Adventures Of Pal A Satyr

Hell, she never mentioned anything about being married to a wizard.

Pal particularly enjoyed bored, lonely housewives but he was careful in his relationships. He usually did some background checking and he had careful rules. He did not lie, cheat or steal and he would not claim an undying love just to get a woman on her back. But after all, he was a Satyr and Satyrs live for sex. When he saw Drew Bishop the first time, he knew he had to have her, no matter what the cost.

She was sitting with friends in a small café he had entered just to get out of the rain. She was slightly plump with a head of golden hair, wide, green eyes and full lips. She wore a green shift that belted at the waist and emphasized her full breasts. She was nearly his perfect type. When he smiled at her, she smiled back. When he flirted, she licked her lips. When her friends left, he moved over to join her.

He ordered more coffee and he listened to her. Pal was an excellent listener, a gift gained from lots of practice. Truthfully, a woman was often extremely grateful to someone who would simply listen. Pal liked extremely grateful. He put his hand on her knee and she moved it away. He put it back and she left it there. He told her how attractive he found her, how sexy, how fascinating, how she turned him on and not a word of it was a lie. She let him play with her knee and after a while, she invited him home.

On her living room couch with the rain playing on the roof outside, he undressed her. She wasn't wearing that many clothes. The shift and her green bra ended up on the floor beside the couch. Her panties took a little longer but he finally got them off and slid into her and was rewarded her gasp of delight and amazement. Satyrs are very big.

She didn't really make a complete sentence. Instead she said, Oh Lord, Oh fuck, oh please, oh fuck." And she wrapped those short, plump thighs around his back and she heaved herself back at him, taking him as deep as she could.

Pal let his weight rest on her and he started fucking her, relishing the feel of his balls slapping her as he moved in and out. Tight and wet, her insides felt slippery like a vat of hot oil coating his prick and he felt the tension in his balls. He tried to slow down to prevent getting carried away but she wouldn't stop. Her ass was moving on the couch and she acted like she was trying to suck the marrow out of his bones through his throbbing cock.

"Wait," he started to say, because one of the rules was that the housewife was always satisfied, but she squirmed beneath him and she was just too damn good, and he was coming before he could stop himself. His prick jumped inside her and he was gushing thick wads of cum into her and it shook him all the way down to his eleven toes.

"Damn," he said. "I didn't mean to come so fast."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tight and her eyes looked lovingly at him.

"It's all right. You can do it again before my husband gets home. "

"When is he due home?" Pal asked.

Not for another hour," she answered. "And it would be all right if he did catch us. That other boy ended up enjoying what he did to him."

"What other boy?" Pal asked, alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

"He was my first lover," she said, "but it wasn't so bad. He found work right down the street. There's a sort of bordello that specializes in young boys for men. And I gave him some of my stuff to wear and I taught him how to do makeup and all. He's very popular. Sometimes we get together for coffee. It's like having a sister. You could join us."

Pal stared at her in horror. His prick hadn't yet gone soft and she was starting to move her bottom again and it was sending signals to his brain that interfered with normal though process. But then he glanced at the desk at the corner and saw the plaque with the crossed wands of a wizard of the First Order and it was as if someone ducked him in cold water. His prick was out of her in a moment and he apologized but he didn't think he'd do well as a boy whore and he went running for the front door.

He was still pulling his clothes together when he stepped outside and saw a man in yellow robes coming up the walkway. The man was slender and kindly looking but the wand in his hand was decorated with tiny black beads and it was already being raised even as Pal jumped from the porch. A streak of green light missed beheading Pal by inches and then Pal was running like a startled deer across a wide, muddy meadow toward a distant tree line.

Pal was pretty fast and he could have made it easily except for having to continually dodge the bursts of green light. The wizard could move pretty fast himself and might have caught up except for having to hold the hem of his robes out of the mud. The wizard screamed and cursed and Pal's heart was pounding in his chest but he made the tree line just as one last burst of light ripped a chunk out of the back of his leg and sent him tumbling.

He was on his feet in a second, risking one glance over his shoulder to see the wizard aiming again. He ducked the next burst and then got into the thick part of the woods and he stopped to catch his breath. He kept his eyes on the wizard. The wizard had finally given up and was trudging back across the field. Pal watched him until he was sure he was not up to some kind of trick.

He collapsed on the ground and finished fastening up his trousers and shivered at the thought of what might have happened if one of those green bursts of lights had hit him there.

He examined his leg and found a nicely rounded hole in his calf. He tried to use magic but he did a poor job with the stitches. He had never been good with magic. It was getting dark and the rain had soaked into his clothes and he started thinking about making his way back to the road. But when he looked in that direction, he saw lights. For a moment he couldn't believe his eyes but the wizard hadn't given up. Instead the wizard had gone for reinforcements. Now there were several wizards walking across the muddle field holding torches.

The torches were about twenty feet apart and it was easy to see what they were doing. Somebody knew about satyrs and their fear of woods and the creatures within. Satyrs preferred roads and cities and people and Pal was no exception. The idea of turning back into the dense wood made him shudder, but the thought of a burst of green light exploding his maleness made him shudder even more.

He had little time to make up his mind because the torches were approaching fast. Taking a deep breath, he plunged back into the shadowy wood. There was no trail. Branches pulled at him and a couple of times he found himself tangled up in thorny vines, but he had no choice. He kept moving and he left the torches far behind. He also got himself so lost that he no longer knew the direction of the road. He was scratched and miserable and his leg throbbed. His only consolation was the thick canopy of trees kept the rain off him.

Finally, he could go no farther and he stopped. The darkness was impenetrable and all around him he could hear slithering noises. He backed up against a tree and stood motionless. He was near panic. At any moment he expected some terrible creature to come upon him. When a hand fell upon his shoulder, he yelped and jumped like a cat-demon had bitten him.

"Be still, you fool," a feminine voice hissed. "He smells your blood but he can't see well. Keep still and he'll think you're a tree."

"What will?" Pal asked miserably.

"The Wok, you fool. Now shut up."

Pal shut up. He had never seen a Wok but he had heard of them. There was rustling in the brush nearby and Pal might have bolted if not for the restraining hand on his shoulder. Instead he remained very still and the Wok came out of the woods sniffing the air. Except for the odd golden glow around the Wok, Pal wouldn't have been able to see him. He wished he couldn't for the beast stood upright like a man but his head was more of a bear with huge shiny teeth that glittered in the golden light. Those teeth could have easily ripped Pal's flesh from his bones. The hand on his shoulder tightened as the Wok sniffed the air and then looked directly at Pal. Pal had never been so terrified. He was sure the Wok could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

The beast looked at him for a while and then shook his massive head and went back into the brush. Pal realized he had been holding his breath and he let it out with a shudder. His legs no longer supported him and he slid downwards until he was sitting on his backside on the cold wet ground.

"Here," the feminine voice told him. "Let me do something about the wound or the Wok's will keep coming around."

He groaned as she ripped his sloppy stitches out and replaced them with stitches of her own. The bleeding stopped and he thanked her. He couldn't see her very well but she seemed small and slender and she smelled of wood smoke. It wasn't unpleasant. Her leg brushed his and he felt himself getting aroused.

"Stand up," she said. "Let's get you to my camp. There's a fire there and the Wok's usually stay away from fire."

She took his hand so he wouldn't get lost and she pulled him along. Her hand was small but her fingers felt long and muscular. He was beginning to tire and he was glad when he saw light and she led him into a small clearing with a blazing fire. She let go of his hand and went to the fire to get warm and he saw her clearly for the first time.

She took his breath away. He had been right about her being small and slender but it was the slenderness of an athlete. Her legs were perfectly formed and supple. Her breasts were high and small. She had a mass of inky black hair and very light blue eyes. She wore what looked like a toga with a thick leather belt at the waist. In the belt was a long hooked dagger. She wore a bow and a quiver of arrows on her back.

"What manner of creature are you?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm Pal," he said. "I'm a Satyr."

She nodded. "I thought as much. I'm Mara. I'm a huntress. And stop looking so alarmed. Do I look nine foot tall with horns? I don't drink blood and I don't eat my young. The world is full of myths. I expect the same is true of your kind."

Almost involuntarily, she glanced between his legs as if she was remembering the stories she had heard about Satyrs. She sat near the fire, her legs crossed underneath her and he caught a glimpse of thigh as she straightened her toga. He wondered if she wore anything beneath the form fitting outer garment. He sat nearby but the dagger in her belt kept him from getting too close. He told himself she wasn't really his type. He preferred his women with a little more bust and a little less intimidating. Yet, there was something about the movement of her supple form that aroused him.

"All the stories you've heard about my kind are true," Pal said. He stood up and stretched so she would get the full effect of what was pressing against the front of his trousers.

"She shook her head. "Oh, you mean you can fly?"

"Well, no, I can't do that," Pal said, flustered.

"Then you can vanish at will," she said. She clapped her hands together. "Oh, I'd love to see that. But why didn't you do it when the wizard was chasing you?"

Pal felt his neck turning a little red. "No, I can't do that either."

"Then you can read minds and make fire by thinking it," she said.

"No," Pal said.

"Then I guess the stories about your kind aren't true," she pointed out.

"I was talking about size," Pal blurted out.

"I don't believe I've head of that one," she said, and she abruptly changed the subject. "Why was the wizard chasing you?"

Pal felt a bit deflated. He sat back down and crossed his ankles and said miserably. "He thought I had taken something that belonged to him."

"And did you?"

"I didn't steal it," Pal said. "I only...borrowed."

She shook her head. "I've seen what you borrowed. She looks like a cow."

"She does not," Pal protested. "She's very nice looking."

"If you like the type," Mara said. "But you should be more careful. Her last lover is singing soprano in the town choir."

Pal shuddered. "Yes, I heard."

"He's really a very powerful wizard," Mara said. "I don't expect he'll give up easily. If I were you, I'd stay away from towns for a while; and other men's wives."

"Easier said than done," Pal said. "It's in my nature."

"But what of love?" she questioned.

"So Satyrs can't fall in love?" she questioned.

"Satyrs do no fall in love. At least, not like you mean. We don't have those emotions."

"How sad," she said.

Pal was lying. Satyrs could fall in love and sometimes did but the result was horrible. A Satyr in love turned into a different creature. Other Satyrs called them domestics. It was even rumoured that a Satyr in love could only mate with the one he was in love with. Pal could not even think about such a circumstance without shivering in horror.

"Come over here," she said.

Pal approached her cautiously. He was still concerned with the wicked looking dagger in her belt.

"So haul it out," she said. "Prove the size thing."

Pal was insulted. No woman had ever told to haul it out in such a manner. He thought of refusal but his cock was getting cramped and uncomfortable and there was still the matter of the dagger to consider.

He unbuttoned and pulled his cock out. It was only half hard but it was still fierce looking and, he was certain, bigger than anything she'd ever seen before. He saw her eyes widen and she licked suddenly dry lips and Pal could smell the sweet scent of arousal in the air around them. A very unfair thing about Satyrs is that they put off a peculiar sweet scent when aroused, a scent that acted much as an aphrodisiac and increased their partner's sensitivity to sensation.

He saw the dullness in her eyes and the sudden swelling of her nipples and he moved closer. Her hand encircled his cock and he sighed in satisfaction. The signs were all there. She was his for the taking. He moved closer, hoping she might be the type who wouldn't mind taking his cock into those plump red lips of hers, but instead a peculiar thing happened.

She shook her head and took a deep breath and her hand fell away from his aching, thrusting cock.

"It's very impressive but you can put it away now," she said.

He stood looking at her in shocked disbelief, his rigid cock hurting for release. It was unheard of for any woman to have will enough to resist when she was covered in pheromones and holding a Satyr's cock. No magic was strong enough to give her the strength to refuse, and yet it was happening. The dull look of lust had left her eyes and they were bright and clear again. Her breathing had slow and her body relaxed. And she was smiling.

"I said you can put it away now," she said, "or did you want me to keep it."

Her hand touched suggestively at the dagger at her belt and he backed away quickly and started stuffing his cock back into his trousers. She seemed to have dismissed him and she rolled over on her side and pulled a lightweight elven blanket over herself and in moments was asleep.

He could not sleep. He sat down with his back against a tree. His leg still hurt. His cock still hurt. He still trembled with disbelief. It had been a day of disaster. On one day he had nearly lost his manhood to a wizard, been nearly eaten by a Wok, and now turned down by a woman.

Of course he had never met a woman like Mara and, if the Gods were fair, he would never again meet another.

When he awoke in the morning, she was gone.

She left him three biscuits in the fire and he ate them thankfully. Of course, he still had no idea of where he was or how to find the road. And he did not like the woods even in the daytime. He started off in the direction he thought was south. In a few minutes the trail ended in a thick wall of vines and he had to backtrack and start in another direction. He walked for an hour before the second trail ended at a lake he could not cross. He followed the bank of the lake for a while but it was a huge body of water and he didn't think he was ever going to find a way around. By mid afternoon he was tried, hungry and starting to get a little nervous about spending another night in the woods.

Just before dark he stumbled onto a road at the lake's edge. It wasn't much of road but it was a road and he followed it until it widened out and saw lights in the distance. The first building was a traveller's inn and he went in immediately. Behind the counter a pretty, plump woman was writing in a ledger. She looked up with a smile, but her smile turned immediately to a frown.

"My husband gave me instructions before he left," she said. "He says we can't serve your sort."

"My sort," Pal said.

"You know. Elves and Trolls and creatures of he woods."

"I'm neither an elf nor a troll," Pal said.

""Then what are you? You're not human?"

"I'm a Satyr," Pal said.

He saw the sudden flare of interest in her eyes. She had heard about Satyrs and her eyes went down his front and then back up again quickly and her face flushed. He took a couple of steps to the counter and immediately sensed the arousal in the air. It hadn't worked with Mara and he was still a bit nervous that perhaps he had lost his charm.

"I still can't rent you a room," she said. "You're not human."

"When will your husband return?" he asked.

"Not for two days," she said.

"I'm surprised at him," Pal said. "I would never leave such an attractive woman alone for two days."

It was exactly the right thing to say. His charm might have been lost on Mara but on this woman it worked to perfection. Her name was Libby and she fed him supper in the privacy of the bedroom she shared with her husband. He complimented her cooking and her smile and the way her soft brown hair glinted in the firelight. She ate up the compliments.

She came around the table to pour him wine and he gently pulled her down into his lap. It was an easy matter to ease down the strap of her peasant gown and release one of her large plump breasts. She said no, you shouldn't and please, you shouldn't, but she didn't fight to get away. He tasted her. His tongue rolled over one of her erect brown nipples and she shivered and rubbed her comfortable bottom against him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," she whispered but it didn't stop her from rubbing even more against his swollen cock.

He feasted on her massive breasts, licking and sucking and biting until his cock was painfully hard. She kept saying no but her hands were on his head and she was pulling him closer at the same time. When he raised his head to kiss her lips, they felt liquid hot. She was surprised at the thrust of his long tongue into her mouth and she drew her head back for a second. Then her lips came back voluntarily and he felt no resistance as he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue. It was evidently a new experience for her. He thought her husband was probably one of those types who did not believe in foreplay. A Satyr's joy came from building up to the moment.

He picked her up and carried her over to the bed and placed her gently on her back. He undressed her slowly, complimenting her with every piece of her sweet flesh he revealed. He spread her thighs with his hand and slipped a finger into her. He played with her while he unbuttoned and pulled his cock out. He saw her eyes widen but he wasn't going to give her time to resist. He was on top of her quickly and slid his prick between her legs. She gasped as she felt how deep he got. His prick throbbed inside her as he kissed her mouth and stabbed with his tongue in the same rhythm as he began to thrust his cock.

She started to make little grunting noises and then her hips lifted up and she screamed loudly and a flood of her juices soaked his cock. He gave it to her then. He lifted up and rammed into her deeply and it brought another softer yell and he began to fuck her ruthlessly. He took his pleasure and, in taking his pleasure, he felt her gasp and writhe and come again around his cock just before he exploded in thick spurts of cum inside her pussy.