At midsummer, the nymphs were in heat.
The woodsman knew this from the sweet smell of lilacs that seemed ever present in the forest, but even more so from the incessant giggling as the nymphs followed him on his chores. They left gifts at his cabin, fistfuls of berries and mushrooms, eager for his attention and allowing him glimpses of their ever-bare and youthful bodies. When he ignored them, they plucked at his hair with brambles and scattered his laundry in the mud.
When frustrated with their teasing, he obliged, seizing their thin hips in his hands. They made a show of whimpering and squirming, but he spoke enough of their language to know that they cried out for their god in ecstasy as his cock plunged in and out of their bodies. When he was done and panting, they scurried into the brush without glancing backwards, inevitably returning the following day.
It was a hot day when the woodsman was bathing in the stream. He climbed from the water, the water drying rapidly on his skin. When he reached for his clothes, they were gone.
He glanced into the trees, and rolled his eyes.
“Give them here,” he growled, extending a broad hand. “No time for games today.”
The nymph appeared, turning her head curiously as she regarded him with wide eyes – his breeches and shirt clutched in her hand. Her almond skin was flawless and unblemished. The woodman’s eyes lingered on the swells of her breasts and the soft line of her mouth.
“You’re a new one, ain’t you? Not from around here,” he said quietly. “Well, your sisters should have told you. We share these woods – I don’t chop down your heart trees, you don’t steal my clothes. Understand?”
She didn’t respond, instead her free hand straying to her breast, nimble fingers pulling at her bark-coloured nipple. He groaned at the erotic sight. “Now that’s unfair.”
But the woodsman felt himself stirring with arousal, his work for the day forgotten. His breath caught in his chest as her fingers trailed down the smoothness of her stomach, between her legs. Her fingers glimmered in the light as wetness gathered there.
The woodsman was many things, but he was still a man.
She didn’t run as he approached, dropping his clothes into the grass to place her hands against his sides. The nymph was small as he gathered her in his arms and laid her down on the banks of the streams. He groaned as his hardened length brushed against the wet softness between her legs, and then pushed inside of her. Her legs hitched around the woodsman’s back, inviting him deeper.
The woodsman buried himself inside of her to the root, groaning again at the warm tightness that consumed him.
Her fingernails dug into the knotted muscles along his back as he worked himself inside of her. She made noises that rang in his ears like the chiming of bells, and he wound his fingers in her soft hair. When she came and shuddered beneath him, her cry sounded so much like a human woman that the woodsman’s pleasure tightened and shattered immediately.
The woodsman gasped as he came inside of her, burying his bearded face into the curve of her neck.
She lay underneath him longer than any of her sisters had before, her fingers tracing the scars on his arms. When the woodsman released her, she skittered away, pausing at the treeline to gaze at him with her wide eyes – but ran when he called after her. She retrieved her clothes from underneath the rock where she had hidden them, and began the long walk back to the village, a pleased smile on her face as the woodsman’s seed dripped from within her.
It was midsummer, so it was still light outside when the woodsman touched himself in his cabin that evening, thinking of her wide, curious eyes and why they had seemed so very human.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/hf3knn/the_woodsman_mf_fantasy_nymph_con
It’s insane how sexy is she!