The Glial Pool

Lady Cairstine was laughing and dancing around the Maypole with several other women, some noble born like her, and some of the common folk from the village. It was harvest and the festival was in full swing. Breathless from the exertion, she went for her wine which was sitting on the trestle table set up for her family. Drinking deeply from her cup, she had looked up to see a man standing in the doorway of the blacksmith’s shop, shirtless, with arms crossed, watching her intently. She quickly looked away but was taken aback by the way the muscle in his arms bulged as he stood there leaning on the door-frame. Her eyes had captured the strong set of his shoulders and the brown hair that covered his chest before she had looked away. Her stomach flipped around, and she cursed herself for acting like one of the girls that were out there flipping their hair and fluttering their eyelashes at the various young men of the village. She was no girl. Widowed and a mother of three, she had said goodbye to the days of fluttering eyelashes a long time ago.

She finished her wine and walked over to a group of ladies. They were, for the most part, decent enough ladies, but she was more intent on losing the silly feeling she had for a blacksmith, of all people. She chatted with them briefly but felt the hot stare of the smith burning into the back of her neck. The urge to turn and look was strong, but she resisted. It would be untoward to even give the impression that she was interested in him. She saw her aunt over by what was left of the ox that had been roasted for the holiday. She decided to go and visit with her for a bit. It had nothing to do with the fact that she would be able to see the smithy on her way. Nope. Nothing at all.

On her way, she casually glanced around, and he was still standing there, but he had changed position and now had his arms up, grasping the top of the door-frame, leaning out nonchalantly. Those arms sent a shiver down her spine and up her thighs. Both arms were covered in blue Celtic tattoos that indicated that he was also, apparently, somehow connected with the old druids that still practiced in the area. Those blue swirls that circled his arms and spread across his shoulders made her involuntarily wonder if they were on his back, as well. Seeing those tattoos was scandalous to her. She had been raised by nuns in the castle to think of those old ways as evil. She didn’t really think they were evil, but she didn’t think they were proper, either.

Not only was he standing there half naked as if that was right in the presence of ladies, but she was aghast to see that he was still watching her and had a grin on his face that infuriated her. He had to know who she was. He was close to having her mention his openly lustful stares to her lord father. See if he’s grinning after he’s flogged. The thought, though, didn’t really carry any sincerity. She found herself mildly aroused and then ashamed by his attention.

She reached her aunt and turned her back on the heathen. She was tense and wished she could just stop thinking about him. She inwardly chastised herself again for behavior. She thought she had been successful at putting his long legs out of her mind until she realized that her aunt was looking at her in concern.

“Are you a’right, deary?” she asked.

Cairstine blushed furiously. She hadn’t heard a single word her aunt had said, and the poor woman had been waiting for Cairstine to answer some question, of which, she was oblivious.

“Oh. Yes, ‘m fine. I jest must be weary from the dancing”

Her aunt eyed her closely. The blasted woman was not stupid. The way Cairstine had blushed was a clear sign that something was awry. She suddenly looked up and scanned the area. Her eyes widened at something behind Cairstine and a large mischievous grin blossomed on her face.

“Aye, nuth’n indeed. That’s a lot of good look’n nuth’n stand’n there in the smithy,” she said laughing.

“Oh, stop et. Nonsense. I can’t imagine what you’re even talking about,” she replied unconvincingly.

“Well, I hope yer right because he’s walking over here, lass.” With that, my aunt moved away as if to go speak with another group of women. Cairstine didn’t dare to turn and look. She reached out and picked a random shred of beef off the ox hanging on the spit that was still positioned over a mostly dead fire.

“Aye, my lady. Can I help you cut some off for yourself?”

She had a moment of panic as she thought that her heart would surely just fall out of her body onto the ground in front of her. His voice was deep and resonant. The way his words flowed together sounded like he was one who knew the old songs. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look at him.

“No thank you. I am quite satisfied.” She then turned to walk away, but at that moment, one of the horses that had been tethered nearby was stung by a wasp and had reared back, snapping the tether. The horse, confused, angry, and in pain, bucked wildly. Before she had a chance to even react, the horse was above her, it’s forelegs high above her head and its wild eyes rolling white as it began to come down. She had nowhere to go. The horse was going to land on her and if it didn’t kill her, it would surely maim her for life.

The world suddenly blurred, and she realized that she was, in fact, moving; just not of her own volition. In seconds it was over, and she was unharmed. She gained her thoughts and looked around. She felt very strong arms around her torso and her feet were not touching the earth. She looked down and arms that was darkly tanned from hours over a forge that were covered with blue swirling designs that had their origins in an ancient wild time when this holiday was celebrated by a wild and passionate people who would find satisfaction with whomever the orange flames of the bonfire revealed from the shadows of night.

She felt her feet touch the ground and she whirled to face the man, anger filling her veins. Or was it something else that she wished was anger, she wondered, flustered?

“What on earth? How do you presume?” she sputtered. Standing before him she realized just how massive this man actually was. She only came to mid-chest on him. That chest was directly in front of her. She could now see that he was also covered with scars. Scars that all blacksmiths carried from their tenuous relationship with fire and iron.

He laughed, which only made her angrier. How dare he laugh at her. Who did he think he was? When he registered that she was furious, it made him laugh a bit harder.

“Muh lady, I’m soory if saving yer life was objectionable. I will refrain in the future, if that’s yer wish.”

Before she could answer, a crowd had gathered to ensure she was well. Ladies surrounded her and started fussing over her and drawing her away. She saw her father and several of his men come over and clap the blacksmith on the back in admiration and thanks.

“Ya woulda been crushed, Cairstine,” one lady was saying, “if the smith hadn’t yanked ya outa the way.”

“I’d like to be grabbed by him, I’ll tell ya that, dearie.” At this, Cairstine snapped her head around at the speaker. It was Margaret, the midwife who had helped deliver all of her children.

“Margaret! Don’t be crass,” Cairstine corrected.

“Dun’t go acting all proper, my lady. You and I have bin through a bit too much to act the prude, do ya kin?”

Cairstine blushed. Margaret had no sense of propriety. Without taking her bait, Cairstine told them that she would like to go find her seat and have a cup of wine. They ushered her to the trestle table, and she found her chair. A cup of wine appeared in front of her and she drank the whole in a single go.

Margaret watched with a smirk, “There ya go, love. That’ll help calm your nerves a bit and maybe loosen that chastity belt a little.”

This made the gathered ladies giggle and, despite herself, Cairstine laughed, as well. She suddenly felt light. She glanced at her cup wondering if maybe she’d had too much over the evening. She knew, though, that the feelings were part exhilaration from her near-death experience and, she had to admit, the close proximity of the brute of a man who smelled like leather and flame and musk and life and lust and… She shook herself then. What was wrong with her, she wondered.

As she was clearing those thoughts from her mind, a hole opened in the crowd gathered around her. Her father, old and grey but still strong and as quick witted as any of them, stepped near her and placed his hand gently on her cheek with concern in his eyes. She smiled and reached up to the hand. She was about to start assuring him that she was fine, when she saw the smith step near the table, as well. She saw that his eyes were like blue fire and it took her breath away just a bit. She turned back to her father.

He said, “Are yuh al’right, my love. Did you get hurt a’tall?”

“No, father, I am well. It really wasn’t anything,” she said trying to convince herself.

He laughed sharply, “Wasn’t anything? Child, did you see?” He turned his large frame and the others got the idea and moved away. Where the ox had been roasting was a huge mess. The horse had apparently come down on the ox which had then dropped into the fire and caused coals to explode out of the pit and set the surrounding ground aflame. She could see several men patting the horse down with blankets from where the horse had been burned. Seeing the devastation, she became aware of how close she had come to ruin.

She turned her eyes back to the blacksmith with new appreciation and admiration. She stood and bowed her head a little in his direction. “I owe you both an apology and a great debt,” the area was suddenly silent as everyone in earshot turned to watch the exchange, “I was terribly rude, and I am sorry for my reaction and behavior.”

He was already shaking his head and holding his hands up in denial. “No, my lady, you don’t need to apologize. You were overwhelmed. I connot say that I would’ve been otherwise had I been in your place, if ya kin.” He smiled then and it was open and honest. His teeth were white and straight. He had lines at the corners of his eyes that showed years of laughter. He had a broad scar that went from the left corner of his mouth and ran up next to his eye and disappeared into his hairline. He wore a short beard that was jet black which contrasted against his light brown curls and the combination only made the ice blue of his eyes more evident. His nose was slightly crooked as if it had been broken at least once. He was still shirtless and without meaning to, she appraised him now that he was only a few feet away. His torso disappeared into the kilt wrapped around his waist. She was, once again, taken aback by his sheer size. He seemed like he took up all the space around her. He wasn’t thin at all, but he wasn’t fat, either. He was built like a bear. It struck her then. That’s what he was. A bear in a man’s skin. Not really, obviously, but in some primal way, it was true.

Taking a breath, she said, “Well, I still think I owe you my life.”

“Aye, and I am in debt to you, as well, my friend,” her father interjected, “Will you join us at the high table for the rest of the evening?”

Cairstine felt herself stiffen at the invitation.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t want to impose,” he said.

“Not another word about it… I’m sorry. I don’t think I know your name,” her father finished looking embarrassed.

“Oh, right, I’m Silas. Silas McCallister.”

“Well, Silas, it is good you were here tonight,” her father replied and then gestured to a squire standing nearby. The squire rushed over and pulled out a chair next to Cairstine. Silas sat and her father sat on the other side of him.

She hoped he would ignore her and just spend the rest of the evening talking with her father. However, when he did just that, she felt mildly angry. Then she pinched her own arm under the table like the nuns used to do when she was be silly. She worked to spend the rest of the evening deliberately paying attention to everything else except him.

The night flashed by in a blur of conversation, laughter, and various types of entertainment ranging from fools to poets to magicians. Eventually, though, the square was emptying out. Her father had retired earlier in the evening, but Silas had stayed seated next to her. Her cousin had replaced her father when he had left. Those two continued talking and telling stories to one another, seemingly becoming fast friends. She couldn’t help but feel growing irritation that he ignored her when it was only because of her that he was even sitting there. Then she would follow those thoughts with guilt for being so thankless. Just let the man have his evening, she thought. Why are you being such a child, she wondered.

Soon, she had grown tired and wished to retire back to the castle and find her bed. She made to rise and, as if he had been aware of her every move the entire time, Silas pushed his chair away from the table and stood to help her to her feet. She didn’t need help at all but found that she had gripped his warm, strong, rough hand anyway.

“I think I will retire for the evening,” she said. She’d meant to make a general announcement, but it turned out to be directed at Silas.

“Would you do me the honor of letting me walk you back, my lady?” he asked in his singer’s voice.

“Oh. I don’t know if that’s necessary. My father’s squire will be…” she realized then that the squire wasn’t there. Where had the little bastard gone? She sighed, “Well, I guess I will take your offer after all.”

He smiled broadly and she felt her stomach flip. “Very well. I promise, I will not allow any wild horses attack you on our walk.”

She laughed despite herself and found that she had placed her hand on his bare chest as if to say thank you. She jerked her hand back as if she’d touched hot metal. He glanced down at where her hand had laid and looked back at her. Without making a comment, he offered her his arm. She took it and turned with him to walk home. As she turned, she saw Margaret watching her, smiling wickedly. Cairstine blushed and was thankful for the darkness. She was going to give that woman a piece of her mind tomorrow, she thought.

Initially, they had been walking with a large crowd of people all heading for their own beds. As they drew further from the village, though, they found that they were alone. The silence between them was loud. She tried to focus on the crickets and night birds singing but the warmth of this arm and the smell of smoke and leather that radiated off of him kept drawing her mind back to the strong masculine life next to her.

He broke the silence. “Have ya ever seen the Glial Pool on a full moon, my lady?”

She had heard of the pool but had never visited it at night, let alone a full moon. “No. I am afraid not. I have swam there many times, though, over the years.”

“On a full moon, like tonight, ya can see where the ancestors carved symbols into the stones. They appear white when they are normally black on other nights.”

She knew the stories but had always been forbidden to go there to see the phenomenon. The nuns called it pagan magic and ‘of the devil’. She suddenly wanted to go. She wanted to do something that wasn’t allowed. Who were those old women to her now? Here she was with a man who had saved her life. A man clearly in touch with the old ways. A man. Strong. Alive. Real. Warm.

She felt her secret place grow warm. She gasped.

Silas stopped and looked down at her, “Are ya alright, my lady. Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh. No. Not at all. I just… remembered something I need to take care of tomorrow,” she lied.

He nodded but she could tell he knew she wasn’t being honest. She looked for something to say to get passed the moment and to also distract her from her spontaneous and mysterious arousal.

“Will you take me to the pool? I would like to see the Glial. I want to see if the stories are true.” She was surprised how forward she was being. What was the matter with her?

“Absolutely. If you’re sure you’re up to it. It’s been quite the day, my lady.”

She was mad suddenly, “Do I look like a weak boned waif to you, sir? I have born three children. How many have you?”

To her chagrin, he only laughed and held his hands up defensively. “Beg pardon, my lady. I was only trying to be considerate of you.”

She felt foolish for her rashness. “Oh… I don’t know what’s wrong with me today and where have my manners run off to?” she replied, “I would like to see the pool,” then added with a smirk, “I think my frail constitution can handle a bit more this evening.”

She could feel him smiling at her and she felt herself warm even further. She also felt her nipples harden and she rolled her shoulders a bit to lose the sensation.

They walked in silence, just listening to the sounds of the night and their own scrapping footfalls. Before long, he turned them off the road and down a path that she hadn’t even seen. The path was narrow, and she walked behind him, holding his hand. She liked the feel of it. There was a security in the power of that hand. This man was nothing like her poor dead husband. He had been a good enough man. He had cared for her and the children. He had been affectionate and loving. Silas, though, was something else altogether. It wasn’t just that he was attractive and gorgeous (she realized she’d resigned herself to that honest appraisal), he was also all encompassing. It was as if nature moved for him rather than he for it. There was a kinship he had with the earth which she’d never experienced before. She had always felt as one who lived alongside nature, but Silas… He lived with nature… in nature. She could feel it in him, and it was ravaging her body.

She couldn’t see past his frame, so it was a surprise when they were suddenly clear of the trees. The path she’d felt below her feet for so long changed to soft loam. Silas stepped aside and her breath froze in her throat.

The clearing was as large as the horse training grounds. There were willows all around the clearing, their long weeping branches swaying soothingly in the mild warm air. The ground was covered in short soft moss with beds of thick grass scattered around that all ran down to the shore of the pool. Around the clearing were evenly spaced granite stone pillars like guardians over the water. The pool, itself, was like looking at the sky. It was a perfect reflection of the sky above. She could see in it’s perfectly still waters the full bright moon and the surrounding stars. It was hypnotic staring at the pool and its illusory glimpse into the heavens. Most beautiful and shocking of all, though, were the Glial.

Each of the towering stone pillars were carved with intricate designs and runes. When she had been here in the daylight, they had seemed simple carvings like so many of the old holy places. These, though, were brilliant white. They shone with a light the color of the moon. She stepped over to one of the stones and passed her hand in front of the stone thinking that if she blocked the moon, the light would fade. It didn’t. It remained as bright as ever.

She swallowed hard and reached out to touch the stone. Right before she touched it, though, she decided to pull her hand back.

“No. It’s okay. You can touch them.” She felt his breath on the top of her head. He was standing right behind her and now she was aware of the heat radiating off his body and warming her back.

Who was this man?

She felt his hand slide down her arm toward her wrist. He gripped her wrist gently and drew her hand to the stone. Her fingers touched the curve of one of the runes and a tingle ran up her arm. She jerked her hand back, but it barely moved. His grip was strong and unyielding.

“It’s okay. That feeling is the stones feeling you back. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you here. I know this place. This place is peace.” His words flowed and mixed sounding like a poem.

She extended her fingers again and pressed the tips against a different symbol. A swirling design similar to that which Silas had adorning his shoulders. The tingling was stronger this time and ran up her arm and spread over her shoulders. She felt his other arm slide around her, and his hand ran down her arm giving her goose bumps until he reached her hand. He gently raised the hand and moved it toward the stone’s surface. She was suddenly nervous again. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before. This was a feeling of anxiety from a part of her that had been trained into her. The part of her that had learned Latin and math, reading and weaving, religion and sacraments all seemed to recoil from touching the stone. The other part of her, though, relished the touch. The part of her that loved to drink ice cold water from a stream. The part of her that loved to feel the muscles of a horse between her legs as she rode. The part that arched her back when she was penetrated.

She swallowed hard.

She felt all of him against her now. His hands on her arms. His body pressed to her back. His breathing tickling her ear as he lowered his head and whispered, “It’s all for you. You can have it, but you have to let go of the other.”

She didn’t know what the was talking about, but it felt right. Abruptly, she thrust both her hands out and placed her palms against the stone. She thought it would be warm from the heat of the day, but the stone was ice cold. She felt herself shiver violently and his arms wrapped around her more tightly. His hands had left her wrists and she became aware they were crossed over her chest. She felt like she should stop this, that she needed to maintain propriety. The stone suddenly started to deaden to her hands.

“No, my lady. Don’t fight it. Take it inside you. You will be amazed.”

She relaxed and closed her eyes. The cold rushed back and slid up her arms to her neck. From her neck, it flowed up the back of her head and filled her mind. The cold suddenly changed to fire. A burning heat like she was standing next to the sun. The heat moved from her head back down her neck and over her shoulders. Sweat blossomed over her body as the heat melted over her breasts and coalescing in her nipples which became painfully pleasurably erect.

She gasped at the sensation.

His hands moved to her breasts and pinched the already aching nipples.

The heat moved down her belly and the muscles twitched and spasmed tickling her and causing her to squirm a little and laugh. The heat was moving, though, and she felt her sex come to life. Throbbing with the heat and to the time of her heart.

She felt him, then. His cock pressed into her lower back. It was a solid steel rod seeking.

The heat moved down her legs and the muscles convulsed pleasantly. It felt like the first morning stretch.

His mouth was on her neck and his tongue moved gently over the pulsing artery there. His rough beard rubbed into the junction of her neck and shoulder. He kissed her neck and then her ear. He didn’t seem to be breathing. She knew he must be, but he didn’t let his breath burst loudly into her ear.

“The important part is coming, love. Wait for it.” She heard him from everywhere. It was as if the very trees were speaking his words.

Her eyes still closed, there was a flash of light that seemed like it was outside, but she realized it was inside her mind. She saw herself in a million different places and times. She saw younger versions of herself. She saw herself as an old woman. She saw, as if watching from the trees, the two of them standing next to the stones. She saw people and places that couldn’t exist, but she knew they did.

As quickly as the vision came, they were gone.

She was facing him now. She didn’t remember turning, but when she opened her eyes, she was looking up into his face. His face was still and blank, but she could feel him smiling.

He stepped away from her and reached down to his belt buckle and it seemed to fall away of its own accord. He was naked then. She let her eyes roam over him. His chest covered with soft brown hair that lead down over his navel to his groin. His manhood was pronounced and ready, slightly wet at the tip with his excitement. She looked at his legs and admired the smooth curves of his thighs to the knee and then to his powerful calves.

She was panting and felt like she should be embarrassed but wasn’t in the least. She felt, rather, like she was bound. She felt trapped. Confined. Claustrophobic. She realized that she needed to get out of the dress. It felt like it was suffocating her.

As if reading her mind, Silas stepped forward and placed his big hands on her shoulders and turned her around. She turned and felt him managing the buttons smoothly. The dress began to loosen. She reached up and pulled the laces loose on the front. When he had finished, she let him pull the dress up on and over her head, leaving her in her petty coat and shift. She was suddenly frustrated with all the clothing. She began to tear at her remaining clothing, having no regard for the damage that resulted.

She felt the warm air touch her breasts and tickle the hair over the heart of her femininity. She reached down and ran her hand over her breasts and squeezed first one, then the other pulling on her nipples. He stepped forward, his hand around his own member, gently stroking. She slipped a hand down between her legs and slid a finger through her mound, touching her clitoris. She played her finger over the small button slowly as she watched him touch himself.

He let go of himself and reached out to touch her face. His fingers, smelling of his masculinity, ran over her cheek and then her lips and then up to her hair.

With an aggression she’d never experienced, he grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her to him. Her body collided with his, trapping her hand between her legs. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her hard. She pushed the kiss back into his mouth and they darted their tongues together.

She felt his hand on hers, then, between her legs. She made to pull her hand away to give him access, but he locked his hand on her wrist again. She stilled and he brought his hand down over hers and he moved her fingers over her clit for her. Soon she couldn’t tell if it was her own fingers or his torturing the sensitive center of her. She felt one of his big fingers probe gently at her entrance. Feeling the hot wet heat there, he slipped a finger inside. Electricity which had already coursing up and down her body, amplified and he moved his finger in and out of her while she continued to rub herself. She felt him shift slightly and then there were two fingers going into her slowly but forcefully. She left his lips and bit into his chest has he fucked her with his hand. She felt a river rushing toward her. A fierce and enormous force of nature plunging toward her.

She cried out and bit him harder. Waves of pleasure coursed over her. The muscles in her neck tightened, her stomach twitched and convulsed. Her legs shook and grew weak and she felt like she may fall, but his other arm was suddenly around her, holding her to him as he continued to fill her with his fingers. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes. She heard an owl screech. There was a howl from far away. Then she knew, the howl was her own voice. She raked her nails over the hardness of his lower back, running down over his hard bottom, stopping behind his thigh, gripping the flash there as if it would save her life.

The waves began to lessen, and she felt the end of her climax echoing through her body. She stopped rubbing herself and he slowly pulled his fingers from her tunnel. He brought both arms up around her and drew her to him and kissed her again, deeply. She felt his weight lowering her to the soft grass. She obeyed and they lay down next to the pool. He kissed her face, her forehead, her chin, her neck, moving down to her chest, kissing between her breasts. He kissed down to her belly button. He kissed over the marks of her motherhood, cherishing them with kisses that spoke of his love of her life-giving power.

As he began to work his way back up, she looked around the grove. On the far side, there was a large black wolf standing there watching them. She stiffened but he lay over her and she heard him whisper into her ear.

“You’re safe here. They are not here to hurt you. They respect your place here.”

She felt peace fall onto her… into her… A calm the likes of which she’d never known.

She felt him pushing her legs apart and she suddenly wanted to have him. She needed to have him. She wanted to be filled with him.

He slid into her, stretching her with beautiful pain.

She moaned loudly.

He growled.

She bit his shoulder.

He dug his fingers into the loam on either side of her.

She arched her back and then wrapped her legs around him as far as his massive frame would allow.

He pulled back until he was almost completely out and then fell into her with a savage thrust. She whined but wanted him more. She tasted salt on her tongue and knew she had bitten too hard. He didn’t seem to notice at all.

She wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through the soft hair covering his shoulders and back. She ran her hands down to his waist and dug her nails into the skin of his ass, pulling him into her ever deeper.

He reared up so he could look down at her. His eyes were bright like the Glial. She was shocked but then it felt right. She ran her hands over his chest and nipples as he began to thrust into her with greater urgency. He brought one hand to the side of her face and she turned her head to kiss the hand and drew one of his fingers into her mouth, tasting the saltiness of her own sex.

He pulled the finger from her mouth and, still filling her again and again with his cock, he ran his hand down to her breasts and massaged one, then the other. He pulled on her nipples and twisted them hard and then let go and gently rubbed them before again pinching them.

He left her breasts and rolled hard, pulling her with him. She was atop him then. She felt a power come over her unlike anything she’s ever felt.

She felt alive.

She felt dangerous.

She felt primitive.

She was so much more.

She placed her hands on his chest and shifted her pelvis, letting him go as deep as he could. She began to grind his cock into her throbbing cunt. She was full and fulfilled. She raised her ass and dropped onto hm hard. He grunted and thrust up into her. She lifted again and waited.

Looking down at him, she smiled and lifted her chin.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He moaned.

“What do you want, blacksmith?” she repeated.

His eyes opened and there was nothing but light now.

“You!” he roared, “I want you. All of you. All you have. Give me you.”

She threw her head back as the moon poured its light over her flesh.

She thrust him into her. She rose and fell. Harder each time. She ground into him. She thrust and he met her thrusts. It became impossible to tell who was pushing and who was pulling. She felt small stones digging into her knees, but it only added intensity.

She felt his hand slide between her legs as she rode his cock. His thumb found her sensitive and erect bud. He began to rub it in slow circles as she fucked him. She felt sweat run down her back into the crack of her ass.

Their moves became frenetic. There was no rhythm anymore, just grunting, thrusting, moaning, clawing, and desire. Desire like she’d never known.

What had previously been a river, was now a sea… a raging ocean of pleasure coming over her. Starting from her clit and sending wave after wave of intense joy up her canal into her stomach, into her chest, her heart jumped, her nipples screamed, up to her neck, she felt the blood rush to her face, her lips, her tongue.

She whipped her head around, her hair whipping her own face and for a brief moment, she saw her dark reflection in the Glial pool and her eyes were blue fire. All around her and the pool, filling the grove were thousands of fireflies.

The ocean took her.

She started to drown, and she embraced the depths.

She felt him tense under her. She pressed down hard on his cock. She ground into him and clawed his chest as he filled her with his seed. She could feel it fill her. It was so much heat. So much fire. So much molten iron pouring out of him.

He howled and grabbed her hips with his giant hands. Hands that shaped steal. That made tools for killing. Tools for growing. Tools for life. He pulled her whole body back and forth, taking control of her body like she was nothing.

Abruptly he was sitting up and his mouth was on hers. His tongue touching hers. His arms wrapped around her so tightly that she couldn’t breathe for a moment. He growled one last time into her mouth and then he relaxed completely.

Where there was once a vicious bear, there were now soft warm arms holding her gently. He kissed her face. Her neck. Her cheeks. He pulled her down on top of him and held her tightly, giving her all his heat.

She felt him shift around and then she felt the soft wool of his kilt and plaid cover the both of them. He rolled her to his side and pulled her into him. She fit into him. He covered her whole body with his arms and legs. She felt like nothing could ever happen as long as she was here. This place. This man. This grove.

As she drifted away into peace, she knew she’d never be the same.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/bxgxy8/the_glial_pool