THE FOREST by Molly Finnegan
Paul couldn't remember when his dissatisfaction first became real to him. He had all the money he needed or wanted, he had a socially-acceptable wife, two perfectly scrubbed children, opportunities, travel.
Yet angst clung to him like fog, until that day he decided to go jogging in the woods behind his vast country estate. That late afternoon he became so mesmerized by the dark, cool beauty and fresh aroma of the tall trees, he slowed his pace to a walk. By the time he realized he was lost, the sun was going down swiftly and a twinge of anxiety chilled him.
He saw it just on the horizon. Was it a house? He ran forward until he came upon a tiny tree-lined path that led to a quaint little cottage. He thought it deserted, until he noticed a dim yellow glow toward the back.
Paul thought he was dreaming. The little house with its heavy moss on the rounded, curved roof ; the winding earth path; the inviting, natural all-wood facade seemed like an illustration from his childhood nanny's storybook.
Enchanted, he jogged quickly up the narrow walk. "I hope this isn't where the Wicked Witch lives," he smiled to himself, remembering his little-boy terror when Nanny read that part.
Paul tapped the ancient knocker three times and waited, bouncing on his toes for warmth. There was no answer. He knocked again and saw the yellow light move toward the front door. He closed his eyes and said a child's prayer as the door squeaked open.
Before him stood a barefoot woman in a long flannel ruffled nightgown. Her hair was swept atop her head. She thrust the candle she was holding up and out to better look at her guest, casting on him an aura of eerie yellow light.
"Paul!" she said. "Please come in!"
Paul could not remember having seen this woman before. Stunned, he walked through the portal into a large room with deep cloth chairs, old-fashioned quilts and a log fire dancing cheerfully under an ironstone black kettle.
"That's where she makes stew out of little children." He didn't think he'd spoken aloud until he saw her look of alarm.
"Oh I'm so sorry," he said. "I...I've been in the woods...too long."
She led him to a large over-stuffed chair close to the fire where he sat, sinking deep into the comfort of enfolding, downy cushions.
"I'll get you something to drink," she said. "Some warm brandy."
"But how do you......?" His voice failed as the woman, in one graceful gesture, turned and took the pins from her hair, loosening a thick, rich brown fountain, shiny even in the dim light.
She returned shortly with warm brandy in two earthenware cups. For the first time he noticed that her cotton gown hugged a luscious body. The floor-length garment had tiny pearl buttons all the way down the front. There must have been hundreds of those buttons!
And she was unbuttoning the fourth.
She moved gracefully to the arm of his chair and turned to him. "Are you warming up now?"
"Yes.... thank you."
"I'm a little warm myself," she said and unbuttoned three more buttons, revealing cleavage that promised firm, round breasts. She placed both hands on the back of his neck and combed his hair up from his hairline, sending a shiver of cool desire through him.
"Forgive me...," he stumbled. "You seem to know me, but I....can't...."
"Call me Chloe," she said and rubbed her cheek in round circles against his. "Well...where..uh...?"
Chloe gracefully slipped onto Paul's lap and snuggled, straddling him. They were a perfect fit. Speechless, he started at the sight of her stunning face, her bottomless brown eyes.
Chloe smiled as she unbuttoned all the pearl buttons to her waist and let the soft fabric fall to her elbows. Her breasts were round, firm and soft; the erect nipples inviting. In a perfectly natural gesture his arms encircled her tiny waist as his tongue traced an irregular path from her throat to the smooth, flat skin between her breasts. His brandy-sweet lips found her right nipple.
He tried to use his free hand to remove the rest of Chloe's gown, but found it snuggling her waist. He began working at the tiny pearls, his big hands awkward and fumbling.
Something deep in his soul wondered what he was doing here and when the apparition would disappear. "Where did you......?" The words "come from" were muffled in her deep, warm cleavage.
Chloe moaned softly and threw her head back to expose an elegant neck. Trying to wriggle out of the rest of her gown, she rotated her hips, grinding deeper onto his lap, her cotton-covered pelvis circling, increasing his erection.
"I've been...waiting for you..." Her voice trailed to nothing as she concentrated on the warmth of his tongue circling her nipples, chilly and tingling. "I..ah....ooooooo, Oh!"
She leaned, kissed his hair and lifted his chin. His kiss was light and Chloe licked her lips, savoring the sweet brandy on his mouth. She took a drink herself, but before she could swallow, Paul tilted her gently backward. His lips parted hers; his tongue probed her mouth and throat. They exchanged the brandy, playing, squirming, their desire throbbing. Paul could hear his longing pound in his ears and chest. He caressed Chloe's bird-fragile back where his fingers danced on her shoulders, her spine, her waist. He pulled her closer to him - closer still until her breasts pressed firmly to his chest.
He shut his eyes to savor the joy. "Ohhhh," he said. "Oh, how....?"
"Shhhhhhh," she said and placed her finger over his mouth and kissed him. "Shhhhhhhh." She rocked her body gently as though comforting a child
Her finger moved from his lips to the elastic of his jogging pants. Gently she circled the flesh just inside the elastic, touching but deliberately ignoring the tip of his hard shaft just beneath. She raised her hips slightly and lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing, for a too-brief moment her inevitable sex. She eased herself back down on his lap and began slowly grinding her wet nakedness on the hard stem she felt beneath her.
Paul watched, incredulous, as his mysterious lover rubbed the tip of her finger in circles around the silky precum that had formed on his tip, just under the waistband of his pants. His eyes twitched in anticipation..
Chloe began her own unbuttoning ritual at his shirt. Once removed, her tongue made little curls in his chest hair. Wordlessly, she beckoned him to stand where she helped him off with the rest of his jogging clothes. He reached to hold her, but she motioned for him to sit.
She squirmed to her knees before him and stared at his feet, warm now before the fire. She kneaded them with her hands, caressed them with her hair.
Suddenly she separated his knees with her hands and took him into her mouth. "Ummmmm," she hummed, causing vibrations that trembled in his groin. Unconsciously he also moaned low as he looked down and watched her glorious pink tongue dance playfully, teasingly, around his rock hard cock. She took him deep into her mouth and throat where swallowing motions heightened the near-unbearable sensations on the firm surface of his tip.
Just as he thought he would come, Chloe pulled away and bathed his shaft in her silky hair, her hands massaging his inner thighs.
Paul wanted nothing more than to be inside this glorious wood-nymph. He stood and lifted her by her tiny waist, standing her up before him. He stared at the myriad of buttons left on her white ruffled covering. Then in one swift motion he grabbed the waist and tore off her nightgown. Pearly buttons flew everywhere; hitting ceiling, walls - making little "ping" sounds at the windows, rolling on the floor like tiny marbles.
He stood an eternal moment to drink in her soft form, her gentle, round curves. He had seen such beauty only in his dreams. He lifted her carefully onto the braided rug and bent his.face to hers.
The flames of the fire leapt suddenly in celebration and approval.
He climbed atop her and studied her face, memorizing each detail. "I could lose my soul in your eyes!"
Paul parted her legs with his knees and entered her easily, without direction. Her juicy love muscles pulled him in deeper, deeper. Propped high on his hands, he feasted his eyes on her smooth belly, her thighs, and at last the thick tuft of glistening pubic hair. The sight of her sex lips moving in and bulging out as he entered and re-entered her excited him to madness and he began a more deliberate pumping and thrusting of his hips. Her whole body welcomed him.
The low tone of her moaning signaled her approaching orgasm. "Come," he said, moving one hand to rub the hood of her mound. "Come,"
He heard a sudden gasp, felt the tightening of her every muscle. He stayed motionless in her until her back arched and she shivered beneath him, trembling once, twice, three, four, uncountable times. .
Chloe grabbed him, holding him close until her spasms finally ebbed. "Please.." she begged. . Paul could see a bed behind an open door and moved her soundlessly toward it, lying her down gently, like rare crystal that could break, upon the downy quilt. Paul lay beside her, twirling his fingers in their mingled sex juices on her belly. He was smiling, content.
"I am home," he said as his head found the clear sweet nectar of her inner thighs. His tongue lapped greedily at her engorged sex. She cried out loudly as his tongue found the firm oval he was probing for. He inserted one wet finger which aided his tongue in the love labor. The more he feasted, the more sweetness Chloe poured to him.
He felt her body shiver, quiver, her legs tighten as she once more began to come. But she pushed him away. "Not yet," she begged. "I need you inside me. Enter me. Enter me!" She moved his head away from her thighs and tugged at his shoulders. Her legs spread wide to greet him.
She took several deep breathes as Paul entered her in one effortless movement. Chloe arched and gasped again at the joy. Her whole body tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed. Her head went back into the pillow thrusting out her neck, her arms open in an appeal to heaven.
Paul began his instinctive plunging. He could feel her muscles squeezing on his cock, milking him, begging him. Chloe began rotating her hips, lifting them toward him, her throbbing urging his climax.
Their mouths exchanged sweet juices, tongues playing, voices laughing, moaning, ahhhhhing. Paul felt the tightening in his groin and did not try to stop the cum pouring from him, releasing him, filling her with his hot life force. He had a sudden image of his soul pouring into her, mingling with hers, forming one massive ethereal sphere.
The pumping of his cum continued in waves, and Chloe met each new burst with an upward pelvic surge. Universal laws were suspended. Time, space, gravity expired in that moment of oneness.
After a forever moment, each felt the other relax, slowly, one muscle at a time. Paul lay his head on his lover's warm, wet belly. He kissed her navel. Sweetly, tenderly she sucked his finger until both fell into a peaceful, childlike slumber.
Paul awoke much later, smiling at the aroma of their love. He opened his eyes and reached over for Chloe.
She was not there.
Startled, he jumped from the bed and searched, calling her name. There was no sight, no sound of her in the cottage.
In wonder he moved to the fire, picked up his clothes and began to dress. Anytime, he was sure, she would return to the fire - to him. He slowly dressed in pants, socks, shoes.
Then, looking around for his shirt, his eyes caught something sparkle in the firelight. He fell to the floor to find the rug covered with tiny pearl beads. He smiled as he scooped up as many as he could, stuffing them in his pockets, his hand, even his mouth.
He noticed his shirt and jacket, but dressed only in the jacket. He lay the shirt across their love-chair and left it there - a promise.
He looked in the cottage for her one more time, joy replacing the earlier anxiety. His eyes drank in the rumpled bed where he could still sense their mingled wetness. He bent to touch and smell again the evidence of their love before heading to the front door.
Paul opened the door and closed it tightly against the cold wind. He put his head down as a shield against the dark forest. The way back to his everyday world was clear to him now.
As he started down the earthen path, he began removing the pearls from his mouth and dropping them willy-nilly on the road.
Just the way the characters in Nanny's stories did to guide their path back home.
Copyright, 1995 - 2006 by Cindy. Not to be used without express permission.