Under the Moonlight's Gaze
Under the Moonlight's Gaze
By Z-Byte
This is a naughty, graphic piece of fiction involving a hot elf chick and a celestial wolf. You don't like, don't read it. As always, don't post my story anywhere without asking me (I will say yes, and I don't mind talking to people. I actually welcome such requests). As for my characters, I really don't care. Let me know if you use them, I'de like to see it!
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A young, elven maiden with long, white hair stood at the edge of the lake, it's polished surface reflecting the bright full moon above. The clearing was surrounded by trees, the ever-present watchers of the forest. The constant ebbing of the tiny waves caused the water to shimmer, making it even more beautiful than the sky it mirrored.
The woman was called to the lake by a compelling conciousness, like a whisper in the wind that beckoned her every movement. She recieved another message from her unseen caller and removed the deer pelt she wore around her breasts, letting it fall to the ground and exposing her bosom to the cold breeze of the night.
As her nipples swiftly hardened, she recieved another command to remove the remainder of her trappings. She did so, first letting the loosely-hung leather belt she wore drop to the forest floor, making a dull thud as the scimitar it bore hit the grass at her feet.
She unbuttoned the deer pelt skirt she wore, dropping it to the ground atop her other clothes. She was bare but for her spider-silk panties and her ever-flowing hair, the wind twisting it around her form, tickling her naked flesh as it brushed gently over. At the behest of her unknown master, she stepped from her final bindings, exposing her hairless folds to the Moon's eyes.
The pale-skinned woman looked down towards the lake, admiring it's calm beauty as her hair blew past her long, delicately pointed ears and over her breasts, the wind causing the strands of her ivory locks to swirl over the erect tips. She took some steps forward, shivering only slightly as the cold water touched her bare feet. As she waded further into the pitch-black pool, she began to get used to the temperature.
When she was waist-deep in the lake, her hair leaving several trails behind her as it floated effortlessly apon the water's surface, she looked towards the moon, widening her eyes as she felt an intense warmth all over her body, spreading through to her extremities. She felt tired, as if every part in her body willed her to sleep. She fought but for a moment, as the voice reassured her that she would not be harmed. She breathed a sigh of releif and closed her eyes, the last thing she witnessed was the brightness of the pale moon above.
When she opened her eyes, she was still looking apon the moon, but there was something different. As she looked around her, she realized that she lay apon a field of grass. She sat up, feeling the cool grass embrace her naked form as she continued to stand.
A voice stopped her; "Syrill." It was a calm, masculine voice that came from all directions. She froze, not knowing how anyone would know her true name. "Do not fear, Syrill," the voice bellowed again, not helping her nervousness, "You will not be harmed. I am here to bestow onto you a gift that many cannot claim. You are to bear the child of the forest." Syrill felt an unnatural feeling of calm, confused at the statement made by the voice who she assumed had called her to the lake in the first place.
"Who..who are you," she asked, timidly. "I am Erondaril, the spirit of this glade. Your devotion to the forest which you protect, which you love, has proven yourself worthy of this greatest honor. My time as guardian is ending, and I must choose another." Erondaril paused, allowing Syrill to take in his words to the best of her ability.
After a while, she spoke again, this time with more confidence. "Choose another? Is this other the child you wish me to bear?" "Yes," said the deep, gutteral voice again. "But," questioned the young maiden, beginning to feel cold beads of sweat emerge from her brow, "I have no husband. The woods have been my family for hundreds of years.
How would I bare a child with no sire?" Erondaril paused, and she felt a warmth come from her left. She turned, her breasts swaying gently from the abrupt stop, and she came face to face with a grey wolf, it's coat shimmering in the moonlight. "I shall be your mate, Syrill."
She seemed shocked to hear this, recoiling slightly at the wolf's large, muscular frame. "Why this form? Why not that of my own kind?" "I see the truth in your mind, Syrill, even if you do not," said Erondaril, this time his voice coming from the direction of the wolf. "You would not be as comfortable with your own kind, of which you have not seen for many years. This form would please you the most."
Syrill opened her mouth to speak in protest, but mulled the thought around her mind for a bit. I see what he means, and I sense no trickery from him, but would it be wrong to mate with a wolf? No, of course not, I am a watcher of the forest, the dwellers are my family, my people. But, would it be possible? She decided that if she were to change her shape to that of a wolf, the coupling might last, but only until she transformed back, ruining the life of the progeny she carried. Erondaril sensed this, and padded over to her, nuzzling her neck with his large, furred head.
"You will not need to transform, I am no ordinary wolf. I am a spirit of the woods, and you shall carry my child regardless of the form you carry. The maiden felt the warmth of Erondaril's pelt and draped her arm over his bulky form, feeling his muscles bulge as he pushes against her. She had to admit, the feel of his fur, the earthern scent, the power of this creature before her was quite erotic.
She held him closer, her breasts pressed against the gray-white fur of the wolf. With a gentle push, he willed her to lie on her back. She did so, looking past her breasts as they parted to the side and she saw the most beautiful pale eyes, like that of the moon itself, staring back at her through her spread legs.
At first, she felt a sudden cold sensation as Erondaril's canine nose pressed against her most sacred of spaces, parting the lips of her pussy. She hissed sharply as she felt air around her vagina being drawin in by the deep inhalation of this magnificent beast before her. Then she felt a wet, warm sensation as Erondaril darted his tongue along her delicate folds, causing her to jump with a short, hard sigh.
He continued this treatment, massaging her vulva with his long, warm canine tongue, counteracting the sting of the cold air across her chest and back as the grass continued to tickle, adding a further erotic sensation to the mix of pleasures she was already experiencing.
His tongue begin to penetrate her slowly, the saliva leaving a slick trail running down the outside of her lower lips. "You're intoxicating, my mate," remarked Elondaril as he tasted the juices of her twat, causing her to feel comfortable and dirty at the same time.
Syrill began to breathe heavily, enjoying the sensations she only had the pleasure of feeling when she administered them herself, forsaking other pleasures of the flesh to protect the forest she grew up in.
As she was approaching her peak, the licking stopped, the cold air quickly filling in the gap where the soothing, wet warmth of the wolf's large tongue once was. She hissed at the sharpness of the cold air, breathing heavily, beads of now-cool sweat beading on her bosom as she sat up, looking her spiritual lover with longing.
Erondril spoke: "You're ready for me, Syrill. Rise on all fours and present yourself to me." This animalistic command further aroused Syrill as she obeyed, her luxorious chest swinging as she presented herself in the manner of a female wolf in heat. The wolf padded forward, giving a few more good licks before stepping forward over her body, his masculine frame easily shadowing her frail elven body.
She looked down and back towards her lover, seeing the sharp contrast of the red belonging to the tip of his cock to the light-gray fur of his under-belly. She felt his huge head to the side of her own as his long, soft fur blanketed her bare back.
She felt him slowly lurch forward, showing more focus than a normal wolf. The red cock-tip reached her delicate folds and slowly parted them as she felt his canine pre-cum spray over her backside, leaving dribbling trails from her buttocks down her thigh.
A moment of this teasing went on, until Syrill pushed backward into Erondaril's throbbing, canine member, causing the tapered head to enter her. She felt him lurch forward, burying his slender, ruby-red cock deep inside her. He stopped himself from going further, controlling his current animalistic instincts.
She moaned aloud, small amounts of drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth as she was wracked with ectasy at the sudden, smooth entry. Erondaril started humping slowly at first, letting Syrill get a feel for what it felt like. As his pre coated the inside of her vagina, he began to go faster, his canine cock expanding in size and shape. He started panting, griping her sides with his sharp claws as he began to speed up to a normal canine's speed, faster than any human or elf could ever hope to achieve.
Syrill looked below her, seeing his large, black balls slapping against her clit as her breasts swung back and forth from the speed and sheer animalistic force of Erondaril's thrusts. She felt him beggining to swell, centimeter by centimeter, his knot forming a dam that prevented any fluids from escaping from inside her.
She cried in ecstasy, and then she felt a bit of the wolf's drool fall apon her ear, moaning as the slick substance fell down her cheek. She licked it off her face as it reached her mouth, looking up to her canine lover. His tongue lay out of his mouth, the drool steadily dripping the muscles of his neck and shoulders stay tense and his claws dig sharply into her side.
The mixture of pain, pleasure, weakness, hot, cold, wet, warmth, comfort, the smell of his earthern musk mixed with the scent of her sweat, all of these drew her over the edge and she screamed aloud as her climax wracked her body, causing her vaginal muscles to contract around the ever-growing canine cock. He went from being slender to thick, pulsing hardness with a knot that over-sized her opening by at least two-fold, blocking all of her fluids from escaping.
The wolf lowered his head with a telepathic sigh, closing his eyes as his thrustings grew slower, but more forceful. Syrill lurched with every thrust, feeling the hot canine cum flooding her womb. She moaned as the afterglow of her orgasm was heated again by the inner fire of Erondaril's life-giving seed.
The knot grew even further, so large that she could see the bulge in her crotch region as she looked behind her, the mighty beast's testicles contracting as he released a seemingly endless torrent of cum. She collapsed onto her elbows, Erondaril following.
She looked into her lover's pale eyes and opened her mouth, taking his tongue into her mouth. He started licking the inside of her mouth in the same fasion as he had her pussy, still retaining some of the unique taste of her love juices. She felt so comfortable, so safe, she stayed there for what seemed like hours, her wolfen lover draped over her like a fur-covered blanket. She had a smaller orgasm lying there as Erondaril released his tight grip around her body.
After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, the knot had grown smaller. Erondaril pulled out of his elven prize, his hot, red rod emerging from her sopping wet depths with a meaty popping sound. Dribbles of cum fell from his still-erect cock as a steady stream poured from Syrill's overflowed womb. She breathed a sigh as she felt the warmth that had been held so tightly finally being released, as if a dam had been torn down to let free the torrent of water trapped behind it.
They basked in the afterglow of their sex as a pool of their mixed cum formed below them, glowing in the moonlight. Erondaril broke the silence. "In seven days, you shall give birth to the new spirit of this glade. You will guard him and raise him until he is ready to rise to the celestial level. When he is ready, I shall call you back here and accept him as my successor."
Syrill had not the energy to reply, so he continued. "The forests are getting weak, their power waning. There are others, like me, that need a successor, but have no suitable mate in which to bestow the progeny to. After your task for me is done, you shall do the same with the others. If you do this, if you rejuvinate the spirit of the forests, you shall join our ranks among the divine." She nodded, knowing full well it wasn't in her best interests to refuse.
"We shall part ways for now, I wish you the protection of the moon. Come and see me when the child is ready. I will be waiting." With that, a blinding haze filled Syrill's mind as she slowly melted into a serene unconciousness.
When she awoke, she found herself staring up at the same, glorious moon. She was lying face-up in the lake, floating atop the water's surface as one does naturally, her breasts once again exposed to the cold night air. She regained her composure and stepped from the lake.
"Had it all been...a dream?" She asked herself, drying her hair and redressing herself. As she reclasped her belt, she felt a warmth in her stomach. The gift of a celestial being was resting inside her. The next spirit of the glade was hers to raise, to care for, and to protect. Her sense of life rejuvinated, she smiled and looked out towards the dawning sun as it created shadows that crept through the trees.
"I have been both charged and blessed this night." She said aloud, and stepped towards her home with a sense of accomplisment and pride. Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched by two everpresent, pale, wild eyes.