name."

He chuckled, and looked at me as if I was being cute, and then turned back to look out into the night. "Oh, those are just fairy tales, lass."

I frowned, sure I was being led on. "You're trying to tell me a set of pan pipes, played by a satyr, hasn't been known to sway the minds of mortals?"

"Music can't make you do anything you don't want to do, lass. Not even faerie music."

"But it can make you feel things," I insisted.

He turned and looked at me, grinning again. "That's the point of music, lass. To make you feel things. A smidge of faerie magic just makes the effect a little stronger."

"Still," I told him, trying not to smile. That grin was infectious! "I'm not in the mood to be influenced by magical music."

"Aye, but you're already influenced, magic or not," he told me giving, me a slow look up and down. "We're sitting close enough to touch, underneath a shelter you've offered me, in the dark of a rainy night, and you've been eyeing me up every chance you get. Don't think I haven't noticed your eyes wandering down, neither."

I blushed, looking pointedly away. I hadn't even realized how close we were suddenly sitting, or that our shoulders were touching.

He gently laid a hand on my chin, and turned me to face him. "I think we both know what you're hoping is going to happen tonight. And truth be told, I'm fairly hoping for the same."

"I don't know about that," I told him, but didn't pull my face away from his hand.

"Oh?" He said, taking his hand from my face. "If that's the case, then why aren't you going to stop me from playing?" As he spoke he settled his right arm over my shoulder, pulling me against his firm chest. He brought his pipes up to his lips with his other hand, and started with a long note.

He was right - I didn't want to stop him. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was just because I knew I was desperately planning on jumping him tonight regardless. Either way, I started humming again, and let him play.

As the high notes drifted out into the night, I let them swirl around me. It was a slow, passionate tune, and I felt it in my very blood. It was like a blush that started in my face and worked its way down my whole body. I let myself be carried by the music, feeling the heat build in me. It melded with the song I was carrying, and lifted it up into something new and bright.

I leaned my face against his hard chest, and slowly traced a hand down his abdominal muscles as he played. I gently toyed with the light hair on his stomach, swirling my finger around as I made my way down.

His song was picking up now, moving from slow and intimate to something more aggressive and passionate.

I trailed my fingers down to his waistline, where the hair turned thicker, and gently ran my fingers through it. I was inches away from the base of his member, which I twitched slightly as I looked at it. I was happy just teasing for a moment, playing with the thick tufts of fur, but his song was getting faster and more demanding, and I could feel the heat in my body swelling in response.

Slowly I let my hand drift down, until I was holding the base of him. He twitched in my hand, inflating with arousal. I gripped his member, stroking it to life. It was thick, and getting thicker as I groped it, and I couldn't help but feel both worry and anxiety at its size.

But still our music rolled on, and still my body urged me forward.

I shifted, pulling away from his chest until my head was above his crotch. His member was pointing almost straight up now, inviting, and I lowered my face towards it.

I think I heard him falter on a note as I took his thick head into my mouth, gently suckling at the tip of him. The heat and sensations built in my body, making me shiver and moan around him as I started working my head up and down.

I swirled my tongue back and forth as I worked up and down on the wide tip, trying to push the whole length of him into my throat. I kept humming around his shaft, keeping my tune alive. My angle was all wrong and I almost gagged, but I just kept trying. The song was wild, bewildering, blazing hot. I felt sensation coursing through my body, up and down my spine, and I was panting as I bobbed my head on him.

With one hand I reached between his legs and felt his sack. I froze up as soon as I touched it, his cock still half in my mouth. I slowly started stroking his testes, shocked as I felt them. Each testicle fully filled my palm, and hung shockingly low. The orcs I'd spent a few nights with had had much larger balls than my human ex-boyfriend, but they had nothing on this satyr. No wonder he didn't wear pants; these things were huge!

I fondled his sack as I returned to the task of blowing him, slowly moving my head up and down his thick shaft.

Still he played, and still my blood felt like it was boiling. Tingling sensations trickled down my spine and out to my limbs, coalescing between my legs. I writhed and rubbed my legs together, riding the sensations coursing through my body. It felt like I was on the edge of a massive climax, and he hadn't even touched me yet!

"Amaranthea," he said, his voice as lilting and musical as the notes from his pipe. "Why don't you take your clothes off?"

I didn't want to take my mouth off of his member, but heat and need had taken hold of me, and I rushed to comply. I rolled onto my back and grabbed the top of my pants and underwear, tugging them firmly down and kicking them off to the side. I fumbled with the front of my shirt, getting the first loop of string undone before getting too frustrated.

Looking over, I saw him staring at me, watching with a mixture of satisfaction and what had to be lust. He held himself in one hand, slowly stroking as I struggled with my clothes.

He wasn't even playing anymore, but still I heard the phantom notes swirling around. I was hot, wet, and not in the mood to fuck around. "Come here, Pux," I told him, spreading my legs in invitation.

He wasted no time, shifting over until he was kneeling between my legs. I still had my shirt on, but I'd given up trying to deal with it. I needed him, and I needed him now!

He saw my state of need, and grinned, slowly stroking his shaft as he knelt there. It stood out proudly over my body, and his slow teasing was driving me wild. I snaked a finger between my own legs and found the place I needed attention. I started rubbing my clit, desperate to get more physical sensation into my body, and was already losing control. My back arched as I worked myself, and I moaned as I came right there. My cries echoed in the night as I fingered my sensitive nub, and he just watched as I writhed helplessly.

Finally I was past that first explosion, but still I felt the heat of sensation in my core. I opened my eyes to find him now on all fours above me, staring down into my face.

"Fuck," I told him, looking down at the where his member was mere inches from my waiting body. "I want you so bad."

He chuckled and, as if those were the magic words, finally pressed his shaft against me. I sighed in pleasure as the tip of him made contact against my folds, slowly moving up and then down, lining himself up.

He started pressing forward, and found little resistance. His shaft was thick, as wide or even wider than any partner I'd ever had, but my body yielded readily to him. I felt myself stretching around his tip, opening as he pushed himself slowly into me. I moaned again at the sensation of finally having him, and he made small pushes forward.

We paused when he was halfway in, panting together, then he slid the rest of the way in one smooth motion. I cried out again at the sudden feeling of fullness, and we took a moment together to savor the feeling of him inside of me.

But we were both caught up with the need, and I was in no mood to wait. I wrapped my legs around the back of his knees, and used my hands on his hips to guide him out and then back in.

I squeezed him against me as he pressed forward again, arcing my hips up to meet his thrust. Again he pulled back and thrusted forward, and I writhed and bucked against his pelvis. I felt fully lost in the moment, and was only interested in one thing: more.

Maybe I told him so out loud, because he eagerly complied. He set more of his weight on top of me, pressing down against me as he started thrusting faster. Each movement shook my body under him and brought a new spark of pleasure. I felt my liquid drip out around our union, spilling over in my excitement.

I dug hands into his back and urged him on, faster, harder. He complied, giving me more.

His firm muscles contracted and relaxed under my fingers as he bucked, sawing his cock in and out of my aching pussy. I thrust my hips to the beat of the phantom song I could still hear, meeting his movements. The pulsating pleasure was still growing in my body, and each hard thrust brought me a step closer to an explosive release.

I moaned into his ear as my fingers gripped his ass and pulled him to me. Again I felt his thick tip press down into me, spreading me before retracting.

I could feel each movement, each nerve, every inch of our contact. He thrust forward again, slamming his width into my body. I felt my body yield and spread before him with each motion in, and then grip him each time he pulled back. Somehow every sensation was amplified by the power of his song, and I never wanted it to end. I kissed him desperately, and he returned it with abandon.

I felt his back tense again under my fingers, and then a powerful throb from within me. I moaned in delight at this added sensation, I bucked my hips against him and spurred him on.