Jacob was just doing up his trousers. We had spent a pleasant half an hour in my bed after he came around to check I was okay during the power cut. I thanked him in the only way I could. Well, that is not strictly true; I enjoy our trysts as much as he does, and pretending I was simply thanking him is a little unfair. I enjoy sex; he is well-equipped and knows what to do, so there we are. Elvina and Fay always keep away when Jacob visits; they don’t trust him.
“What’s beyond the end of my track, Jacob?” I asked him. There are no obvious signs of a public footpath, and so I haven’t really wandered that way.
“Well, there is the commune, a bunch of hippies, about a mile further on. The field is only grass, so you could walk through it without too much crop damage. If you keep walking east, you will get to my field boundary, and then you are on to their land, and you will see their place: a rambling old big house and some barns and outbuildings. They have goats and chickens, and they grow a lot of vegetables, as far as I know.”
“A hippy commune here in Yorkshire—wow! Who knew?”
“Well, they keep themselves to themselves. I don’t think they ever come to the village, or if they do, it’s very rare. “I don’t have owt to do wi them, to be honest.” Sometimes, his Yorkshire dialect was quite broad.
That had been a few days ago; the land was slowly drying out after the deluge last week, and power was back on, with an offer of five pounds in compensation from the electricity company. Well, that would buy some diesel. I decided an early night after a shower would be the order of the day. Leah had stayed a couple of nights; the roads were still flooded but passable when she left.
I had then enjoyed a day or so of solitude, sitting on my deckchair watching the angry sky slowly clear as I drank mug after mug of Lapsang. The variations in grey and silver light in the sky were captivating; I wished I had the skills to capture them. Instead, I sat and enjoyed them.
“Are there boy faeries?” I asked Fay as she danced and flew in front of me.
“Oh yes, they can be so naughty, though, not nice like us girls and nowhere near as delicious as human boys.”
‘Delicious’ I didn’t think I wanted to know any more. The skies had eventually turned simple grey and then finally white with outbreaks of blue. Thank goodness. The storm had been wild, and, almost sadly, I had been distracted with Leah. I think it would have been enjoyable to sit and watch it roll through.
The skies must have been fascinating to watch as the clouds unleashed inch after inch of rain whilst the wind gusted, and the few trees swayed in the wind and drooped under the weight of the rain.
I had decided the soil needed a few days of dry air and wind before I dared venture on a walk; there was still lying water in most of the fields from where I looked, and that just creates mud if you try and walk through it.
I sat in my chair by the beck and sipped at a Lapsang. The white fluffy clouds were scudding through the sky; the high-up winds looked quite powerful, yet down here at cottage level all was calm. The air shimmered.
“Oh, hello,” I said. “Who are you?”
“I am Osidius,” the figure answered. Unclothed, obviously; in fact, very obviously, male; and hovering in the air above the beck.
“Nice to meet you, Sid,” I answered. “Did you get wet in the storms?”
“Oh no, the water doesn’t affect us when it falls as rain. We usually just stay in our own realm. Some of the girls like to play in the rain, but those of us with any sense just ignore it.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Did you like the storm?”
“Well, I didn’t see much of it; I had a friend to stay, so we pretty much just stayed inside and let the storm do its thing.”
He flew across to me and took my hands, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, floating above the beck, the air around us shimmering, and then my cottage and the fields all faded and disappeared.
I blinked; the view before me was of a beautiful green garden filled with flowers of all colours and small flying creatures. The air seemed to smell of honey and gardenias, freesia and peonies; there was a light shimmer to the air too.
“I would rather be here than in a grey storm,” Sid said. “Wouldn’t you choose this?”
“It is beautiful,” I said and then realised that we had landed. The grass felt like velvet between my toes, and all the insects that I saw were in fact just faeries of varying sizes. It felt magical.
I found myself somehow lying on the velvet-soft grass, with Sid hovering above me and his face in front of mine, close. His lips touched mine, and his tongue delved inside, long, impossibly long, pushing inside and past my throat, and in that distraction, I felt him nudging in my groin.
My legs parted and my sex opened, and he penetrated me, so big, so filling. I tried to gasp, but his tongue filled my throat as his faery dick filled my fanny. I stared into his eyes, large on his head, his iris pointed oval, not round, brilliant green in colour, unblinking. His tongue curled and left my throat, air rushed in, and I gasped, and as I gasped my fanny clenched and he roared as he filled me, faery semen spurting deep within me.
I blinked, and I was once more sat in my garden chair; my mug lay empty to the side of me, and my Lapsang had spilt. Was that a dream? I couldn’t be sure. I slipped my hand up my dress and felt my crotch. Oh. That was no dream; faery cream oozed from me.
“Well, thanks, Sid,” I said as I got up, first to shower and then to make another cup of tea. As I walked back to the kitchen, I could hear childlike laughter. I decided Sid would probably be good at oral, but it had all been a bit one-sided. Better for him than me.
I grilled some bacon, cut two slices of bread, buttered them, and as the bacon cooled, I made a pot of tea. I wandered out to the garden and sat by the beck, tea in one hand and a bacon butty in the other. I watched as the water in the beck babbled as it went past, returned now to pre-storm levels. I didn’t speak; I just enjoyed the quietness of the countryside, the perfume of the country and the solitude.
I resolved that I would venture on my walk today; it was as good a day as any. Rain was forecast towards the end of the week, and I would be back at the house with Mik by then. No, indeed, today was the day for it. Long dress, walking boots and a big floppy sun hat, and I set off. As I walked, I tried not to step on too much grass, but it was quite hard, and I had no field edge to keep to. I just headed east until I encountered a dry-stone wall, not high and with a few stones dislodged here and there, but largely intact. This must be Jacob’s boundary.
Looking in front, I could indeed see a large farmhouse and barns in the distance, and there were people moving. Too far away for me to see what they were doing. The field between me and there was a lower, greener grass than in Jacob’s. More just overgrown lawn by the look of it, rather than crop grass. I climbed the wall and headed across the grass towards the house.
As I got nearer, I could see that there were large vegetable and fruit patches and that the people I could see moving were in fact tending to the lots. There was a mix of men, women and children. The women all wore long, flowing dresses and scarves in their hair; the men, breeches and shirts. The children seemed to either wear dresses or smocks. A woman came towards me.
“Hello, stranger,” she said. “What brings you this way?”
“Oh, hello, I am Mica. I live just over the hill, and I thought I should meet my neighbours.”
“Well, you are welcome; you must be in the Beck cottage. You must meet Joshua. Please follow me.”
She turned and headed to the house. A man stood in front of the house, wearing breeches, a white shirt, a neckerchief covering his throat and a straw hat.
“Joshua, this lady lives in Beck Cottage; she came to say hello.”
“Thank you, Mercedes,” he said, his voice quite deep and rich.
“Would you care for some birch tea, and then we can chat?”
“Well, yes, thank you; that is most hospitable.”
He led the way into the house and spoke to one of the women who seemed to be peeling potatoes.
“Eloise, some birch tea, please,” his voice commanded, so much so that I nearly did it myself.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to a chair by one of the many tables in the room.
I sat, interested to note that they had an old AGA, although I think it was a Rayburn make. Through the corner of my eye, I could see Eloise putting some leaves into a teapot and adding water from a kettle that had been sitting on the simmering hob. She brought the pot and some mugs to the table and then a small jug of milk.
“It will need time,” Joshua said. “Tell me, how long have you been at Beck Cottage? I thought no one lived there; it was just a rental.”
“I suppose a couple of months. I don’t live there full-time, just on free days, usually a few each week. It needed a bit of work doing, and that is now done, and I find myself spending a lot of time there now, more than I intended.”
“It is not a surprise to me; the beck just there can be quite, er, interesting.”
Was he hinting that he knew of the faeries, I wondered?
“Oh yes, very interesting indeed. What about here? The man that farms my land, Jacob, said this was a commune.”
“Oh no, not a commune, just a community. We don’t like the pressures of life; we suspect that society will break down, and we want to step aside from all that, so we just live simply, eating vegetables, eggs from our chickens, and milk from our goats.”
“Sounds idyllic, yet probably quite hard work.”
“Satisfying work, Mica; everything that everyone does benefits the community equally.”
“And you are the leader, the head of the community?”
He lifted the teapot and swirled the contents before pouring two mugs. “There is milk if you wish. I suppose I am seen by some as the leader, but I am really just the founder. I give suggestions that will benefit the community, and people either do it and benefit everybody, or they don’t. If they don’t, I merely ask them to re-evaluate their reason for being here, as we all need to help everyone.”
Sounded like a cult leader to me, I had to be honest.
“I see, and do people leave? Do people join? What is the process, Joshua? I mean, can people just turn up and ask to stay?”
“They can, of course, and if they want to stay here, then they can, but of course they will not need their goods and chattels from their old life, and we ask that they donate that to the common good. Those central funds are used to pay for essential services.”
Oh, I see. Give us all your money, and you can stay.
“Crumbs. Do the children go to school, or do you homeschool them?”
“We are very careful with our children; they are the future of the world. They are schooled in what they need to know. They are taught to read and write, to do sums, basic physics, geography, that sort of thing. They also learn some engineering skills, forging, pottery, that sort of thing.”
“Do the authorities ever come and check? I had read that some councils were not keen on communes and children, fearing abuse.”
Joshua sat back and took a sip of his frankly unpleasant brew.
“We are very careful with our children. They must remain pure until they reach eighteen; that is when they become a man or an auntie. Before that age they are girls and boys and are not allowed to be touched.”
“What happens when they hit eighteen? Is there a party?”
“We have an adulting ceremony where the boys become men, and the girls become women.”
I wondered if it was an orgy, with bonfires and dancing naked and much copulation.
“It is not what you think,” Joshua said.
“Oh, what do I think?” I asked.
“You are imagining some great orgy. That is not what happens. In our community, no parent is allowed to copulate with their child. That is forbidden, and if that rule is broken, then the adult is asked to leave the community.”
“Oh, well, that sounds a bit modern; good for you.” I didn’t want to simply say ‘uncult-like’.
“It is for practical reasons. If authorities thought such behaviour was occurring, they would swarm over us and destroy our way of life. Also, a genetically unsound practice too.”
“Well, yes, dads and daughters or mums and sons causing pregnancies can cause issues, or so I have read.”
“Indeed.”
I took another sip of the drink; I wasn’t sure milk enhanced it in any way.
“So, how does the process of turning into adults happen?”
“I help the girls, and any of the aunties can help the boys. We do have a party; the children become adults, dance and sing; the men and the aunties join in, and then one of the aunties will help the boy, and I will help the girl. The rest of the people dance and love as they wish.”
So, an orgy then. “When you say that you help the girl?”
“I am her first. After me, she is a woman, an auntie. After me, she can go with any man she chooses; we do not follow the norms in the outside world. We have no lifelong legal marriages; here, people share with whom they want.”
“And children?”
“With sex comes children. That is something we try to control; women in their fertile weeks do not have sex to try to reduce unwanted pregnancy. Once a year, one of the women will try to get pregnant; that way, we manage our population. The children are born into a family of aunties who all assist in the upbringing. No one, baby or adult, is a burden on us.”
It all sounded a bit too managed for me, and when the management collapses, then anarchy sets in, and the society breaks down. I shrugged.
“Would you like me to show you around?”
“Yes, please, that would be nice.” I stood, and so did Joshua.
He spread his arms and spoke, “This is the main room of the community. It is the kitchen and eating area. Food is prepared and consumed here. Everyone takes turns in here; some are better cooks than others, but that is just the way it is.”
“You only eat vegetables, no meat?”
“We eat mostly vegetables and some eggs. We don’t rear meat to eat; we simply are not self-sufficient enough to rear animals. We have no refrigeration, and so meat would quickly spoil unless eaten.”
The tour was quite expansive; the rest of the house was pretty much bedrooms, with many beds to a room. The barns were filled with sheaves of hay for winter feed for the goats who gave them milk. There was an underground storeroom filled with vegetables, some in Kilner jars for long-term keeping; it was quite cool, so I guessed that reduced spoilage. As we walked, he got closer to me, and before long his hands were on me, touching, pressing.
Did I want to become a conquest of his? No. I pulled away and kept a distance. We discussed the difficulties of living off-grid, with no email and no telephone. So many organisations these days demand online accounts. They were lucky in one respect: the electricity company they used had a direct debit on their account and took money each month to cover their usage. They did not have WiFi, and so they couldn’t be converted to a smart meter; it just kept things simple.
“It occurs to me, Joshua, that if you needed email, you could set up an account as required and perhaps once per week come and use my computer at the cottage. At least then you may be able to do some extra things for the community.”
“Thank you; that is most kind.”
I bade farewell and headed back across the fields to my cottage. That had been interesting. It was a cult, one hundred per cent; Joshua had them doing as he willed. He had sex with many different women; all women had to go with him as their first, a sort of massive ego trip for him, the virginity taker.
As I walked across the fields, the clouds thickened and the skies darkened, becoming dark greys and purples as the sun set. I got back just as the first drops of rain began to fall. I decided on a shower; I somehow felt unclean after visiting the community. It left me unsettled. I didn’t mind them as neighbours; I didn’t feel them as a threat, but they were not people I wished to embrace.
The shower was quite wonderful, and I felt so clean after I had finished. The community really had left me feeling itchy. I had a supper of toasted cheese sandwiches and a cup of decent tea. Too wet to sit by the beck, I curled up on my sofa and relaxed.
I must have dozed off; it was a surreal moment when I realised that I was awake and not dreaming. My mind had been full of velvet grass with Joshua standing naked amongst the flowers. I shook my head and made my way up to bed. It was dark outside, too cloudy for even the moon to shed a little light, and soon I was deep asleep.
I awoke to a morning of drizzle, that thin, soaking rain that seems to get everywhere. I washed, dressed in just a dress, no underwear, and made a cup of tea. With bread in the toaster, I stood at my door looking at the outside world, watching as the darkness lifted and more of the outside became visible through the mist of the rain.
I buttered my toast, poured my tea and sat on the small kitchen sofa next to the open door. That way, I could at least see some of the natural beauty of England. Faeryland was at the back, so I doubted I would see a shimmer, especially with this weather, very British weather, but not one favoured by the faeries. I had just finished my toast when I saw a figure approaching the cottage.
“Joshua, good morning, welcome. Would you care for some tea?”
“Good morning, Mica. Yes, that would be agreeable. I apologise for the intrusion.”
“Oh fiddlesticks, no apology is needed. Leave your wellies there inside the door, and come on in. I will make some tea.”
I put the kettle on the hob and swilled the teapot, adding a few spoons of lapsang loose leaf.
“Oh, sit down, Joshua; you make the place look untidy hovering by the door.”
Goodness, he just looked lost. He sat himself on a chair by the kitchen table. I had to be honest; he was a little ‘high’. I hadn’t noticed yesterday, but today, from across the kitchen, the smell was quite obvious.
I poured the tea through my strainer into mugs, retrieved the milk from the fridge and put the lot on the kitchen table, and I sat opposite.
“Milk if you want it, cows, not goats, so it may be odd to you. I can probably find some sugar if you want some.”
“Thank you, no, just a little milk will be perfect.” He added a splash of milk, and as he was about to take a sip, he stopped and sniffed.
“My goodness, what is this? It has the aroma of burning tea; it is very odd.”
“That, Joshua, is Lapsang Souchong; it is a smoked Chinese tea.”
He took a sip. “Oh my, that is almost worth returning to civilisation for,” and then he laughed, “but not quite.”
I watched him as he drank; he was, now that he was on my territory, not bad looking and obviously intelligent. His manipulation of the community isn’t easy for the dim of mind, and he had them all, dim or not, at his beck and call.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked.
“You mentioned email. I wondered if I might take you up on that. The electricity company requires an email address; otherwise, they will remove service, and electricity is the one service we need. I do not want to go to the expense of installing solar or wind turbines and batteries; as a community, we would never recover the costs. We only really use the electricity for lights in the darkness of winter.”
“Of course, it will be my pleasure. Let me go and get my laptop.” I went to the sitting room and picked up my MacBook, taking it back to the kitchen. I opened up and started a fresh browser section.
“Do you have any email addresses or anything already?” I asked him.
“No, nothing. I have not used a computer.”
“Okay, let’s see what I can do.” I did a quick search for free email providers, selected one and opened up the registration page. Oh, that would be no good; it required a mobile phone number.”
“I don’t suppose that you have a mobile phone number?” He shook his head.
The next one I tried seemed more suitable.
[email protected] was the name I selected; Joshua seemed happy with that.
I set it up and gave it a password of J0SHUA01, which is easy to remember, especially if you were only going to be typing it in once a week. I set up his recovery email to one of mine, and he was sorted.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You are welcome. Whilst you are here, would you do me a massive favour?”
“What is that?”
“Please, go and use my shower.”
“Oh. Is it bad?”
“Yes, sorry.” I went upstairs and turned the shower on for him, closed the loo lid and put a fresh towel on it for him.
“Come on, Joshua, it won’t kill you.”
He came up, and I just said, “Shower, soaps, shampoo, towel. Turn it off here when you are done.”
He nodded and pulled his shirt off; I left him to it before the rest of his clothes followed suit.
Back down in the kitchen, I could hear his ablutions, and I opened the windows in the sitting room; with the front door open, that gave a nice through draught, and the air soon cleared.
It sounded as if he had finished, so I went up to make sure that he was okay; it was a little quiet. He was standing in my bedroom doorway, quite naked. The towel was draped over the loo seat.
“Your bedroom?” he asked.
“Yes, Joshua,” I answered, feeling myself a little breathless. Was it the sight of his bottom that caused my breath to skip? He turned, and I soon had more to look at. Oh, my goodness. His dick was growing, beginning to point, and it was pointing at me.
“I am lost for words.” He said, looking at me, his dick now fully engorged, aiming at the ceiling, inviting my attention. I pulled my dress up over my head and dropped it on the floor beside me. This is my house, my rules.
I stepped forward and pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to step backwards into my bedroom. “Lie on my bed, Joshua,” I said, my heart racing in a way that it hasn’t for years. I felt my nipples tighten, and my valley was wet with anticipation.
Joshua lay back on the bed, and I knelt beside him and put my mouth around his dick, using my lips to push back his foreskin. He groaned, and his hips raised, trying to force his dick down my throat. My house, my rules. I decided how much dick went in my mouth, not him.
I eased his dick past my tonsils and into my throat, my passages blocked. I mouth-shagged him, moving slightly up and down, his dick stimulated by the friction in my throat, and he groaned again. I held his balls in my hands, heavy, gnarled and hairy. I squeezed them gently, increasing the pressure as I eased him from my throat and allowed air into my tortured lungs. I slipped a finger back and under, pressing but not entering his arse. He gasped and jerked upwards.
I turned around and hovered my crotch over his face, took his dick in my hands, and as I licked his dickhead, I pressed my fanny down over his nose, sliding back and forth, rubbing my clitoris on the bulbous end of his nose.
I licked him in slow motion, my tongue pressing at his hole, impossibly trying to push it down inside his dick, sucking at the beads that appeared. His tongue pushed and found my entrance, circling me, but I kept my height so that he could not quite enter. His fingers were working at my nipples, teasing, squeezing, twisting, and pulling. I pressed down, spreading my labia wide open over his mouth, blocking his nose, and I sucked hard.
I could feel him in my crotch as he struggled to breathe. ‘Could I suffocate him?’ I wondered. What a way to go. I relented and pulled up and rolled to one side, hearing him gasping as he took breath. In a moment, he was above me, his dick pressing at my fanny, his hand guiding it, and he pushed, entering my hot, wet fanny in a single thrust. Gosh, he was a good fit. My head tipped back, and my mouth opened, and I gasped as he filled me to my depth, pushing hard, unable to go further.
He felt so good inside me; a strong pulse tickled inside me, and as he moved, I felt his foreskin moving around, revealing and covering his glans. Such a strange sensation, one that I guessed a man could not understand, and I loved that feeling. His stomach slapped against mine, and my gasps as he pressed deep within made up the symphony of sex so familiar to us. I wondered if Elvina and Fay were listening; I doubted Sid would be interested.
My hands pressed his back, his shoulders resisting the dig of my fingernails, but still they bit. His eyes bored into mine as he attempted to assert his mastery; I smiled and flipped him. I sat atop, his dick deep within me, my hands pressing on his chest as I rocked back and forth, his dick sliding within me, but now at my behest, not his.
I rocked backwards, my back arching as I moved, his dick filling me, and then forward, my boobs pressing his chest as my hips rose and his dick almost left. I stared into his eyes, my meaning clear: I am in charge, I am enjoying you, and you get whatever crumbs I leave. My pressures were still building, nearly at blowing point, electrics fully charged; I knew I was close.
I pressed forward, my lips brushing his, and then I started to twerk almost, my fanny moving quickly on his dick, clamping and squeezing him, his control now gone. I felt him jerk, and then he finished. Spurt after spurt deep inside me as he triggered my release, I screamed loudly, my orgasm exploded, and the pleasures erupted around my body, my fanny squeezing his dick, but my position meant he remained inside.
“Oh good grief,” he gasped as I finished rocking back and forth and then rolling to the side, his dick leaving me with a plop, followed by dollops of his cream which smeared across his stomach.
I lay on my back next to him, quite happy that I had massaged my ego, not his. His style of manipulation annoyed me, and then it occurred to me that I had perhaps just manipulated him. Oh.
As I drove along my little track to the cottage, I saw the Shepherd’s Hut again. I stopped the car, got out and had yet another look. Most of the woodwork looked okay; it just needed painting. Inside, it was dry; it would need new furnishings, and probably the little log burner would need a service. The chassis looked mostly okay; there were a few bits that needed welding, and until we tried to move it, we wouldn’t know if the wheels were okay or not. I resolved to text Jacob and agree on when he could move it and where to.
I was wearing a mid-length blue corduroy dress; it was too cool for a summer dress today. My coat was folded across the chair by the kitchen table; I didn’t need that today, but I soon would. I was contemplating leaving it here at the cottage; I didn’t really need that coat in the car. I sat, took a sip of my frankly still too hot tea, and spoke.
“Good evening.”
There was nothing, no shimmering, no sounds of tinkling bells, nothing. I was a little disappointed, to be honest, and took another sip of my tea and simply watched the sky as it slowly turned grey, and the clouds darkened as the light dropped. There was a brightness in front of me and then a shimmer; my eyes lit up, and then he appeared, Osidius.
“Hello Sid,” I greeted.
“Mm, yes, hello, Meesha,” he said. It was such a strange way of pronouncing my name; it was correct, just odd.
He hovered in front of me and then held out his hands. I put my tea down; I didn’t want to drop and break my favourite mug, reached out, and my dress seemed to fall off. There was the shimmering, and the air warmed up and smelt of gardenia; we were in their realm.
He flew us around, swooping and diving, flying over the velvet grass and beautifully coloured flower beds. We flew to a small group of faeries in a secluded part of the garden, and we landed.
I was immediately surrounded by laughing faery boys, their hands touching me, lifting me, flying me, and then a mouth found mine and kissed me. The impossible tongue was delving inside my mouth, tickling my throat, and hands were on my boobs. My nipples were suckled, and my labia were teased apart, another long tongue pressing deep inside me. As the consensual body invasions were happening, I was slowly lowering to the velvet carpet of grass. I had a tongue inside my fanny and another in my throat; each nipple was being suckled or flicked by tongues. My pressures were building, my electrics supercharging, and I had no idea of which faery was whom, or even if Sid was partaking in my pleasuring.
I was lying naked on velvet, and the tongue in my fanny receded, and I felt a dick penetrating, impossibly long, impossibly fat, yet I seemed to be able to accommodate his large dick. I was rolled, still penetrated in my fanny, and I found a dick probing my arse.
“Oh no, not there,” I thought as I felt my sphincter easing open and another impossibly long and thick dick entered. My mouth was next; the tongue receded to be replaced by a dick, again impossibly long and fat, filling my mouth and my throat. They synchronised, and I was being shagged at the same time three ways. They all came together, finishing in a flourish. I found my ecstasy growing, my euphoria increasing, and the three dicks started again, my body already awash with faery semen.
I felt like I was flying, and then suddenly the dicks were gone, and I was lying on the velvet grass, dripping from my fanny and my backside, my stomach seemingly full. I lay there not sure what was happening, and then I saw Fay, and she stroked my cheeks.
Elvira held my hands, and Fay kissed me. They were stroking me, holding me, and then they were sucking the faery semen from me, and I slowly began to make sense of my magical surroundings.
“Come, Meesha,” Fay said, “we need to go and see the Queen.”
They held me, and we flew over many beautiful grottos and gardens, and then we came to a golden-coloured garden where a beautiful fairy sat upon a throne; we hovered and then landed.
“Forgive me, your Majesty,” Fay said. “This is Meesha, a human friend to us faeries. She has just been boyed by Osidus and his gang. I think we got to her just in time.”
“Thank you, Fay,” the Faery Queen said.
She looked at me and waved her hand, a small golden wand held between her fingers.
“Meesha, by act of Titania, Queen of this realm, I take away the boys’ pleasures and return you to normal,” she said; even her voice sounded golden.
I felt the euphoria and pleasures leave, and I suddenly was me again, not in some strange sexual euphoric state.
“Thank you, your majesty,” I said. A silence suddenly fell, and everyone looked at me. I felt a bit awkward being stared at by a horde of faeries.
“The Queen clapped her hands together. “Oh, stop it,” she said, “she does not know our ways.”
What had I done wrong? I had no idea.
“Child,” the Queen continued, “in our realm it is not customary for humans to address the Queen, but customary does not mean disallowed. Please go with Fay and Elvira and enjoy your stay. I shall deal with the boys.”
Elvira thanked the Queen, and the next thing I realised is that we were flying, and soon we landed in their usual grove surrounded by gardenia.
“You are lucky that we sensed you and found you,” Elvira said.
“Why, what was happening?”
“The boys were filling you with their magic; your pleasures would have increased to a point where you would not have been able to return.”
“Oh.”
“Your word is ‘coma’. There would have been no coming back if we hadn’t got you to the Queen in time.”
“Oh wow, I had no idea. What will happen to them?”
“They will be banned from leaving the realm for an aeon.”
“Crikey.”
“Now, let’s get you back to your realm.”
There was a fluttering and a shimmering, and I was sitting on the chair by the beck, my dress beside me. I picked up my dress and walked naked into the house. I was a little shocked; the events were unexpected. Besides, it is not every day you get to meet royalty.
I showered and sat down, still naked in my sitting room with a strong tea. I was just trying to assimilate what had just happened; no doubt faeries were dangerous, and perhaps I should steer well clear of all of them. I remembered Elvira’s warning about building a bridge over the beck. The last thing I wanted on my property was a troll. I shivered at the thought.
I had a sleepless night, my mind full of the close call I had with the faery boys. When I awoke sufficiently, I sent Jacob a text about the shepherd’s hut. After breakfast, Weetabix and an apple, I went outside to look where I might put it. In the long grass in front of the cottage, I supposed, it would be visible but would block a bit of the view. I decided in the end, either before or after the cottage. I would see what Jacob had to say.
Jacob arrived just after ten. “Now then, lass,” was his usual greeting.
“Hey up, Jacob,” is my usual reply.
“You want to be moving the hut then, down here by the cottage.”
“Yes, Jacob, either just before or just after the cottage, so as not to block the view, but where I can still see it and easily use it.”
“I can tow it easily down here,” Jacob said. “If we do it before the cottage, it is easier to move to after if you later prefer.”
“Perfect, I knew that you would know what is best.”
“I’ll do it now.”
That surprised me; I hadn’t expected it that quickly.
“Okay, yes, I will put the kettle on,” I said, although Jacob would be interested in clothes coming off more than kettles going on. Jacob headed off to the tractor and reversed down the track to the hut. I went inside, ran upstairs and tidied the bedroom, rolling my quilt back. I had no doubts we would be in here soon and then back down in the kitchen. I put the kettle on. I could hear the tractor.
I went outside and saw the tractor coming slowly down my track with the shepherd’s hut behind it. He drove onto the long grass and stopped, jumping out to come over to me.
“There? I can move it if you prefer. It needs some welding on the chassis; I can do that for you if you do the prep. You’ll need to paint the chassis after.”
“I can do that; you tell me what I need, and I can get it, and I think that place is perfect.”
“Good. I suggest that you put some padlocks and chains around some of the wheels and in the hitch too, just to make it difficult for people to tow it away.”
“Okay. Shall we go in?”
“I only have time for a quick tea today, I am afraid.” So, my prepared bedroom would go unused this morning. Shame.
“That is okay, Jacob; I enjoy your company as well as your body.”
As we sat drinking our tea, he explained to me the tools I needed to get. “An angle grinder with both cutting and grinding discs and wire brushes. A good drill and some decent drill bits, as well as screwdriver bits, making sure none of the bits had been made in China. Other tools may come along later, so buy a good brand and all your electric tools from the same brand so that the batteries are interchangeable.”
He said I would need something called rust converter, paint primer and then a good rust-preventing paint, brushes, etc. Well, that would be a trip into Keighley tomorrow or this afternoon then. He suggested a place to go where they stocked most stuff and were not too silly on price. I could probably get everything I needed from one place.
After Jacob left, I decided I would go and get the things I needed, rather than delay; at least I would have everything ready. The place Jacob suggested was just off the ring road, an engineering and farmers’ supply. I picked out some heavy-duty chains and security padlocks, got the tools and accessories I needed, and also bought a socket set, a set of spanners, pliers and screwdrivers.
Crikey, that set me back a bit, but I reasoned I would have the tools I needed for any future jobs. As I drove back along the track, I saw someone sitting on the steps to the shepherd’s hut. I left my purchases in the car; I didn’t want any stranger seeing what I was buying. I parked next to the cottage and went across to confront the stranger.
“Hello,” I said, “may I help you?”
“Hello miss,” he answered, “yes, I look after sheep.”
“Oh, that is interesting. Although there are no sheep here these days, we only produce hay. May I ask what your name is?”
“Seth, miss,” he answered, “I look after the sheep here; only they seem to be missing.”
“As I said, Seth, there are no sheep here and haven’t been for many years.” I wondered if he was a little special, the product of a few generations of inbreeding. I turned to the house and opened my little front gate. I turned, and Seth had gone. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I checked that he wasn’t hiding inside or under the hut, no, and then I had an idea.
In the house, I called up the internet and searched for Seth, Sheep and this area. An old local parish news report of a shepherd who had lost his life defending a herd of sheep against a pack of wild dogs. The commotion had brought out the other villagers, who killed the dogs with pitchforks and scythes, but sadly, Seth succumbed to his injuries. Most of the sheep survived, and the villagers paid to have Seth buried in an unmarked pauper’s grave at St Peter’s Church as a mark of gratitude and respect.
Interesting. So, now I am seeing ghosts; perhaps he haunted the shepherd’s hut. I had to think of a way to get rid of him. Faeries were bad enough, but ghosts? No, he had to go. I fetched my new acquisitions from the car and stored them in the sitting room. I had an idea. I went back out to the hut.
“Seth,” I called, “are you here?”
“Yes, miss,” he said from behind me. I turned to face him.
“Hello Seth, I am so pleased to meet you so that I can say thank you for saving the sheep; you were so brave when the dogs attacked.”
“Saving them, miss?”
“Yes, Seth, you saved the sheep, but sadly, you passed whilst doing so. The villagers killed the dogs.”
“Oh, miss, where are the sheep then?”
“Well, Seth, they are in sheep heaven. You are now in St Peter’s churchyard.”
“Oh, miss.”
He just sort of vanished in front of my eyes; he didn’t vaporise as much as just thin out till he wasn’t there anymore. I hoped that he was now sort of at peace.
Well, that was different. Crumbs, in the space of a few days, I had met a Faery Queen, seen and dispatched a ghost, and had a shepherd’s hut parked by my cottage. I set to and started the preparation that Jacob had told me needed to be done.
The angle grinder came with eye goggles. Good job, because I hadn’t even thought about protection. I used the wire brush attachment first and removed all the loose rust and paint in the area of the holes in the chassis, and then I used the grinder to smooth it all off, ready for welding. I was surprised how tough it was to use the grinder tool; it really wanted to run away with me, but I managed to keep a hold of it. Definitely a tool to be wary of.
I put the tools away and had another look inside. The log burner looked in good shape, just dusty, and I thought I might just set a small fire of logs inside to see if it all worked. I probably could save some money and not have it serviced if it only needed cleaning. The bed mattress was okay, but I would replace it with some memory foam. I would measure that and get it ordered today.
The cast iron pots and pans hanging for use on the log burner would need a clean and then a seasoning with fresh oil. What it really needed was a deep clean. It was full of dust and webs from years of sitting without use, apart from Seth, and I don’t think he cleaned.
The next morning, thankfully, I slept well overnight. Jacob arrived and set to work with his gas bottles and started welding the holes with pieces of metal. When it was all done, it looked repaired; it wasn’t a seamless job, but it looked strong. I certainly could have done no better. I would grind it back and then paint it after it had cooled and Jacob had gone.
“Nice one, Jacob,” I said. “Would you like to come inside?”
“Yes, I would welcome that.” He secured his gas bottles, hoses and torch thing into his trailer and then came to the cottage door.
“I am a bit whiffy; I am afraid.”
“That is okay; I have a shower. I can wash your back if you like.”
We both knew where this was headed, and to be honest, I looked forward to my occasional tryst with Jacob, but a freshly laundered Jacob is always a preferred option. As we walked into the kitchen, he put his wax jacket on the back of the kitchen chair and then simply started stripping.
“I’ll go and put the shower on,” I said. Oddly, it has never been a thing of mine to watch a man undress; I left him to it. He knew where the shower and bedroom were.
Upstairs I pulled my dress off and stood naked as the shower warmed through. Jacob appeared behind me; I stood to one side and followed him into the shower. I took the showerhead from the bracket and rinsed his shoulders and back. I squirted gel onto him and rubbed it over him with a scrunchie, getting into his armpits and the crease of his backside, before rinsing it off.
“Right, Jacob, turn around.” The same process was repeated with his front, his dick hard and ready for both cleaning and loving. He murmured a little when I sprayed the shower over his dick and balls; I wondered if it pleasured him the way it pleasured me.
I stood back, and Jacob left the shower. I quickly ran the shower over me to wash away any errant suds, turned off the shower and dried myself with the other towel. Jacob stood to one side as I walked past and then followed me to my ready-prepared bedroom.
I lay on the bed and watched as Jacob approached, his dick hard and ready for service. I put my hand up, stopping him. I moved back to the edge of the bed and knelt before him and took his dick in my mouth. Lovely, a dick does have a good mouth feel, that is for certain, and when freshly laundered, the sensation is enhanced. My lips moved his foreskin back and forth, and I weighed his balls in my hands, gently squeezing them inside his sac, his groans telling me when to stop squeezing.
I mouth-shagged him, sliding back and forwards, suction at max; his murmurs indicated his approval. I moved closer and closer until his dick was in my throat and my nose fully on his pubis. Jacob was inside my throat; he was fully ‘home’. I sucked as hard as I could and then eased my mouth back, allowing me some breath, and then as my lips were around his rim, I licked his dickhead with my tongue before easing fully back; his dick fell out of my mouth with a wet sound.
I looked up at him and then raised myself and sat on the bed. I scooted back and lay down, my legs apart, my fanny crease open; my pink valley floor must have had the focus of his attention. I watched his eyes as he looked at my sex; a kind of glow came across his face, and he leant forward. I closed my eyes so that I would not know what he was about to do. I felt warm breath at my groin; it moved along my crease, and then a hot, wet tongue pressed at my clitoris. I shivered and murmured as pleasures shot through me.
A finger found my entrance and pushed inside me, moving inside me, wiggling, crooking, and scratching at my spot, as his tongue licked my clitoris. I could feel my pressures growing, my desires intensifying as the electricity in my crotch intensified. Jacob brought me to a simmer, my breath held in my chest, and as I opened my eyes, it was to see him covering me.
I guided his dick to my opening and steadied myself as he pushed inside me, his dick so much fatter and longer than his finger.
I felt the stretch in my fanny as he penetrated me to his length and girth, filling me, my fanny pulsing as he moved within me. His foreskin sliding on his shaft, a pleasurable sensation within me that would be lost as his tempo increased.
He started going faster, pressing into my depth at every stroke, my breath gasping as his stomach slapped against my mons. I could no longer feel his foreskin move, just the rapid movement of his dick within me, the almost desperate feeling of void when he was on his outstroke, and the pressure at my depth when he drove back in.
I was clutching at his back; I knew that. My heels were sliding on the sheet, my back was tightening, and I was so nearly there when he pressed in so hard and held. He roared, and I felt his dick spewing his semen inside me; it took me over. I screamed, all the pent-up air in my lungs releasing, my back arching and my eyes staring, my electrics released and coursing through my body, my pressures released and my orgasm exploding.
I was tense and unmoving, and then I collapsed back onto the bed, my chest heaving as my lungs struggled to fill. Jacob looked down on me and smiled and then nodded, as if he felt it was a good job, well done, and it was. No orgasm is to be ignored, especially at the hands of others, and this was a good one. I began to relax and come down from the high as Jacob rolled to my side, his dick making a plop sound as it left my stretched fanny. I didn’t care what he did; he had done what he had to do. Now I just wanted to lie and recover.
Tomorrow I shall start renovating the hut. I may call it ‘Seth’s Place’.
