A Smuthunter Short
“Aren’t you a little old to spy on your neighbors?”
Keegan blushed and his eyes dropped down to her shoes. They were white sneakers with pink laces that matched their soles and toe guard.
He was old enough to vote and go to war, old enough to buy porn, but he didn’t seem capable of meeting the gaze of the cougar he’d been eye banging from his front yard.
“I’m sorry Anna-Lisa, I didn’t mean to.” Somehow he’d accidently found himself staring deep into her camel toe, the outline of her vaginal lips that her tight black carpi work-out pants presented to him.
“That’s not very nice to say, especially after you were staring. Didn’t you like what you saw? You were staring like a horny boy, don’t you think I’m pretty?’
She cupped his chin in her hand, and forced him to look up into her deep brown eyes, eyes so dark they were almost black. Eyes so dark they made her thick brown hair seem almost blond by comparison. “No, it’s just that I saw you working out and I couldn’t stop myself.”
He’d been caught, she had him physically caught in her grasp now, and even before that, when she leaned out her window to shout for him to come over, to come inside for a second, he knew she’d caught him.
“Horny boys can never help stop themselves can they Keegan? And that’s why,” she went from cupping his chin to stroking his cheek with those long soft fingers, “you couldn’t stop staring.”
“Anna-Lisa,” she put one of those fingers on his lips, then pressed down just enough to incline him to tilt his head forward.
Keegan’s eyes found themselves staring into his neighbor Anna-Lisa‘s cleavage. Her sports bra was the same shade of pink that accentuated her shows, and the stripes on those tight pants, and her sports bra was supporting a lot of breast, especially for a woman as svelte as she was.
“Horny boys love to stare, you know this because you’re as horny as they come aren’t you Keegan? Who else would spend 20 minutes eye fucking a woman working out in her living room, especially a woman 24 years older than you. You must think I’m pretty hot don’t you?”
Anna-Lisa Lisa Anderson was gorgeous by anyone’s standards, even if her beauty was at least partially store-bought. She was tanned all year round and her tits weren’t the ones she was born with, at least that’s what Keegan’s mom had said to her friends. Keegan’s dad, like a lot of the guys in the neighborhood, did his best not to giver her more attention than they should, but for the young man and his ever enthusiastic erection, that wasn’t the case.
“Well,” her hand had snaked its way to the back of his neck and started to massage the base of his skull. All of this was playing out like the fantasies he’d been having about her for a while now. “You do think I’m hot don’t you?”
“Yeah, you are.” When he answered, it almost felt like her touch had massaged the words out of him.
“Let me tell you a little secret about horny boys like you Keegan. They love to stare,” she pulled his head closer to her breasts “and they love to listen.”
“Stare at my breasts and listen to me Keegan,” her other hand moved between her own legs and she let out a little gasp of pleasure as her finger found what it was looking for.
‘You’re fascinated by my tits, you can’t help it. Horny boys like you can’t look away from big tits like mine. Stare and listen, stare at these big fucking fascinating tits and listen closely.”
She was still massaging the base of his skull, and with every word she spoke, it felt her fingers were pressing it into his at the same time they were pulling out his own words and thoughts.
“You’re such a horny boy you’d do anything to stay close to me. You’d do anything I want you to just to be near me. You’re so horny you can’t think straight. You’re so horny from watching me and staring at my tits, just watching me and these fascinating tits, that being this close now is overwhelming you. It isn’t that you’re not thinking straight anymore, it’s that you’re not thinking at all. That cock’s thinking for you, and you cock thinks you need to keep listening.”
A Smuthunter Short
“The warm summer sun makes you weary good sir, so weary and sleepy, yes sleepy and tired. Like the weight of the sky, so warm, so soft and heavy is descending down on you now, down on your eyelids and your shoulders now, yes.”
Those words fluttered out from the darkness of the forest, long, soft, feminine, and sibilant, accompanied by two faint violet orbs; unblinking eyes staring out of the thick underbrush and the walls of vines between the trees.
He blinked and felt the weight of those words, and started to fall under their lingering spell, staring deep into the shifting purple glow, watching those irises dancing from hue to hue like a candle’s flame burning high.
He was a strong man by most accounts, broad shouldered and hardy, brave as any man was expected to be, but the whispering, slithering voice and those glowing eyes left him weak.
“Come into the shade, where the sun is not so bright, and the ground is cool and soft. Come into my lair and sleep for a time. You’re too tired now, yes, too tired to go any further, too tired now to do your duty, trust me, come and sleep, trust in me and sink into quiet slumber here, come to me, come into the darkness and sleep.”
Those eyes had started to sway back and forth and his body followed them, rocking and swaying, and as they began to retreat back into the darkness of the deeper forest his feet took shuffling steps to follow.
When he stepped out of the direct sunlight he tripped over something and began to fall forward, only to find his body falling into waiting arms, and his head coming to rest on large pillow soft breasts.
“Close your eyes and sleep for me, trust in my words, in my embrace and sleep. I shall care for your charge brave one, slumber now and leave her to me. Fall into my embrace and trust your mind and body to me.”
He was laid gently to the ground and his breeches were undone, and pulled down, then his legs were spread.
“As you sleep, your body will rise for me,“ a forked tongue flickered across the head of his steadily swelling cock as a soft hand stroked it.
“Your mind will sleep as your body rises, and you will give it to me to use, your body and voice will be mine as you sleep. Trust me, trust in my softness and give yourself to me.”
He let out a shuddering sigh as his now fully erect cock slid into her. Those same soft breasts greeted his vision as his eyes found their way to opening, his mind and body shocked be the ecstasy of the moment.
Then those beautiful violet eyes met his again, and he saw that they belonged to a beautiful, angular face with a slightly upturned nose and thin, delicate lips. Lips that pursed back to reveal fangs…
Fangs that did not piece his flesh as she pressed them against his neck as her long silver hair cascaded over his face, “You are dreaming already, there is nothing to fear. Dreams are just dreams, trust me and sleep.”
The shuddering and sudden eruption of his climax jolted his mind into a sudden and deeper darkness than he had ever known, and the last thing he saw was those eyes staring into his as the words, “Trust in me, it is time to sleep” echoed from her lips.
He did not see the lower half of his captor’s body, the tail of a snake whose scales were of the palest green.
“Goodman Henry, you had me worried, you seemed gone an age.”
Martha looked at her guide, a forester of no small acclaim, and a man known for knowing where to find the rarest of herbs and flowers.
“Apologies miss, but as I was about my business I saw a clearing where perhaps you’ll find what you seek.” To Martha’s eye he seemed different, but in a way she could not capture.
His step was off, his words were slow, and it seemed to be taking no small effort for him to say and do all he had just done, “Goodman Henry, have you had more than a nip from your flask just now?”
Martha was a fair skinned young woman with long brown hair that fell in thick curls from her shoulders. Like her mother, and her mother before her, she was an apothecary, but unlike them, she had not married young and so the man who would be her guide in the woods was not her husband.
Though, many in her township wished they were.
“No miss, but I find the heat suddenly heavy on me.” He seemed distant as well, and his words were hollow sounding, but the day had become pressingly hot.
Martha’s white dress clung to her body, her own sweat had assisted in that, and she was glad her apron was thick as it was, lest the Goodman who had clearly had a touch too much of his own wine for the weather, would see the shape of her ample chest and behold the prominence of her own pert nipples.
“Well lead the way sir, and the sooner we are done the sooner you can find yourself in the shade of a tavern.” Her jibe was not meant to shriven him, as she knew well enough the way the heat could play at the effects of wine, especially the more potent vintages that their township produced.
They walked from the main trail down a gentle slope into the thicker woods, and Martha felt the cool embrace of the shade as a welcome respite. Before her, there was a small clearing amidst the trees the vines had grown thick and the underbrush tall.
There were many wonderful plants and herbs that she had sought, all growing at the edges of the clearing, and Martha made a note to commit this place to memory, for it would yield her much of what she would need.
As she knelt down to cut a sprig, she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye, a flash of light reflecting like purple flame, and then she heard a hiss of wind though she felt no breeze.
“Goodman Henry?” she rose and looked back to where the man was standing, only to see him collapsed in repose, his back to a tree, his eyes shut and the muffled sounds of slumber rising from him.
Suddenly, the forest felt closer and the shadows longer.
“Sweet flower, how happy I am you’ve found your way to me.”
Those long flowing words echoed from the darkness, soft as the fluttering notes from a flute. “So fair, so wise, so sweet you are to come to my domain. I have watched you from afar and now we are together.”
“Who are you?” Martha found herself looking about as she slowly started to backtrack towards the sleeping man.
“I am but a woman of the woods, a fair creature who favors the night to the day, but do not flee my sweet, my delight, come to me and forget your sleeping friend. He is in my trust already, he will not rise and wake for you, not until I’ve had my say.”
“Then say your piece and let us be on out way, whatever you are, whomever you are!” Martha felt a cold shiver down her spine as she spoke. The forest outside her township had long been safe from the darker things found in the deeper woods, but there were tales that perhaps it was not so empty as it seemed.
As she knelt beside Goodman Henry’s sleeping form she tried to give him a shake, but the sounds of deep slumber continued and his head merely lolled to the side.
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