1. Goblins


    Date: 1/10/2016, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Blowjob, Cheating, Cuckold, Gothic, Horror, Job/Place-of-work, Mature, Monster, Older Male / Female, Oral Sex, Romance, Author: BlackRonin, Rating: 77.8, Source: sexstories.com

    Does perfume really burn?” “Sometimes,” said Megan, lifting Miles over a hedge and then clambering over it herself. “Oh,” said Flora. Then: “So the fairies tied the ribbon to the top of the pole and stuck the pole in the ground, and they all danced around it, and wherever they danced the grass died. What's the name for a pole with a ribbon that you dance around like that?” “A maypole.” “Can we make one?” Flora said. “If you're good, and if Sir Rowland says so. It's a pagan thing, though.” Miles had discovered an old, empty badger den under the hedge and Megan was down on her knees in the grass with him, vaguely concerned that it may, in fact, not be empty after all. “What's 'pagan' mean?” said Flora. “Godless,” said Megan, brushing the grass off her skirts. She spied Bryn trimming the hedges at the top of the slope. “Both of you wait here. Finish telling your fairy story to your brother.” She began hiking up toward Bryn. Flora plunked down in the middle of a ring of toadstools and took Miles by the hand, relating the rest of the story in a whisper. Bryn nodded as she came up, but his sheers never stopped working. “Good afternoon, Miss James,” he said. Megan found a soft spot on the clover bed and sat, watching Bryn work. He was wearing a short-sleeved work shirt that showed an awful lot of his arms. “How are things in the big house?” he said. “Just fine. ...actually, not fine at all.” “But saying 'fine' is polite.” “I guess it is.” “Will you all be staying on with us the ...
    whole summer?” “I imagine. It's up to Sir Rowland, though.” “That's fine. That old house always looks lonely without tenants. It's good you've all come, and brought the children too. I trust they're well?” Megan threw a handful of clover at him. “You know they are. Why are you talking to me like I'm a stranger?” Turning so that he faced only her for a second he said: “Little pitchers have wide ears, as my grandmother used to remind us.” “They're in a world all their own. Sit down and talk to me like a civilized person. If anyone tries to get you in trouble for lazing about I'll say it was entirely on my account.” He seemed hesitant, but sat anyway. She noticed his hands and took hold of them, turning them over. “What in the world have you been doing?” His fingers were covered with tiny cuts. He shrugged and looked embarrassed. “I was taking the thorns off the roses.” She wanted to laugh but was afraid it would sound like she was making fun of him. “Why would you do a thing like that? And without gloves?” “You always do it without gloves. It's traditional.” “A Welsh tradition?” “A family one. My mother did it in the summer. She said that in the earthly paradise, roses had no thorns. You take them off by hand to remind yourself that getting back to a state of grace takes hard work and hurt. You didn't come up here to chat about the flowers though, did you?” A bee landed on Megan's foot and she watched it tickle its way across the buckle of her shoe. “Something about this place ...
«1...345...1617»