Midsummer 1666

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James had been out riding on the Lord Mar’s estate all day, and as dusk approached, he guided his bay gelding back towards the great house. His thoughts were full of the chambermaid, Susan. He thought of her warmly, of her blonde hair and her full figure. As he rode, he began to become aroused – dreaming of her fine, large breasts, which he longed to hold. He imagined her naked, her white skin against his, her blonde hair contrasting with his darkness.

In his musing, he took a long time to notice the oppressive heat and humidity in the evening air. He put of his cloak, leaving himself dressed only in the wrapped plaid of his simple country upbringing. Not for him the finery of the great Lords and nobility. He was an educated commoner, an architect and a tutor, son of a well to do farmer. Dark clouds were sliding in from the West, and there was no breeze at all. Fearing a storm, he guided his horse into the oak forest that stood near his path. Oaks so large and old that any lightning would surely prefer them to him.

It was darker under the great trees and soon the gathering clouds brought it to pitch black, extinguishing the half-light of Scottish midsummer.

“Damn, but I had not thought I would need a torch this night,” he cursed to himself.

Between the oaks grew hawthorn, apple and deep banks of fern, and the path was narrow. Soon, he felt completely turned around and dismounted to lead his horse along the narrowing path. At this rate, he could still be picking his way forward by daylight.

Dimly, he began to make out a glimmer between the trees. Soft, flickering light silhouetted a stand of yew trees, their gnarled branches heavy with evergreen fronds. He approached cautiously, making the sign against the evil eye and drawing his dirk as he went. If poachers were about on Mar lands, they were sure to be hardy villains for to hunt here without permission was certain death. The little glade within the circle of yews seemed empty though, and he left his horse to step forward, cautious as a cat.

The enclosure of dense trees hid a small circle of manicured lawn, perhaps 20feet across. All around the edge, someone had set beeswax candles into the soft turf, and it was these that lit the light. At the centre stood a rough lump of stone, covered in moss and beside it a firepit filled with dark ashes. James stooped, and found the ashes cold and dead. The stone stood nearly waist high and he could see by the flickering candlelight that it was carved beneath the moss in an intricate istanbul escort pattern of spirals and lines. This was one of the old stones left by the earliest people of Scotland, or by the fairies some said. Again, he made the sign against the evil eye.

“Witches,” he breathed. “Or the Old Folk!” For it was bad “geiss”, luck, to speak the name of the fairies out loud.

Perhaps it was a soft whinny from his horse that alerted James or perhaps the crack of a twig underfoot. Maybe it was simply the intuition of a man who had lived all his life in the outdoors. Whatever, he spun in place, 18 inches of steel gripped ready in his right hand, only to stop in his tracks with his mouth hanging open like a dullard.

Before him stood a vision from the old tales that the Mar harper told late at night before a blazing hearth. A woman, a girl, stood at the edge of the glade as if sprung from nowhere. She could have stepped from one of the great oaks, a dryad fully formed. She was naked, and slim as a hazel tree, with long, wild hair the colour of autumn. Her only adornment was a fine gold chain about her neck, holding a single emerald in the hollow of her throat. Some two feet of the chain hung down between her pert breasts, to end pointing down towards her loins, highlighting her trimmed pubic hair.

“Good evening to you, James of Aberfeldy” she smiled, with a voice as clear and perfect as a silver bell. “You are hardly showing your manners, standing there with a knife in your hand.”

“Ah…um…that is…eh” stammered James, dropping the dagger from fingers suddenly numb and useless. “You know me?”

“I am sure you have a better weapon somewhere about your person…let me see.”

The naked faerie, for surely this could be no haggard witch, dropped to her knees and shot one hand up under James’ plaid where her slim, warm fingers instantly closed around his cockshaft, which was already swelling despite his dumfounded mind. Her fingers gripped firmly at first, then danced along his cock to swirl over the head. Instantly, he was erect.

“I see I was right,” she laughed, as she lifted the folds of fabric away from his loins with her other arm. “Would you refuse a poor and weak thing like me some shelter and safety on a night such as this, James?” Fitting actions to her words, she dipped her head under his kilted plaid, her breath now hot against his balls as she giggled. Her tongue licked quickly over the length kadıköy escort of his cock, causing him to gasp and shudder. An involuntary groan escaped his lips, and the muffled form under his kilts giggled softly before setting to with earnest intent, lapping her tongue over his cockhead, before taking him into her warm mouth to suck gently at his glans.

James almost staggered under the sensation, the combination of fatigue and arousal sending his senses reeling. He seemed almost preternaturally alive, the scents of the forest and the heavy air of the coming storm combining to fill his head with a heavy sensuality. The beginning thunder mingled with the sprite’s soft laughter to assail his hearing with a charged mix of sex and nature unbound. His shudders deepened as the faerie girl began to suck avidly on his cock, taking his whole length into her mouth. Her lips and tongue fluttered over his rigid shaft, her hand came up between his thighs to lightly stroke his balls. Deep in James’ gentle and Christian soul, something broke, unleashing a torrent of instinct and a powerful urge.

“In the name o’ the Man!” he shouted, “If ye want it, then ye shall have it!”

With sudden energy he unbuckled his belt and pulled the brooch pin from his plaid, letting the whole swathe of fabric drop around his knees. The dryad was revealed again to him, kneeling before him with his cock buried to the midpoint in her mouth as she sucked up and down with obvious relish. He reached down to entwine both fists in her wild and tangled hair, pulling her head onto him as he began to fuck her mouth, slowly but with a wild power he had never felt before. Overhead, the storm arrived in sheets of lightning that briefly lit the glade and made stark patterns of the surrounding woodland. It was too hot, too close, for the rain that might yet follow and James’ skin tingled with the power of the storm. He threw his head back and yelled out to the heavens, defiantly asserting himself against all the odds.

At his feet, the faerie wench was now forcing his whole cock into her mouth in a wanton display of lust. One of her hands had wandered down her own body, pinching on her left nipple briefly before settling between her thighs. Now, she pleasured herself as much as she did him. Her nimble fingers danced in light butterfly caresses across her inflamed pussy lips, before settling to stroke and rub rhythmically at her sensitive clit, her hips working slightly to kağıthane escort give herself maximum pleasure.

James looked down at her with a wild glint in his eyes, seeing her arousal. He laughed and dragged her mouth of him, his hands in her hair twisting cruelly. She gazed back up into his fierce face with a wickedly cute smile, knowing the effect she had had on him. Aroused beyond sanity, he threw her face forward onto the short grass of the glade, her beautiful rump high in the air. With an oath, he sank to his own knees behind her and in one smooth motion plunged his cock to the hilt in her tight cunt. Both yelled out into the thunder as they joined, a dual cry of raw energy, of unfettered rutting.

James immediately began to thrust hard into the faerie’s wet and hot pussy, revelling in the way that her muscles clutched at his cock. Never had he had such a woman, never had he felt such surging passion. He fucked her in a steady tempo, fast and hard from the first. In her turn, the dryad pushed back into him, obviously enjoying the wild fucking and the feel of his hand in her hair, pulling her head back and arching her body deliciously in the flickering stormlight. The moaned and gasped in unison, building a storm of their own.

One great crash of thunder accompanied a sudden flash so bright as to turn night to bright day. Between the trees, James caught a glimpse of a huge white stag, with the spreading royal antlers of the lord of the herd, calmly watching the two forms writhing together in the glade. Like the lightning, his climax ripped through him. The shock of the great animal’s presence sent a spasm through his body as his senses dissolved away. He heard the faerie cry out in her own orgasm as his juices jetted hotly within her cunt, liquid fire at the centre of their union.

The stag lifted its great head and let out the belling cry of it’s own rutting time.


Fitting its cry of lust and power to their own cries of passion as their mutual climax peaked, then turning to disappear back into the deep forest.

James sagged to one side, all energy spent, his cock sliding out of the lovely elven girl beneath him along with a flow of their mingled juices. He lay back on the grass as the first heavy drops of rain plopped down on his naked body. Gasping like a fish, he could only watch helplessly as the girl bent to kiss his lips lightly, then rose to gracefully stride across the small clearing.

“Wait,” he croaked, “Do you have a name, sprite?”

She paused at the forest’s edge and half turned back, smiling impishly.

“When you meet me in my father’s hall, you may call me Mary,” she said, then slipped between the trees.

James heart froze, despite the warmth of the night.

Oh, by all that was holy, he had just ravished Lady Hamilton, his patron’s eldest daughter!

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