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Flaming gerlach balls, what he wouldn’t give for another hand. Sezithorum had been actively reading the Codex for the past day and a half with Durkentl, and he expected such strong stimulation then. Not that Durkentl wasn’t stimulating in her own right, but the Codex definitely provided an additional boost. He hadn’t expected that simply holding the Codex would have such a strong effect on him, however.
The book was large enough that it didn’t fit in the saddlebag – not well enough to be safe while galloping across the plains, anyway – so he needed one hand to hold it. He also needed one hand to hold on. If Thiri had been trotting, he would have been able to ride hands-free, but not at the full gallop of his special horse.
Another hand would allow him to either read the book or polish his wand enough to let off some of the accumulating charm. Preferably both, alternately. He couldn’t even use his magic to levitate the book or stroke himself, because the words and gestures required to maintain the effects would defeat the purpose of freeing a hand and concentrating on the book.
In the interest of getting home as quickly as possible, he had given Thiri her head and she was thoroughly enjoying the run. Normal horses would have to stop and walk, or at least trot occasionally, but not Thiri. She could gallop for half a day, and even then she would only need to stop for water. But the hours of continuous gallop meant that, while they were making excellent time, he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Not the pain in his rump, that was easily done away with; personal pain relief was one of the earliest spells any wizard mastered. No, the problem was that the book was stimulating a radically accelerated buildup of charm which he would have to do something about. Soon.
Sezithorum’s long gray hair and beard flowed in the wind. The hand that gripped the saddle was thin and knobby. He rode like a man in his prime, however, easily balancing himself in the stirrups and rocking to counter Thiri’s motion.
He looked around impatiently. His eyes saw the cultivated grain waving gently in the breeze and the woolly white lumps strolling across the sky, but his mind did not consciously register them. He was about to signal Thiri to slow down so he could free up at least one hand when he spied The Grove on the horizon, off to the right.
Had they really been on the road that long? It seemed much longer, but he had written that off to the obnoxiously persistent erection. Or was Thiri just that fast? He knew she was special, he’d bred her that way, but she still surprised him occasionally.
His attention turned back to The Grove. He always enjoyed the nymph there, and she always appreciated the extra-large donations of charm that a wizard could produce.
Sezithorum called to Thiri, directing her toward The Grove instead of home. She tossed her head and whickered, as though laughing at him, but accepted the new order without complaint. As they drew near, she turned and paralleled the tree line for a moment, finally stopping at a rivulet leading out of the undergrowth.
There was a wide stretch of farmland along either side of the road, and extending away across the rolling hills to the south. To the north, beyond the secum fields, was a vast deciduous forest. And here, The Grove was a pseudopod extending southward out of the larger forest. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a grove; the connection to the rest of the forest at large and the excess of undergrowth belied the name, but old names have a tendency to stick.
The wizard’s robe bulged in front as he swung a leg over and slid down Thiri’s flank. He tucked one corner of the Codex into his saddlebag and looped a cord over it to hold the protruding bulk in place. It would be safe enough there for as much movement as she was likely to do before he returned. He patted her cheek, turning her loose, and Thiri moved off to graze just outside the tree line.
She was breathing more heavily than normal, but nowhere near as hard as a normal horse would be breathing after a fraction of that run. It was probably unnecessary, but with a word and a wave of his hand, he safeguarded her from any ill effects of not being properly put away after heavy exertion. He couldn’t spare the time and she would only be racing hard again shortly. Without a second glance, the wizard turned and strode quickly deeper into the trees.
He paused beneath a particularly large oak, the smell of warm humus filling his nostrils. A clamor of birdsong surrounded him as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. A moment later, a female form emerged from the shadows. She did not step from hiding; she had simply materialized from the dust that floated between the trees.
The nymph’s face was narrow, with high cheekbones and swirling, green ovoid eyes. Her appearance was different each time she coalesced. The eyes were always the same, though, and the hair was always a matching green. This time it was styled as a wild mane that fell across her shoulders. Her nose was small and upturned above wide, thin lips. Even with features that didn’t normally go together, she still managed to make them look beautiful.
It was common among nymphs to change their appearance each time. He suspected that it originally made it easier for them to avoid unwanted attention, but with more and more domesticated nymphs, it now served to keep their suitors interested and paying them attention. Funny how so many aspects of the natural world were so easily corrupted by human interference.
She was taller and broader than usual, with great, pendulous breasts capped by areolae nearly as broad as his hand and tipped with similarly large nipples. They stood out nearly black against her smooth russet skin. The immense orbs swung slowly to either side as she moved soundlessly across the clearing. Her long, muscular legs covered the distance quickly, and today there was no sign of any thatch between them. Even the leaves beneath her feet were silent, shifting only slightly as her feet moved over them. Specks of sunlight slipping between leaves danced in her hair and over her evenly browned skin.
“Hello, Sezzi,” she purred, sidling up to him and draping her arms around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest and she wiggled her hips against his. “I am so glad you are here. I have not had any visitors in such a long time.” Her formal speech was strangely accented. The nymph was unaccustomed to human speech, but her lack of finesse was balanced by an abundance of enthusiasm.
His normally brusque manner softened. He just couldn’t bring himself to be rude to someone so sweet and genuine. “I am glad to see you, too. Your grove is beautiful, but I am in a great hurry today.” He was more familiar with the language, having spoken it for centuries, but the words still didn’t feel natural in his mouth either.
“Oh.” She looked crestfallen. “That is too bad. I could really use some charm,” she breathed against his neck. One hand slid down his chest and inside his robes, then continued across his abdomen. “And it appears that you have plenty to spare.”
He groaned as her fingertips brushed over his staff. “I surely do, but I must be continuing on my way soon.”
The nymph pouted, which only made her more attractive, and Sezithorum was sorely tempted to stay longer. “I suppose if you need to go, I should hurry,” she sighed. She led him by the groin over to a fallen moss-covered log and sat him down. His robe was still closed across the chest, but it splayed open on either side of his bony knees. Without another word, she knelt between his legs and began licking the tip of his throbbing shaft, collecting every bit of fluid that had oozed out. She pulled back the collar that covered the engorged nut at its tip and ran her tongue all around it, ensuring that not a drop escaped.
The wizard rotated to straddle the log and leaned back on his arms, letting his head fall backwards. The nymph scuttled sideways with him and knelt astride the log. She was always so thorough and he reveled in it. She kissed the tip and then pressed it between her lips, maintaining the inward pressure as each fingersbreadth passed through the muscular circle. Her tongue flexed and waved against the underside as the flesh slid deeper and deeper, her lips slowly approaching the base.
Nymphs were in a class of their own when it came to sucking staff. No gag reflex. No need to breathe. Not even really any requirements on their physical form. Her tongue snaked out and played over his eggs, massaging them. He briefly wondered yet again exactly how she managed that as he groaned and pulsed, more fluid oozing from him. The nymph noticed as well and began thrusting her face onto his pole in earnest, her tongue still working furiously.
Only a few breaths later, the old man collapsed backward, his head lolling to the side, his body convulsing and his hips jerking as the nymph sucked every last drop of liquid from him. Even when his twitching subsided, her lips remained locked around his rod, milking it. Finally she pulled away, one small hand still stroking him, a beatific grin spreading across her face. “You are so good to me. Your seed is always so powerful. I can feel it already. Look!” she exclaimed, pointing.
With great effort, the wizard opened his eyes and rolled his head to the other side so he could see where she was pointing. Sure enough, what had been a patch of sparse weeds and bare dirt when he arrived was quickly becoming a thick mat of grasses and wildflowers. It was always so satisfying to see what he was able to help her create; it brought forth another blob of goop, which she quickly lapped up.
He continued to soften, despite her licking earnestly all around, but he never went completely flaccid. He stood and tried to readjust his robes, but he only managed to close her head inside them. A muffled giggle escaped, and the front flaps fell open again on either side of her. In an instant, she sobered and pouted again. “Are you sure you must go so soon? You have so much more charm to give, and I can always put it to good use.”
“I know you can.” He was tempted to leave her with another helping. It was already past midday, and even with the speed Thiri was making, he wouldn’t be home before midafternoon. More hard riding awaited him, and he was still thoroughly fired up and full of charm. The fact that just being in close proximity to the tome was stimulating him, increasing his overflow of charm even without being opened, boded well for his apprentices as well. He capitulated and smiled. “All right, you can have one more, but then I truly must go.”
The sun broke through the canopy, illuminating her face as it split into a wide grin. “Of course. Come over to your fresh new grass!” she squealed as she sprang to her feet, her breasts bouncing joyously in all directions. He followed her as she danced over to the brand-new area of greenery and flopped on top of it, somehow without seeming to damage or even inconvenience a single blade of grass or flower bud.
He gazed down at her as she writhed on the soft cushion, the curves of her body shifting lusciously, her eyes closed in an expression of innocent rapture. She stopped, looked back up at him, and her expression changed to one of hunger. She sat up and tore at Sezithorum’s robe, and he finally relented and told the closure to release. At her tugs, it fell from his shoulders to land in a puddle around his feet. He was thin, but not frail, and his erection had already returned, standing large and proud. Age had turned all of his hair gray, and caused progressively more and more to sprout in strange places, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Come feed me, stud,” she panted as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down on top of her. He knelt between her spread thighs, lined himself up with her hairless slit, and with one motion buried himself in her completely. They both groaned with pleasure and slumped against the ground.
There was another selling point of nymphs: always plenty of lubrication, never any risk of being rubbed raw. Not to mention the fact that their orifices adjusted to perfectly accommodate whatever was inserted into them. He could pound at her as hard as he wanted, for as long as he could manage, and she wouldn’t wear out or become otherwise incapacitated.
Conscious of the need to get back on his way, he continued thrusting hard and fast, with long, deep strokes. Despite not being in direct contact with the Codex anymore, he still had a full morning’s backlog of charm to work off, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he erupted again.
She gasped and moaned as he sawed in and out of her, but presently she grasped his hips and stopped him, holding him inside her. “You know I love it when you pound me like that, but you are too excited. You need to relax.”
“I cannot relax, I must go!” he cried impatiently.
“You must come,” she whispered slowly, her verdant eyes boring into him. “Long and hard and slow, and more full of charm than you have ever come before.”
In one motion, she slid to one side, rolled him over, and straddled him, all without letting him slide out in the slightest. As soon as he landed on his back, rough roots emerged from the soft soil and encircled his wrists and ankles, binding him to the ground.
He looked around wildly. “No! But I must–”
She silenced him with a kiss, deep and soul-cleansing, her erect nipples digging into his chest. “You must calm yourself. Whatever you are in such a hurry for, it will not seem so urgent when I finish with you. And I do not intend to finish with you for a good long time.” She drew the last three words out, punctuating them with kisses to his neck.
She lifted her hips, slowly extracting him from her velvet tunnel, pausing when the kobalt-cap popped out, then pressing herself gradually back down onto him. His neck strained upward as he twitched and tried to buck his hips and thrust into her, but she was having none of it. When she settled onto him again, more stems shot from the ground and looped over his waist and the tops of his thighs. The coarse tendrils pinned his pelvis completely, their knobs and protrusions digging into his flesh.
“I said no,” she admonished as she lay down on top of him again. “You will not release your charm, nor will you leave here, until I am finished with you. You know that I am not especially patient, so this will not last too long. But long enough,” she smirked as she sat up again.
Her internal muscles massaged him with every shift of her weight. He groaned and let his head drop back to the lush cushion beneath him. He was now firmly attached, and he resigned himself to it. While he was plenty powerful enough to toss her away and extricate himself from the vines entangling him, especially with all the excess charm coursing through him at the moment, it really wasn’t worth inciting her displeasure. No matter how quick or violent a temper any mortal woman might have, it was nothing to the wrath of a scorned nymph.
Another squeeze on his throbbing rod brought him back to the present. The nymph astride him was still moaning as she impaled herself upon him. She paused at the top of her arc, the tip barely inside her entrance. She leaned backward as she bobbed up and down slightly, ducking just the knob in and out of her sucking opening.
He watched the head splay apart the lips as she lowered herself, the petals of her flower distending as his bulbous root separated them. As she raised herself again, his ridge caught and pulled at the inner set of folds, drawing them outward until they sprung back with a soft pop. And down, pushing between the lips. Again and again. He moaned and writhed against his bonds, trying to achieve any deeper penetration, but she only withdrew further, teasing him.
When he quieted, she settled herself atop him, and he watched again as her swollen lips parted around him. Infinitesimally slowly, she lowered herself, hairsbreadth by hairsbreadth, to rest on his hips. She wiggled her hips in tiny circles, grinding against him in all directions. Her internal muscles clenched, constricting him. Nymphs had more control over those muscles than any human woman ever could, although he had to admit that Tiska had mastered a trick that he’d never encountered before. He would have to bring her out here sometime and get her to demonstrate it for the nymph.
She must have noticed that his attention was wandering. He returned to his senses when a breast smacked him on the side of the face. He blinked, focusing on the target of the areola, then lunged, biting and sucking on her nipple. She tilted her head back and moaned. She rocked her hips back and forth, from his abdomen to his thighs, sliding him in and out on both the forward stroke and the backward, and somehow allowing her breast to stay within range of his mouth the entire time.
Now that she was getting more serious about it, he was getting closer to being able to give her the second load of charm, and then he’d be able to be on his way again. He could feel it boiling up inside him, the pressure building all throughout his body. Waves of energy coursed along his legs, up and down his arms, around his ribs, and to the root of every gray hair on his head. He began tilting his hips, utilizing what little range of motion was available to him to complement her motions, to get more power and depth behind each thrust. But she could feel his charm burgeoning as well, and stopped, standing up. He grunted and growled in frustration, partly genuine and partly for her benefit.
She walked around to straddle his head and dropped to her knees across his face, her rounded bottom filling his field of vision. No pausing this time, she sank immediately onto him, her cleft splitting across his nose and chin and clogging his sinuses with her scent. It was unlike any mortal woman; simply earthy, as of freshly-turned soil. He obligingly extended his tongue, and stroked it all around, tickling both sets of lips.
That was an odd thing about nymphs: they typically didn’t bother to form a clitoris. In mortal women, that was the pleasure center, but nymphs only created a physical body for the purpose of collecting and distributing charm. As an extension of that function, their bodies served to provide pleasure, both for the nymph herself and the partner they were drawing charm from.
The angle of the opening and the shape of the folds surrounding the opening varied slightly, both between nymphs and on a single nymph from one occasion to another, but they were simply there for aesthetics. They were there because that’s what people expected to see. Men generally weren’t looking closely enough to notice whether or not a clitoris was present.
Some researchers had argued that since the primary reason for a nymph’s body is ultimately pleasure, and since the clitoris has no function other than pleasure, that implies that nymphs should produce an enlarged clitoris. The prevailing opinion, however, was that all of the other structures that were actually present fulfilled the same purpose, and there was no need for another organ catering to that function exclusively.
Once again she noticed that he was distracted and wiggled her hips atop his head. He began licking again. To make sure he paid attention, she lightly stroked his throbbing rod with her fingertips. He sighed, but kept his tongue moving. She plucked a wildflower from nearby and ran its petals over him lightly, teasingly.
Another odd thing about nymphs was they never seemed to climax. He could never figure out if they couldn’t orgasm or if they orgasmed continually. Their pleasure seemed to run at a steady, very high level throughout the entire encounter, with no identifiable peak.
He caught his own distraction that time. Crush it all, he needed to give the nymph her second serving of charm so he could get going again. He redoubled his efforts on the vulva splayed across his face. She squirmed more and returned her mouth to his pole, pumping her face up and down and her hips forward and back. She was so good at that it was maddening, but she had enough control, both over herself and over him at the moment, that no matter how he tried he was unable to climax.
Then he felt his bonds loosening, and in short order disappearing completely. He sat up, half sliding out from under the nymph and half pushing her forward toward his feet. She giggled lightly and ducked her head, peering past her dangling breasts at him, but he was already up on his knees and grasping her waist from behind.
He gripped his rod and lined it up with her opening. With a single motion, he penetrated her to the base, his sack swinging forward and slapping against where her clitoris would have been. She gasped and giggled again. “Yes, give it to me! Fill me with your charm!” She repeated her little circular wiggle. He grunted and thrust, slamming his entire length into her on every stroke, and finally feeling his orgasm build to the breaking point.
He shouted and jerked as his semen escaped, filling her cavernous recesses. She squirmed beneath him, wiggling her hips back and forth, massaging his member, reaching back with a hand to caress his pouch as well, milking him for every drop of charm-laden fluid. He collapsed atop her as his spasms faded, and she sank to the ground beneath him.
Grass and shrubbery grew around him, wildflowers blooming, and the sound of crickets filled his ears. The nymph grinned broadly and wriggled in the greenery, her internal muscles continuing to squeeze him.
When he was able to move again, he embraced her shoulders firmly and murmured, “I truly must be going. But you have made my journey home much more bearable and I will return to provide you with vastly more charm when time permits.” He rolled off of her. She rolled to the other side to face him, and he kissed her softly.
“Very well,” she sighed. “I shall be well provided for, for the near term,” she gestured at the still-expanding patch of dense, lush undergrowth.
As he stood, she sat up and reached for his limp tool. “Are you sure you have nothing more for me now?” she asked, licking the traces of their shared fluids off of him. There was no hint of him becoming erect again, merely an additional drop of ooze.
“Yes, I am sure. There is much to be accomplished, and little time remaining.” He retrieved his robe and returned to Thiri.
The Codex was still safe. As soon as he touched it, he felt another surge of charm flood through him, accompanied by another rush of blood to his wand. He groaned and slumped. The ride home would be longer than he thought. He spoke aloud to the horse, “How quickly do you think you can get us home?”
Thiri reared and whinnied loudly, dancing on her hind feet.
“Good. Let us be off.”
Tags: Nymph, Sezithorum
