“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” the boy said, wondering where the girl had gone. He’d met her the day before at the convention and was, like most of the other male attendees, smitten immediately by her. He caught a glimpse of some movement behind one of the trees and sprinted in that direction, tearing around the corner and almost tripping over her long legs, his scabbarded sword waving perilously close to her face ’til he restrained it.
She’d sat down, her back against the tree, looking up at him with an amused curve on her lips. “What kept you?” she asked, lifting the joint to her mouth and striking a match. “It can’t be every day a lady asks you if you’d like a smoke and a fuck so I can’t really understand your tardiness.” She inhaled deeply, gently exhaling a smoke ring.
He groped for something to say, and in the end just settled for plonking himself down next to her, his sword getting in the way and nearly taking his eye out.
She laughed. “Careful, I want you to be some use to me…” she told him, passing the joint across. He felt himself blush, took a far too deep drag and suffered the double indignity of a coughing fit followed by a whitey. He felt the world swirl around him and he nearly retched. At least his eyes were getting used to the dark, he thought as he came to – he could see her more clearly now. He idly wondered if he’d ever seen the moon that close before, but decided he hadn’t – it looked huge tonight. Maybe it was because he was on his back.
Then her face blocked the moon, looking over him. She’d caught him and manoeuvred his head into her lap, stroking his temples. Her eyes held a trace of amusement and lust as she told him that she never cut weed when skinning a joint, she hated the taste of tobacco. He was again amazed at how good her makeup was; the pointed ears in particular were stunningly well executed.
“Feeling better then?” she asked him.
He nodded in reply, not trusting himself to speak. She grinned at him and untied her dress over her left shoulder, holding it in place before asking, “would you like to see my tits?”
He nodded, excited by her language. She was the most direct woman he’d ever met in his short life. She grinned again, something almost predatory in her gaze and let the dress fall away, exposing her perfect left breast. She lifted him to her nipple, cradling his head in her left arm, directing her nipple to his mouth with her right hand before resting it on his midriff. “Be my big baby and suck gently,” she told him, gasping as he did as he was instructed. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, which made her gasp.
“Naughty boy!” she exclaimed, though he wasn’t sure whether that was because of what his tongue was doing, or because of what she’d found with her exploring right hand between his legs. “That feels rather congested” she murmured, starting to undo his belt. He reached up to the right hand tie, holding her dress in place and released it, her other fantastic breast falling free.
Before he had a chance to do anything with it, she wriggled out from under him, and stood, her dress falling around her ankles. “Christ,” he breathed, not noticing the slight flinch she made at that name, stunned by her beauty. He made it to his knees, his costume trousers and sword belt all conspiring to stop him standing, his cock harder than he’d ever known it sticking out in front of him.
She was everything he’d ever fantasised about. Her young face seemed flawless, her breasts large and full, her body curved to run your hands over. His eyes scanned down her almost naked body. She’d been almost naked under her dress, wearing only stockings, a suspender belt and her heels. He almost dribbled in sympathy with his leaking cock, not noticing the cold October night. She was not the sort of girl he’d ever expected to find at a science fiction and fantasy convention – she should have been forever out of his league.
He laughed. She looked at him questioningly, hand on hips, legs slightly apart. “Do you laugh at all naked women offering you the fuck of your life?”
He shook his head, “No sorry, it’s just you look absolutely perfect, everything I’ve been dreaming and wanking over since I was 13.” Something made him gabble on. “You look like a model from a porno film but you’ve still got your costume ears on.” He laughed again.
She laughed back. “Well, get out of your clothes Mr. Ranger and see how well this Arwen fucks you.” She stepped back as he struggled out of his clothes. “I bet you Aragorn’s cock was drowned on their wedding night, just Tolkien was such a prudish public school boy he wouldn’t have let a dirty woman pollute the story.”
He was naked. He stood up, standing a good 8 inches over her. He stepped towards her and pressed his lips to hers, his hands found her breasts and she wrapped her hand around his cock. An arousing smell filled the air, musky and heady. “Oh no, can you smell what you’re doing to my cunt?” she whispered in his ear, feeling his cock swell even more in her hand. “Fuck, I want this big thing inside me…” she gasped, pulling at him as she sank to the ground. He entered her easily, her body feeling warm and inviting. “C’mon, fuck my cunt!” she demanded, reaching ’round and slapping his arse, almost like an equestrian goading her mount. He began a spastic thrusting of his hips, each penetration he nearly came but somehow he continued to hold off. He ran his hands through her hair, over her temples and ears, which felt incredibly lifelike. It felt like it had been forever when he finally squirted deep inside her. He fell on her, sobbing in ecstasy.
Finally, his cock shrank and plopped out of her and she asked him to move off her. He got up on his haunches and watched as she calmly picked her dress up. “Please stay naked, at least until we’ve had a final cuddle” he implored her. For one second she looked loving and sympathetic, then her face hardened.
“You’d better go,” she told him, slipping her dress over her head. He watched as the delectable breasts, then bum, were covered. She smoothed the dress down, as he watched, longing.
She looked coldly at him. “Get dressed and fuck off,” she told him. His mouth fell open as she turned on her heel and walked away. Still naked, he scrambled to his feet and tried to follow her. She turned to face him – stopping him with the flat of her hand. “Go back to your world,” she told him, “You’ve had all you can of mine and stay sane. Get dressed or you’ll catch your death of cold!”
Now she mentioned it, he felt slightly chilly. The grass underfoot was damper than he remembered. The wind got up and formed goosebumps on his skin. He looked up and saw the moon was new, not full.
He looked around for her, but she was gone, the only thing not a memory the scent of her on his body.