Robin Goodfellow, known as the hobgoblin Puck, was from the land of Faerie. Knowing only this, people avoided and feared him. At least they used to. With the conquering of the lands of the Celts, the faerie were relegated to myth and there became grinning farces of themselves. At least, they became that way in people's imagination. In reality, they retained every ounce of their chaotic grace and delight for dangerous games. To them, humanity remained as much the plaything that they had been for thousands of years. However, luckily for mankind, most faerie ignored humanity preferring the company of animals and supernatural creatures. Unfortunately for mankind, Puck was no ordinary faerie. He was interested in mankind. He was very interested in their tales, their customs, their strange habits. Such interest never bodes well and this is one such occasion.
Puck looked up from his desk. Well, he called it a desk. The rest of mankind would have called it a picnic table. However, that's beside the point. The point was that he looked up and worse he had begun to think.
In front of him was a book. In most people's hands the book would be considered ineffectual. It was a mere glossary of little known holidays. Those humdrum celebrations that no one ever paid attention to. In Puck's hands, however, the book became more than that. It became a tome of human customs and their festivals. While many would say this is no big deal, it becomes a big deal in a literally minded hobgoblin with great control over magicks and glamours. This particular day it was a really big fucking deal. Puck had discovered National Nude Day.
National Nude Day is a holiday that's given very little mind by most of the world. It's one of those random celebrations given mind only by people who know when Vanilla Ice Cream day is or who really wanted a day to be naked in. Thus, to the public at large, it is considered a fiction or at least meaningless. Puck didn't understand this. If there was a holiday, surely it must be celebrated. That's how it was in the lands of Faerie.
He looked to the calendar, it was July 14th and the book said that today was the day. He hopped over to a window overlooking the street. No one was nude. He scratched his head with his back leg, a motion that had always made Lady Titania flinch. He stood at his window for a while. It was an older window but gleamed as if it was little more than a day old. Probably not even Puck knew whether the effect was magick or glamour.
His overall flat was modest and filled with disconnected pieces of humanity. There was the picnic table taken from the Park, which was covered in stacks of random books. In one corner, a copy of Don Quixote lay on its spine. That had been a wild weekend. No one ever did find out what happened to the windmill outside town or why a short banker came in on a donkey and drank half of the spirits at O'Malley's Bar.
In front of the wall behind the desk was a bookshelf filled with knickknacks and artifacts from garbage cans, gutters, and the occasional house and in the case of the ingot of gold one Bank vault. Next to the bookshelf on the wall were a couple of paintings. They were all hung at strange angles and the nails supposedly hanging them up weren't always connected to the painting except for one where it connected through the painting.
On the other wall there was a pile of random junk and devices. A bicycle here, a car's fuel-line there, a politician's toupee on top. All of it stacked like the mystery pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle. On the opposite wall, there was a bed. At least it was a faerie bed, nicely done with flowers and morning dew and magick. It was all proper and functional. Puck had spent hours painstakingly moving it to his human home and getting the wards back in place on a floor surface that wasn't stone.
The residence was all above a pharmacy that he owned. He loved working there. People actually gave him shiny metals and colored paper for simple glamours and potions. Furthermore, they were happy about receiving these things. Men would squeal with joy at what they now thought was a full head of hair, women would give him big kisses for aiding their husbands' performance problems. It was all so confusing to Puck.
And this Nude Day was one more confusing event. He rubbed his mossy chin thoughtfully or to be truly honest, mischievously, though it seems there was no action Puck seemed able to take non-mischievously. He was made mischievous. He was mischief. Behind his eyes, a decision was made and he hopped down from the window. Throwing on his nondescript adult male glamour, he walked down the stairs to the street. Today, he was going to be mischievous.
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Mary Harrison was a 35 year-old mother of one. She was divorced three years, following her husband's affair with his younger blonde secretary. She had foresworn sex since that day for fear of being hurt. The foreswearing had brought her a bit of angst for she was a very sexual woman and lusted very easily. Furthermore she had a great body for her age, her large D-cup breasts showing barely any sag. However, she huddled it in unflatteringly conservative clothes, hoping to drive her feelings away through pure denial.
It hadn't had the effect she hoped and she felt like she was walking on a razor blade, one push away from animalistic oblivion.
Overall not a good state to be in when mailman, Bill Thomas's uniform vanished into thin air, revealing a toned healthy body and an even healthier nine-inch standing half-erect in the afternoon sun. His cock slowly began to rise and his adam's apple began to bob uncertainly. "M-m-m," he babbled, his eyes wide open in shock.
She looked down. Her clothes were similarly absent. She felt a cool breeze flutter along her labia and felt her nipples stiffen in excitement. Her mind was slowing down and she could feel desire surging through every pore of her body. Somewhere up the street a woman screamed and she paid it no mind. By the time her eyes locked back on Bill's member she was pure lust.
"Bill, I want you," she tried to say, but it came out as the growl of a bitch in heat. She never was able to remember how she ended up with his cock in her mouth, but there she was on her knees, licking it reverently like the last Popsicle on a desert planet.
Bill groaned in embarrassment and placed his hands on her forehead as if to push her away, but exerted no force. Slowly as he felt the warmth engulf him and the cool breeze on him, the taboo of exhibitionism faded and he began to enjoy the feeling. He moved his hands behind her head and gently began to push her deeper onto him.
Mary was a very good cocksucker and after three years of nothing to suck but a rubber dildo that smelled far too strongly of either soap or females, she was enjoying the taste of her first real meat. She swirled her tongue around the head and shaft, letting the masculine sweat settle on her taste buds. She could smell his male pheromones being released into the air and began to push herself further down his cock with each thrust.
Her throat opened as she inched herself to the very base of his cock, letting his pubic hairs tease her nose as she wiggled. Slowly and involuntarily her throat contracted around the intruder as she held her breath. Then with a quick movement, she slid back to the head, leaving the whole shaft slick with her saliva and a little of his pre-cum.
She began to bob back and forth on his cock taking it all the way in on each thrust. She continued to throat-fuck herself forgetting everything but the moment. Her on the sidewalk, the sun shining down, the breeze flowing past, the nondescript man looking down and then leaving, and most of all the warm cock filling her mouth completely.
