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Mitéra walked by the riverside, under the golden light of the sunset and the fresh wind of the fall. But she didn't notice the colorful leaves by the ground, the chant of the last birds of the day, or how the light sparkled on the stream. She was completely lost in herself.

She was sad. More than that: devastated would be the appropriate word. With a single simple reason.

Mitéra was beautiful. Her feline fur was soft, brown, gray and white, like the landscapes of his country during the winter, longer than most of her fellows due to her northern parentage. Her golden eyes were like stars, and her smile was charming and sensual. She was wealthy, for her father owned a rich commercial fleet that roamed all the islands, until the continent. She had trustworthy friends, and a good family.

Also, she had many lovers. There was never a rite of spring Mitéra passed by herself, without the male she wanted by her side during the traditional courtship. She was probably the most disputed female of the island, and was known as a professional lover even outside her region. She mated with cats, bats, dogs, a jackal from the continent, a wolf from the north, and even a Tiger from the exotic East. And she only did that by her own decision, because she never said "yes" without sincerity, and no male ever dared to confront her negatives.

But all that blessings had a high cost for her, or at least that was what she thought. Her terrible suffering was that she never had a kitten.

No ritual ever worked, nor the potions from the priestesses. She tried mating during all phases of the moon, and she offered gifts for the gods, specially the god of fertility, and the goddess of maternity. Still, she was infertile like the desert, where no seed had any chance to survive, and give her the kitten she wanted with all her heart and soul.

Some would say Mitéra was cursed, or that she had the antipathy from the deities. Anyway, that was surely a bad omen. Her pain grew beyond the tears, and everything she felt during her lonely walk by the riverside was void. The wind stroked her fur, and her tunic fluttered.

The delicate ears identified the sound before her consciousness could make the same. Someone was playing the flute, and that was rare. She never heard of someone that would practice flute this far from the village. A tingle of curiosity surged, so that there was not only void or sadness inside her spirit.

She pursued the sound, following the stream until a small grove. She recognized the area. Usually, only the priestess could go there, because the trees were sacred. It was believed that dryads lived there, with the nymphs of the river. Indeed, all the trees were full of life, like the fall never touched them. The flute was still playing, a song no mortal could ever create, nor even dream about. It was fantastic, like a force of the nature, and hypnotic to Mitéra's ears. It sounded like dewdrops, stars, fresh wine and a love embrace.

The cat entered the grove with respect, quickly praying to the local gods. Somehow, she was not afraid. The leaves seemed to caress her body while she walked, and no obstacle appeared in her way until she reached a glade. There, sitting on a big root, was the musician.

He had the face of a young human, the most beautiful Mitéra had saw in her life. His features were strong, yet delicate, like the sculptures of the temples. He had a curly golden hair, from where two twisted horns sprouted, and a short beard surrounded his chin. His ears, longed and furred, were like a goat's.

His torso was also human, with blond body hair over the arms, chest and belly . He was muscular, yet slim. His legs were angular, covered in long golden locks and ending in big hooves. He was completely naked, untouched by the cold wind. His eyes were closed, while he played his flute with superb skill, agile and touching.

His mere vision was poetic, and Mitéra was suddenly breathless. She was witnessing a visit of a special creature. Satyrs were rare and deeply respected in her culture. The music now sounded like the dawn, the sea foam, the warm fire and the sweet scent of spices. His music could give any sensation and encompass the whole world.

Mitéra heard him completely absorbed, and far from the pain she was feeling before. The minutes passed in bliss and dream, and even the silence after the song had some deep meaning she could almost touch. The satyr was now staring her with green eyes deep as the forest.

-- I'm really sorry for intruding your seclusion. -- The cat said, bowing with all respect.

-- I would be sad if no one ever heard my songs from time to time. -- The satyr answered, smiling. His voice was deep, and musical like his flute.

-- The music was... prodigious. I feel blessed, and I thank you.

The satyr continued smiling, but not feeling specially flattered by her compliments. -- What is your name, gentle daughter of the island?

-- I am Mitéra Gáta, lord of the woods.

-- So you're the one who asked the blessings of my father.

Mitéra was surprised. -- You're the son of a god, my lord?

-- Yes, I am.

-- Then I-I... I'm sorry. I mean no disrespect for a deity, lord. -- The cat bowed again.

-- That's not necessary. My mother was a mortal, just like you. And this is my homeland much more than any divine place will ever be. -- The satyr continued.

Mitéra was glad to know this creature of myth, and even more to discover how friendly he could be. -- I'm still honored, lord.

The greed deep eyes were still glaring sorely at her twin golden irises. -- Please, approach, Mitéra.

The cat obeyed, with her delicate paws leaving no marks on the ground, nor making a sound. Her tunic still waved by the breeze. She was not afraid of him, but curious. Being a rather small feline, she was nearly the same height of the satyr sitting on the root.

-- When I decided to visit this land, at first I thought it would be only by mere caprice. I wanted a beautiful place to make new songs for the festivals among the gods.

-- And your music was marvelous, my lord. -- Mitéra answered, getting a little nervous under that powerful yet amicable glare. Their bodies were now pretty close, and she could see his skin, and how his golden fur waved discreetly.

-- Maybe. But in my heart I knew something different brought me here. Frequently I can recognize my father's intentions in what I do... my father's designs, if you prefer. -- His hand reached her face, caressing her cheek and neck with a gentle touch. Mitéra's whiskers bristled, but she remained didn't avoid the motion. -- You're very beautiful, Mitéra.

-- I'm flattered, my lord. -- She answered, sincerely. His hand was kind with the strokes, and she felt secure, while still curious. The feeling was not nervousness anymore. It was a deep expectation.

--Now that I met you, I think the real purpose for me to be here... is to attend one of your entreaties. -- The satyr explained, his voice becoming softer, and the stroked descending to her neck, shoulder and part of her back. Something was shining behind the green kindness, and a tiny smile was played at the corners of his sensual lips.

-- Am I worth of this bless? -- The cat murmured under her breath, feeling hot inside, her body discovering the satyr intentions just as quickly as her mind. She was not the kind that could just believe in a stranger, and never felt the urge to sleep with an anonym, not even during her heat. The only exception was the Spring Rites, but that was different, sacred and traditional.

-- I believe you are. --The other hand left the flute by the ground, and touched her hip and thigh through the tunic, more firmly than the hand on her neck.

-- I'm not fertile... especially in this season. -- She replied, closing her eyes, submitting to the caresses and the charming voice. Yet, she was fully aware of what was happening, and just played along it. She was a cat, and being vigilant was part of her nature, just as love those touches. Her fluffy tail darted like a snake.

-- It's still worth a try. -- The satyr finally grinned, and got her off-guard with a passionate kiss.

Mitéra was intoxicated by the fresh breath from the satyr, and the sweet taste of his tongue. He knew exactly how to explore their mouths, not afraid of her sharp fangs, and moving his lips with care. She was not inexperienced herself, and after a second of surprise, she joined him in the motions, grasping his head and stroking the blond curls under her fingers.

The free hands also wandered here and there. She touched the strong back, the hairy wide chest, descending through the delicate happy trail until his lower abdomen. The big satyr hand touched her at her waist, slipping through the curve of her haunches, feeling the hotness of her inner thighs, before returning to her chest, where it cupped one of her breast through the fabric of her tunic. The exercise left Mitéra excited and a bit humid between her legs.

When they finally parted from the kiss, the satyr opened the adorned brooch that kept her clothes in place. The tunic fell, carried by the wind, leaving her body in the nude. Despite the breeze, Mitéra was feeling very warm inside. The satyr looks were lustful and delighted, and she felt even better, wandering around her delicate face, the curves of her body, and her luxuriant fur.

-- You're really incredible dear Mitéra.

-- Thank you, lord. I'm honored to receive your blessing and compliments.

-- How honored? -- the satyr asked, mischievously.

-- This much. -- Mitéra grinned, before touching the satyrs chest with her skilled hand, stroking the manly golden hair, and looking inquisitively at his eyes. The other merely nodded.

She then proceeded to stroke his body, passing her furry hands with soft paw pads through his belly, back and shoulders. Now closer to him, she could check the little goat tail, curved upwards and moving slightly, and thought it was cute.

She approached her face, nuzzling his body, while purring, something she discovered most males liked her to do. Her harsh tongue lapped the bare skin of his collarbones, getting to his neck. The goat ear flickered, and the satyr long breathed. He tasted differently from all males Mitéra tried before, and the touch of that furless skin was enjoyable. While she kept her work on the upper part, her hands travelled down, stroking the goat legs, massaging the thighs.

With her sensitive nose, she soon captured a different scent in the air. An "accidental" touch of her arm near his groin area confirmed what she suspected: his member was already poking in the open.

If he was really that excitable, she wouldn't need much effort to gain her blessing.

The female cat started licking his chest, sometimes playing with his nipple, with her hands getting more firm on their grip, and approaching the inner area between his legs. The satyr rested one of his hands on her head, stroking her very lightly, so she could still have freedom of movements, while the other waved through her side, until her hips. His touch was affectionate, and she felt secure once more.

Mitéra kneeled on the soft grass in front of him to get more comfortable, starting to lick his belly. Her hands finally reached the nutsack among the long locks of golden hair, and started fondling them. The satyr sighed, relaxed and pleased.

-- I didn't know giving blessings was this much fun. My father kept that only to himself. -- he mentioned, playfully, while still caressing Mitéra with his hands.

The cat paused her licking to respond. -- I'm trying to be worthy, lord.

-- So... you're facing this as a deal, Mitéra?

-- Maybe. -- The cat answered, massaging the balls in one hand, while the other traveled all the way of his happy trail, until the base of his penis, now completely erect and pulsing in front of her. The member had a rounded tip, as she knew the humans usually possessed, but without that long skin, because the member came from a sheath covered in his golden hair. The satyr was definitely well-endowed.

-- So be it. Give me pleasure, and I will keep my promise.

-- Very well. -- Mitéra replied, satisfied and confident on her skills. Her hand finally touched the veiny member, stroking it. The texture was very soft, even if still a little dry. But that easy to fix. In a few minutes of intense caressing of the cock and balls, the tip was dripping pre, and she used it to lubricate her moves.

She did her job very well. She touched him anywhere, stroking rhythmically with growing intensity. But despite the copious amount of pre, the satyr did not seem to get any deeper in his pleasure. She changed her methods, trying something that she was curious since the beginning of their actions. How would taste a deity?

She nuzzled the cock, licking first at the base, and the furry balls. The satyr stroked her behind the ear, his fingers more agitated. He smelled very good, and that long shaped nuts were really interesting to play with. But if he was an exigent partner, the action would be more intense.

Her tongue traced every red and blue vein under that soft skin, tasting the salty surface covered in pre. He seemed very satisfied with her rough feline tongue, giving only small hints of his sensations. Mitéra, being a cat, was smart enough to understand the discrete game of power behind it all. Just to check, she sucked the skin of the cock, pressing a sharp fang very very slightly, noticing the subtle tension on the male body, and the adjust he made on his seat. Yes... despite being a demi-god, he was vulnerable, and his most vulnerable part was under her total control. It was far from that simple "who is in charge?".

The cat continued intensifying her ministrations, licking, and massaging the base of the cock. The satyr had no other key points to explore, like a knot, barbs, or any kind of ridge, so she focused on the only area all males had their nerves concentrated. She played with the round tip, flavoring the salty taste. The sun was gone now, leaving the world with that intense red colors, that would melt in the gray, and finally the blue and black from the night.

The satyr had his eyes closed, still caressing her forms, but most males would be already squirming under her treatment, while he kept relaxed. Finally, the cat parted her lips, inserting the long member on her wet and hot mouth, beginning a different approach. She sucked hard, moving her head in different directions, and wandering with her tongue everywhere. Her hands were just as full, touching, pressing and pulling that fleecy hair.

When fully accustomed to the pole on her mouth, Mitéra bobbed her head, going slightly deeper. The suction was growing, as was the burst of pre going down her throat. The satyr finally let signs of his pleasure, and the cat observed his minimal frown, his tight lips, the quicker breath. The caresses were more intense, and he grasped her butt, while keeping her head on place, near his cock.

But Mitéra was perfectly comfortable with the actions, going even deeper, now almost touching his balls with her chin. The last minutes passed, with the cat feeling how he was getting close. His balls tightened, the tense face was crinkled, and the goat ears were flickering. The big hooves hit the ground on restive jolts.

She focused the sucking only on the tip, using her hands to stimulate the dick with an intensity her mouth could never achieve. With a sharp moan, the satyr humped her face a few times, and orgasmed with immense intensity.

His shots were copious, and soon the cat discovered she could never gulp it all. Yet, she tasted it, before the next shots could hit her face and bust. It was an intoxicating mix of manly musk, and something sweet, like she never tasted before, maybe due to his divine parentage. She wanted it more and more, and licked the pulsing member as long as she could, trying to catch every drop. But it was just too much.

-- I am more than pleased, dear Mitéra. -- The satyr huffed, catching his breath. It was hard for him to keep his pose, but to the cat, he seemed much better like this. Less distant and imposing, and more like a mortal, someone she could touch, talk with no difficulties and, well, fuck. He even seemed more attractive, and her respect for him changed to something fonder.

-- I'm glad to hear that, lord. -- she answered with a modesty only partially sham. -- I hope I didn't get too far...

The satyr grasped her waist, bringing her closer to him, and she fell on his lap, feeling the humid member under her thighs, still hard. -- We're far from over. -- He said, before kissing her again, more passionately than before. She marveled on the kiss, completely lost on the sensations this demi-god of pleasure could bring to her.

Her hand reached his cock from between her legs, and she turned slightly, to face him, embracing his torso with her legs. She adjusted the tip, barely touching her pinkish lips. When he broke the kiss, his eyes were a wild wave of lust.

She lowered her weight, feeling the dick enter her slightly. Despite her petite form, she was flexible enough to feel only the pleasure, and no pain. It was hot, coming easily inside her, as if it was made to be there. She used her hand to touch her clit, making it even more pleasurable.

The satyr waited completely still, until she was resting on his lap, biting her lip while stimulating herself. It was a wonderful sight. His arm crossed her back, to give her more support, and started his own tricks.

With his pelvic strength, he contracted his muscles moving his member inside her, sending a wave of pleasure through both their bodies. The cat was surprised at first, but soon she loved the idea. Mitéra had control over her vaginal muscles as well, something she learned from a priestess many years before. She massaged the member inside her with her own contractions, and the satyr moaned, closing his eyes again.

Mitéra was feeling already blessed. The warmth of his body was different and welcoming, like no other male before, just like his touches, both intense and delicate. Usually she dealed with eager and lustdrived males who tried to get themselves off as quickly as possible. Sometimes, during her heat, she just did the same herself. But now, the feeling was of deep fullness. At least for that night, they were one together, and that was right and perfect.

They played with each other for many minutes, and soon they were wet from both bodies producing their fluids. With no spoken word, they both started to move. She lifted slightly her body, and he thrusted inside her, making both of them moan. The cock inside her shot again, and her muscles tightened to their pleasure.

They moved again, and again, in a rhythm perfect for both. His face traveled to her breasts, and she felt his short beard tickling her nipples. He rubbed his face against them, feeling the softness, before choosing the right one to suck, teasing it with his tongue, while his free hand stroked her neck and her ear. She purred even louder, and he smiled, feeling the vibrations exploding from her chest, close to him.

The satyr was skilled enough to stimulate her without stopping his thrusts, that got slightly quicker. He changed to the other boob, licking the nipple bouncing close to his face, more avid. Mitéra was involved by the deep physical joy and the emotional comfort. She knew she was not in love with him. She would take a longer time to feel sincerely such emotion. Yet, there she was, trusting in that stranger, secure and happy. A part of her wanted that forever... but her body wouldn't let her. The constant stimulation was getting the best of her, and she couldn't fight her needs.

The thrusts were now strong and wild, her petite form being launched by his powerful hips. The hooves were firm on the ground, and the thighs were tense as the ropes from a boat. The sound was humid and wild from all the wet friction. They were breathing heavy, and moaning with all their hearts. She could feel his cock fill her completely, and she wanted more of it, if it was possible. She wanted him inside her, wanted a part of him. That was all that mattered.

Mitéra could no longer hold it, and her body tensed with an impending orgasm. By mere reflex, she embraced his torso, and bit his neck, too lost in her pleasure to care for her sharp fangs. She came strongly, her body trembling with each orgasmic wave, her insides squeezing the cock inside her. For a moment, she thought she could nearly feel its outline, the textures and veins, just like she did with her tongue.

Maybe the satyr planned that from the start, or maybe he had the power to orgasm anytime he wanted. Or, simply, the contractions around his member were just too much for him to handle. The truth is, with one more deep thrust, and with a low groan stuffy from her fur and breast, he started cumming, emptying his load.

The feeling of achievement that hit Mitéra with every pulse of semen inside her almost set her off again. It lasted for nearly a minute, and when it ended, she was happy, exhausted, wet, but extremely happy.

They didn't exchange more words. His eyes met hers, with an emotion hard to read, but gentle nonetheless. They kissed once more, a kiss from two tired bodies and two utter souls, full of something as old as time. When they parted their bodies, both trembled, and the satyr looked more like a mortal than never, weak on his furry legs, and a funny expression between a grin and a grimace, when his over sensitive member exited her sex.

He handed her tunic, and guided her to the end of the grove, and there he stopped.

-- Will we meet again?

-- Yes. But I can't live with you.

-- I understand. I can't leave my family, neither. But... I want to believe that this is not the end.

-- Then you can rest assured. It's a new beginning.

Mitéra returned to her village. All people she met on her way had a gentle compliment to give on her beauty, and that she looked happier, and livelier. Her family noticed the shine on her eyes, and the way she seemed distant, daydreaming most of the time. The life returned to normal for the next weeks.

Until it happened. Her belly was protruding, and the good news spread like a wildfire. All the friends came to her house to congratulate her, and wish luck with her child-bearing.

Months later, the cat was a proud and happy mother. Her kitten was healthy and beautiful, white and grey furred. The family organized a huge banquet, and all the gods received offerings. The light of the fire could be seen from many miles, and the song played during all the night.

When the day arrived, and the party was already silent, the sober guests could hear a magnificent song played by a distant flute. No one could find the musician.

When the little kitten, Latrévo, finally opened his eyes to the world, revealed deep green irises with the shine of the eternity. And his mother was the happiest of the world.