Kyrie sat just outside her tent, enjoying the humid midsummer night. The moon was full and bright, and everything was illuminated silver and white, except the deepest shadows. She had reckoned on it being a hot night, given the heat of the day, but she hadn’t counted much on not being able to sleep because of it. She had stripped down to just her underthings and was debating on removing even that. It was an isolated camping spot, far away from the usual places where you’d find the occasional drunk college kids or recently divorced dads trying to find some escape in the depths of nature.
For Kyrie, this was a birthday tradition, one that had started when she’d first turned eighteen. Since then, every year around this time, when the moon got high and she got restless, she would take off work, pack up, and head for the gorge. Today she had picked a location just off the Green River where she’d found a quiet pond. From the lack of beer cans and other refuse, she figured it was secluded enough, secret enough, to enjoy a quiet evening alone in reflection.
Kyrie knew her concerns were tame compared to other things people must worry about. She was mostly worried about rent, food security, enough hours at her job to cover the basics, it all weighed on her, especially this time of year. Maybe it was a holdover from her birthdays as a child, but she felt that she should be treated at least a little special when the heat moved in, and the mugginess, and all the other things that heralded summer in the Southlands. Still, concerns over money aside, she could find the peace of wild things out here among the stars and moon and the insistent singing of tree frogs out looking for a good lay. They were especially vocal tonight, adding to the list of things keeping Kyrie awake.
The air was heavy with anticipation, as though as storm were coming, but there were no clouds that Kyrie could see. Still, she couldn’t shake a tingling sensation that ran up her spine and along her arms, giving her gooseflesh despite the heat. The air smelled of good earth and the nearby pond, nothing to give a hint of a change in the weather. She told herself it was just her nerves about changing shifts at work, or maybe the scant twenty dollars in her bank account, something mundane like that.
She wiped the sweat from her eyes and not for the first time looked at pond glowing in the moonlight. Swim in me, it said, cool off and refresh yourself. Most of its perimeter was lined in cattails, but there was a break nearby, a perfect spot to just slip in and let the water take away all her worries. She debated a few minutes more before making up her mind and, standing, stripping to her bare skin. A thrill of excitement shot through her and she laughed, a pink flush spreading across her face and down her chest. The humid night air wasn’t all that cooler now, but she felt freer at least.
Not knowing how deep the pond was, or what lay beneath the surface, she didn’t go about diving in, but waded in gently, the water shocking in its coolness against her feet, then thighs, then on and on until she was standing with the water just under her breasts. A shiver of excitement, and not a little bit of chill from the cool water, ran up her spine. Ducking low, she dunked her head under the water, soaking her short black hair into a shining blue under the moonlight. She fell onto her back and relished in the feeling of weightlessness as she floated there in the calm, still water, the sound of her heartbeat and rushing blood all she could hear. Then there was a splash, and laughter, and she bolted upright, hands covering her bare chest.
Kyrie looked around frantically to see who had come to disturb her quietude, and there, not twenty feet away, was another woman. She was as pale as Kyrie wasn’t, skin like marble in the brightness of the full moon. Her hair matched, a light straw blonde, and it fell to past her shoulders where it was a bit darker from having been wet in the pond. Kyrie turned to hurry out of the water and back to the seclusion of her tent when she saw the woman turn and seem to notice her for the first time. Her heart jumped into her throat as the other woman swam effortlessly over to her. The woman’s speed shocked Kyrie for how quiet she was gliding through the water.
When she was just a few feet away, the pale woman stopped and stood, towering a good foot over Kyrie, her breasts level with Kyrie’s eyes. And they were nice breasts, Kyrie had to admit, perfect and round and perky, not big enough to be obscene. Each was tipped with a ghostly pale nipple that barely showed a change in color from the rest of the flesh. They were hard from the chill of the water, and Kyrie suddenly realized she was staring. Blushing, she looked away and cleared her throat.
“It’s a beautiful night for a swim, don’t you think?” the woman asked, seemingly oblivious, or completely nonchalant, about Kyrie’s staring.
“Y-yes, yes, it is,” Kyrie answered, clutching her arms around her chest, her face flush with embarrassment.
“The name’s Selene,” the woman said, extending her hand in greeting.
“Kyrie,” Kyrie said, shaking Selene’s hand before wrapping it around her chest again. “I was just leaving. Sorry if I bothered you,” she said, turning to go.
“Oh, don’t go so quickly,” Selene said, resting a long-fingered hand on Kyrie’s shoulder to stop her. “Please. Won’t you stay and swim with me a while?”
A stray wind picked up and brought with it the scents of summer, loamy and sweaty and with a hint of bergamot. Kyrie shivered again, both from the touch and the coolness of the breeze on her wet skin. Gooseflesh ran up her back and over her arms. Kyrie looked over her shoulder at the smiling Selene and found her embarrassment ebbing away. It wasn’t like Selene didn’t have anything Kyrie hadn’t seen before, and vice-versa. Just two strangers, having a swim, nothing odd about that, right?
Blushing, Kyrie let her arms fall to her side and she turned to Selene. “Of course, I’m sorry. I’m being so silly. You just caught me off guard. I thought I was alone.”
“So did I,” Selene admitted, throwing wide an arm, and gesturing toward the shore. “I usually come here alone, this time of year. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“Not at all,” Kyrie replied, embarrassment threatening to flush her cheeks again. “I’m just, you know, a lone woman out in the wilderness. Makes me a little jumpy.”
“Believe me, I understand,” Selene said, leaning in close.
The scent of bergamot again washed over Kyrie, leaving her light-headed. She stumbled a bit in the water, and Selene steadied her. Selene’s hands felt soft against Kyrie’s skin and sent a thrill down from where Selene touched her arm straight to Kyrie’s groin. She fought off another shiver and took a step back, shaking her head to clear it.
“That scent you’re wearing, it’s so strong,” Kyrie said, rubbing the memory of Selene’s touch into her arm.
“It’s bee balm, a favorite. Perfect for midsummer, yes?” Selene said, moving in close and pulling Kyrie to her in one swift motion. “Breathe me in, lovely girl, I don’t mind at all.”
Kyrie couldn’t think of anything to say, the smell was so overwhelming, filling her nose, and her mind, completely. It sang of sun-soaked fields, busy with bees and butterflies and other buzzing things that made the flowers grow. She could see in her mind’s eye the farm she grew up on, long days in the golden grass that filled the fallow fields, and the great sprawling oak that sat in the middle of the yard, begging to be climbed, to be a respite for reading, or a nap. It whispered of sweltering summer nights, just like this one, where sleep wouldn’t come despite the exhaustion of a day of playing, and the heat of sunburnt faces. All of this and more the smell rolling from Selene called out to Kyrie, and she felt herself go into a sort of dreaming faint.
Selene was aglow with moonlight, her eyes white, hair aflame in a halo around her head. She lifted Kyrie like a child and cradled her in her arms, walking through the water as though on land, until they reached the shore again. She sat Kyrie back on her feet and took her hand, leading her into the field, then the forest, then a clearing there where the canopy was broken in an open circle, itself filled with the full body of the moon. It was bright as day here, and the moss was so soft underfoot Kyrie was sure they were walking on a down cover.
There the two of them lay down, Selene’s hands running the length and breadth of Kyrie’s body, drawing up gooseflesh where her soft fingers drew their traces. Her lips followed her fingers, impossibly softer in their touch, and where the kisses fell was like a cold fire living just under Kyrie’s skin. Kyrie moaned from the heat of it, her own hands rubbing her body where the kisses left their mark, rubbing at the burning. It wasn’t pain, nothing as awful as that, but an intense aching that demanded touch. Kyrie arched her back with a gasp as Selene’s tongue flicked across first one then the other nipple, pulling them into stiff peaks atop her small breasts.
Kyrie held Selene’s head to her chest as she sucked hungrily, the fire growing, burning, roaring inside her chest. Insistently, intently, Kyrie pushed Selene’s head down her body, and the trail of burning kisses followed. When Selene’s head was at Kyrie’s mound, Kyrie’s legs spread themselves of their own accord, inviting Selene further down, further in. At first the kisses stopped, and Kyrie frowned, craning her neck to see what the matter was. As she was about to speak, Selene blew a soft breath down the length of Kyrie’s moist cunt, and Kyrie couldn’t help but buck her hips and moan. It was a deep moan, coming from her core, and Selene smiled at hearing it.
Lowering her head, Selene placed the softest, slightest kiss atop Kyrie’s pubic mound, drawing out more sounds from Kyrie. Another kiss, another moan, another kiss, another moan, and then a full-tongued lick that ran from Kyrie’s clit to her wet opening that had Kyrie’s noises of pleasure stick in her throat. It felt so intensely good that Kyrie’s mind went blank for a moment. When she came back to herself, Selene was busy with her tongue on her slit, lapping at the moisture leaking from between Kyrie’s legs. Kyrie did her best not to crawl away from the feeling and instead pushed her hips up, offering easier access to Selene in her lapping.
Selene responded by cupping Kyrie’s buttocks in her hands and burying her face in her cunt, her tongue swirling and flicking around Kyrie’s clit. Stunned into silence again, Kyrie bucked helplessly against Selene’s relentless pleasure assault until, building slowly at first, then crashing all at once, Kyrie came, and hard.
“Oh, fuck me,” was all Kyrie could manage, before throwing her head back and shuddering with pleasure.
Selene pulled away, laughing, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” she said, before sliding two slender fingers easily into the wet recesses of Kyrie’s cunt, eliciting yet another in a series of seemingly endless moans from the other woman. “Do you like it slow and hard?” she asked, pulling her fingers almost completely out of Kyrie’s hole before firmly shoving them back in. “Or do you,” Selene said, “prefer it fast and hard?” And she demonstrated, her hand a blur, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh the only noise apart from Kyrie’s ecstasy.
“Faster. Harder.”
Selene obliged, sending Kyrie reeling into another orgasm, the hot flesh of her cunt spasming around Selene’s long fingers. Slowly, so slowly, she pulled her hand free of Kyrie, and the other woman slumped exhausted to the ground, shivering with delight. “Now, lovely, it’s my turn, yes?” With that she slid up Kyrie’s body until they were face to face and locked in with her the most wonderful kiss Kyrie had ever experienced.
Kyrie’s scent on Selene’s fact, mingled with the overpowering rush of bergamot rolling off her body, sent Kyrie into another faint, or a dream, or something in between. She saw Selene grow a foot taller, then taller still, until she stood towering above the clearing, a giant bathing in moonlight. Reaching down she lifted Kyrie in a massive hand and brought her level with her own cunt. Kyrie marveled at the size of it, the enormous pink clit there jutting out from between pale, pink lips. And as she stared, dream logic took over, and suddenly Kyrie was just as large as Selene, if not half as lovely.
She fell to her knees before Selene and took her hips in her hands before burying her face between her legs, her lips seeking that engorged clit that just begged to be kissed, to be sucked. And suck she did, her lips wrapping around it, tongue flickering just as Selene’s had done not awfully long before. The towering woman shuddered and rested her hands on Kyrie’s head, pulling her more closely to her. She lifted a leg, allowing deeper access, and Kyrie obliged, plunging her tongue past the lips of Selene’s cunt and in.
Selene tasted of fresh cut grass, of flowers blossoming in the sun, and Kyrie wanted more. She lost herself in between Selene’s legs, fucking her with her tongue, running it along her slit, over her clit, and back in again. Over and over until Selene shook above her, pulling her hair, pulling her tight against her body. A rush of nectar flooded out of Selene’s cunt and Kyrie was helpless to fight it, swallowing it down. Kyrie pulled away at last, gasping, face drenched with Selene’s wetness, and the two fell into an embrace on the soft, mossy ground, lips meshed, legs entwined, bodies writhing against each other in the moonlight. They stayed this way for longer than Kyrie could recount, lips hungry for the other’s flesh.
###
Dawn crept up with its rosy fingers and shook Kyrie awake with the heat of the sun. She was in her tent, under a light blanket, naked and covered in sweat. She stared at the roof of her tent as the day grew brighter outside, recounting the events of the night before they could evaporate like the usual fog of dreaming. It had all felt so real, the swimming and Selene and the, well, the impossibly frantic lovemaking in the forest clearing. Kyrie sighed and draped her arm over her eyes, wistful in the memory. Then came the scent of bergamot, clear and powerful, and she opened her eyes to see, looped around her wrist, a braid of white and pink bee balm flowers for a makeshift bracelet. Dangling beside it, on a chain of silver, was a white orb made to look very much like the moon.