Second erotic story. Long read. Critiques and comments welcome.
With a sweaty huff, Rick zipped closed the door of the tent, leaving just enough open to allow some air to flow through, and plopped down on the ground, making sure to remove his phone from his pocket beforehand. Flicking on the screen, he saw another string of texts from Leigh and wondered whether or not they were worth reading. He opted to change clothes instead.
Even in the mountains, East Coast summers can be quite hot, and this evening was no exception. The large crowds probably weren’t helping, either. Rick mopped sweat from his brow as he stripped completely naked, stowed his clothes in his backpack, and unfolded the long yardage his traditional wool Great Kilt. He laid out his calf-high leather boots, his belt and other accoutrements, and began the arduous process of pleating the kilt. His highland shirt seemed to still wet from the hand-washing he’d given it, so he opted to go shirtless tonight. The upper portion of the kilt, which he would pin together over the shoulder like a sash, would be all the upper body cover he’d need in this heat, anyway.
The phone buzzed again. Grabbing it in frustration, Rick spread his naked form out on the partially pleated kilt in an attempt to cool off. It was Leigh again. A brief scan of the string of texts confirmed that she was still upset over the fact that his ex-wife had shown up to the Highland Games. She was terrified that they were going to work out their differences, despite the messy divorce that was less than a year in the rear view, and reunite. The idea was so absurd that Rick nearly laughed when she confessed to fearing it, which hadn’t helped the conversation. To that end, the past several hours had been an incessant barrage of accusations that had left Rick questioning the entire relationship, which was still only weeks old.
Checking the time, Rick texted her that he was done talking about it for the day, that the sun would soon be setting, and he would be listening to the evening bands play for a bit before retiring to the bed of his truck for the evening to sleep. Hoping that the debate was sufficiently settled, or at least postponed for the evening, Rick set about finishing the pleats for his Great Kilt. He laid himself on the pleats, wrapped the plaid wool about himself and belted it in place before sitting up and lacing up his ancient boots. He fastened the wool that hung from above the belt over his shoulder, donned his favorite bits of kit, and let his long, wavy brown locks down to flow over his back and shoulders before exiting into the setting mountain sun.
The sound of distant drums and bagpipes beckoned to him, like the wispy trails of scent would lure a cartoon cat to a pie cooling on a windowsill. Rick angled towards the evening stage and joined those on the gravel path who were headed the same way. The Highland Games was a colorful array whose attendees ranged from elderly couples in their formal tailored kilts and Glengarry caps, historians in their period-correct garb and blue bonnets with white cockade, and the more fantasy based costumes of the young (and not-so-young) who were there to party and mingle. While Rick attempted to fall into the middle category, after the arguments that caused him to question his relationship with Leigh, he was dabbling with the idea of lumping himself in with the latter.
The golden sunset caused the crowd of dancing Scots to glow. The tribal drums thumped rhythmically and the drone of the bagpipe lulled the senses into a hypnotic haze. In dancing also embodied a tribal spirit, though not particularly celtic. Girls and women in what Rick could only describe as flowing gypsy dresses danced gypsy dances, bare mid-rifs and well-shaped hips were every bit as hypnotic as the music. Rick, not being much of a dancer, stood amid the crowd, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
There it was.
The connection. The connection with his ancestors. The connection with the blood flowing in his veins. With his own history. With himself. His body began moving, pulsing with the drums. His skin began to tingle, senses being both dulled and heightened, his nipple being twisted-
Wait. What?
He opened his startled eyes to see a gorgeous brunette in a blue and white sundress dancing in the arms of a muscular bald man with a beard to rival his own. The man’s eyes were closed in similar ecstasy to his own, but the woman, her arm still returning to its place on the man’s shoulder, smiled mischievously. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Sorry” she offered. “It was there. I had to.” Rick glanced down to his exposed nipple, which was slightly red from the pinch. Thrown off of his game just a bit and unsure of how to respond, he gave her a forced chuckle and a rolled his eyes. “Ah, gotcha.” She returned to her man, who had somehow remained completely oblivious to the entire exchange. Still somewhat confused, Rick decided to write it off as a fluke. He didn’t consider himself to be the kind of guy that a woman as gorgeous as her would be interested in. He closed his eyes and tried to recapture the feeling of connection and euphoria.
But he wasn’t able to. The exchange still bothered him. Replaying it in his mind, he took note of her grin. The twinkle in her eyes. Something . . . something was telling him that there was more going on here. He opened his eyes and found the couple dancing just a few feet further away than they had been a moment ago. Rick sidled closer. The couple were now turned with her back to Rick, and the bald stud was still off in his own little world, eyes shut and face to the sky. With a moment or two of contemplation and hesitation, Rick reached around and, returning act for act, found the woman’s right breast and gave it a squeeze. There was no bra under the dress.
She didn’t gasp, as he’d expected, but she did turn a startled head to see who had just groped her. When her eyes found Rick, he did his best to return her Cheshire grin. “Sorry. It was there. I had to.” he parroted. Her mouth fell agape in an expression of aroused surprise, but she said nothing. Her man still didn’t notice. Without another word, Rick turned his eyes to the band, though his attention was still very much on the couple dancing in his peripheral vision.
His conscience smote him, however. Twisting a man’s exposed nipple, in his mind, wasn’t truly equal to touching, much less squeezing a woman’s covered breast without consent. The sudden remorse hit him in the pit of his stomach. He waited a few more moments before looking back to the couple, who hadn’t moved, though the man was now facing the stage and the woman had her arms around him from behind. Rick, feeling like he should address what he’d done, again approached the woman from behind and, leaning in, spoke quietly in her ear.
“Hey, uhh. . I’m sorry. . I shouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t right.”
The woman turned her heavenly face towards him, causing her curly auburn locks to brush against Rick’s face in the turning. The scent of her hair made his stomach quiver even more. Her eyes bore no anger or animosity. “Oh, no, it’s no problem. I did it to you first.”
“Yeah . . . but I don’t wanna cause any problems. You’re here with your boyfriend.” She turned to look at the back of the bald man’s head. “Him?” She looked back at Rick, invitation gleaming in her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
The words sent shivers down Rick’s spine. His expression must have shown both his relief and his piqued curiosity, because her grin widened into a smile. Without further discussion, Rick slid in behind her and put his arms around her waiste. Her eyes closed as she leaned back into his chest, her arms still around the waiste of the man who still hadn’t noticed the change.
They danced like this for several minutes before the bald man turned around again and saw Rick with his arms around the woman he, as far as he knew, had been the only one dancing with. His expression progressed through shock, confusion, dissatisfaction, contemplation, and acceptance with a shrug. He draped his arms over the woman’s shoulders and continued dancing. Rick noticed for the first time the redness of the man’s face and, now that they were open, the bloodshot eyes. The man was drunk. The trio danced like that for a bit before the woman turned, shifting to dance facing Rick, putting her arms around his neck, and he put his hands on her hips. The other man seemed put out by this.
“Hey, I thought you were dancing with me.” he slurred. She turned her torso to see him.
“I am. I’m dancing with both of you.”
“But you’re facing him.”
She shrugged. “I’m facing him now. Is that a problem?”
The bald man huffed incredulously before glaring at Rick, who only shrugged. After surveying the situation through his drunken haze, the man snorted with what Rick assumed was either frustration, disgust, or some combination of the two, and angrily staggered away. Rick noticed his heart beating heavily. Rick wasn’t a small guy, but it had been years since he’d been in a real fight, and though there was a dirk hanging in it’s sheath on his belt and a sgian dubh tucked into his boot, he considered them decorations and had no desire to use them, or to have them taken from him during a fist fight by a drunken opponent and used on him. As the man stumbled from sight, he sighed in relief.
The woman turned her gaze back to Rick. “Well, I guess I’m all yours now.” she flirted. Face to face, Rick was able to take a much closer look at her features. Her curly auburn hair hung to just above her shoulders. Her eyes were green, and her skin lightly tanned. Her sun dress hung off the shoulders, and while it obscured the details of her figure, his hands on her hips told him the rest. He looked into her eyes as they danced and found her completely lovely. The band changed songs again, and she turned to face them, taking his arms and wrapping them around her while leaning back into him and laying her head against his face. Her body felt amazing against his in the cooling dusk. Then Rick felt the faint sensation of vibration in his groin.
Rick reached down into his leather sporran and pulled out his phone. It was another string of texts from Leigh. She hadn’t heard from him in nearly two hours and wanted to know what he was up to and why he’d broken off the conversation from earlier. The woman looked over her shoulder to see Rick’s phone in his hand and the expression of frustration on his face.
“Everything okay?”
“Uhh . . . yeah.”
“You don’t look okay. What’s wrong?”
Rick sighed as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. “It’s my girlfriend. We’ve been arguing.” Rick waited for the woman to be offended or somehow disapprove, but she only playfully put her hand to her mouth.
“Oooh! Uh-oh; you’re being naughty! What’s she upset about?” Her response filled his heart with warmth.
“My ex-wife is here. We ran into each other this morning. We basically hate each other, but I told my girlfriend anyway, because I didn’t want her to somehow find out later and think I was hiding something from her. It blew up into this whole thing. She’s been blowing up my phone all day, and now she wants an account of what I’m doing. She probably thinks I’m…” Rick paused.
“She thinks you’re doing exactly what you’re doing?” she finished with a wink. Rick’s head sank. The woman wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze, then leaned into his ear and whispered “Don’t feel bad. You’re not doing anything bad. We haven’t done anything… yet.” With that, she took the phone from Rick’s hand, used the camera to take a picture of the band on stage and sent it to Leigh in a text. “See?” she said. “You’re watching the band and dancing, both of which are true. You’re not even lying.” She reached down, opened the flap on Rick’s sporran, slid the phone inside, then pressed her hand against it, pressing the sporran against his groin. There was no mistaking her meaning.
Rick took her by the face and kissed lips. She eagerly kissed back, wrapping one arm around him and, with the other, ran her fingers through the hair of his chest. Rick pulled back from the kiss. “Why me? Why not that other guy?” The woman giggled, still playing with his chest hair, and then ran her fingers through his beard, and then his long, wavy hair. “I love a burly, hairy man. That other guy had muscles and an okay beard, but . . . ” she inhaled deeply and sighed. “But I’m just a sucker for a big, hairy man who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.” Rick assumed she was referring to how he groped her breast.
She looked up into his eyes and kissed him again, and this time he reached up and touched her breasts as they kissed. He only held them, at first, but when she inhaled sharply and uttered an aroused “Oh . . .”, he gave them a squeeze. She sucked her breath in through her teeth.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asked. “I do.” she replied, “but not yet. I’m not done dancing.” With that, she grabbed his hand and lead him closer to the stage. She stopped next to a trio of elderly women, turned to him and moved his leather sporran from his groin to his right hip. With it out of the way, she turned away from him, wrapped his arms around her and pressed her ass into his groin, rubbing from side to side.
“Are you traditional under there?” she queried over her shoulder, eyes heavily lidded and biting her lip.
“I’m a scotsman; do you even have to ask?”
“Ooh” she moaned, and continued to grind into him. He felt himself stirring underneath the wool of his kilt. She turned her face over her shoulder at what Rick assumed was an uncomfortable angle and leaned back to kiss his lips while still pressing her ass into him. He reached up and took her breasts again and squeezed them gently, feeling the nipples underneath protruding.
As the kiss finished, Rick noticed that the three older woman had surrounded them. They all wore colorful dressed and a myriad of occult jewelry and trinkets. They each held a mason jar. Rick was startled at first, but the woman wasn’t. One of them handed her a mason jar of clear liquid and she drank deeply.
“Who’s this?” Rick asked, gesturing to the women kindly and trying not to freak out.
“They’re my crones.” She replied. She put the mason jar to Rick’s lips and he drank. The flavor of corn liquor was unmistakable, but the proof was tolerable. Rick took a few sips which went down like water. The woman returned the jar to the crone and resumed dancing and grinding. With every song, her demeanor became more seductive. Every so often, one of the crones would step forward and press a mason jar to Rick’s lips. Each time, the liquor went down smoothly. Each time, the woman would grind her ass on his groin again.
“Oh my, someone’s awake.” she said. Rick grinned, feeling the raw enthusiasm of the alcohol. “Oh yeah, it’s awake.” and he pressed it into her, feeling is push her sun dress in between the cheeks. She reached back and pressed against his erection and balls with her hand, trying to squeeze it through the thick wool but having difficulty.
“Are you ready?” she asked. Rick paused for a beat before answering. “Are you done dancing?”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
“Then I’m ready.” Without saying a word, the crones broke their triangle and stepped back into a line beside them. She took him by the hand and lead him in the direction of the campground. They ducked in and out of pockets of dancers and observers, past several concession vendors, and into the dark gravel path that lead down to the campsites. Rick felt his hip vibrate. He paused to pull his phone from his sporran. It was Leigh again, telling him goodnight. The woman halted, looking back. “Everything okay?” Rick gestured with his phone before typing.
“Going back to my truck to sleep. Very tired. A little drunk. Call you in the morning.” Even as he pressed send, the woman reached over, closed his phone and slid it back into his sporran, then took his hand again and lead him to her tent on the edge of the campground.
It was fairly spacious on the inside, with a full twin size blow up mattress, a box fan powered by a drop cord, a string of soft LED lights overhead, and some other Wiccan decorations hung from the various supports and straps. She zipped the door closed and they took each other in their arms, kissing deeply. Tongues came out to play and intermingle as Rick reached down and began to lift her sundress to, for the first time, touch her skin underneath. She was smooth, soft and feminine. The aroma of some form of bodywash, body spray, or perfume wafted up and intoxicated him far more than the alcohol ever could. She raised her arms for him to lift the dress from her completely, so that she stood in nothing but white panties.
Her form was stunning. Her medium breasts hung gloriously in the soft light, nipples pointed upwards to the heavens. He knelt down and began to suck them, one, then the other as she threw her head back and reveled in the worship. Her fingers probed his scalp hungrily as they ran through his hair, holding his face to her breasts. His hands trailed down her back and found her ass, where he squeezed as hard as he thought appropriate. She moaned in delight. He brought one hand around front to feel her groin, hoping to enjoy the shapes of her vulva under the cotton. Her legs parted just enough to allow him access, and she pulled his hair, pulling his head back, and reached down to kiss him passionately again. The fabric of her panties began to moisten, and the faint hint of her musk sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.
He was about to pull her panties down to behold her when she stood him up. She reached down and unfastened the belt which was holding his kilt together. His sporran and dirk clattered to the floor, along with the pleats of wool except for the portion pinned over his shoulder, so that it hung there like a toga. She giggled at the unexpected result, then brushed it off of his shoulder, leaving him standing in only his calf-high leather boots, with his erection pointed to the stars and dribble trailing from the tip. Her eyes swelled at the sight of him; his unshakable erection atop the chiseled stone pillars of his powerful highlander legs. She reached down and took it in her hand as she kissed him again, feeling the gooey pre-cum coat her fingers and palm.
He reached down again to attempt to pull down her panties, but she maneuvered him to the air mattress and sat him down. Kneeling in front of him, she took his girth into her mouth, gingerly at first, looking up at him to watch the changes in his expression as the head of his cock sent an explosions of sensations to his brain. Rick’s eyes rolled back at the first feel of her tongue on the underside of his head and her lips cresting back and forth across his rim. It immediately sent him nearly over the edge.
“Whoa, whoa, hold on” he urged. “Oh my god . . . you gotta be careful. It’s been a while . . . holy shit.”
She pulled back and stroked his cock casually, amused “You’re about to cum already?”
“I haven’t had sex in over a year, and before that it was two years.”
“Whoa! I thought you had a girlfriend?”
“She’s a church girl. She wants to wait. Whoa, you gotta slow down.” He reached down and slowed her hand. She giggled.
“So she’s giving you all this grief and not even fucking you? Is she at least sucking you off or doing this?” and she nodded to her hand still gliding slowly up and down his shaft.
“No. No, we haven’t done anything.”
She paused to think for a second, even putting her finger to her chin. “Hmm” she intoned. “So, you’ve probably got a lot saved up then, huh?” Rick tried to control his level of arousal, but the intentionally cute expression she was mimicking wasn’t helping. He felt his dick starting to swell. “Probably, yeah.”
She pretended to consider again. “So, what’s the name of the man who’s about to cum in my mouth?” Rick felt his insides quiver hard at the question. “I’m . . . I’m Rick.” he stuttered. “And . . . what’s the name of the woman whose mouth I’m gonna . . . gonna . . . gonna . . .”
She took this as her cue and took him back into her mouth, moving up and down and using her tongue to give as much friction to his head as possible. Rick’s legs began to shake, and his arms, which he had been propping himself up with, shook and gave way. She repositioned herself just a bit higher to adjust for his change in position, and continued to suck him. His trembling intensified as his hands gripped the sheet of the air mattress. His moans were a mixture of grunts and a stifled scream and he lost the fight. She felt his cock throbbing as her mouth filled with his warm, sticky cum. She maintained the bobbing of her head for the entire length of his orgasm, only slowing when his trembling ceased and his death grip on the sheets relaxed.
With an exaggerated gulp, she swallowed his cum, then presented her tongue for inspection.
“Patricia.” she said. “My name is Patricia. Nice to meet you, Rick.” His head slumped back onto the mattress as he gasped for breath.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“Goddess?” she corrected. Rick took note of the pagan imagery decorating the interior.
“Oh my goddess.” he agreed. She grinned. “How long before you’re ready for round two?” Rick chuckled at the thought. “Uhh . . . I dunno, really.”
Patricia slid up next to him on the mattress. “Well, how old are, mister Rick?” He swallowed, noticing for the first time that his mouth was dry. “I’m twenty eight.” She cuddled up under his arm, laying her head on his shoulder. “Well, you should be able to go again in what? Ten minutes? Fifteen tops?” Rick shook his head. “I dunno. Honestly. I haven’t a clue. The last time I had sex, I went three times right in one night. I know I’ll bounce back. But in the meantime, I wanna work on you.”
“What do you mean?” Patricia asked. Rick, with effort, sat up. “It’s your turn.” he explained. “I wanna eat your pussy.” She recoiled. “No. I don’t think so.” Rick’s head cocked to the side. “You . . . don’t like your pussy eaten?” She sat up with him. “I don’t like anyone seeing it up close.”
“Why?”
She guffed. “Why do you think?”
“What? You’re afraid someone’s not gonna like it? Show it to me. I’ll like it.”
“Ha! Absolutely not.”
“How are we gonna fuck if you don’t take your panties off and show me your pussy?”
“We can turn the lights out.”
Rick looked around the room, now determined that he was gonna not only see her pussy up close, but put his face in it. A candle in the corner with the three-faced goddess gave him an idea.
“Which phase are you?” gesturing to the candle.
“What?”
“Which phase? Maiden, mother, or crone? Which phase are you?”
“I’m thirty six, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Rick was taken aback. She looked younger than him, not eight years older. The years were being supremely kind to her.
“No, that’s not what I mean. You worship a goddess, right? So what’s a goddess got to be shy about?” She didn’t answer, so he continued. “Come on, if the divine is feminine, then let me worship, too. Don’t be shy. Show me your divinity.” He finished with a wink. She looked up at him sheepishly.
“C’mon, miss Patricia. I need to eat that pussy. I need to taste it. I need to see it. I wanna explore it. Show it to me. Show me your goddess side.”
She looked at the image on the candle in contemplation, then nodded. “You’re right. I do wanna be worshipped.” She looked him in the eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna trust you. Worship me. Worship my vagina.” With that, she scooched to the edge of the bed and waited. Rick stood, then knelt in front of her, and then reverently took the elastic band of her white cotton panties and slid them down her hips, down her thighs, over her knees, then calves, then ankles and feet, and dropped them on the floor. She opened her legs to display herself to him. In all her glory.
Rick bit his lip as he reached out with his fingers to touch her. She wasn’t shaved, but she was trimmed. Her labia were long, and the smell of her musk radiated, filling his senses. He inhaled deeply of her aroma. He traced the lines of her outer lips, then used his fingertips to gingerly part her inner labia and explore within. She was slick with juices, and he probed a finger inside of her, causing her to quiver. She sat up on her elbows to watch him explore her, and he looked with glee into her eyes. “You’re beautiful. I love it.” he told her as he reached his wet finger up to trace circles around her clitoral hood. She closed her eyes and moaned as he made a path up and down the length of her slit, occasionally working a finger in and out of her for variety.
Her breathing pattern changed and her head hung backwards as he explored her features and textures. But when he had done this for several minutes, without announcing his plan, he pressed his tongue into her and licked slowly. Her voice erupted in golden moans. With broad strokes, he licked from the bottom to the top, slowly and deliberately, making sure to use the tip of his tongue on her clit, which had emerged from its hood. Then he took her clit in his lips and moved up and down, like she had on his cock. He used his tongue to swish it back and forth; her collapsed back onto her back, which immediately began to arch.
“Are you hard yet?” she asked him.
“Mm-hmm” he replied without taking his mouth off of her. Her juices were dripping down his beard.
“Okay, it’s time to fuck me.”
He held his head up. “Not yet.”
“No no, I want you to fuck me.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t reply, but rather buried his face in her pussy, eating ravenously. His eagerness brought her to the edge within moments. The waves of pleasure shook her body as she grabbed his hair and pulled him into her. When her trembling subsided, he stood and presented his new erection. “Now it’s time.”
She swung around so that he could mount her, and as he held his body above hers, he kissed her passionately, her juices now cold in his beard, wetting her face. She reached down and took hold of him, guiding his rigid cock into her. The sensation of being penetrated caused her to gasp. Her orgasm had only barely died down, and his girth reignited the process. He moaned as her warm wetness enveloped him, the ridge of his head making distinct sensations inside of her. She felt his abdomen press against her clit as she took the full length. His cock nestled just right against the back; they were a perfect fit together. He began thrusting gently and rhythmically, their combined weight causing the air mattress to sag and sway.
She wrapped her legs around his hips as he repeatedly plunged into her, picking up speed and force with each strike of the hammer. Feeling herself being brought to the edge again, she reached around him and dug her nails into his back, drawing parallel red lines. The pain intensified his resolve, and he thrusted harder and faster, both beginning to gasp for breath as their symphony drew to a crescendo. When she could no longer withstand, she succumbed to the orgasm, feeling herself clench tight around him. The tightness was more than he could bear.
“Where do you want it?”
“In.. inside me.”
“Y-you sure?” but she couldn’t answer; her words had melted into loud moans. He didn’t question her again, but gave in and fully indulged the the longing. The tightness and warmth, and her invitation, caused him to explode inside of her.
Within seconds, they had both finished. With a heavy sigh, he rolled off of her, drenched in sweat, which caused the sheets to stick to his skin, and totally unaware of the ritual in which he’d just taken part and suddenly panged with intense guilt for cheating on Leigh. For her part, Anwen, who had given her name as Patricia, took extra satisfaction in knowing that the ritual was complete. With the final component now fulfilled, she released the tantric energy she’d so meticulously cultivated, finishing the spell she and her coven had been preparing for for weeks.
Outside the tent, Anwen heard the faint call of an owl, which wasn’t actually an owl, but rather a signal from Ranald, the bald warlock who had played his part dutifully. The coven was aware of Anwen’s success and were going to await her, already skyclad, in the grove which had been prepared. The tantric magick required the energy of someone from outside the coven, but the semen . . . the semen she had pretended to swallow, but had deftly and secretly spit into an earthen vial, it would bring another level of energy to the summoning. And with his second seed now inside of her, surely both the goddess and the horned god would be pleased.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/v373wh/the_festival_mf_cheating_deception