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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
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Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction,
any coincidence is just that, a coincidence.
Copyright Notice Reminder
This story is
copyright by the author and the author retains all rights. Expressly prohibited
is the posting of the story to any sites not approved by the author or charging
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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
“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