The dream always began with distant music, a pennywhistle or pipe playing a rhythmic, insistent tune. Her heart beat faster and she hurried into the woods, dodging between bushes and branches as she strained to hear and follow the music. There it was, off to the left. She slipped down a bank to the edge of a brook and grasped a branch to get her balance. Then she saw him, in a clearing across the water.
He was a small man, perched next to a clay jug on a fallen log, sunlight streaming into the glade and lighting up his face and bare chest. He had a small pointed beard and powerful shoulders and he played his pipe with rapid clever fingers. She stopped and stared, catching her breath. His legs were hairy and naked and ended in hooves. On his head were the nubs of two tiny horns.
He noticed her and looked up, catching her gaze but not slackening his song. He stared at her appraisingly, then the corners of his eyes and mouth lifted. He had the face of a joker from a deck of cards, only less festive and more ironic. His eyebrows crinkled and his cheeks lifted as he played. His song reached a crescendo then died away. He took the pipe out of his mouth and took a deep breath, then gave another ironic little smile and pointed with his pipe at something in the water.
Stepping stones. She hesitated. It was a wise smile, one that seemed to know all her follies and to find them amusing. She felt herself blushing. But she moved to the water and crossed, hopping from stone to stone.
Then he stood up, and she saw that where his hairy legs came together there was an enormous, hugely erect penis. She felt faint at the sight of it and stopped moving, but couldn't look away. He came forward and took her hand.
"Wait," she said softly. She pulled her dress over her head and laid it down on the log, standing naked in front of him.
His mouth against hers tasted of wine and his beard smelled of woodsmoke. His cock pushed against her belly and she touched the tip of it with her hand. He shuddered at her touch and stepped back, leading her past the log to a bed of moss on the forest floor. She lay down on her back and he put his face between her legs, his lips and tongue exploring and teasing her before settling into a rhythm that echoed the song of his pipe. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue swirling around her clit, his hands squeezing her ass, one thumb straying to the lips of her cunt.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, that's..." She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, found his horns. "Oh," she cried. "Oh!" Her hips lifted off the moss, thrusting her pelvis into his face but he didn't lose his cadence. "Oh!" she cried again and then pulled up on his horns. "Now," she said, urgently.
He scrambled up her body, his beard dripping with her inner moisture.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Now."
He squeezed her breasts and pressed against her, his cock at the entrance of her cunt. She grabbed at his hairy back and ass. "Now," she repeated. He thrust and she gasped as she felt the shaft entering her.
But as his cock slid inside her, she woke up.
She lay there in her bed, her heart pounding. "Shit," she said softly. The dream always ended right there. She looked over to the other side of the bed but it was empty except for George the cat, hunched over thinking cat thoughts.
Julian had said he might come by after band practice but apparently he hadn't.
She slipped off her panties and ran her fingers through her pubic hair to her clit. But the dream was slipping away from her and she was distracted, wondering about Julian. They had a new singer in the band; Julian had mentioned her casually. Too casually? He used to like to come over after band practice and fuck, no matter how late it was, jazzed by the music and the company. But he hadn't come the past few weeks.
She glanced over at the clock. 5:49. Eleven minutes until the alarm went off. She closed her eyes and thought again about the satyr, his amused understanding face and amazing tongue. She came and came again and was resting in a pleasant erotic reverie when the clock beeped.
----
Julian called just before lunch. She frowned at her phone but took the call.
"Hey," he said. "How's it going?" He was sounding very cool, like a guy who knows he has stood up his girlfriend (was she his girlfriend?) but didn't want to mention it because it wasn't a big deal.
"Okay," she said. She certainly wasn't going to bring it up, it wasn't like they had an arrangement that he would come over, just that he had said he might and she had woken up wanting to fuck. "I'm at work," she told him.
"Oh, yeah," he said. "I know. I'm kind of," he paused. "I guess hung over. Went over to Ted's after practice and got pretty wasted."
Whatever, she thought. "Bummer," she said.
"Nah," he said. "It's not too bad. I've had worse." He chuckled. "So, hey. Um, tonight?" He let it hang there.
"I'm supposed to go out with some of the girls from work," she told him. "Andrea and Chloe and them."
"Oh, well how about after that?"
She didn't say anything.
