Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Title: The light in the forest Author: windrush67 Summary: Strange beings inhabit the woods in spring Keywords: MF, cons The light in the forest I was behind a desk most of the time when I worked. I observed seasonal change through a classroom window. I took long vacations to wild places with my family, we camped in the woods, and collected shells and other natural things, but it was not until I retired that I got a job that took me outside for hours at a stretch. I was hired to help restore a natural area that had been used for a dumping ground and a parking lot. My assignment was to remove the chunks of asphalt from the soil, to plant native species, and to chop out the weeds as they appeared. I liked it. I worked alone most of the time. Several weekends I drove out to my worksite and spent hours pulling weeds or cutting out saplings. It felt good to be outside, in a tee shirt, with air blowing on my naked arms. The area felt safe although it was isolated, a river flowed alongside and sometimes ducks or geese made noise, and it was quiet except for the sounds of water and wind in the trees. I liked the feel and the smell of the soft alluvial soil when I pulled out a non-native plant and the glitter of the mica flakes in the sunlight on my path. The water and sand right next to the river bank glittered with mica flecks, too, and the rocks were smoothly polished by the swiftly flowing river. The light in the wood was filtered by the green leaves and had almost a golden glow. There were times I could not believe my good fortune. I was getting paid to make this place better. It was almost like my own private garden. I had the entire woodland to myself except those few times when someone walked the trail near the river. It seemed like the kind of place that would have spirits or fairies or The Green Man or some other supernatural being living there. It seemed magical to me. It must have been the light and the river noise that brought these thoughts to me, that of being Little Red Riding Hood and maybe a talking wolf would appear to me one day... harmless, of course, offering me a basket of goodies he carried in his mouth and the flask of good red wine to wash it down. I wanted to see something out of the ordinary in this beautiful natural setting. One late fall afternoon a man I was seeing and I visited the site to take pictures, nude pictures of me in the autumn sunshine. How gutsy, I thought, I'm almost geriatric, but I'm proud of being slim and still strong and muscular. I needed very little encouragement to strip down. If he was game for it so was I. I took off my bra and panties in the back seat of the car to save time. At first we did some peek a boo shots with me in various poses with my jacket zipped and unzipped and the nipple shots with the thin white sweater and the jeans unzipped and then taking off the sweater and jeans to bend over a fallen log, naked and shivering in the late afternoon sun. He came up behind me and pressed his hips into mine. He had an erection and I could feel it. He took a close up picture of my butt. He made some smart comment about moonrise or something and we both smiled. We ended the session by putting some leaves over my nipples and pubic hair and taking some shots of me lying naked in the grass. I looked waxy and pale in the monitor; human flesh colors wash out in pale light. I was shivering so much he opened his leather jacket to pull me inside for warmth. Instead I pulled him to me. The ground was hard. He was still hard. It had been an afternoon of foreplay and now I could feel him against me and smell the scent of his neck and I felt a rush of heat roll over me. I could feel the swelling alongside his zipper and the heat from him, too. We put both our jackets on the ground beneath me. I undid his leather belt to reach down the front of his jeans for his penis and squeezed along the shaft down to his pubic hair. It was hot and thick and filled my hand. I unzipped his jeans, pulled his penis out, and rubbed the tip with my thumb to feel the slippery liquid flow out around the opening. His hardness excited me even more. The abundant fluid was a turn on, too. His foreskin was pulled back and I could see that the tip was dark. He slid his finger in and out of me and began to pull moisture out of my pussy to rub around the outside lips. I didn't want to wait that long. I put my hands out and guided his penis into me, pushing up against him as I did. I felt a bit of resistance, but the pain only added to my excitement. I rammed my hips against him and felt the cold of his zipper on my thigh and the dry leaves and grass pressed on my legs. I remember thinking how badly I wanted to feel that load of hot slippery cum in me and how it would make a juicy mess all over me and how I wanted to feel it running down my crotch but that I also wanted to come first before he lost his erection. Knowing we could be interrupted by a hiker at any time only added to my excitement and I moved my nipple towards his mouth, wanting that extra pain to bring me to orgasm. I was breathing fast, almost gasping, exhaling fast through my mouth, and feeling the exquisite pain from his bites traveling all the way down my body to my clit. I came in a rush and was suddenly overcome with fear of being apprehended. I felt I was being watched by unseen eyes, some green shape in the shadows of a tree. He must have sensed my change of attitude and became alert, too. He stopped his movements and pulled himself out, zipped his pants, and quickly covered me with his jacket while I pulled on my clothes. We walked slowly back to the car. I was still flushed and excited. I offered to finish him off in the back seat of the car, but by then the mood was broken and we needed to get back to civilization. There were not to be any more days with this man nor nights, either. Winter changed both of us and we parted. When spring came I began my task anew. The first few visits were right after spring plowing in the adjacent fields. The soil along the path I followed was muddy and stuck to my shoes. It was difficult to distinguish the small leaves of the good species from the invasive ones, but I got better as time went by. I had a route I followed, familiar landmarks, and a place I liked to sit to eat my lunch. There were a few places I visited just because I liked to hear the river sounds and breathe in their special smells. There is a time in spring when I can feel winter has finally gone. Something in the light and wind makes me feel restless. Moist breezes stir feelings that lay deeper beneath the surface in other seasons, moving animal excitement through my body. I had come one morning right as the sun was rising over the hill and the mist was still lying in the low spots. I had my supplies but had forgotten my cell phone. I turned down a little used path to go back to the car and saw someone sitting on a tree stump, eating what looked to be a piece of chicken but had furry feet on it. Ugh. Rabbit? Squirrel? And what about this guy? He looked very familiar but only because I've seen a lot of statues in museums. He looked like a faun, a satyr, one of those horny guys you see in mythology. This was New England, not the Elysian Fields, nor Ithaca. Looks like I got my wish: a forest sprite. There he was, eating raw meat. I shuddered. I was armed with a pair of garden clippers and a spray bottle of weed killer and far from the road. I should have been more careful, but curiosity got the better of me and, besides, he looked harmless enough. He had the requisite little horn buds on his head, soft wooly fur on his legs, hooves, and a full beard. He was not much bigger than I am and that helped. He was wearing a leather pouch of some sort on a strap around his neck. "I know you," I said. "You're like a forest fairy or something." "I am the spirit of these woods, "he said, "And I've been watching you. You've come here a lot. And I saw you working here last fall." "How did you get here," I asked, "And what are you doing here? Are you going to hurt me?" "I'm perfectly harmless," he said. This is when I noticed the green tinge to his skin and the points on his ears. Of course he'd say that. Why would I even ask? The man of my woodland daydreams appears to me and I should ask for references? "I've been here as long as the river," he said. "I came here as the last glacier melted, when wolves and elk herds roamed the valleys and cotton grass grew in the marshes. I saw the natives grow corn and beans here and I was here when the first settlers came. They drove out the natives and started to grow their wheat in the fields. I was here when towns were built and the railroad came through and bridges and dams were built. Things have changed." He sounded rather sad. "I can do you no harm and I can't help you. I can't cure this wild spot, either. There are many of us, but we are old and our powers are weak." Maybe I should have been afraid and maybe I should have run fast the other way. I wanted to keep him talking. How often does one see a greenish man with little horns out in the woods? Or anywhere else? Suddenly, as we spoke, he changed into an ordinary man wearing a polo shirt under a nylon windbreaker and pair of khaki slacks with a baseball cap on his head and soft leather boots. I turned towards where he was looking and saw two young men walking along the trail closer to the river. They would have seen me talking to another hiker and not been a bit surprised. Then he changed back to his faun form and continued the conversation. "I saw you with the man in the leather jacket," he said. "Oops," I said, "That was a long time ago." "And there was the man with the white hat bending you over the picnic table, too." The memory of that incident flashed into my mind. The slow hard thrusts of a hard penis and my open butt cheeks slippery with desire and the hard wood of the table against my chest and stomach, my elbows on the table, my eyes darting here and there to look for other visitors to the park and still wanting to feel the excitement of illicit sex in a public place. "I get a little excited," I said. "And in the apple grove down by the river once a few falls ago." "You get around," I said. That had been a long, long time ago and that had only been a short blow job, just my mouth up and down a few times on his penis, us sitting on a fallen log hidden from sight of the highway. I had unzipped his jeans and had fished out his erection, smooth skin shiny and pink in the late days of summer, probably after the first frost had killed the bees and hornets around the fallen fruit. We sat there and kissed and fondled and I nuzzled and licked his erection for a while, sniffing and tasting his particular odors and flavors, enjoying making him get bigger and wetter before being reasonable and letting him put it away so we could continue our walk through the dead brown grasses along the river. "As the crow flies, this whole area is not that big," he said. And I can fly or at least move through the air. It seems to be one of my talents." "And you spy on people all over?" I asked. "It is a public place, after all," he said. "What do you expect?" "Well," I said, "I guess I could be a lot more discrete, but I never imagined little green men spying on me out in the woods and in the bushes." "Look," I said, "I have a lot of work to do. I have some escaped rose and barberry bushes to eliminate today. Do you want to keep me company? I'm on the clock and I have to get something done before lunch." "And, by the way, what is that you are eating? Is it what I think it is? Raw bunny?" "Sorry to offend you," he said. "Yes, it is rabbit. There are quite a few of them around here and I find them tastier than farm chickens. I get tired of bread and cheese after a while." At this point he opened his leather pouch and showed me some rustic baked bread and a piece of cheese wrapped in some leaves. The bread looked good and rough with big holes and a dark crust and the cheese was solid and pale colored, but smelled wonderfully of farm and field. I thought about my peanut butter and jelly on squishy white bread. And he had some wine, dark and rich-looking, in a small glass bottle with a cork in it. I began to worry less about his meat-eating habits. It was about this time I also noticed that he was naked except for the fur covering his lower parts. The fur was a golden color, tinged with enough green to be exotic but not like some algae-covered sloth. And then there it was, his penis, lying along his leg until I started to stare at it and it moved a bit. And then a bit more. It was darker in color than of the rest of his skin. It was a gray green, not unhealthy in color, but definitely not like any I had ever seen before. And it was not exceptionally large nor long, but curved and with a swollen head that I could not help but stare at. And the more I stared, the larger it became, the foreskin pulling back as it rose. I had to apologize. I had to get some work done. I had to get control of myself. This is ridiculous. I go to work and I end up chatting up some wood spirit with a loaf of bread and the next thing I'm staring at him like a museum exhibit. Or a Chip `n' Dale. I have obligations. I am an adult woman, experienced. Sort of. I have a room mate and a job and places to go and people to see and all I could think of was how do I get a piece of this action? I think he could read my mind, at least I felt as if he and I were on the same wavelength. I was thinking fast and doing some typical female schedule juggling. "I really need to get some work done here today," I said. "I have to rearrange my life a bit and I want to come back here tomorrow and see you again. Where do you live? Do you just stay around here all the time? Where do you sleep? Do you sleep? And where do you get this bread and this wine and cheese? " "I'll be here tomorrow," he said. "I'll be by that big clump of rose plants. I'll be easy to find." And then he sort of dissolved into a nearby tree trunk. I looked around the tree but he was gone or at least invisible. Maybe I had not been as smart as I thought all along when I hid behind a tree to pee in the woods. I was really never alone. The thought comforted me. That's when I remembered my original plan had been to get my cell phone from my car and get working. It had been only a few minutes but seemed like hours. I spent the rest of the morning making calls and clipping branches and pulling weeds like a mad woman to make the time pass and to have something to show for the hours I put on my time sheet. I cancelled the appointment I had for the next day and made excuses for my other obligations and gobbled my lunch as I drove back to the apartment. I had lots on my mind. Was I dreaming? Had I had a Senior Moment? What did I think was going to happen the next day with this mysterious man of the woods? I was there at day break the next day. I parked my car and walked along the railroad tracks to the path where I entered the tract. The woods were quiet and misty, the river flowing softly alongside the path as I hurried towards the big clump of floribunda roses. In case he didn't show up, I had my clippers and spray bottle ready to flatten that bunch of brambles and keep them from growing back. A woman was jogging along the path with a small dog on a leash and the dog suddenly stopped and barked at a pile of fur and a few bones close to where I had seen my faun. That part, at least, had not been a dream. She was soon gone and I approached the place where I expected to see him. As I glanced about that part of the woods he suddenly came into view and beckoned for me to follow him. We returned to the tracks and walked a short distance. The tracks were soon enclosed by steep rock walls of a road cut and piles of fallen rock. He turned to me and held out a hand to lead me to a space between two large rocks, down a passageway and then we were in a small cave which was at once light and airy and small and cozy. A table held the rustic bread and cheese and a basket of apples, small local apples that had spent the winter in a cellar, and a bottle of the dark wine. His bed had a sheepskin on it that was soft and curly like the hair on his thighs. I took his hand and sat on the bed with him and looked into his eyes in the soft light. They were golden rimmed and brown, not goaty at all, but light in color. He did have hooves. No doubt about that. After a while I stopped looking at them and concentrated on his human aspects. I looked at his curly beard, his hairy chest, even felt the small horns, which were not all that spectacular nor extraordinary after a while. He told me of the changes he had seen in the valley and the loneliness he sometimes felt over the years. He was not allowed to spend much time with humans for their safety and for his. He gave me bread and cheese and we ate the apples and tiny sweet hickory nuts and drank the dark wine from small clay cups. He told me my time with him would be limited and short. I wanted to make the most of it. I wanted to enjoy his body and his unusual penis, to see what he had learned about sex from his years of watching others and to find out what he had to teach me. I wanted to smell his clean animal fur and feel his hairy balls and see what his skin felt like beneath that hair covering it. He said he wanted to stroke my breasts and lick me all over and smell my hairy pussy and put his tongue around my clit. He told me he would give me a morning of pleasure and I should let him know if something pleased me or did not. He would do what he could to satisfy me. I wanted him to take me from the back, like a goat, after he went down on me. I wanted to feel him from behind with that hard penis in me and his big balls against my ass. I couldn't help feeling animal passion and desire. Maybe it was his smell, maybe there was a pheromone he was giving off and maybe it was the novelty of the whole situation. It had been a long time since I had had a man all to myself whose sole stated desire was to please me. And I was willing to please him in return. I took his penis in my hand and started twisting my hand around it in a spiral direction. It began to leak clear liquid as I rubbed my palm over the tip. We were getting somewhere. I straddled him and he took both my breasts in his hands and began massaging the nipples with his fingers and rubbing them over his generous lips and licking them with his tongue. It was a long tongue. I put his penis between the lips of my pussy and rubbed it against my clit. I wanted to spread his slippery liquid all over me. He was dark and hard and green and almost metallic in color and his balls were heavy and large and hung down in their fur sack like a bull's. I had not noticed their size earlier. He picked me up and placed me on my back on the soft fur of the sheepskin and began to lick my labia, one lip at a time, up one side and down the other and inside the folds between the two layers, licking and both giving fluid and taking it up, spreading my lips and folding them back, ending up at the clit, moving it back and forth, making it expand to full size. I was petting and stroking his head, feeling the base of the horns, rubbing them, exploring that strange growth and still feeling it was not all that strange to be screwing a man with pointed ears and horns. He was compensating for that with his tongue. And that smell of farm and field, hay and cow, fertile soil and spring that he gave off was intoxicating. His back felt muscular and warm beneath his smooth skin, lightly covered with soft hairs. I was hot and said so. He could tell. I was moving against his tongue, pushing my cunt into his face, almost to coming on his tongue, when he turned me over and held my hips up to slip his wet and shiny penis between my lips and into my soft and wet vagina. I was almost screaming with pleasure by now and wondered how he would bring me to orgasm. It was not long. He gave a few long strong expert strokes and brought me to a huge climax. This was an experienced male. I collapsed and took a few minutes to catch my breath and then turned to take his wet penis in my mouth. He crouched over my face with his balls hanging almost to my chest as I took it deep in my mouth. I had never sucked and swallowed anything like this before but this was one experience I did not want to miss. He was smooth and silky, exuding drop after drop of fluid with each of his long slow thrusts, giving me ample opportunity to savor and swallow. I wanted to do this. This was not something I was being forced to do or coerced or cajoled. I wanted to bring this man to completion and soon he was filling my mouth with warm white semen and I was rubbing it all over my nipples as it overflowed to my breasts. He moved down to my cunt and started licking me again. This time I turned myself so I could take his penis in my mouth. I could smell his animal scent and feel the soft hairs of his thighs on my cheek. I licked his shaft and began to bring his penis back to life. It was soft at first and still leaking cum, but by tugging at the balls and stroking with my tongue from top to bottom and back again, I was able to make it hard. This time I wanted to orgasm on his penis and to feel him deep inside me, stroking the inside of me with his long curved shaft and feel his balls against my ass from the front. I was so wet and he was so wet it slid right into place with no guidance at all. I tightened up around him and he started his slow ride again, long confident strokes, holding me against his chest and biting gently at my neck and collar bones, bringing me expertly to another orgasm. This time I let myself scream out with each incoming thrust and each wave of pleasure as it rolled over me. I must have orgasmed for minutes instead of a few seconds. He pulled out to kneel over me with his erection in his hand and stroked along the shaft until another large ejaculation spread itself all over my breasts. I didn't care how messy it was, it felt like the rites of spring and I was the dry parched earth receiving the blessing of the gods. Not much chance I'll bear any more fruit, but it certainly felt good having a being worship me this way. And it felt like worship, a communion of souls. Not many words were spoken, just instinctive movements and ancient patterns, things programmed in our bodies from ancient times, even before the river ran through this valley. He covered us with the sheepskin robe that lay across the bed. I must have slept for a while, warm and relaxed, with his body wrapped around mine, with his penis in my hand and his hand on my thigh. I woke up alone, close to my car and chilly in the afternoon sunshine. I'm not sure how I got there, but I had my key in my hand and I felt clear-headed and alert. I knew I would never see him again and that thought saddened me, but I knew that I would have that memory forever. Before I slept, maybe in a dream, he told me he was leaving the valley, never to return, that his time there was over. It is probably why he spent the time with me, a last mortal contact before going back wherever it is spirits go when they are no longer needed. I had believed in him and made him real. I wanted him to be real and he had been, for me. A few days later I walked down that railroad track towards the rock opening where I had entered the cave. There was no entrance, only sheer fractured rock faces along the tracks, a few trees growing in the fallen rock debris and ferns in the crevices. A small creek ran along the edge of the railroad cut and there were not even deer hoof prints in the sandy soil. Nor even my own footprints. I had not really expected to find anything and I knew it was better that I did not. I left that part of the country shortly afterwards. I had family and obligations in other places and knew it could never be the same again. I found similar work in another state and keep hoping another furry hoofed person will reveal himself to me. Occasionally I catch a scent on the wind that reminds me of my other-worldy experience, something wild and green and animal, not the chemical smell of men's aftershave and fabric softener, but the fleshy scent of skin oils and fur, goat and cheese and apples, leather and semen. Some days there is a light in the forest that would convince anyone of the magic in natural settings, and that there is a spirit in the woods we need only to be open to find. In spring the spirit is more full and whole, but all seasons have their special lustiness. Summer is hot and fetid and growth is almost obscene in its lushness. Autumn brings the last burst of growth and the color changes on the mountains and the orgy of feeding and food harvesting and storage. Then winter brings the slow time of sleep through long cold dark nights and short days of action in the cold and snow to return early to warmth and house and a desire to cocoon up for the night. Winter light can be harsh on the dull colors of fallen wood and leaves, but even in winter, on a sun-warmed rock ledge on a bright February afternoon, passion can blossom into a burst of frenzy and furtive kisses and bare skin. And sometimes there are beings in the forest, silently watching and celebrating with us.