**Chapter 2: Between Two Rivers**
(*[Read Chapter One here](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hukjlq/the_sluts_of_wollenham_pt1_fantasy_beastfolk_anal/)*)
The wodewose is now making his final thrusts into Miss Blossom. Desiring a closer look, Miss Boo crawls forward – any concern she had for her friend has now given way to prurient curiosity and even titillation. Without thinking, she unbuttons her breaches and slips her hand inside. A moment later the beastman raises his head and his triumphant roar echoes throughout the glade. Boo shivers with excitement. It’s clear he’s ejaculating – even under his thick hairy pelt Boo sees his whole body convulse. After twelve more firm thrusts he relaxes, then withdraws his cock. He’s now finished with Blossom, and no longer having any interest in her, he strides off into the woods. Boo feels she should say something after him as he goes, but nothing comes to mind. She looks at her friend again. Breathing deeply, Blossom rests her forehead on the grass. Cum seeping from her rear end glistens in the sunlight. Turning her head a little, she looks at Boo. Embarrassed, Boo takes her hand out of her breaches, then says in a quiet voice “Very ill-mannered that fellow, walking off like that without a word.”
“I think it’s you who drove him off, my sweet,” Blossom says, sounding only a little out of breath. “He probably couldn’t bare to be round a tame, domesticated lass like you – once he had pleasured himself with me, he had to get away from you as fast as he could. Anyway, I don’t care – I got what I wanted.”
“I don’t think I’m any more domesticated than you are,” Boo says, knowing she’s not being completely honest. “I reckon he’s gone off to find his friends so he can tell them there’s a floozy in their forest.”
“I can’t wait for that – I need another fucker now!” says Blossom as she stands up. The wild look in her eyes makes Boo think she might be possessed after all. Blossom goes over to a nearby ash tree and starts knocking it with a hefty dry stick.
“Are you sure doing that attracts them?” says Boo. “Why not just keep wriggling your backside?”
“I’m letting every forest fucker for miles around know I’m here,” says Blossom. “Yes – here, ready and willing! Why don’t you take your clothes off too, darling? You’ll come across less of a town lass – I’m sure they’ll still leave you alone as long as you don’t shake your own pretty arse at them.”
Miss Boo doesn’t reply. Instead she kicks off her shoes, lies down and stretches herself out in the sun. She’s always been something of a sun worshipper – yes, it’s a wholesome creed for a town lass – certainly more wholesome than Blossom’s newfound religion of the flesh. With her hand guarding her eyes from the fierce sun, Boo looks up into the great blue dome of the sky. Over head the swallows are still circling, but since the woodwose left the glade, they’ve climbed much higher, and their terrible shrieking, thankfully, is now well out of earshot. Boo closes her eyes. I’m hardly over-dressed, she tells herself. Only a tube top and breaches – it’s not like I’m wearing a dozen petticoats under a raincoat. She then feels a tugging at her now unbuttoned breeches. “Hey what are you doing?” she cries. She opens her eyes and sees Blossom leaning over her.
“You need to take these off at least,” says Blossom, who already has Boo’s breaches pulled past Boo’s hips. After a little struggle, Boo gives up and lets her friend have her way. “Don’t worry, honey, they’ll be safe in my basket,” Blossom assures.
“If I’m running around the woods without breeches then I might as well go completely barelegged,” says Boo. She rolls off her stockings, and now only wearing her tube top and knickers, she lies back on the grass. Sadly, the swallows have returned, their sharp screeches filling the glade as they fly once again about the treetops. “Do you reckon these damned birds are really devils like everyone is saying?” Boo asks, raising her voice above the increasing din.
“No, they’re the souls of the dead, darling,” says Blossom. “They fly amongst the living for only a while, though. After a few years they migrate northwards up to the land of Thuli, where at the north pole they enter the earth through a vast pit. They then travel into Hades where they receive new human bodies so they can fuck the Hell devils in a vast everlasting orgy – well, that’s what I like to think, anyway.”
Some time later a series of deep grunts stirs Boo from her afternoon reverie. Then hearing her friend’s frantic cries, she opens her eyes. Blossom is back on all fours and some other rough beastman is humping her. This new creature sports a pair of curling horns on his head, and much of his body is covered by a short, glossy coat of red fur – his face, hands and buttocks are left naked. A jack-satyr, Boo reckons. And she’s right. The sight of him and what he’s doing to Blossom captivates her. There’s nothing to fret about, Boo tells herself as she moves nearer – these fellows are more or less safe provided their monstrous libidos are being satisfied.
It’s clear he’s using Blossom the same way as the woodwose did before him – but even more forcefully. His big satyr cock plunges in and out of her anus like a piston, each heavy inward thrust shaking her entire body, making her cry out. Boo wonders if the satyr is hurting or pleasuring her friend. It’s hard to tell, but either way, Blossom is certainly getting what she’s asked for.
Even after her backside has taken much vigorous pounding, Blossom begs the satyr to go even harder and faster, and finally she even beseeches him to make her suffer the torments of hell. The satyr quickens his pace until he ejaculates fully inside her bowels. He then pulls out his spent cock and gets up onto his feet. He turns to face Boo and looks down at her for a moment. Her own eyes are fixed on his great glistening rod as it rises up to meet his navel before flopping down between his thighs. The satyr then leaps into the air, his cock blapping against Boo’s forehead as he flies over her. He lands behind her and runs off into the woods, hooting and hollering like a maniac. It’s true, she thinks to herself, these hairy lads don’t like to hang around us lasses once they’ve copulated. She lies down next to Blossom. Her well-used, sweaty friend has now rolled onto her back. Blossom’s breasts heave as she pants. Her entire body is covered in tiny dew-like droplets that sparkle in the sunlight.
More visitors appear at the edge of the glade. Blossom, who spots them first, props herself up on her elbows and stares wordlessly at them, and they stare back. Wondering what’s caught her friend’s attention, Boo turns and sees two tall, brawny man-like creatures, both goat-faced and sporting an impressive pair of horns on their heads. Their smooth, naked bodies are silvery and glow when they step out of the shade.
“It’s my bad, darling – I spoke of devils earlier!” Boo says, but she only means it half in jest.
“They’re not devils, you daft lass,” says Blossom. Seemingly already recovered from her last copulation, she turns herself round and does her best lewd buttock dance for the new arrivals.
Though the two goat-faced fellows seem less brutish than either the woodwose or the satyr, Boo doesn’t want to be too close to them, and she backs off as they reach her friend. Neither the woodwose nor the satyr worried her, despite their brutishness – well, not a lot anyway – but with these new visitors it’s another matter – their presence in the glade seems much more unworldly and disconcerting. They themselves, though, are clearly beguiled, even mesmerised, by Blossom’s shaking buttocks – though only for a while. When they break out of their trance, one of them steps forward and puts his silvery hand on Blossom’s shoulder. “You may stop debasing yourself, sweet lass,” he says, sounding unexpectedly well-spoken for a forest dweller.
“There’s a better place near here for you to carry out your fornications, lass,” says the other fellow, who’s just as well-spoken. “This other place is sacred, and any fornications done there shall bring great blessings.”
Blossom turns to face the visitors and bows down. “Tell me, my lords, will there be plenty of beastmen there wanting an easy slut like me to fuck?” she says.
“Yes, you can be sure of it,” says the second goat-face. “The forest folk come to this other place often – and without doubt I can tell you they will be eager to use you in all the ways you desire to be used.”
“It is true, beautiful lass. Come with us – we shall show you this hallowed place,” says the first goat-face.
Blossom gets up and takes Boo’s hand. “Come on honey – let’s go,” she bids.
“Do you really want to go off with these weirdos, Blossom?” says Boo. “What are they anyway? Goatmen?”
“No, not goatmen, Miss Boo,” Blossom says in a half whisper. “See how they shine with their own light? They’re gods.”
“But even so…”
“The gods always have our best interests at heart, don’t they?”
“Depends on what you mean by gods,” says Boo, forgetting for a moment her best friend is not always the most nuanced of thinkers. But as it’s clear Blossom is hell-bent on following these two fellows deeper into the forest, she reckons she’d better go along with her – who else is going to keep her out of trouble?
Keeping several paces behind them, the lasses follow the goat-faces, going along one narrow path after another through dense woodland. Blossom is silent – only Boo speaks to their guides. When she asks them where they are going, one says “To a place where two rivers meet – it’s not far away.” After further questioning she learns the place is called Horn Point and it lies at the confluence of the River Berry and the River Elme. She also asks them about themselves, but the goat-faces give very little away. “We dwell in the forest, but we’re not of it,” says the first fellow. “We’re from a land unlike yours,” says the other. After more answers like these she gives up. Why are gods always so evasive? she wonders to herself. And why are their utterances always so unoriginal? – that’s if they are indeed gods. If so, they certainly can’t be important ones if they spend their time hanging around the woods with poor, lowly lasses.
There’s the smell of fresh water, then the honking of geese. The ground underfoot is soft and mossy, and soon the lasses and their guides pass along a narrow strip of land lying between what presumably must be the two aforementioned rivers. There’s lots of apple and cherry trees here, but at the very end, where the rivers flow into one another, is a grassy triangle of open land. The goat-faces leave Blossom and Boo here, promising that soon more beastfolk will arrive to satisfy Miss Blossom’s needs.
For a while they see no one else – but the sound of drumming is coming from across the water. It’s constant, fast and rhythmic. While Blossom dances to the beat, shimmying her breasts, shaking her buttocks, Boo looks out into the broadest of the two rivers. A dozen yards away several round things are bobbing in the water. They get nearer – near enough for her to see she’s looking at the tops of heads belonging to water nymphs. One head rises further revealing a pair of eyes, rosy cheeks and a broad rosy smile. Likewise, another head rises, then another – and soon a whole bevy of these lasses are staring up at Boo with their big green watery eyes. The nearest one rises out of the river far enough to flaunt her ample breasts, and giving a broad smile, she says “May we come ashore?”
“Please do,” says Boo.
A trio of the lasses clamber onto the river bank. Two of them, enamoured by Miss Blossom’s show of sluttishness, cluster about her, and without saying a word, Blossom lets them pleasure themselves with her. The third river maid approaches Boo with more caution. She seems fascinated by Boo’s hair – evidently she’s never seen curly hair before. Being a water nymph, her own locks are naturally always lank and wet. “How do you get your curls so curly, sweet lass?” she asks. “They just grow that way,” answers Boo.
The drumming seems nearer, and someone unseen is playing an eerie, plaintive melody on a flute. The lass from the river takes the liberty of slipping one of her wet hands under Boo’s tube top and the other down Boo’s knickers. Boo doesn’t object. Then without warning, the lass unhands Boo and leaps head-first back into the water and so do the two lasses clustered round Blossom. Disappointed, Boo looks behind her and sees again the goat-faces, now clad in long, shimmering, silvery robes – it seems their return scared the three nymphs away. One goat-face starts intoning strange barbarous words. Though Boo doesn’t recognise the dialect, she knows their effect – her skin tingles and cold fire passes right up her spine. The other fellow swings a silver censer, causing clouds of billowing white smoke to pass over the clearing. The scent is curious – reminding Boo of almonds and apples, but there’s also something unworldly, almost aetheric, about it.
Thankfully for Blossom, the goat-faces didn’t arrive alone – there are four satyrs with them. With their cocks up and ready, all four of these keen fellows now come out of their hiding place in the undergrowth. Boo pulls her soaked tube top back over her breasts and sits with her thighs together. There’s no need to fear, though – the satyrs are already bewitched by Blossom’s shimmying buttocks.
Boo moves closer, eager to witness the first satyr mount her friend. Having little trouble entering Blossom’s already well-used back passage, he thrusts in and out of it in time with the quick beat of the unseen drummers, while the other satyrs sit close by and wait their turn. The satyr buggers her for while then pulls out his cock. Blossom, still posed on her hands and knees, continues wagging her backside. Her now exposed anus squirts a plume of white cum, then another, until the next satyr plugs the hole.
The first satyr, now satisfied, sits with Boo, who finds that she doesn’t mind his closeness. He’s near enough for his magnetic pull to be felt, and she can’t help shuffling towards him until her smooth, soft thigh presses against his hot, furry, muscular thigh. Excited by his nearness, all her attention is now on him. She looks down at his spent cock. Though softened, it’s still big and fat. It twitches and drops of white dew still drip from its head onto the grass. Boo dips her head down and forgetting where his cock has just been, laps up the last milky drops as they emerge – her first taste of satyr cum. The cool intoxicating sweetness is unexpected – it’s not a taste easily forgotten.
Blossom takes on all the satyrs, one after another. Then, after the last fellow has finished with her, even more beastmen arrive – this time there’s a whole troop of them. Fawns, Boo tells herself as they approach. What else could they be? They’re certainly shorter than the other forest folk she’s seen that day – shorter than herself even. They’re smiling too. And like the satyrs before them, they arrive with their cocks up and ready. “Hey Blossom! Behind you!” she cries. “There’s a whole bevy of keen fuckers coming your way!”
Blossom looks over her shoulder, breathes deeply, then wriggles her buttocks at the advancing fawns. The first of these fellows, who’s some way ahead of the others, passes Boo. He has short horns and shaggy hair on his head and a wispy beard on his chin – otherwise his upper body is smooth. His lower parts, though, starting at the loins, are as hairy as the satyrs. But unlike the satyrs, his lower legs are more beast-like than human, and his feet far more resemble cloven hoofs. He pats Blossom’s buttocks before going round to her other end, where he peers down at her up-turned face like he’s examining some wondrous treasure. For a moment she stares back up at him. She then looks hungrily at his cock and takes another deep breath. Though the fellow himself is almost dwarf-sized, the rod standing proud between his thighs certainly isn’t. “Yes, you’re a proper slut, like they say – I can see it in those big beautiful eyes,” he tells her. His fat cock then flops down, slapping Blossom’s face. Both Boo and the satyr sitting next to her laugh. The fawn’s cock falls heavily on Blossom’s face twice more before its owner feeds it into her mouth. Behind her another fawn is licking and sucking her backside. Others pile in, and soon she’s surrounded by no less than nine of them. She takes their cocks variously in her mouth, in her cunny, in her anus or between her breasts – after a while she even has three of them in all holes at once.
Later, yet another beastman comes by. This one is a woodwose even more broad and hairy as the one Boo and Blossom encountered earlier. As he draws near, the fawns run off and the satyrs withdraw to a respectful distance. Boo, however, stays put.
Seeing this new woodwose striding her way, Blossom gets up on her knees, clasps her hands between her breasts as if praying. She raises her chin and opens her lips wide. The beastman gets the message. Stepping up to her, he slips his swollen cock inside her mouth. It’s a long one too – nine inches or more, yet to Boo’s wonderment, her friend takes it all down her throat without trouble. This is the last fellow to make use of Blossom that afternoon. As he fucks Blossom’s face, he gently caresses her hair. “Yes, suck on, my pretty angel, suck on,” he bids, his deep, throaty voice sounding almost kind. He’s the roughest looking of all the forest beastmen, yet his handling of Blossom is the most tender.
When the lasses return to the glade they find the basket has gone, and with it Boo’s breaches, shoes and stockings. It seems pointless searching for the missing items, so they set off, empty handed and bare-footed – Blossom entirely naked, Boo still dressed only in tube top and knickers. “If there are bailiffs stationed at the gate they’ll give us grief when they see us like this,” says Boo.
“Don’t worry your head about those geezers, Missy,” says Blossom. “Their kind are on their way out. Anyway, there are other ways of getting ourselves back into town, you know. Trust me, we’re not going to spend tonight languishing in the lock-up.”
“Those are the same words you said on Monday, darling – and on Wednesday!”
We could spend the night in the woods, but we never do, Boo then thinks to herself. No, there’s nothing keeping us from staying out here, but we always return to the town like cows to the cowshed. It shows how domesticated we really are – Blossom as much as myself. Yes, the masters did a good job of training us.
On the way back Boo notes a change in her friend. Blossom seems more like her old self now – as she was before her slut mania took hold. There’s not so much of a wriggle in her gait. Nor are her eyes wide like saucers. She’s not even playing with her breasts or touching herself between her legs as she walks. There’s no two ways about it – at least for now, it appears Blossom’s afternoon in the woods has actually satisfied her rampaging lust – and that’s something no gallant lad or romping lass of the town has so far been able to do. “So tell me, darling,” Boo asks her, “would you say the forest folk have made good use of you today?”
“Yes, good and proper, honey!” says Blossom, brightly. “Now I can walk round town, look everyone in the eye and tell them I’m a complete and utter slut.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/imppte/the_sluts_of_wollenham_chapter_2_fantasy