Softly, he kissed her eyelids...her neck...her shoulders as he slipped her blouse down over her breasts and took each one in his lips, to hold and slide his tongue over each soft roseate nipple 'til it rose and filled his mouth with its hardness. Moaning, she pushed her body against his...stroked his shoulders and chest with trembling fingers...clasped his head between her hands and kissed his mouth with open lips, her searching tongue tangling and writhing with his.
Quickly now, he slid her gown over her hips 'til it fell to the soft grass beneath their feet; he dropped to his knees before her and held her waist while he kissed beneath her swollen breasts...lingered to tongue the silky hollows of her underarms...crossed and re-crossed her body...held tightly as she moaned and writhed, thrust her hips forward to demand...what? He heard her sharply-indrawn breath and small shriek as his tongue penetrated the thick bush that surrounded her femaleness...found the swelling bud of her clitoris and sucked...gently. His tongue worked over and around...sucked harder 'til he felt her shudder and tasted a drop of her readiness...thrust his tongue between her wet and eager nether lips to find the closed door of her womanhood...her flower. Gently, then more firmly, he pushed his tongue against the barrier while she writhed in the hands that held her fast.
Still kneeling, he lifted, then lowered her to lie on the grass. Eyes closed, her head turning from side to side, she stroked his shoulders...arms...fingers slid down his belly to touch...hesitate...touch again, then curl eagerly 'round his shaft...explored its straining head...its veined, swollen rigidity. A small whimpering started in her throat and her hips thrashed, seeming to plead for relief of her passionate body's need. Her knees rose and spread wide as once again his mouth closed on her clitoris and his tongue sought again the membrane that guarded her treasure...thrust again and again while she moaned and cried aloud and pushed his head down, seeking deeper penetration. Finally satisfied she was ready for her rite of passage, he rose over her and guided his shaft to her 'butterfly'...slid it slowly in, amid her loud moans and grasping hands on his hips...slowly, with short strokes, into the now-streaming mouth between her legs...slowly out to re-enter, time and again, then...staying to press firmly, insistently against the tender barrier. He leaned forward over her and covered her mouth with his own, thrusting with his tongue as he thrust for the last time with his shaft...silencing her small scream as he held her hips firmly against his drive into her body. He moved in...out...in...out...slowly at first, then faster and more urgently...plunging in for the last time to fall and lie spent, lips seeking her breasts.
Some time later he came fully awake to feel her lips and tongue on his manhood...around and down.... Hot lips sucked and tongue probed the sensitive folds of his head's tender underside...sucked and stroked. Her hands wandered over his hips and belly...from the insides of his thighs to his knees and up again to gather his testicles and gently roll and massage them. Quickly, he reached down and drew her up over his body, rolled her onto her stomach and lifted her hips to present her rosy, puckered bud to his tongue's tip. Louder she moaned and moved her hips to meet his probing as his searching, licking tongue sought her butterfly...entered to taste and suck. Still holding her high against him, he rose to his knees and thrust his shaft into her grasping, yearning nether-mouth over and over, stroking faster...harder...'til he heard her cry out and felt her tighten around him...held him hard in her while she screamed her release.... Again and again he plunged into her...bent over her and grasped the tender curve between her neck and shoulder...bit 'til he tasted her blood salty-sweet on his tongue. One last plunge and he lowered himself to lie on his side with her hips tucked firmly against his belly, his shaft still buried deep inside her.
She missed him when she awoke. Lonely and alarmed, she sat up and looked into the silvery sea-green eyes of her Unicorn as he stood over her, his moonlight-bright horn spiraling from his forehead. "You're my woman now, Ghislaine," she 'heard' him say. "Lie down and spread your legs once more...."
Doing as he bade, she watched as he lowered his head, touched the tender curve between her neck and shoulder to stop the bleeding and heal the wound made there by his teeth, felt him touch his glowing horn to her 'butterfly' and enter her very gently. When he withdrew his horn she saw on it a small bloodstain, which quickly disappeared. He then lowered his head once more and touched her forehead and eyes. "You will remember nothing of tonight, Ghislaine, but you will be my woman forever...."
While Ghislaine dressed, he stepped out from the sheltering branches of the giant tree 'til she came to him and together they crossed the meadow until they were in the spot from which he'd led her. Once again he touched her with his glowing horn: "Sleep, Ghislaine..." and disappeared as the shouts and calls of searching villagers disturbed the night and drew nearer.
A year passed and the Unicorn's woman, with disturbingly erotic mist recall of ecstasy and unspeakable bliss from she knew not what source, saw and fell in love with a beautiful young man. One star-studded night during their courtship, the beautiful young man pursued and wooed Ghislaine and took her 'flower' gently...firmly. But he was puzzled by her passionate and knowing enjoyment of what was, he knew, her first experience of sexual loving. And when he questioned her about an unusual scar in the tender curve between her neck and shoulder, she touched the spot with trembling fingers but shook her head in bewilderment....
Their first child, born ten months after they married, was the wonder of his parents and the village in which they lived. A miraculously beautiful child, their son had incandescent- white hair, silvery sea-green eyes that penetrated one's essence, and a star-bright spot in the center of his forehead that glowed intensely when he was happy, became pewter-dull when he was sad, and burned redly when he was angry or confronted by cruelty or injustice.
When Ghislaine nursed her son, he took her breast like a lover and her expression became soft with ephemeral recall of an encounter with an enchanting, gleaming Other...of a night of ravishment and ecstasy in the shelter of a giant tree with star-shadowed, down-hanging branches that swept tall sweet grasses and colorful wildflowers in the field that surrounded it.