I walk through the ancient forest with six other women. The moon is high in the sky, and its light filters through the branches. We need no other light as we make our way to our destination. Our velvet cloaks brush the forest floor as we walk. The hems flow over wild growing herbs, adding their scent to our surroundings.
We come to a natural clearing. Looking over it, my heart beats faster in anticipation. The magic of this sacred place pushes its way into my senses.
The ancient trees lean backward allowing the moon to shine down onto a stone slab altar. Time has covered it in a bed of moss and ivy. Mushrooms grow heavy around the edge of the clearing, creating a fairy circle. A stream trickles through the clearing, adding its melody to the night.
We step onto the lush grass and remove our shoes. I let my toes curl into it, enjoying the sensation. I look around at the women. They are removing their robes. They step into the stream and bathe themselves. They are made up of different heights, shapes, and sizes, yet they are all beautiful to me. The moonlight caresses their skin, making them appear luminous.
They come to me, murmuring softly and soothingly. They carry pitchers that they have filled in the stream. They loosen the ties of my robe, then take it away from me. They gather my long, curly hair and pin it to the top of my head. I gasp, sucking in my breath at the feeling of cool water flowing over my heated skin.
I smell the scent of milk, honey, crushed herbs and flowers as they soap my body. Their hands smooth it over my skin, caressing me in the process. Their ministrations arouse me. I hear snickers before cold water streams over my body. Heat and cold clash, making my nerves extra sensitive. I feel the breeze blow over the remaining droplets on my skin, and my nipples pucker.
One of the women take an oil of the same scent and smears it on my forehead by my crown. They all pour some into their hands and rub it into my body. As they knead my muscles, I feel their lips on my skin. I stroke their heads and skin, trying to convey my appreciation and affection. Their hunger feeds my own. They lead me to the altar, and I sit on the edge of it.
They spread my legs, taking turns kissing, tasting, and touching me. Their hands and mouths become insistent. So many lips and hands on me all at once makes me dizzy with arousal. I hear their moans mingling with my own. The scents of their desire entwine with mine; filling the air. They rub their bodies against mine, trying to get closer.
They push me down flat on the altar. They lean over me, pressing themselves against me. Their hair tickles my skin as their hands stroke me and their mouths find my sensitive places. They take turns kneeling between my legs. Their mouths tease me, ratcheting up my arousal with each touch and kiss.
They take turns hovering over my face, and I eagerly return the pleasure that they are showering on me. I feel my juices dripping down my legs, as my face is covered in theirs.
The eldest among us takes her turn and stands between my legs. She bends over, teasing my clit as she watches me work my face into the vagina above me. I feel close to coming, and she knows it. She brings me to the edge, then lets it fade away, building my need.
