Summer Games [A Custom Story]

on 12/01/12 in 500 Words, Erotic Fiction, Giveaways

Three-Word Prompt: Satyr Swain Fruit

There’s a certain smell to corruptible youth, rousing and potent like opium made flesh. To this, Leo is driven. Of course his name isn’t Leo, but the name tumbles off the tongue as easily as notes from his pipe. His pipe-playing brings pleasure to all who hear it, but that’s not the only pleasure he brings.

He’s taking the back ways through the hills, paths that men forget like women’s names, when he catches something on the breeze that stirs him. The smell. Oh, the smell! He plays a flourish on his woodwind. He clicks his heels.

He happens upon the young man wrestling an invisible opponent in a secluded space between the trees. He strikes strong poses and twists his sleek, youthful form for a few long moments like an oil-wrestler during practice. The swain catches sight and his wide-eyes widen.

“Will you harm me?” the young man asks.

“No,” Leo says. “How do you know these ways that men have forgotten?”

The young man shrugs. “I’m young and beautiful. The ways open for me.”

“And what will you open for me?” Leo asks, and plays a few mischievous notes for the boy.

The swain grins shyly but strips off his clothes all the same. The day is warm, it’s summer and the flowers are bursting with nectar. Leo smiles and allows the youth to see his Dionysian rod. The swain’s gaze falls on it and is enchanted by it. The swain comes forward and the two touch their cocks together.

“Is this alright?” the young man asks.

“Of course. What could be more so?” Leo replies.

They rub their hard pricks and leave trails of sticky wetness on each others’ bellies like boys at their play. Leo reaches around the swain, groping his firm legs as he does, until he has found the swain’s hole, right in his furry ass crack. Leo makes a happy noise as he pushes a finger in. The swain shivers, but allows it. The finger slips in easily, such is the bounty of Dionysus.

Naturally Leo wants more and the swain’s eyes are obliging.

Leo turns him around and as easy as anything, slides his cock inside the young man. The tight young cunt squeezes around his sizable member and he thrashes the swain, fucking him vigorously. It doesn’t last long, which Leo finds surprising, but the surprise is pleasant as he unloads within the swain.

Sweating and panting they come apart. The swain offers Leo some small refreshment; Leo accepts a drink of wine and a bite of fruit. The fruit is as sweat, juicy and delicious as the boy. But Leo’s eyes widen upon the first bite.

“You are mine now,” the swain says. “You’ve eaten the fruit of my grove and now you are of my grove. We will be together for an unending summer, son of Dionysus.”

Leo knows he’s caught, that the magic is true. He raises his pipe and plays a mournful summer song.