...The noise comes from the foresty section, where the elms in their summer foliage, with leafy boughs growing almost to the ground, form a thick, green wall. Too thick for my vision to penetrate from where I’m standing. But I have to see.
In silent stealth, I inch closer. My chest constricts with each tiny, tentative step forward, and a sudden sick feeling sits in the pit of my stomach. I’m not sure I really want to discover the source of the sounds, but they draw me like a magnet.
A magical come hither?
No, of course not. I’m sneaking a peek for safety’s sake, my peace of mind. There is a reason why the faire administrators instigated the “No Unregistered Personnel After Dark” rule and wardens patrol the grounds to enforce it.
Several summers ago, before I started vending here, a young girl was beaten and raped in this deceptively serene spot. The crime happened at night—which it isn’t now—but, hey, bad things happen in daylight, too.
I tell myself it’s my duty to make sure all’s well behind the trees. I even try to believe it. I’m an idiot. Deep down inside, I already know what I’m going to find, and it’s no crime. Just very confusing.
My breath stops along with my steps as I reach a small break in the leafy wall and peer through it. This must be how Medusa’s victims felt when they were turned to stone. It’s a wonder I’m not blinded on the spot. Mortal eyes aren’t meant for such fierce beauty.
I’m transfixed, paralyzed by the sight of two naked figures lying face to face on their sides, on a tumble of shed clothes, in the center of a small clearing. Their legs twine as their mouths meld together in a kiss. Hands rove—touching, stroking—exploring divinely sculpted torsos. Two glorious males, one golden as an angel, the other devil-dark. Heaven and hell in one lovers’ embrace.
Their heaven, my hell.
The dark one is Glenn—just as I expected, just as I feared. I thought I recognized the husky timbre of his voice. But I don’t know what to think now. I can’t think! The reasoning part of my brain seems to have shut off. I’m nothing but a sensory sponge soaking up the sound and sight and scent, the lush physical feel of the scene.
I almost taste their kiss on my tongue—hot and sweet like burnt sugar, more intoxicating than liquor. A bottomless, boiling sea of a kiss. I know because I’ve drowned in many similar ones.
Yes, that’s my knight there with Glenn. I thought I recognized his voice, too, but I didn’t believe my ears. I’m not sure I believe my eyes either, but I must. How ironic to consider that, for Wolfred’s sake, I’ve refused all Glenn’s advances, and now Wolfred is the one who succumbs.
Well, he did once say “fey charms be difficult for we mortals to resist.” I just didn’t realize he included himself in the “we.” I never guessed his lusts included other males, period. I ought to feel startled at least, if not downright betrayed.
But, somehow, I can’t feel anything beyond the burn of the passion play enacted before me. Mesmerized, I watch it unfold. On some far distant, cloudy plain of consciousness I wonder why they don’t notice my presence. Given their telepathic abilities, shouldn’t they sense my brain waves if nothing else? Or are they too engrossed in their lovemaking? God knows I am.
Desire rolls off them in waves of tangible heat, while I stand like a column of dry ice, frozen yet smoking hot, my feet glued to the ground—pinned, planted, rooted in place like the trees around me. I’ve always admired the male form on an artistic level as well as sexual, and to see two such exquisite examples in such close contact…
It’s almost too beautiful to bear.
Late afternoon summer sunlight filters through the leaves, bathing both bodies in a dappled gold glow. I hear the heavy rasp of their breathing, see the ripple of muscles as they kiss and clutch. With them sprawled out on their sides, heads pointing away and their feet toward me, I also have a juicy view of two magnificent, matching erections until Glenn hooks a leg over Wolfred’s thigh, grinding their groins together.
He digs a hand between them, opening just enough space for me to see him squeezing both hard cocks lengthwise in one firm, skilled grip. My cunt clenches in spastic response. My fingers itch and my mouth waters. Talk about making fire by rubbing two sticks together. What I wouldn’t give for such a handful. I’m eaten with envy.
I wish I were being eaten. And returning the favor. Their bodies strain closer, and a rhythmic rocking begins, pelvis pushing pelvis, chest rasping chest. The glow about them takes on a mystical quality, like a halo. The very air seems to shimmer with impending orgasm. I’m one giant, horny ache. Oh, to just jump on top of them. I’ve never been much for spectator sports. I want to be part of the action...