As you might notice, this is quite a long story. Although not entirely just a fuckfest, it doesn’t have much in the way of literary pretensions either, so read it at your peril. Great thanks go to xxxecil who originally created the Faeophobia universe and has been supportive all through this story. He usually ends up with the disclaimer that anyone can use his universe, but you’d better ask anyway. His stories can be found
here.
Feedback is always gratefully accepted and don’t forget to vote when (or if) you reach the end. If you liked this story, have a look at
Seducing Dawn
. Enjoy.
All of Sarah’s friends had warned her against the dangers of Fae. Ever since the Celestial Conjunction when the races of Fae returned to Earth, women had hated them. They were all too nubile, too voluptuous and too libidinous. Although many Fae had integrated themselves into society successfully, even to the extent of getting British citizenship, they were viewed with a certain distrust. Most humans didn’t understand magic and what they didn’t understand, they disliked.
Sarah didn’t care about any of the rumours. All of the Fae she’d met at Kingsgrove University were nice, kind people. A little oversexed maybe, but after years of females outnumbering men by twenty to one in the Fae races, that could be forgiven. She had almost given up hope of ever seeing a male Fae, when she met a satyr in a club in Kingsgrove.
She was very drunk and dancing like a loon with her gaggle of girlfriends when her approached her. He didn’t say anything at first, just moved over to her and cut her out of the herd of girls, drawing her away to one side. He almost seemed to ooze sexuality, his chiseled physique and lantern jaw drawing Sarah to him and soon they were dancing together, body to body. Her body ground against his, almost against her volition as she was swept up in the aura of abandon and sexuality that any Fae seemed to be able to generate on demand. It was only afterwards that she began to wonder whether he might have cast a spell on her, for she wasn’t usually the type for one-night stands.
Without seeming to move, they were suddenly out of the club and into her room. Sarah was a little shocked until she remembered the stories of satyrs being able to teleport from place to place. His hand found her breast and squeezed it gently as she remembered also the stories she’d heard about the insatiable libidos of satyrs and she made a brief effort to slow him down.
“Wait, hang on a second. I’m not sure we should do this.” He removed her shirt expertly and began to kiss her neck. “I don’t even know your name,” she said, gasping at the rough caress of his lips.
He removed his lips from her neck and spoke in a gravelly voice, which betrayed a slight Eastern European inflection. “My name is Mikhail.” That was apparently all he had to say and promptly reapplied his lips to her as his hands reached behind her back to undo her bra, allowing him better access to her breasts.
She moaned, finally giving into her burgeoning desires and sank down onto the bed that had appeared behind her. He followed smoothly and soon they were both naked, their clothes seeming almost to have evaporated as they tumbled together on the soft mattress. He was hairier than most men and his hooves were a definite distraction, but Sarah felt that his cock more than made up for it. It was much bigger than any she’d seen before and, although she wasn’t that experienced, probably bigger than most others had seen before. She wrapped her legs round his hips and pulled him into her. He moved slowly and Sarah groaned as it stretched her further than she’d gone before, spreading her lips in a painful pleasure and filling her completely.
He began to thrust, slowly at first, then speeding up, moving deeper within her with every plunge, the sensations causing her to moan, then shout, then scream as wave after wave of heat built up inside her, pleasure peaking and diminishing with every thrust, his hands roving over her body as she shuddered, giving in to the thundering orgasm that twisted her body.
When she woke, he was gone. Only a slight soreness in her pussy and a vague sense of satisfaction belied the fact that he had ever been there in the first place. She got up, smirking like the cat that got the cream and sashayed over to the bathroom to shower.
When she came out the shower, she realised there was something missing. Or someone rather. Janine, her roommate, to be exact. A loud thump at the door gave her a clue as to where Janine was. She grabbed a robe and went to open it.
Janine was not best pleased and intended to let Sarah know it. “Where the hell did you go last night?”
“I was…”
“You fucked off with the keys last night and I couldn’t get in. I stood here at four o’clock in the morning, banging on the door and nobody answered.”
“I wasn’t…”
“If you bugger off in the middle of a night out, either leave the door open, or give me the keys. I had to sleep round Cindy’s last night and you know I’m not keen on rooming with pixies.”
“I’m sorry.” Janine’s ire always left Sarah at something of a loss for words. She was overbearing and loud, exactly the opposite of Sarah and usually won arguments through sheer volume. However an early apology seemed to dissipate her rage and she even accepted a piece of toast as a peace offering.
“So how was he?”
“How was who?” Sarah attempted nonchalance, but inwardly cursed Janine’s perception.
“The bloke who you disappeared off with last night. I may have been too busy chatting up Jenny to notice you two actually leave, but you both disappeared at the same time. And by the smirk that you’ve had plastered on your face all morning, I can tell he didn’t just stay for coffee.”