Adventures of Pal, a Satyr

The odd thing was, just before thecum spurted from the end of his cock, he had a momentary vision of Mara's face and it made him come all the harder.

He stayed with her the night and by morning she wasn't the same person. She made his breakfast in the nude and he noticed she had a few bruises and bite marks. He had not intended to be so rough but she wasn't complaining. When she brought him his breakfast, she sat down in his lap and one thing led to another. He ended up not eating but having her again while she was bent over her kitchen table. It was a sweet way to start the day.

Outside it was a warm day and the innkeeper's wife gave him some fruit to take along with him. There were lots of people on the road and everyone seemed friendly. He stayed out of the way of any passing wizards. At lunch time he stopped at a farmer's house and had a bowl of soup and an afternoon tryst with the farmer's blond and buxom wife. She was a screamer and he barely escaped her arms before the farmer came back from the field to find out what was wrong.

He was still seeing Mara's face when he came and that was beginning to disturb him.

The evening he spent with some travellers camped along the road. It was a family of five, a mother, father and their three small sons. The mother was a tall, slender blond woman with a harsh voice and a commanding presence, not Pal's type at all. The father was a short, meek man, almost feminine in his manners, and his sons seemed to be following in his footsteps. Pal was not surprised when the mother announced that Pal would be sleeping in her blankets.

Pal did not sleep. Satyrs are supposedly insatiable but it was all he could do match the woman's hungry needs. What she loved best was putting Pal on his back and bouncing up and down on his cock. He filled her up several times before morning and at daylight she was ready again. He felt a little uncomfortable doing her when her husband and sons were awake and watching but her pussy felt good around his cock and he finally just relaxed and let it happen.

After breakfast, he was on his way again. He was still disturbed. He could not remember the faces of any of the women of the day before but he kept remembering Mara. That wasn't natural for a Satyr. He had not even had sex with her and yet she stayed in his mind. He could remember her face, her hair, and her scent. He tried to convince himself he would forget her in a few days.

He didn't. Days passed but Mara remained in his memory. No matter how he tried not to think about her, every time he came, he saw her face. And then the absolutely worse thing happened that could ever happen to a Satyr. He was fucking a shopkeeper's wife behind the counter the shop and he saw Mara's face before he came and he went soft. The shopkeeper's wife looked up at him in astonishment and demanded he put it back in but it was in, or at least it was partially in, but it was slipping out. He was soft. In all his life that had never happened. He was usually good for three fucks before it went as completely soft as it was now.

He was embarrassed and humiliated as he buttoned up and tried to explain, but the shopkeeper's wife was horny and angry and she grabbed a carving knife out of a nearby block of wood and went after him with it. He sprained his ankle jumping over the counter and barely missed getting sliced like a midsummer ham before he reached the door.

He managed to escape her without being physically cut but the injury to his pride was worse. As he limped along, he cursed the fates that had put him in this condition. He had no idea what to do because he didn't think anything like it had ever happened to any Satyr in his memory. His only hope was to find a healer, a witch who had a potion or a spell for what ailed him.

He stayed away from farmhouses and other men's wives for a couple of days as he searched. He finally found a healer who advertised. Her house was at the edge of town, a rock house overgrown with ivy and decorated with ceramic pieces created to keep evil sprits away.

The healer was a skinny, pockmarked woman with a tooth missing in front. She listened to his complaint without expression.

"You say this woman Mara was a huntress," the healer asked, when he had finished his story.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps I can help. A Huntress does not have strong magic. Perhaps I can break her spell over you."

"You think she's used magic on me," Pal asked.

"I expect she has," the healer said. "The question is what will you pay me for helping you?"

"I have a few coins," Pal said.

"Useless," she said, when Pal counted out his coins. "Barely enough to buy mead. What else?"

"I don't have anything else," Pal said miserably.

"Then I'll take it in services," she said.

At first Pal didn't know what she meant but the healer was smiling and Pal felt a nervous twitch. This woman didn't turn him on at all. How could she expect him to perform with her if he wasn't able to perform with the many housewives he found attractive.

:"I can't do that," Pal said. "We just had this discussion. That's my problem."

"You have a tongue, don't you?" the healer said. "I understand Satyrs are very good with their tongues."

With that the woman leaned back on her elbows and pulled her skirt up to her waist. She wasn't wearing underwear. Lately, strange things seemed to be happening to Pal but the healer was right. He was practiced with his tongue.

He sighed and he leaned over and licked at her pussy. She reached for his head and pulled him down and Pal began to explore the inside of her pussy lips with his tongue. He found her hard little bud and he began to stab his tongue at it. Her hips moved. He let her pull his head closer. He actually liked the taste of pussy and he was good at it but he had been called to do it this way before. He let her direct his head and had to swallow to keep breathing because her juice was starting to flow.

"Oh yes," the healer said, bucking her hips. "Oh yeah, yeah, oh yeah."

It hadn't taken her long and he kept his face pressed to her until he had drank her juice and when he lifted his head, she pulled her skirt back down and sat back up. It had been so quick and so matter-of-fact that Pal almost believed it hadn't happened.

"Okay," she said. "I have a pill for you. It's just one pill. You have to take it once you are in her presence. Then you will forget her forever."

"How am I going to find her again?" Pal questioned.

"That's your problem," she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

Pal found himself on the road again and he had no choice but to start back in the direction he had come. It scared him a little because he was also going back in the direction of the wizard and more than a couple of irate husbands. It wouldn't be good to pass through the towns and Pal found himself avoiding them whenever possible. That meant spending a lot of time going through woods and across meadows and rivers, which Pal hated. He also slept outside.

It was no life for a Satyr.

A month later, just as dusk, Pal had not found any trace of Mara in the woods or any of the surrounding towns. He was tired, cold and hungry when he stepped out on the road and found a gypsy camp.

Pal was always careful with gypsies. Some of them were friendly. Some of them would cut your heart out for a dime. Some of them would be friendly and then cut your heart out. It was best to avoid them whenever possible but Pal's stomach was growling and he needed rest.

These gypsies he had never seen before but he didn't like what he saw. Two men, both slender and dark and one with a cruel scar across his cheek. There was also a woman and Pal liked her much better. Her name was Lilly, she told him, and she was full figured and healthy looking and married to the gypsy named Bill. The other gypsy was Art, Bill's brother. He thought they had funny names for gypsies but he didn't tell them that.

At least they fed him. He was eating some sort of vegetable soup. The vegetables were yellow looking but he was too hungry to question the source. Bill sat across the fire strumming on an ancient guitar and Art sat nearby him, whittling a chunk of wood with a savagely curved knife.

"What manner of creature are you?" Bill finally asked.

"Silly man, its obvious what he is," Lilly said. "He's a Satyr."

"What's a Satyr?" Bill asked. "Is that like an elf?"

"Nothing like an elf," Lilly said pointedly looking at Pal's crotch and Pal shivered. He hoped she didn't come creeping into his blankets because he didn't want to disappoint her. She looked like the type who would get nasty if she was disappointed.

Because he wasn't an elf, the two men lost interest but not the woman. She kept looking at him. The two men sat and played guitar and whittled until it grew really dark and Pal crept off to find a place to sleep. He had barely gotten to sleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't make any noise," Lilly cautioned. "Bill's asleep."

Her hand reached for him, closed over his prick and explored the size of it. "Oh my," she said. "It is true what they say."

"Wait a moment," Pal said.

But she wasn't waiting. She was already pulling her top down to reveal her heavy hanging breasts and pulling her skirt up so get her business done quickly. She wasn't one for foreplay as she was squeezing his cock really hard, trying to get an erection out of it.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and he started to explain but then there was a huge explosion of sound and Pal felt a hand gripping him by the hair and lifting him completely off the ground.

"Whoring bitch," Bill yelled and his knotty fist smashed into the side of Pal's face sending him tumbling to the ground. Then he turned his heavy hand on his wife and it was like two wildcats coming together. He struck and she scratched and bit and kicked and he yelled in pain and bit back and they were both rolling on the ground in a flurry of blood and torn clothing.

Pal crept away into the darkness and he kept moving until the sound of their fighting was far behind him.

He was in the woods again, lost and miserable, but at least he wasn't hungry. He felt something wet on his cheek and reached up and it came away bloody. He realized that Bill had broken his nose and smashed his lip with that one angry punch. Thinking about his bloody lip made Pal remember that Woks were attracted to the smell of blood and meeting a hungry Wok would be the perfect end to the perfect day.

He tried to remember where the road was as he started back. He could avoid the gypsies by going through the woods but keeping the road in sight. Perhaps he could avoid Woks in the same way. He had gone only a few steps when he heard the breathing behind him. He stopped still as he remembered Mara telling him that a Wok had bad eyesight. His heart pounded. A shadow moved a few feet away, a creature sniffing the air. The blood from his lip had started to dry and there wasn't enough for the Wok to smell and it turned away and moved into the wood.

Pal went quickly in the opposite direction.

He didn't find the road but he did smell wood smoke and that meant somebody had a fire. He hoped it was somebody friendly. He found a path just barely discernible in the moonlight and he followed it. It opened up into a clearing. In the moonlight he saw a pretty thatched cottage surrounded by a white fence. There was a light on inside and smoke coming from the chimney. It looked like heaven if only there was someone friendly inside.

He knocked on the door and when it opened, he was once more surprised.

It was Mara. She wore a shimmering green robe that reached the floor. This time she had no belt with a dagger. Her hair shown in the moonlight and she stepped back to let him enter.

"You hexed me," he said accusingly.

She smiled. "Satyrs can't feel emotion. They can't love. That's what you told me."

"So you did something to me," he said.

She shook her head. "I left you some biscuits to eat. You didn't have to eat them."

"I was hungry."

"And you paid the consequences," she said.

"You don't know what you've done," he said.

She laughed. Her laugh seemed to touch at his toes and go all the way through his body and for the first time, in a while, he felt the beginnings of arousal.

"I never do anything without knowing the consequences," she said. "Unlike a Satyr who only thinks with his cock."

The inside of the cottage was comfortably furnished. There was a nice fire in the fireplace. A comfortable looking bed was in the corner. The table had a glass of red wine that the huntress had been drinking before he interrupted.

Pal looked at her and reached into his pocket and took out the black pill the healer had given him.

"A one cures all," she said, looking at it. "It might work. It might not. Why don't you try?"

She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. The robe fell away. Her legs were just so nicely shaped. He felt himself getting harder.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, for the second time.

"I opened up a piece of your heart. I gave you a place of remembrance. I made you feel."

"But it keeps me from....you know," he said.

"You mean you can't perform because you see my face," she said, sipping her wine. "That sometimes happens. But take your pill. It might work and you'll forget all about me."

She leaned forward and she smiled and he thought nobody, ever, had been so beautiful, so sexy, and so wondrous. Her eyes shown with bright excitement and her red lips were parted showing just the tip of her tongue. And suddenly he didn't want to take the pill because the last thing in the world he wanted to do was forget about her.

"Come here," she said and she stood up and did something to the robe and it fell at her feet and her beautiful body glistened in the firelight and he dropped the pill.

"Just take a step," she said, licking her lips. "It's not hard."

But he was. Lord, he was.