The sun beat down cruelly upon the amply proportioned woman as she trudged along the lane. She wore a backpack and carried a bottle of lukewarm water, occasionally taking a brief sip to keep her generous mouth lubricated against the dry air. The hedgerows were short and offered no relief from the celestial furnace above; sweat had already stained the front of her t-shirt, accentuating her heavy, pendulous, breasts.
"Really, Jemma," she murmured to herself as she rounded a bend at the summit of a hill, "Why did you choose such a blistering hot day to go exploring?"
She honestly couldn't answer that question. As a rule, she kept out of the sun as much as possible, but on that morning the day just demanded that she take herself outside; so, dressed in jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and an old pair of trainers that had frankly seen better days, she'd packed her backpack with a few essentials and headed out.
She was beginning to regret her impulse when she was brought up short by the promise of respite. Revealed before her, previously concealed by the blind downward bend in the lane, was a large area of woodland. The soothing shades of green beckoned invitingly; she took a quick mouthful of water and set off toward it with a new determination.
Oh, how blissfully cool it was beneath the canopy! There was a well defined path for her to follow, and she wandered dreamily along, savouring the sounds of the birds and the scent of the flowers, which she recognised as Lily of the Valley that wafted tantalisingly from an unseen location.
Determined to find the source of this luscious fragrance, she wandered off the main track and followed her nose, carefully picking her way between trees of oak and beech, stopping every few minutes to gaze about her hoping to catch sight of a squirrel, or even a deer, but luck evaded her. This very typical English woodland, which should have been brimming with mammalian creatures (heard if not seen) suddenly seemed to Jemma to be eerily devoid of life. Even the birds that had filled the air with sweet songs and flashes of colour, had fallen silent.
It was during this momentary pause in her wanderings, as the strangeness of the situation began to seep into her brain, that Jemma realised she could no longer detect the floral scent on the gentle breeze. Instead, something else, something a little tangy... salty... metallic even, was tangible.
Then, she saw it.
A large tail, scaly and adorned with spikes, was poking out from behind a collection of sandstone rocks carved out of a small ancient quarry.
Jemma stood as still as one of the abandoned stones, and gazed in a mixture of fascination and disbelief as the owner of the tail emerged from behind its rocky shield and revealed itself in all of its colossal glory. A dragon, dark green in hue, with a rippling wave of scales that enhanced its muscley body, turned its head, snuffing the air with questing nostrils, and stared at her with penetrating amber coloured eyes.
For a fleeting moment, she was frozen. Then, the dragon took a step in her direction and she fled, dodging between the trees, trying to find a hiding place small enough to prevent the dragon from entering, yet large enough to hide her ample frame. She could hear the lumbering beast crashing through the wood behind her; in desperation, she ripped the perspiration soaked t-shirt from her body and flung it away from her, in an attempt to throw the dragon off her literal scent. Rivulets of sweat coursed down her skin and between her breasts; her bra was the next article of clothing to be cast wildly aside. Sobbing and gasping for breath, she found herself against the same sandstone rise that had provided earlier generations with the means to make quarries, and she ran along the base of it, a fifty foot solid wall, desperately seeking a crack, or small cave, in which to hide.
Salvation appeared in the shape of a crevice, just wide enough for Jemma to insert herself into. It was a tight squeeze, but she was able to wedge herself in by a good few feet. She stood there thus concealed, shivering with fear and trying to hear over the sound of her frantically beating heart if the dragon had been able to locate her hiding place.
Silence.
Jemma strained her ears, listening. No, there was nothing- wait! A branch snapped and a silhouette
filled the narrow entrance.
"Hello there." A voice, deeply masculine, rich and smoky, was NOT what she was expecting. "Are you having trouble, my dear? Maybe I can help you."
A hand reached out to her. In a moment of intense relief, Jemma clasped it, and found herself being drawn back out into the mottled leafy light. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust and then she noticed that her rescuer was regarding her naked breasts and large belly with appreciation. He was, she also discovered, a well-built man, about six feet tall, with untamed hair and a full beard. He was dressed in what she could only describe as practical clothes, ideal for outdoor pursuits, if not perhaps the most comfortable for hot weather, and the style was a little unusual.
"Is that- is that leather?" she asked, reaching out to touch his gilet.
"Yes, specially commissioned. Made up of plates, like armour."
"Armour? Are you a re-enactor, then?"
He laughed, and replied, "No, my dear. I'm a dragon hunter."
Jemma considered this and gave a smile of approval. "May I have your name, please?"
It was the dragon hunter's turn to look approving. "I like a girl who asks nicely," he said, "My name is Drake."
"It's very nice to meet you, Drake," she said, holding out her hand to shake his, "I'm Jemma."
He kept a firm hold of her hand and studied her face, running his eyes over every feature then dropped his gaze to her breasts with such intensity that she could almost feel it. Her nipples, already semi erect in the open air, stiffened further under his scrutiny and, feeling suddenly embarrassed, she made to cover them with her free arm. As quick as a snake, Drake caught it and pulled her into him. Jemma gave a squeak of protest as his mouth descended onto hers, his lips forcing hers to open and yield, his tongue plundering her mouth with increasing passion until, with a moan, her legs buckled and the dragon hunter swept her up into his arms and carried her to a small clearing, carpeted with moss.
He laid her down and purposefully took off her trainers. She, still half swooning, stared up at him.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.
"Relieve you of your virginity, my dear," he chuckled.
"But I- wait. How do you know-?" she enquired.
