Struggling writer Jonas Finn thought his troubles were over when he won an all-expenses-paid residency at a cabin in the Northwoods. But then he begins to hear strange noises at night. And he can't stop dreaming about ecstatic sex with a wild hairy man. Jonas thought he could handle anything, but then three satyrs arrive on his doorstep one moonlit night, with sex on their minds! This open-minded erotic story contains wild outdoors sex, a tire swing sex sling, and three horny beasts who know no shame!
That night, I dreamed about the hairy man for the last time.
In my dream, we were naked, sweaty, rolling on the forest floor. I got up on top of him and began rubbing my cock against his, rooting my knees on either side of his body. I rode him hard, thrusting my hips along the length of his sex, and he growled in approval.
Suddenly, I was in my bed again. My legs were spread and my prostate was twitching and my body was on fire with lust and passion. Sweat was showering off me, and my throat was so dry it felt swollen shut.
I got up and padded in to my kitchen. Grabbed a half-pint of orange juice from the refrigerator and gulped it down straight from the spout.
I panted and wiped my mouth. Threw out the carton and closed the door. The light from the refrigerator clicked off. And that’s when I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.
At first I thought they were bears, standing on their hind legs, but then I squinted, and I saw their chests, and their faces, and the horns that sprouted from their heads. I watched them raise their hooves and stamp at the ground as they danced together, in a ring around the tree where I’d shot my load that afternoon.
Were these the animals I’d been hearing outside at night? Had I… called them here, somehow?
I unlocked the front door and stepped outside on my porch, trying not to make a sound. They were beautiful. They were sinewy and muscle-bound and hairy, and sweat glistened on their chests under the moonlight. I wasn’t scared. I was amazed. I felt incredibly blessed and lucky to see them, like a man who’s just caught a glimpse of a great horned owl. They pranced together, swaying to the rhythm of some ancient music only they could hear.
And then, like deer at a creek, they all turned their heads to look at me.
For a few moments, no one moved. My heart was pounding, and I could feel it in my dick. Then one of them tossed his head and snorted, and they went back to dancing.
Had I just been asked to join them?
I stepped off my front porch and began walking towards them. The dewy grass felt cool and slippery against my bare feet. They appeared not to notice me, but as I reached the tree, two of them held out their hands to me.
It took me a couple of fumbling missteps before I caught their rhythm, but soon I was floating along with them, linked arm in arm, in their unbreakable ring. This was so cool! I was dancing with satyrs! I thought about how so few people, throughout all of history, had gotten to do this.
And then, one of the satyrs touched his groin, moved aside some tuft of fur, and exposed a half-erect pink cock and a pair of bare balls. The others seemed to follow his lead, letting their cocks bounce in the night air as they danced.
I remember thinking, okay then. I wriggled out of my boxers and kicked them away.
About Alastair Anders
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Published October 24, 2012
Erotica, Gay & Lesbian, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy.