The Nymph & I

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Nymph takes her first taste of carnal pleasure.
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The river's rush swelled loud as I sat within the breathless air of the carriage. I knew we were nearing the place where oft I had sat beside my dear Apollo, our backs resting against the laurel tree.

"Stop here!" I commanded, banging on the wall, but we continued to sway as the horses dragged us up the steep path.

I lifted the canvas flap and peeked out, dazzled by the reflection of the sun on the water. A long agonizing week had passed since my nighttime tryst with the gardener Elias. Although he meant naught to me, I had agreed to pleasure him, if, in exchange, he would fell the tree. Now I shaded my eyes with my hand, looking to see if he had kept his promise.

"Lady Sera, what on earth do you think you're doing?" said Mopsie, the grizzled old hag who follows me everywhere, pulling down the flap.

"Do you wish to get out?" called the driver, drawing the horses to a standstill.

"No, we do not!" called Mopsie. "Start up the mares!" To me she whispered, "I don't know, really I don't." But as the carriage jerked forward, I ripped the canvas up again. To my delight I saw the tree was no more.

Mopsie leaned across me, tried to draw the canvas down, but I pushed her away with all my might. As she squealed and struggled I gasped in amazement. In place of a stump lay a sleeping peasant girl, long limbs tanned by the sun, a short dress made up of squares of leather, a tumble of ebony hair tied together any old way with twine. Beside her lay a quiver of arrows. I bit my lip, perplexed. Where was Apollo, and who on earth was this maiden?

Mopsie grabbed the canvas and ripped it down with such force it tore. "Just you wait 'til your father hears of this impudence!" she said huffily. Although I am almost nineteen years of age, I couldn't resist turning to her and poking out my tongue.

On the ride home I recalled how, even before our act had reached its natural climax, Mopsie had burst into the shed in which Elias and I were coupling. Since then father had decreed that I be kept in the house, with only my needlepoint and harp for company. I should gladly have poked out Mopsie's watery blue eyes with my needle and strung her from my harp strings. The stupid old tattletale.

Back at the mansion, Mopsie escorted me to my room and hung up my wedding dress, which we had just collected from the seamstress in Athens.

Once I heard her key turn, and her footsteps shuffling away, I threw the dress on the bed and myself on top of it. Its whiteness mocked me. I pounded at it and sobbed, recalling the first time I had worn such a dress. Then, at least, its symbolism had befitted my virgin state. On the eve of my first marriage I was told my childhood playthings were to be sacrificed to Artemis, as part of the wedding rites. That act marked the end of my innocence. My dolls were ripped from my hands as I cried silent tears. Once the ritual was completed, I was forced to make the transformation to my husband's plaything.

I felt under the straw stuffed mattress and lifted out the sprig of dried laurel that lay there. I had broken it from the wreath that Apollo always wore imbedded in his springy brown curls. I pressed the sprig to my chest, which felt tight as a pigskin flask filled to bursting point. The dry leaves crumbled beneath my fingers as I recalled our first meeting. This had been at a time when I was still allowed some freedoms. I had just finished my afternoon's bathing in the river Peneus. With my naked limbs still dripping, I noticed I was not alone. A man, impervious to my presence, was circling a laurel tree. His thighs were well shaped and strong, his chest massive, solid as granite. I had the desire to be enfolded, crushed beneath him. I wrapped my arms around my breasts, my nipples stiffening against my palms.

My skin ran hot with arousal, then chill, as I watched him stop, hold the tree in his embrace and place his lips against its bark. He is quite mad, thought I, dropping my arms in fright and making a splash.

He looked up. "Who is there?" He took a few steps towards me, his eyes, green as shards of glass, glittering in the half-light.

I wanted to run, but he had seen me. The breeze ruffled my blonde locks, which clung damply to my shoulders. I stepped out of the water.

I have been trained, from an early age, in the etiquette of courtly behavior and yet, looking at him, at the trail of hair that snaked up his belly from his loin cloth, all my training evaporated. "Who are you?" I croaked.

"It is not polite to spy on people," he said sternly, his fingers nervously brushing the laurel crown. Then the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

Since the death of my first husband, two years past, I've had to make do with quick fumblings of cooks and gardeners. Those encounters were unsatisfying, and experience had taught me my marriage bed held scarce greater promise.

This strange man offered me a final opportunity to grasp at pleasure. I trembled with desire at the thought, for I knew that the old spice merchant, who I was betrothed to, would return any day now from his travels.

"Why did you kiss the tree?" I asked, wishing with all my might that he might kiss me.

The man did not answer my question. Instead he said, "I am Apollo."

I laughed, thinking he was making a jest. Of course, I knew the legend of Apollo and Daphne. How Eros, out of spite, fired two arrows, the lead tipped arrow striking the river nymph Daphne, and preventing her from loving again. How the gold tipped arrow hit Apollo, making him fall deeply in love with the first creature who crossed his path. That woman was Daphne. Apollo pursued her through the forest, for many days and nights, until finally she begged her father, Peneus, to change her into a laurel tree so she could be rid of his attentions.

"I do not believe I have been in the presence of a God before," said I, taking a few steps closer.

"Do not make light of my fate," he said. "Since she was transformed, my heart is near dead. My only comfort is that when I touch the bark I can feel her heart beating." He sank to his knees and touched the tree lightly. I sat down beside him.

"These leaves," I said, touching his laurel crown, "are all you will ever have of her."

"She has beauty beyond compare. If only you could have seen her. Ebony hair, eyes the color of molten honey."

"Forget her," I said. "She is trapped inside this tree." Feeling emboldened, I said, "Take me instead." I put his hand on my breast and reached down to his loincloth. For one so heartbroken he recovered quickly, his erection rapidly tenting the cloth.

I straddled him, brushing my breasts against his half open mouth. Reaching up to the trunk, I thought I felt the tree stir, felt a pulse beneath my fingertips. But I forgot all that as he drew my nipple into the warm cave of his mouth. I unwrapped his loincloth and sank down onto his cock, opening myself up to him.

When at last we were spent and I lay panting he whispered, "I did wrong. Daphne is my only love." I stroked his hair, aware of the orgasm that still swirled and pulsed inside me.

"Let us talk more of this tomorrow," I said, gathering up my clothes and running up the hill. By some miracle Elias had left the back door open and I managed to get to bed without Mopsie finding me.

Over many weeks I met him, and each time I began to like him more. His heart had been broken by this nymph, who I hated for causing him such sorrow. I too was lonely. Although a lady, my days were hollow and bereft of laughter and the sensual pleasures I craved.

To make love with this God took me to undreamt of heights. I fancied I could stay this way forever, with his tongue between my legs, drawing forth peaks of pleasure, that crashed one over the other. Until one day, with my back against the tree, I felt it shudder along with me. It was a gruesome sensation, knowing Daphne watched. That very next night, I coupled with Elias in exchange for his promise. I prayed the felling of the tree would also fell Daphne.

All this I recalled as I lay in my chamber, clutching the remnants of the laurel branch. Had it worked, I wondered? Had Apollo forgotten Daphne? But even as I thought this I knew it was quite hopeless, that the felling of the branch had not killed Daphne, but made her more alive than ever.

That night, after I was sure Mopsie was asleep, I managed to creep from the house and walk the three miles to the riverbank. I wanted to see Apollo, to ask him whether, with the tree gone, Daphne was finally slain.

The air was humid and crickets filled the air with their music, as I came to the place where once the laurel tree had grown. Apollo was nowhere in sight. Still the peasant girl slept, whom I had spied earlier from the carriage.

The moon shone down on her, highlighting long limbs and a full, pouting mouth. She stirred. Her eyes opened and seeing me she gasped.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," I said.

She sat up, eyes wide in the moonlight. "How comes it to pass that I am no longer trapped? What goblin did wield strange magic to free me?"

I stared back, fierce anger gripping me like fever. Foolish child, I cursed myself, to meddle in things you don't understand. The felling of the tree has made Daphne flesh. Such beauty will tempt Apollo more than any tree ever could!

"How much I have suffered these long years, restricted by bark, trapped in stagnant air. And Apollo visiting me daily, kissing me." She shuddered.

"Kissing does not thrill you?" I thought of how frustrated I should have been, had I been a tree, unable to return Apollo's caresses.

"I have never experienced such a thing. I know nothing of mortal love. But," she grinned, exposing a gap toothed smile, "I know how to hunt swine and trap rabbits. Shall I teach you?" she said, unaware that her nipple had wriggled free between the crudely knotted pieces of hide that hid her modesty. I knew not how to answer. For the nymph had caused strange stirrings of desire in me. I stood there dumb. Anger had left me.

She stood up and stretched, and her hem lifted, exposing buttocks as firm as apricots. She bent down to pick up her bow and quiver. She wore no underclothes and her sex looked like a ripped open pomegranate, exposing seeds dripping sweetness. Choked with desire, I sank to me knees, anxious to taste her juices.

She straightened up, flicked her ponytail behind her and slung her quiver over her shoulder. The movement caused her ripe bosom to tremble under her dress.

"Why, what are you doing, kneeling there?"

I hung my head, ashamed by my desires. Saliva had run together in my mouth, a hard ache stiffening my pussy lips. All thoughts of Apollo were gone.

"I must set the traps," she said, lighting the wick of an oil lantern. "Come."

"It was me," I blurted. "I had the tree felled."

"Well then," she said matter of factly, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. "I am grateful to you. Now, be quiet, or we will startle the swine."

She was nimble fingered as she set the traps, then hid them with leaves. Next she caught sight of a tiny boar racing through the forest. We chased after it until she had pierced it with her arrow. She held it up triumphant, still wriggling in her fist. I had to look away as she slit its throat.

She told me to gather twigs, while she prepared the pig. Once the fire was crackling I said, "You know, of course, that Apollo loves you?"

She shrugged. "Why should I care? I am grateful to have escaped his embraces. I'm just glad to be free to run about the forest. I can hardly wait to sleep in the open air again, rather than inside that musty old tree."

For a long while we sat in silence while she rotated the pig, which was crudely speared onto a branch.

We heard a rustle in the undergrowth. Daphne tensed and reached for her bow. We both gasped as Apollo came crashing through the bushes and threw himself at her feet.

"Daphne." He crawled towards her, then grabbed her by the shoulders. "Is it you? Can it be?"

She flicked his hand off. "Of course it is. And stop touching me. Don't you think these past few years have been awful enough, what with you brushing your," she blushed, "your parts against that tree, against me. Don't think I didn't feel the way you caressed me, caressed yourself. I want no part of it."

"Because you've never experienced it!" cried Apollo. "I loved you from the moment Eros fired his arrow into my heart. I fear I will die of love if I cannot lie with you, just for one night. I've waited so long …"

"I care not for you Apollo, nor will I ever. Now, this pig looks about done. You may join us if you wish."

We munched the food in silence. I wondered if anyone had noticed that I had fled my bedchamber, but I cared not dwell on the thought. Apollo was still staring at Daphne, who sat with her legs apart, exposing her sex to his eyes, while she gnawed at a bone. Beneath his loincloth I could see him rising.

"You are both being stupid," said I. "The felling of the tree took away the curse bestowed by Eros." I was not sure how true this was, but I was anxious to diffuse the tense atmosphere that hung between them. "Daphne, you are reborn and free to savor mortal love."

Daphne shook her head, and as she did so her dress came loose, exposing large breasts, heavy as ripe gourds. She fastened the cords of her dress, but without modesty. She was a wild thing, who had not been constrained by society's rules as had I.

She shrugged, wiped her mouth of grease. "I'm happy as I am."

"You're unhappy but do not yet know it," said I. "Take it from one who knows."

"Have you ever seen the act of love?" asked Apollo.

"Only among boars and rats. I don't think its something I should care to see," said Daphne, getting up and preparing to go. Apollo still stared at her, transfixed. Gently I pulled her hand so she sat down again. With my other hand I took Apollo's hand in mine.

I drew him to me, kissed his lips. He pushed me away and Daphne cowered. "It's not you I want," he said. I still held Daphne's hand in mine. Slowly I placed his hand over hers.

"Don't be so rough," I whispered. "Can't you see she's frightened?"

Daphne drew her hand away and looked coyly up at Apollo from under her long black fringe. Her eyes were drawn to Apollo's cock, which strained beneath the loincloth.

"Touch it," I said. "There's no need to be afraid."

Slowly she reached forward, rested her fingertips on the cloth. Apollo moaned. She moved her hand away. Her eyes registered fright as I loosened the loincloth, but her hand soon found its way between her own legs, where it settled in her damp folds.

I knelt near the fire, felt its heat on my back, as I took his cock into my mouth, savoring the taste of his skin. His cock quivered as I swirled my tongue around it, then drew away, the tip of my tongue at its tip. Arousal dripped from his cock. I licked off the pearl of salty fluid and swallowed.

"It's nothing to be scared of," I said. Daphne was lying down, her head propped up on one arm, the other under the hem of her skirt. I reached down and rubbed my fingers in her furrow, then gripped her hand.

"Come," I said, placing her hand, wet with her slippery arousal, around Apollo's cock.

Still looking a little apprehensive, she did so. Apollo moved forward and crushed his lips against Daphne's. She fell limp in his arms, her fingers still grazing the tip of his engorged penis. Her legs fell open, exposing her clit, as hard as a peach pit. The scent of her pussy mingled with the dank smell of the leaves we rested on. I buried my face in her sex. From the free flowing liquid there, I gathered Daphne was no longer repulsed by Apollo.

What a night that was! I would not have missed it for the world. I held her hand, as gently, he eased himself inside her. At first she winced, grabbed my hand tight, but soon she began to buck against him, thrashing against the leaves. I looked deep into his eyes. With a start I realized he wasn't quite human, that behind them was just a tunnel of mirrors, stretching into eternity.

Daphne's eyes flickered open and shut as she moved, ramming herself up against him. He held himself high above her and I watched his cock slam into her, again and again. With my other hand I pinched her clit gently, as I whispered, "Don't fight it, don't fight it." She was perspiring, and sweat dripped between her breasts as I increased the pressure on her clit. Her back arched one last time as she screamed, so loud that the birds asleep on the branches above flapped and squawked as they streamed into the sky.

"It is¯" she said, looking out from under Apollo's shoulder, for he was still inside her. "It is not how I expected."

"There will be many more such moments," I whispered. "Before the night is through."

I turned away, put some more twigs on the fire. As I poked the embers, a shower of sparks flew into the air. Behind me, Apollo was reaching his climax. When I eventually turned around he was lying beside her, his chest bathed in sweat.

I removed my dress and lay at their feet, feeling a little apprehensive. As I closed my eyes, I became aware of the musky scent of their bodies, mixed in with the aroma of roast pork and cedar smoke. I was in agony, my pussy engorged to bursting point.

Opening my eyes, I rolled onto my side and caught Daphne intently observing Apollo's cock, which had begun to rise again. When she noticed me watching her she averted her eyes. She stood up and started to walk away.

"Hey," I said, going after her. "Don't be so afraid."

She hung her head as I led her over to where Apollo lay and let me position her legs like a doll. She acted reluctant, coy, but her eyes told a different story. They were glued to Apollo's cock. Now we stood, our feet planted on either side of his torso, facing each other.

I placed my hands on her waist and we sank down together. I opened her sex gently, unfurling the petals of her orchid, until she was impaled on the tip of Apollo's cock. Resting my hands on her shoulders I pushed her down until the whole of his cock was inside her.

I knelt up in front of her, my knees either side of Apollo's chest and grabbed her buttocks, lifting her up a few inches, then plunging her back down on his cock. Her breasts swung forward and brushed mine, causing my nipples to tingle and grow hard.

As I kissed her, I pushed the tip of my forefinger into her asshole, while my other hand hooked in her mouth. She sucked at my fingers greedily. The moment her eyes locked into mine my insides turned to lava, rising bit-by-bit and ready to explode.

After a few strokes, she was riding Apollo's cock independently. She no longer needed my help, but I still cupped her buttocks, my fingertips brushing against his cock as it dipped in and out of her. Her nectar dripped on my fingers, as again her lush mouth found mine. She bit me gently on the lip as her eyes closed. She was close to coming, I could hear it in her ragged breathing.

Finally she slammed herself once, twice, onto Apollo, knocking me off balance, as she began to come. I leant back on Apollo's face, grateful, oh how grateful, as he rammed his fingers into my pussy and stabbed at my clit with his tongue, over and over, until I was plunged into a velvet black out.

Scarcely had I recovered, when Daphne's fingertips were circling my nipples, like an army of impatient ants. For one who had been so reluctant earlier, the nymph was now quite insatiable. Her desire enflamed us both, and that night we tripled, in every permutation known to man, until our bodies smelt of each other, until every part had been explored, caressed, exploded. I meant to go home, I did mean to. But I was too tired.

The next morning we woke in each other's arms. Apollo turned to her and asked, "I take it you enjoyed yourself?" Daphne grinned and nodded her reply.

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