“When I come to the woods, I am not me.”
“And especially when the summer moon is full.”
My company moved to new offices, on a complex close to the borders of the city, and I decided it was time to make a change in my life. Since cancer took my wife away, I’d existed rather than lived. I just lacked any purpose. I’d stayed in the same house, our house, and missed her every single second of every single day. And night. Especially the nights. The company moving gave me the push I needed and so I sold up and moved to a rented flat while I looked for something different. Totally different.
“When I’m here, He doesn’t define me. I am not his. He is irrelevant as I am with the wood. I am in charge. I am free. Free to do what I want. And there is so much that I want to do, need to do.”
There was a little group of villages to the south, known as the Lies, not chocolate box, thatched roofs villages, but rural with a farming/city commuter mix, and that seemed to attract me. I don't know why entirely. Yes, I'd always loved the idea of a country cottage, but that was sharing with Jackie. Now I needed a new life, surely it should be 'downtown' with lively, varied, new people. But it was the Lies that got me. Lower Lie to be exact. Split from Great Lie by a mere field, it had a main street, two side lanes and a village green that a brook ran through.
“Outside the wood, He rules my life. I stupidly let him do it. I go where he wants me to go. I dress how he wants me to dress. That part isn’t so bad, as he likes to show off my body, likes it when there are jealous stares. And when he doesn’t want me, or is away on business, I stay at home.
I’ve found out his friends have a nickname for me. Candy. That’s not my name.”
It was an unfinished, well hardly started, project. The previous owner lost heart when they realised the scale of the task. For me, it was the challenge my life lacked, something I could create, fashion as I wanted. The ground floor was an ochre brick with an upper floor and raftered roof of old timber. The planning permission was for a single dwelling, ground floor living space, including kitchen, the upper floor for two bedrooms, one with en-suite, and one family bathroom. Best of all was the larger bedroom would have the open roof space with roof lights.
“When it’s a hot, humid night, like tonight, I always come to the brook. It rushes down from Upper Lie, then turns and pauses before babbling on. Where is does, is a pool, the headwater for the long-gone water mill. A pool of pure silver in this moonlight.”
The previous owner was in desperate times when I made my offer. Cash. You wouldn’t get a mortgage on a property in this state. I carried on renting while the basics were done. New roof, rewired, replumbed, walls insulated, flagstone ground floor laid, mezzanine floor built. All with “Jackie’s money”, her life insurance.
Then, with just a basic kitchen, a sort of bathroom and a single room for everything I moved in. Trades were still there every day through spring, and by the end of May, the new kitchen gleamed, the two bathrooms were installed, the open roof space gave an airy feel to the main bedroom and you could see the stars as you lay in bed at night. My creation even amazed me. It was Vogue magazine and some.
"I'm never alone here. Mr Badger rumbles around, and cheeky Mr Fox will come so close I could touch him. I know every sound of the wood and brook. The owls, the nightjar and even the flutter of the pipistrelles. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of them as they dart across the moon or dip to drink on the pool surface.”
In my drive to insulate the house against the cold UK winters, I’d forgotten that rarely you get a hot summer. Like this one. A week in the mid-thirties C, hot, sultry, airless nights. With all the work on the house, I was dog tired, but even the stars couldn’t keep me still as I lay on the bed.
So very alone.
I ventured into the small, walled garden at the back. The next phase of the project was to turn this littered space into the herb garden, maybe even build a small orangery along the south-facing wall. Tonight, it was all promise. I went back inside and pulled on shorts and a polo shirt. And the gate in the wall beckoned.
“I am not me when I come to the woods. I am not the shy wife to Him, that successful man. The man who is climbing like a great mountaineer up the peaks of the City. I am the Nymph. Teasing. Lustful, daring. Enticing. Able to do what I want. What I need. Under the moonlight.”
The moon was so full, high in the heavens, turning the landscape to silver with intense black shadows. The pathway across the sloping meadow was easy to see and follow. It led to the woods, with the brook down below to my left. As I neared the edge of the wood, the darkness within became more intense. So much so, it was like a wall, something solid, and it all but surprised me that I could just slip into the cover of the full summer trees.
Once inside, I stood for a while, silently. Letting my senses and my eyes attune to the inside of the wood. And felt the tiredness return. But I still didn’t want to return to my bed.
“I hear breathing. Slow, but deep. I can hear it, different to the sounds of the wood or brook. Who is in my wood?” I hope it isn't those village boys, who come here to smoke and drink. And shout. Or that couple, from Great Lie that comes here to have sex. Away from their partners. Naughty people!"
At last, I could see. Around me were little pools of silver, like mercury, where the moonlight rained through gaps in the canopy of leaves. The path continued, deeper into the wood and my legs were carrying my tired body along it. Each step carefully placed to avoid the tangle of tree roots strewn across my way. The brook was getting closer. I could hear it babbling over the stones. Ahead was a moonlit clearing.
“He’s getting closer. Yes, it is a he, the footfalls tell me. I pull myself up on to the huge, near horizontal bough of the beech tree, it’s smooth bark glistening in the moonlight. I rest back against the main trunk, one leg stretched along the branch, the other raised at the knee. And there I wait to see who dares to come into my wood.”
I made it to the clearing. Well, it's not a real clearing, but the bank of the pool formed by the brook. I stood under the cover of the trees on a small patch of grass, next to a thoughtfully positioned bench, and look across the pool, its surface smooth and silver. I’d been so busy on my project, I’d never explored the surrounds, well other than the short walk into Great Lie to the pub and the small French bistro on those nights I felt I deserved a break.
It was enchanting. The silence. The engulfing embrace of the woods all around me. The moonlight on the still surface. At first, I wanted to lie down and sleep right where I was, but something told me I shouldn’t. I reached down, found a stick and flicked it into the pool. The surface cracked, the splash was so loud, then the ripples spread across the surface, the moonbeams dancing on the disturbed water. As the silence returned, I heard a ‘Tut’.
“How dare he disturb my mirrored pool! What does he think he is doing? Vandal.”
“But he looks benign. Not menacing. Not aggressive. A little lost maybe? And I could feel the sadness radiating from him. Oh, bless, look at him! Glancing everywhere. Left, right, down, out to the pool. Looking for my tut! They never look up.”
It was certainly a voice. A distinct ‘Tut’. And close by.
“Maybe I’ll tease him. Maybe I’ll play with him. Maybe I’ll find out why he’s so sad? Maybe I’ll…”
“You’ve broken my pool.”
A female voice. Making a statement, not for discussion. At last, I spotted her. Up on the stout branch of a beech tree. Two, near three metres, above me. One arm was resting on her raised knee. She was looking straight at me, with a stern expression set on her beautiful, fine-featured face. Her hair was long and a light red, with a slight curl in the tumbling locks. I wondered if she was an apparition. A ghost? She looked pale enough.
“Oh dear, I’ve surprised him. He looks frightened even. He deserves to, breaking my pool like that. But only a little. I may let him off.”
Then suddenly her face broke into a smile. Beaming eyes. And as I watched she rolled off the branch. I dashed forward, trying to catch her, trying to stop her from being hurt. But I was too slow.
“How gallant. He’s trying to catch me! Good job I wasn’t depending on him. He’s so slow!”
She landed lightly, almost unreal, on her feet, and then stood up, right in front of me.
“I’ll forgive you for breaking my pool. This time.”
Close up she was beautiful, with intense hazel eyes and smooth skin. Her bare shoulders swept to her neck. And she was wearing a… I can’t work it out, even now. It was like a broad scarf of fine lace, wrapped in a spiral around her.
“I’ll pinch his nose. There! Look how surprised he is! His dream just touched him. Close up he’s nice. Just look at those eyes! Oh, what have I found?”
She reached out and pinched my nose. Quite hard, but not painful. Then she giggled. A smiling giggle.
We looked at each other. Neither blinking. Both enquiring what the other was. Friend or foe, maybe. Suddenly she broke away, turning towards the pool. Then she was running towards the water, the lace unwinding from her slender body. She plunged into the water, her dive only just disturbing the water. She vanished beneath the silver surface. Gone.
“I hear the rush of the water, the bubbles rushing to the surface, the cool water against my body. All over my body. On my breasts, my thighs, my… I hold on, letting the dive push me along under the surface until I'm in the middle of the pool, then surface and stand, the water well below my waist."
I was relieved to see her surface, partially because I was beginning to doubt if she had been there at all. She stood in the water, facing me, her tresses now matted to the side of her face, the water running off them making flashes as they hit the pool surface. It took a moment for the water to drain away, and she kept her eyes tightly closed. I looked at her sylph-like figure, slender, yet womanly. Her breasts peeked out from the curtain of wet hair, and the pool surface just hid the 'Y' at the top of her legs. Then I realised she had opened her eyes.
“Yes, I do want him. Now to get him to come to me, naked? To kneel before me. To adore my body.”
She stretched out her right arm and curled her fingers upwards, beckoning me to her. I was being drawn in, I edged towards the water, only stopping as my sandals were immersed. She continued to beckon to me but now was giggling, openly. Unlike most people who cover their mouth when they giggle, she didn’t. It was blatant, brazen even. She was giggling at me, at my confusion of wanting to go to her but not wanting to get my clothes wet.
"Oh, look at him! Afraid of getting wet. Oh dear. Ah, he's worked it out and is taking his sandals off. And his shirt. Thank god, no hairs on his chest! Shorts! Come on!"
I hesitated at removing my shorts. I’m not sure why. It didn’t seem right to bare myself to her. But she was naked, even if the water may be hiding part of her. I resolved they must go, turned my back and slid them off, then wadded in. I just didn’t have her confidence to dive.
“Here he comes. I think he could be the one. The one to be my second. My devotee, my worshipper. Let me look at you again. You have kind eyes, a deep blue. I’ll rest my hands on your shoulders. Umm, good muscle tone. But. Oh! Just look. It’s floating!”
I wadded out to join her. When I was within reach, she placed her hands on my shoulders and stroked them away from my neck and back again. Her head was tilted, her eyes enquiring of me. Then she started to giggle again, looking down away from my eyes. I followed her gaze. The water was just of the depth that made my flaccid cock float on the surface! I started to become embarrassed, but she took hold of me, fingers under it, thumb sliding along the top of it. Her hand was warm compared with water. I looked back up at her, but her concentration was on my cock.
“I need to reassure him. ‘There is no one about, no one will see.’ He’s checking around the pool and calming down. ‘Hold me.’ His hands are on my waist. They feel strong. The skin is rough, like he works with his hands. I know he wants them elsewhere. Up or down? Which way will you go?”
My head was swimming and I had to try hard to concentrate. I was sure it was a dream, but her skin felt so soft, smooth and warm. She shook her head and the curtain of red hair parted, leaving her breasts exposed, covered by moonlight.
“Do you like my breasts?” she asked me.
“Yes’” I replied, almost a hiss.
“Then touch them.”
“Oh, he is so shy! I will have to lead him through everything. I will be his guiding mistress. I will enjoy every minute of it!”
My hands slid up the side of her body, following the gentle, smooth curve up from her waist, stopping just below her breasts. I could feel their soft roundness resting on the side of my index fingers. I looked at her face, she was smiling at me, encouraging me. My hands moved up, cupping her breasts, each thumb passing across her hard nipple. She sighed, deeply, as though something she had wanted for so long had finally happened. She moved toward me, making my arms bend and pressing my hands against her breasts. I thought of kissing her, but her smile turned to a grin.
“Squeeze them, hard.”
I strengthened my grip, trapping her nipples between my finger and thumb. Her head went back, and she sank down a little.
“Oh! At last. Another man’s hands squeezing my breasts, pulling on my nipples. Not hard enough, but I’ve waited so long to have another man do this.”
I lowered my head, intending to suck on her left nipple, but as I approached, she sprang upwards and back, diving face up into the water and submerging. The splash doused me in water. I cleared it from my eyes and looked for her, left and right. There was no sign.
“I come to the surface, gently, right behind him. He is unaware of me, so I reach around him and take his cock in my hands. This time a firm grip, pulling it away from him. He is looking back over his right shoulder.”
She was behind me and had my cock in her hands before I realised. I reached behind me, resting my hands on the top of her rounded buttocks at first, then diverting my right hand down to her pussy, pressing my palm onto her. She was smooth and felt fleshy. My finger curled along her slit.
“Oh, he seems to have picked up the plot! Oh good. Hmm, a gentle hand. Oh, tricking along my lips. I do hope he knows how to eat me.”
I was stiffening quickly. It had been over a year since a hand other than mine had touched my cock. But it hadn’t forgotten. I tried a more determined pass along her slit, then…
"Time for more fun. I drop backwards, pulling him off balance and the two of us are in the water! Oh, fun!"
I tumbled backwards as she pulled me over. I heard her giggling as we both plunged under the water. I was well under the water before I was able to get a footing and surface in a standing position. She was just climbing up onto the bank. I stayed where I was.
“Oh, I don’t think he liked that! Is that a pout? Ah well. Come here, I need you to come here, to me, and taste me.”
She was beckoning again. I stood still for a moment to let more water drain off. As I did, I knew I was hopelessly entwined in her game, so I wadded to her, scrambled up the bank onto the patch of short grass. She sat on the bench, leaning against its back. And blatantly opened her legs. The silver moonlight ran over her body, her waist, her breasts, now laid bare from the cover of her hair, and most of all, over her divine, tempting pussy. As clear as if it was daylight. Smooth, and a little swollen.“Eat me.”
I knelt before her and moved closer on my knees. Her hand brushed her lips, parting them so her inner lips appeared in her slit. Her other hand curved around the back of my head and slowly, but firmly pushed me onto her pussy. I pushed back against her grasp.
“I need to know your name,” I said, straining against her hands.
Her grasp won and I was pressed into the warm softness of her pussy.
“Now let us see how he treats his mistress. He needs to be gentle, but progressive. To relax me, to relish my nectar. Oh! A kiss, and another and now a lick, and a probing lick. Promising.”
I slipped my hands onto the top of her buttocks so I could press harder onto her pussy. Our games had obviously excited her as much as it had me, for once I pushed my tongue between her lips she was wet with her juices. She tasted so sweet.
“I’ll encourage him. I’ll jostle his hair. And hold his head onto me. Ah! Oh yes, he has some skill and is gentle with it.”
I ate into her, progressively pushing deeper between her lips, encouraged by her wetness. And willingness for me to eat her. Her clit went hard, and I concentrated the sweeps of my tongue on it. I could feel her body tensing, her back arching so I pushed harder, but she clamped her thighs onto the sides of my head, stopping me from taking her further.
“Ohh! That was so close! I had to stop him as I want to come on his cock, then milk him for all of his cum.”
After a moment she released her grip and I sat back on my heels. I was uncertain. Maybe I had moved too soon. Maybe I had been too forceful.
“Oh look! He is confused again. Don’t worry you are doing the right thing. It is just that I say what will happen and when.”
She smiled, and I was so relieved, then moved forward, resting her hands on my shoulders. I waited for her to do something.
"Push! Oh, there he goes, over backwards, sprawling on the grass, trying to sit up again. Now it is my turn."
She stood and moved over my body. The moon was behind her, and her body cast a deep shadow over me. It was difficult to see until she sat across my stomach and the moonlight flooded over my face again. Her hands went behind her and took my cock a little roughly. But it was obviously what I needed as I stiffened quickly. Throbbing and pulsing.
“He does feel good. So hard and stiff. I do hope he works properly. Not like Him. His doesn’t work. I know. He doesn’t know. I had a sample I didn’t swallow tested. Hardly any sperm. So I do hope this one works.”
She played with me for several minutes, making me painfully stiff, squeezing me so hard. Then she raised up and moved backwards and dropped onto me.
“Oh! That is stiff! And deep within me. Now it is all mine…”
It was the roughest, most vigorous sex I’ve ever had. Once settled on me, with my cock fully in her, she gripped my shoulders, digging her nails into them and rode me. Hard. Fast, soon slamming down on me. Her hair arced around her head. Her face fixed, almost looking in pain. She was tight, hot and very wet. And I was going to cum within seconds.
“Fuck! FUCK, god,” she screamed aloud.
She slammed down onto me and stayed pushed down. I felt the trembling start, increase into a tremor, and finally her legs shuddered around me. Her head pointed skywards as she clenched onto my cock. I shot. Burst up into her. Pump after pump.
“My god, Christ!” I groaned at the moon.
“I have him. I have what I want. But I will not just leave him. He deserves better than that.”
She lay on me, her breasts pushed onto my chin, her hands pulling my head to her. Her hair falling over my arms and face. And suddenly my tiredness flooded back.
The morning light awoke me. My limbs felt stiff and the coolness was close to unpleasant. The first rays of the sun were glancing on the pool. Little sprites of mist rose and twirled above the water. Where was she? Had she ever existed? A stickiness around my groin attested something had happened. I looked around. I looked up to bough of the beech but it was unoccupied.
I dressed and headed home, across the field, welcoming the warmth of the rising sun. I felt hungover, heavy-headed. And very confused with memories and visions swirling in my head.
A year passed and it was a very different summer. Cool and showery. I had struggled with making sense of my memories for some time. Sometimes I concluded I had just drunk too much, other times it was a vivid dream, and even that I had sleepwalked. None made sense. And it took some weeks for the nail marks in my shoulder to heal. That showed someone else had been with me.
I was even struggling to remember what she looked like.
Redhead, long red hair with a slight curl. Slender, shorter than me. Very clear skin, high cheekbones, but features were always a blur.
Another shower came in and I decided to give up working on my herb garden. I toyed with getting started inside the orangery but decided I deserved an early drink in Great Lie. As I got to the bistro, pushing off the rain with my umbrella, a large SUV was parked on the yellow line outside. A well-built man, younger than me was bringing a baby out of the back seat in a carrycot, trying to keep the rain off the tiny occupant. A woman ran around from the other side to help. They blocked the pavement, so I had to wait, in the heavy rain, for them to go into the bistro porch and clear the pavement.
The man climbed back into the SUV, leaned out of the open window and called, “Look after my son!” as he drove off with a squeal of tyres. He hadn’t as much as noticed me, waiting in the rain.
The lady did, however, and paused with the bistro door open, looking at me intently. The slender woman, with smooth skin, and long red hair. With a slight curl. And intense hazel eyes.
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