A Classic Fairy-Tale
Copyright © 2012- Nicholas Hall
The light blinked, then blinked again, glowing, bright yellow, intermittently flashing, beckoning, warning, disturbing my restful repose, face down, pillowed by the crackly, rough harshness of fallen leaves on a dew damp cold ground. Stirring, allowing the moonlight of this brisk October night to bathe my face in its white, un-warming light, revealing the grubby, three day stubble adorning the skin of my face, accentuating bloodshot eyes tired from a lack of sleep and a three day bout with Demon Rum, I peeked again at the small golden light not inches from my nose, vexing me, taunting me, tempting me, provoking me.
Rubbing my eyes once, twice, for I feared the moonlight, my tiredness, and my current inebriated state was causing my mind to trick me, I gazed intently at the light and the creature which seemed to be causing it, alerting me as would a light on a storm tossed shore, of dangerous cliffs, reefs, or rocks laying ahead, putting my ship or life in harm's way. Squinting, I blinked in return, clearing my vision sufficiently to reveal a tiny, young, nubile, appealing lad standing before me, not a foot away, on that carpet of leaves, well within reach had I chose to do so. A pretty thing, he was, less than an inch high, dressed in little else but a scanty, chiffon drape hanging over one shoulder, slinking down his naked back, accentuating his firm, fully revealing flesh, exposing the voluptuous cleavage of his well-shaped buttocks, leaving his legs uncovered, revealing a tantalizingly well formed, smooth, uncut and very upright nicely sized cock, inviting an exploration, a fondling, or a wee bit of a suck which I didn't foresee as possible. His face, outlined by long, silvery, well brushed hair, flowing and wispy, represented beauty personified, eyes sparkling, lips smiling, and glowing with the radiance and brilliance which had just recently disturbed my stuporic slumber. My eyes radiated south to that stiff protuberance and watched it twitch, jerk, and cast forth its own beacon of hope.
My mind, attempting to digest, process what my eyes beheld, muddled its way through a labyrinth of cells, dulled by lack of sleep, weakened by alcohol, and finally settled upon what would appear to be an explanation, not logical, but sensible in my current condition. This exquisite little creature presenting himself so seductively, invitingly to me, could only be, it certainly had to be, no it was, "a wee folk", perhaps a nymph, a faerie or fairy, of whom I had read during my collegiate years, bespoke of by the "auld" folk from the hills and dales of Scotland and throughout the British Isles. But, how could it be possible, here, in the north woods, far from his ancestral home, from across the Pond, could he now be standing in front of me? Was it a sign of something foreboding, of riches indescribable, or had I died from alcoholic poisoning, now being tantalized by fantasy before I succumbed to the fiery depths of the hell I previously thought didn't exist in the afterlife, but here on Earth.
Was he a good fairy or one of those mean, nasty, mischievous types, such a pixie, who were wont to commit havoc and pranks on little boys or big boys for that matter, tripping people on the path, turning underwear inside out or backwards, causing you to misjudge the gas pressure on your stomach, leading to disastrous consequences, or believe someone when he says "I won't come in your mouth"? I was unaware there were "boy fairies," but no doubt there was, standing provocatively before me, urging me, tempting me.
Pondering this, I became aware he was speaking to me, his voice, soft, encouraging, comforting, soothing, seductive, knowledgeable, and arriving not through my ears, but through my mind, knowing only I could hear him and respond in like manner. While speaking, he glowed even more fiercely, demanding my attention, accentuating the silky translucent wings erupting from his back, extending themselves at arms-length out from and above his body, touching the top of his ankles so not to impede his progress should he choose to walk rather than fly, gliding on the mists and puffs of air surrounding us.
Listening to his gentle voice, digesting every word, believing all he said, all he commanded of me, under penalty of most dire consequences, I had no choice but to obey. Once I was finished, he ordered me gone, but rising to leave, failing to resist temptation, scooping him up in my hand, wanting, desiring, to experience the extreme sexual rush and pleasure he'd just brought to me, to keep him with me, warm, safe, protected from the vagaries of the cruel world around us that I knew too well, and handy for the future, I clutched him carefully in my palm, tottering back to the pub from which I came, and, since it was not yet last call, entered, making my way to the bar, sat, my balls squishing about in my cum-filled briefs, the sensitive head of my dick stinging for a moment as it pulled loose from the congealing glue holding it to the cottony undergarment, I gently placed his naked little self on the bar in front of me.
The Barkeep looked in my direction, disgust in his voice, and growled,
"Oh, it's you! I thought you had enough some time ago?"
"I have," I explained proudly, "I just wanted to show you what is before me on the bar," pointing my finger at the beautiful, exquisite little creature.
The barkeep sauntered over, looked closely at the bright speck in front of him and said,
"Shit, another bloody lightning bug." and squished it with an empty beer stein.
Thank you for reading "A Classic Fairy-Tale." Watch it in the woods at night if you've been drinking. Never know what may cum of it.
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