Title: Beltane Eve

Author: Satyr of Eris

Date of Publication: May, 2004

Contains/Codes: MF, cons/rom, pagan, outdoors

Summary: First person; a night of drumming on Beltane Eve turns
into a passionate encounter.



Warning
This story contains sexually-explicit, erotic events involving
alternative sexualities. Do not read the contents if they will
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction, any coincidence is just that, a
coincidence.



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This story is copyright by the author and the author retains all
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The flames danced on her body as she circled the fire, her body
moving rhythmically to the sound of the drums. His eyes followed
her as his hands played on, gently striking the head of the
African drum between his legs, like a tender spanking given on a
bare bottom. While the rhythm he played was in his head, he could
hear the rhythm that his heart was beating for her in his chest.



He wasn’t sure of her name, Andrea maybe or Alexis. She was a
student at the state university and a member of the Pagan group
there. She had been attending pagan gatherings and festivals in
the area for almost as long as he had and she had never failed to
catch his attention. Many nights, she came to him in his dreams
and fantasies as he lay in his tent at the end of a night of
drumming and on each of those nights she vanished into the night
sky as soon as he found that intense moment of pleasure by
himself.



He couldn’t kid himself – she was what, maybe twenty? He was
thirty-five and not bad looking at all. Drumming and exercise
kept him in relatively good shape, but how could he compete with
all the beautiful young boys and girls that frolicked at these
gatherings like woodland nymphs? Single, divorced for a little
over a year, he hadn’t been with a woman in quite a while and it
was time to get real with himself and begin looking for someone
closer to his own age. But tonight while he played and she
danced, she was his.



She was dressed in a gauzy white skirt that dropped to mid calf,
revealing tanned, firm legs. Around her left ankle was an anklet
with small bells that kept time with his drumming as she danced
the fire. Her bare arms played in the firelight, long and willowy
ending in beautifully tapered hands and slender thin fingers. She
wore a leotard-like top, accentuating her slender, youthful
figure and holding her small, firm breasts high on her chest. Her
nipples, small and hard, interrupted the smoothness of the white
fabric. He wondered whether it was due to the cold or her
physical exertion and then realized he didn’t care. He was just
thankful to the Goddess that they were there for him to see. As
she turned in front of him, he could see the light beads of
perspiration on her exposed chest and neck and found himself
wondering how salty they would taste.



The thought and his growing erection caused him to miss the beat
and he quickly lifted his hands from the drum, so as not to break
down the beat for the other drummers. Realizing his bladder was
full, he decided that it would be a good opportunity to take a
break and stood up and headed for the creek bed. It was a short
walk, about fifty yards from the drum circle. After he had
finished, he stood there in the darkness looking up at the moon.
It was a fortunate circumstance that Beltane and the full moon
had coincided this year. In addition to the simple fact that the
full moon provided the gathering with more light that normal, it
also made the energies of the gathering stronger, and because
this was Beltane, a festival of fertility and sexuality, he could
feel the vibrations of sexuality permeating the woods in which
they were camping.



From a tent several yards away, he heard the sounds of
lovemaking; two, no three voices whispering and giggling with
moans and coos of pleasure thrown in. Someone, a girl from the
sound of it, began the journey up the slope to orgasm and he
couldn’t help but note that the sound of her coming and the sound
of a woman crying often sounded the same.



“Are you listening to them?” He turned and looked directly into
her face. Her face – the face of his dancer, the girl that had
inspired and haunted his dreams and fantasies.



“Uh, well… yes. I guess I was.” Truth seemed his best ally at the
moment and this was a pagan Beltane gathering.



“Sounds like they’re having fun”, she said looking a bit
wistfully in that general direction. The moon kissed her
forehead, eyelids and cheeks, reflecting back the moisture of her
dance. “Would you mind standing guard for me while I slip down
into the creek bed and pee?”, she asked, somewhat coyly.



“Sure”. She slipped down the creek bank and he turned to the side
so as not to be directly staring down at her. Even from this
position, he could see her squat down and he heard her, a light
hiss and a trickling sound. Moments later, she was climbing back
up the bank and he leaned down and offered her a hand. Her hand
was delicate in his, warm and very real as opposed to the
ethereal coldness of his fantasies.



“The moon is really beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” she asked,
delaying the quick trip back the drum circle.



No more beautiful than you, he thought, but the words came out as
“Yes, it sure is.”



“I noticed that you stare at me a lot when you’re drumming”, she
asked.



His heart was a trip hammer now, beating out a beat that would
have been impossible to dance to. Truth, his mind told him. “Yes,
I do. You’re beautiful and there’s a very spiritual edge to your
dancing”. He wanted to say so much more, to gush on how she
reminded him of the fey, dancing fairy circles at night in the
forgotten times of ancient Ireland or Scotland. He wanted to tell
her she was a vision of the Goddess herself, in maiden aspect.
But he fell silent.



“Thanks. That’s a real compliment. I just dance how I feel; to
me, it’s a worship and a celebration of my connection to spirit.
Is that how you drum?” He nodded.



She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes taking in his face. She
bit her lip, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a gentle pinch
that drove him crazy. “Want to take a walk with me?”, she asked
sounding much more confident than her features indicated.



“Ok – lead the way”. He followed as she took his hand and led him
on the path away from the creek bed and behind the makeshift
kitchen area. Leaving the more populated area of the campground,
they walked silently, her still holding his hand, deeper into the
woods. After a few moments, they came to a clearing and he could
make out that the clearing held the space for ritual. He had been
here before, last year when a handfasting was held in this space.
Walking to the area where the south altar stood, she picked up
several sticks and threw them off into the darkness. Smoothing
her skirt against herself, she sat, crossing her legs and
indicating that her should join her. He plopped down beside her
and she repositioned herself so that she was sitting next to him,
her bare arm and shoulder against his.



She studied him for a moment. He was average height, somewhat
skinny, with dark, black hair. It was long, shoulder length and
pulled back into a pony tail. Shirtless, he was muscular with a
smooth chest. On his right bicep he had a tattoo of a pentacle
within a crescent moon. The Celtic knot work was intricate and
beautiful. She glanced down and noted his strong hands clasped
together in his lap. The blue jeans he wore were faded and
slightly ragged, the tatters slipping out over his bare feet.



“Nice toes,” she said smiling at him. Her smile lit him on fire
and he blushed and even in the moonlight she could tell. “And
it’s Beltane.” She ran her hand up his arm and across his chest,
stopping at his nipple. Circling it with her finger, she leaned
forward and kissed him.



Her lips were warm and full and her breath was scented with honey
and mead. She had slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him
toward her, at the same time opening her mouth and increasing the
intensity of the kiss. He leaned into her, sliding his hand up
along her side and under her armpit, pulling her closer to him.
The kiss was deep and long and somewhere it had become incredibly
sexual. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, as if
his heart were trying to speak to hers. He rose to his knees,
bringing her with him, encircling her with his arms and burying
his face in her neck. She moaned and dropped her head back, her
arms limply at her side and let him kiss her, gently but firmly
working his way from her collarbone to her neck and then behind
her ear. She put her hands on his chest and willed him forward
and he moved on top of her, the weight of his body covering hers
and pressing her into the ground. This was good, sandwiched
between the god, the lord of the forest, Pan and Mother Earth,
Gaia. The rightness overwhelmed her.



Rolling him off of her, she got to her feet and pulling him along
with her, she moved to a nearby tree. Pushing him against it, she
kissed him now, lingering on his lips and then trailing kisses
down his neck to his chest. She found a nipple and sucked on it
gently, then bit it, raking her teeth across the sensitive skin.
She slipped to her knees and kissed his stomach, feeling the hair
below his navel, trailing downward.



She looked up again and saw him with his head back, his body
against the tree and the moon directly above him. Smiling, she
unbuttoned his jeans and led the zipper to its bottommost
location. Tugging his jeans down partway, she reached into his
underwear and clasped his penis, hard and rigid, yet softer than
anything she had ever felt. She slid her hand along its length,
and kissed his pubic hair, feeling the heat from his member on
the side of her face. Moving back to the head, she touched her
tongue to the shiny drop of pre-cum than emerged from the pink
slit. She flicked her tongue across his head and then plunged
forward, taking him all the way into her mouth. She pleasured him
slowly, occasionally pulling him out of her mouth to run her
tongue along the base of his cock or nibble the side of his penis
with her teeth. Lifting him up, she licked his testicles, gently
sucking one and then the other and then both into her mouth. He
groaned loudly and whispered “I’m going to cum if you keep that
up,”.



She smiled up and him and shook her head. “Not yet…”.



He reached down and pulled her to her feet. Changing positions,
he kissed her hard, tasting himself on her warm mouth. As he
kissed her, he slipped the thin straps of her tight top off of
her shoulders and rolled her shirt down to her waist. Leaning
forward, he kissed the top of her chest, his eyes devouring her
small breasts as he rolled her nipples gently between his
forefingers and thumbs. He lowered his head to her left nipple
and pulled gently at it with his mouth, his tongue rasping across
it. She ran her hands across his shoulders and pulled him closer
to her.



As he moved to his knees, she slipped her thumbs under the band
in her skirt and in one motion, dropped it to the ground. She was
bare from her rolled up shirt at her waist down. He looked at her
in the moonlight, a naked goddess awaiting his affections. He
kissed her navel, smelling her skin scented with patchouli and
vanilla and then further down. She was clean shaven, her sex
revealed for his pleasure. He kissed it gently and then pressing
her back to the tree, traced the outline of her genitals with his
tongue. He circled her clitoris carefully and she realized that
this wasn’t the opportune position. Lifting one leg, she placed
it over his shoulder and leaned back to the tree. Now, having
full access to her naked sex, he slipped his tongue into her,
tasting her fully now. The muskiness of her sex drove his mind to
a peak that his body could never reach; he wanted to consume her,
to drink her into his soul. His tongue slipped upward, caressing
her and causing her to flood even more of her copious fluids into
his mouth.



His hands curled around her taunt, strong legs, tracing upward to
her buttocks. He gripped her ass in his hands, kneading and
massaging her as his firm but gentle ministrations on her soaking
sex continued.



And then she came, fast and hard, entwining her fingers in his
hair and pulling his head even tighter to her. The leg that was
gently looped over his shoulder pulled him in and for just a
moment, he was smothering in her sex, the flood of her orgasm
coating his face and dripping off of his chin. She lifted her leg
and slid to the ground next to him, kissing him, kissing herself
off of his face, little kisses with her small, pink tongue
flicking out to reclaim her moisture from him.



Pressing him to the ground, she stood above him, naked and
glistening in the moonlight. The moon streaked silver through her
hair and he could see her aura shimmering in the moonlight. It
seemed to expand and grow until it encompassed them both and then
extended further until it filled the clearing. Raising her hands
above her head, she embraced the moon, drawing it down into her
body. Filled with the goddess, she gazed down at him and smiled,
a smile both sweet and powerful enough to shake him to his core.
She knelt, straddling his knees. Touching her sex, she said in an
ethereal tone, “As the chalice is to the female…” and he
responded “the athame is to the male”. She impaled herself on his
member, taking him deep into her in one quick thrust. Placing her
hands on his chest and looking deep into his eyes, she finished
the rite with, “joined together, they bring blessedness”.



She rode him, gently at first, building in pace. His hands
reached up and traced the outline of her face and her lips in the
moonlight. She took his fingers into her mouth, sucking them
gently tasting the lingering flavors of herself there. His hands
slipped down to her breasts, his fingertips rolling her nipples,
gently at first and then harder, the pain a blessed counterpoint
to the building pleasure inside of her. She slumped forward over
him and their mouths found each other, tongues entwining, his
hands in her hair, pulling her closer to him, wanting to make her
one with him, demanding that he pull her into his soul, to make
two halves whole.



He slid in and out into her, his cock making a liquid sound as it
slipped between the engorged lips of her cunt. He alternated
between long, slow strokes and short, hammering strokes, his cock
battering her sex. She bit him on the collarbone, unexpectedly
drawing blood and driven to animalistic heights, she rubbed her
lips into the small cut, smearing her mouth with his liquid life.
He kissed her, tasting the coppery flavor on her, smelling her
muskiness, her sweat, the smoke of the fire in her hair. She
pressed up, clenching her buttocks and clenching him with her
sex. The tightness drove both of them close to the edge and she
rode him hard, matching his strokes upward with those of her own.




They came together, a violent release that erupted from him as a
series of stuttering grunts and moans. She threw her head back
and moaned, a siren song, a wail of ghostly pleasure that was
nearly as mournful as it was pleasurable. Her whole body tensed
and then erupted again, the spasms slowing and lessening.
Finally, she lay on top of him, their sweat forming a slippery
bond between them, listening to his beating heart slowing to a
normal pace. He slipped out of her and she slipped up to straddle
his leg, laying her head on his chest. Both of them laughed as
his cum dribbled out of her and onto his leg, a tangible reminder
of their spent passion.



His eyes closed and he drifted in that near sleep, near waking
state. Her lips brushed his ear and her nipples grazed his chest.



“Beltane Blessings, m’lord,” she whispered. “Whilst thou play
again for me on the morrow?”



Fini



© Copyright 2004-2007, Satyr - Disciple of Astarte