jet curls, as black as the wealth of wet hair that straggled over the rock underneath her.
Then she touched her clitoris and a shudder ran through her entire body. Demurely she withdrew her exploring finger and moved her hands to her breasts. Above her plump quim was a rounded belly that begged to be squeezed, and, instantly erect, he watched avidly as she strained upward, playing with her pink, high nipples. The solitary naiad was as round and full as the moon itself. All in all, a succulent offering.
He would not dream of disturbing her. He had only been looking for some slap-and-tickle, and an uncomplicated mutual release. This unknown naiad was a vision of unearthly sexuality. Vane had heard of moon-mating but never seen it.
The reflection on the water inched closer to the apex of her thighs. She reached out her arms as if she would embrace the mighty moon and hold it to her heart. That heavenly orb seemed to loom lower, to his amazement.
He could not blame the moon. He himself was so aroused that he forgot to take his cock in hand. Vane wanted to watch.
The advancing moonlight touched the plump undercurves of her behind, pressed into the rock. She gave a little moan and moved her hands down, leaving her nipples in an astonishing state of erection. Had another naiad wantonly straddled her and positioned her own private parts over one of those full, soft breasts—Vane had also heard that they played with each other in every way imaginable, man or no man—the nipple would have felt like a tiny cock.
Never mind that. This naiad’s hands gently stretched her labia open. The moonlight touched her there a moment later. It seemed to pour down from the sky, into her, filling her—the beautiful naiad raised her legs high and clasped her ankles, offering her tender, most secret parts with shameless abandon and crying out with joy as the moon lit her up from the inside out.
The moon moved higher, caressing all of her and bathing her voluptuous body in white light. The naiad was brightness itself, helpless with pleasure, lost in a rapturous dream that he wished he could share.
Vane stayed where he was until the last of her whimpering cries died away on the evening breeze. He was a lucky man indeed to have witnessed her intimacy with the moon, and she would never know she had been watched.
He waited, expecting her to rise from the rock and scamper off to sleep with the others. But the naiad stayed exactly where she was…if not exactly in the same shape. Her body seemed to diminish as the moon began to move on, beginning the downward phase of its night’s journey.
He was on fire again but with curiosity this time. Slowly, with utmost stealth, Vane moved through the water toward the rock. He stopped several feet away, studying the white apparition once more. The gorgeous naiad had vanished utterly. The top of the rock where she had lain sparkled silver, outlining the shape of her voluptuous body, a shape filled with a celestial light that would come and go with the phases of the moon but never fade. That was all that was left of her.
Full of wonder and a little regret, Lord Vane sank slowly into the water and went back home through the subterranean passageways, vowing to ease his cock with Hella. If he could find her.
The stairs of his stone castle were warm underfoot—the walls radiated heat, as usual. Usually he found it pleasant but not now. His body retained the coolness of the flowing water he’d swum through but his damned mind was on fire again. It was going to be a long, long night.
Finding a towel, he scrubbed at his damp skin, feeling out of sorts, willing away the memory of the moon-drunk naiad. Was there wine in the ewer his manservant had left? He poked his nose into it—the fire in his bedchamber had gone out and he could not see whether the liquid it held was water or wine.
A whiff of grapes reassured him. Excellent. He would have a little wine—no, a lot—and look for Hella in the scrying pool
Then she touched her clitoris and a shudder ran through her entire body. Demurely she withdrew her exploring finger and moved her hands to her breasts. Above her plump quim was a rounded belly that begged to be squeezed, and, instantly erect, he watched avidly as she strained upward, playing with her pink, high nipples. The solitary naiad was as round and full as the moon itself. All in all, a succulent offering.
He would not dream of disturbing her. He had only been looking for some slap-and-tickle, and an uncomplicated mutual release. This unknown naiad was a vision of unearthly sexuality. Vane had heard of moon-mating but never seen it.
The reflection on the water inched closer to the apex of her thighs. She reached out her arms as if she would embrace the mighty moon and hold it to her heart. That heavenly orb seemed to loom lower, to his amazement.
He could not blame the moon. He himself was so aroused that he forgot to take his cock in hand. Vane wanted to watch.
The advancing moonlight touched the plump undercurves of her behind, pressed into the rock. She gave a little moan and moved her hands down, leaving her nipples in an astonishing state of erection. Had another naiad wantonly straddled her and positioned her own private parts over one of those full, soft breasts—Vane had also heard that they played with each other in every way imaginable, man or no man—the nipple would have felt like a tiny cock.
Never mind that. This naiad’s hands gently stretched her labia open. The moonlight touched her there a moment later. It seemed to pour down from the sky, into her, filling her—the beautiful naiad raised her legs high and clasped her ankles, offering her tender, most secret parts with shameless abandon and crying out with joy as the moon lit her up from the inside out.
The moon moved higher, caressing all of her and bathing her voluptuous body in white light. The naiad was brightness itself, helpless with pleasure, lost in a rapturous dream that he wished he could share.
Vane stayed where he was until the last of her whimpering cries died away on the evening breeze. He was a lucky man indeed to have witnessed her intimacy with the moon, and she would never know she had been watched.
He waited, expecting her to rise from the rock and scamper off to sleep with the others. But the naiad stayed exactly where she was…if not exactly in the same shape. Her body seemed to diminish as the moon began to move on, beginning the downward phase of its night’s journey.
He was on fire again but with curiosity this time. Slowly, with utmost stealth, Vane moved through the water toward the rock. He stopped several feet away, studying the white apparition once more. The gorgeous naiad had vanished utterly. The top of the rock where she had lain sparkled silver, outlining the shape of her voluptuous body, a shape filled with a celestial light that would come and go with the phases of the moon but never fade. That was all that was left of her.
Full of wonder and a little regret, Lord Vane sank slowly into the water and went back home through the subterranean passageways, vowing to ease his cock with Hella. If he could find her.
The stairs of his stone castle were warm underfoot—the walls radiated heat, as usual. Usually he found it pleasant but not now. His body retained the coolness of the flowing water he’d swum through but his damned mind was on fire again. It was going to be a long, long night.
Finding a towel, he scrubbed at his damp skin, feeling out of sorts, willing away the memory of the moon-drunk naiad. Was there wine in the ewer his manservant had left? He poked his nose into it—the fire in his bedchamber had gone out and he could not see whether the liquid it held was water or wine.
A whiff of grapes reassured him. Excellent. He would have a little wine—no, a lot—and look for Hella in the scrying pool
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