A Girl's Night Out
I was talking with a girl friend recently about what turns men as opposed to women on. I mentioned the old Master & Johnson study that concluded, (in part), that men are aroused visually, women situationally. It got me to think about whether I could write a story that would be arousing to women. The obvious answer is no, because I'm a man, but I thought it might be fun to try anyway. This is the result. If it makes you laugh, at least I've amused you.
Imagine yourself in a field of red thyme. It's a warm summer night. A full moon shines on you, painting the scene and you in it's magical, silver-blue light. There's a warm breeze, sweet with red thyme blossoms, brushing you, carressing your face, your bare arms and legs. The red thyme is blooming all around you. Its sweet, pretty scent is making you feel giddy, like too much wine.
The moon is beautiful tonight. You look again at the way it lights your skin, pale and glistening. You look at your feet in their sandals. Little red thyme blossoms hang over them on their stems. What would it be like...
Unbidden, a thought warns you that you have a decision to make. If you take your sandals off and tread the red thyme barefoot, you will walk a path and there will be no going back from it. You can still leave them on, go home to bed instead. Will you?
Will you? Go home to sleep? Or walk the red thyme path? Will you?
The moon is beautiful! The red thyme is sweet. The breeze is soft. You look around and see nobody and you can see forever in this huge, open field. Whatever happens, it will be your secret to keep. You might never see the red thyme path again.
You kneel down in the red thyme and unfasten the strap that keeps your foot secure in one sandal, then the other. Your heart beats faster as you step out of them and put your feet in the red thyme. The little plants are cool and moist on your feet. You walk. You want to run; you pick up your sandals and run!
Soon you see an apple tree in front of you. It's leaves shiver softly in the warm breeze, like dark silver in the moon light. It amuses you, the difference between the green leaves and your bare arms. A thought comes to you. You look at your top; will you?
You know there's no going back now. Of course you will. You pull your top off and look at the moonlight on your belly. You smile to yourself; no going back!
You go to the apple tree. You pull a large, plastic bag from your purse and unfold it. In it you put your purse, your sandals and your top, then your bra and your skirt. You close it up and leave it under the tree. You know you'll be able to find it again here when you want it. There are no other trees around.
There are apples under the tree. You take one. It smells ripe, its fragrance complements the red thyme. But it's dusty! What can you wipe it on? All you're wearing is a pair of bikini briefs! No turning back; you lean against the tree, part your legs and wipe the apple there! It feels so naughty, but you giggle to yourself and do it anyway! You bring it to your mouth. Now the apple has a little of your own scent. How odd that it, too adds nicely to the scent of red thyme.
You giggle again as you bite into the apple. The taste is warm and juicy, slightly sour, so refreshing! You walk out under the moon again, eating as you go.
A drop of juice falls from the core onto your breast. You look down; the moon light paints your skin pale, your nipples dark, almost like a black and white photo. So beautiful... Wait, where's the moon? You look up in time to see it slip behind clouds. Soon it starts to rain gently, warm rain like a thousand kisses on your face, breasts and belly. You reach up to it, giving yourself to the rain's affection.
You lie in the soft, cool red thyme. The rain brings its scent down a little, but so close to the blossoms the smell is intimate. You're soaked through. Curious, you look at your panties; sure enough, your camel-toe shows through the wet, sloppy cloth. You pull the silly thing off. The wind picks up and obligingly blows it away. Rain water flows down your slit, drips over your rear entrance.
Now you are truly naked, your body bare to the world. Oh, but here's the naughty part; nobody else is there! The world could see your every part but won't and you will never tell...
What was that? A foot fall? So soft... Perhaps a puddle built up in the distant tree, falling to the ground... There, again, a foot fall! Somebody else is here, looking at your body! Your secret is out, what will you do? Your heart beats wildly, you shiver inside. You kneel up and look around, your hands in your lap.
A fox! A reynard, his pod grown long beneath him, the pink flesh dark in what little moon light comes through the clouds. He sits near you, looking at you, waiting. He's beautiful! Even though his fur is soaked with rain, he's slender and graceful, elegant in his every look and movement. You smile at him. Slowly, hesitantly, he stands and walks, stalks towards you. You kneel, keeping very still. By and by he's standing at your knees. He looks up at you. He sniffs.
Oh yes; you part your legs and let him sniff you. He bows his head, his nose working back and forth, up and down, smelling you thoroughly. You reach a hand, slowly, nervously; you pat his head. He murrs. (Apparently foxes really do that.) You smile; so, he doesn't mind your touch. You scritch his ears. Suddenly you feel a warm, wet tongue against your slit; little, quick licks from your rear right up to your clit, licking up the rain water. What, why?
Foxy does something truly unusual next. He puts his forepaws on your thighs and leans his head against your chest, murring softly. You take him in your arms and hold him close. You snuggle your face in the wet, foxy fur of his head. He lifts his face to yours and nuzzles your mouth with his. He licks your throat, your breasts. You're breathing quickly now. You feel... but you know it's wrong... He draws away and looks at you, looks you right in the eye. Will you?
No going back. You know what's going to happen. As strange as it seems, as wrong as you've always thought it, you lie back in the red thyme, your legs wide apart. A thought comes unbidden; this is magic! You're working magic. Foxy puts his paws on your breasts. You feel his erection pressing on your slit. You reach between you and move it into position between your lips, into your hole. He pushes himself into you. His erection is hard, surprisingly big, hot inside you. It's... satisfying to have him inside. He licks your throat. Then he draws himself out, slowly at first, pressing back in gently. But he soon sees that he's doing no harm and picks up the pace. Before you know it he's going like a foxy jack hammer, slamming himself into you again and again. You cry out! It's never been like this before... and yes, you do like it!
Foxy whimpers and slows down. He presses into you, deeply, as deep as he can. Now you feel his knot grow inside you, tying him to you. Then he comes. Hot, foxy come floods inside you, pressure building behind his knot. You feel yourself tighten around him, increasing the pressure, the feeling like a wave cresting over you. You cry out. Tears start in your eyes. Foxy whimpers, he licks your breasts and throat. He, too is moved by this.
You lie together, petting him, letting him lick you. The pressure inside you... you've never had that before. You tell yourself that it's good, and it is. Every time you move, a little fox cum seems to squirt past your cervix into your womb. And that's an interesting feeling! You squeeze yourself around him, writhe slowly to encourage that strange, little squirty feeling. Foxy seems to approve. He moves with you, his tongue lolling dog-like as he grins at you.
At last foxy's knot goes down. A flood of fox cum leaks out of you, wetting your rear entrance. (What would he feel like in there?) He sighs, but he doesn't pull out of you. Not all the way. He gets to his feet instead, his forepaws still on your breasts, and starts to thrust again. Foxy isn't done with you yet; oh no, not at all! This time you thrust against him, making it even harder, even better.
The rain ends. The moon rises. Foxy stops to shake out his fur. He licks your slit again, cleans up his cum and your own juices, reaches his tongue deep inside you. But he mounts you again. Again, you help him.
Not until the moon sets and the dawn lightens the horizon does foxy sigh and pull out of you at last. By now you're sore inside. Your lips are sore, too. Foxy whimpers and his flagging erection looks a bit too red. But he lingers near. You hug him one more time. You don't want this to be over either. But the dawn grows lighter still. Time to leave this field. With a foxy-quick move, he escapes your embrace and trots away. He stops and looks back, grinning, and gives you a quick yip before he goes.
"Good bye, foxy," you call to him.
Yawning, you stand and stretch. Fox cum is dripping down your leg. You feel as if you have a womb full of the stuff, trapped deep inside you. But it's all right. That was supposed to happen. Last night you were the altar for a magical rite as old as the world itself. There will be magical consequences for it. You'll probably never see them yourself... or maybe you'll see them every day. You were lucky to have been chosen. You arrive back at the tree as the sun brings a blush to the sky. Poor sun, it's embarrassed by your naked body, it wasn't meant to see you like this. Time to put your shoes on.
Copyright © 2012 by A.D. Burrows, All Rights Reserved