Mountain Rites Read online

  Mountain Rites

  By

  Anya Turner

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Mountain Rites

  Copyright© 2017 Anya Turner

  Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

  Editor: Courtney Taylor

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Cobblestone Press

  www.cobblestone-press.com

  Dedication

  For Lisa

  Jenny wasn’t sure she bought her friend Ginger’s idea. Sure, they had spent the last few months complaining about their dried-up sex lives, and neither of them were prudes, but this was a step beyond their usual carousing.

  “I’m not so sure I want to go to a sex party, Ginge!” Jenny said.

  Ginger rolled her eyes. “The Dionysian mysteries aren’t like that. Think of it as a rite of mystery. It’s pretty high up on the mountain, and it’s not exactly easy to get into those groves if you’re not invited.” She was filing her nails to an attractive yet practical length, probably in anticipation of the revelry.

  Jenny crossed her arms. “Sounds like a good way to get pregnant with some nature spirit’s baby. A fertility rite in the woods? I’ll pass.”

  “This isn’t the dark ages, Jenny. This is modern Arcadia. It’s all on the up-and-up.” Ginger smiled slyly. “It’s not like some frat-organized gangbang. It’s a mystical ceremony. Dancing, drinking, and safe, wild sex. Don’t tell me you don’t want some good sex for once!”

  Jenny considered it. She and Ginger offset each other well at concerts and clubs, so why not at some mountain ritual? Jenny was short and chubby, but she thought she wore it well: her long, curly blonde hair suited her heavy breasts and hips. Her figure was reminiscent of a Romantic painting of a shepherdess or milkmaid. Her milk-and-roses complexion helped with the overall effect. Ginger was the exact opposite, being tall, thin, and dark by comparison. She wore her black hair just to her shoulder, and even in empire dresses, she had neither breast nor hip to show off. If Jenny was a pastoral ideal, Ginger was a pre-Raphaelite sorceress.

  “You know we always do better when we go out together!” Ginger pressed her hands together imploringly.

  Jenny allowed herself to be persuaded. The idea was intriguing and even a little exciting. They got up the next morning with enough time to dress up and drive through the mountain in Ginger’s clanking, rusting car.

  In deference to their modern sensibilities, the warm weather, and the long drive ahead, both put on their most alluring bras and panties but not much makeup. Ginger settled on a body-hugging tank top and tight, dark jeans that emphasized her long legs and arms. Thinking of the cooler mountain temperatures, Jenny went with a clingy sweater that showed off her chest.

  The road up the mountain was narrow and switched back and forth. Ginger drove slowly up every stretch that didn’t have a line of pine trees protecting the psyche if not the body from the sheer drops. She licked her lips and clutched the steering wheel tight.

  Jenny kept one eye on the map, which was useless past a certain height where the road turned to dirt, and the other on their cell service, which had ended with the paved road. “We better not die,” she said, wondering if the ice scraper could be used as a weapon. She trusted Ginger’s judgment, but isolated up on the mountaintop, all it would take was one person with bad intentions to do them serious harm.

  “Are you kidding me? We’re going to be fine! This girl from work has been attending for years, and the only thing she has ever encountered there is fantastic sex. She’s the one who got us in.” Ginger eased the car through a turn. “We’re almost to the end of the road now, and it’s a quick walk to the clearing from there. The sun’s going down in an hour, so start getting those sales-rack panties wet, Jenny.”

  Jenny laughed in spite of herself and settled back in her seat, feeling slightly more at ease.

  Ginger’s contact was waiting for them at the end of the road. She was a beautiful young woman with inhumanly yellow eyes and black hair. She was dressed in a white tunic that ended above her knees.

  Jenny could see the woman’s nipples through the thin fabric draped around her body. Jenny bit her lip as the beginning of arousal licked through her.

  “Glad you ladies could make it,” the woman said as Ginger and Jenny got out of the car.

  Ginger left her keys on top of the wheel on the driver’s side and smiled. “Jenny, this is Melia. Melia, Jenny.”

  Melia gave Jenny an impenetrable look with her strange eyes. Then she turned away from the road, jerking her head at them to follow.

  The woods were cool. The ground wasn’t choked with underbrush but soft and yielding with moss, ferns, and old leaves.

  Jenny heard a faint flute from ahead. Then a drum started up. The music was simple, almost deceptively so. As they got closer, she could hear a complicated, frantic melody playing around the main motif. It itched at her feet and hips, making her want to dance, but she resisted. She sensed that the simple rhythmic grind of a dance club wasn’t what this music wanted. It demanded something more primal.

  With the sun setting behind them, they broke into a clearing. The crowd there was mostly women. Dressed in short white dresses like Melia, they held sticks and tambourines and danced wildly, kicking up grass and fallen leaves. On the far side of the clearing, half-hidden in a tree’s shadow, sat a man playing the flute.

  Jenny felt the music slip under her skin. The need for her to run and scream lessened as a throb between her legs settled and heated.

  Out of the shade of the trees stepped a young woman, an inch or so taller than Jenny, dressed in a ragged green shirt and skirt. The torn material bared her long brown legs, her belly and arms, and most of her shoulders and breasts.

  Jenny blinked. The woman’s skin was patterned in a subtle, square mosaic. Jenny reached out as the woman approached and touched smooth skin. A dryad.

  The dryad smiled at her, took Jenny by the shoulders, and turned her around.

  Jenny didn’t struggle, feeling arousal fizz up under her skin.

  The dryad’s hands moved down Jenny’s sides, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, thumbs pressing the back of her sweater. The dryad’s hands slid over Jenny’s ass and massaged where her hips and thighs met beneath her jeans. Then the dryad moved her hands forward to glide up Jenny’s belly, stopping at her breasts and squeezing.

  Jenny finally gasped, already feeling winded and overwhelmed. “Wait, what’s your name?”

  “You can call me Maple,” the dryad said. Her fingers traced the ridge in Jenny’s sweater that marked the edge of her bra, and her thumbs pressed hard over Jenny’s nipples.

  Jenny shivered at the warm breath on the back of her neck.

  “I know the first time can be overwhelming,” Maple murmured. “Just let us take care of you.”

  Jenny nodded and put her hands over Maple’s to encourage her. The woman’s torso was firm and unyielding behind Jenny, so she leaned back against Maple, weak-kneed. Jenny reached a hand back to rub Maple through her skirt, but she felt clumsy and distracted, off-kilter from desire. Just having her breasts groped and nipples teased was having a strong effect on her.

  She looked across the clearing and spotted Ginger’s friend Melia leaning back against a shadowy man who had pulled her dress up so he could squeeze her breasts. Another woman in green was kneeling between her legs, and Melia’s hand tangled in her hair
. Everywhere Jenny looked, she could see something similar. She knew Ginger was somewhere among them too.

  Jenny took her eyes off two men writhing together under an oak tree as someone approached her and Maple.

  Definitely not human. His skin was a blueish grey in the fading light, and he had long, straight black hair that reached all the way down his back. He was far taller than Jenny, towering more than six feet high. All he wore was a loincloth of hide and reeds, showing off powerful legs and a muscular body, and a silver necklace, glittering on his bare chest.

  Jenny swallowed, pulling her hand back from where she’d been rubbing clumsily at Maple. Once more, she was aware of the pounding, demanding beat of the drum. A lock of her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and she scraped it back behind her ear, trying to catch her breath.

  Maple pushed her right breast out of her bra without reaching into her sweater.

  Feeling breathless, Jenny struggled to stand on her own again, flicking her eyes over the man as he stopped in front of them.

  “Got hands on one of our mortal guests, Maple?” the man asked, his voice deep.

  Jenny felt a shiver of anger at not being addressed. Hot he might be, but he could be civil too. “Clearly she has. Who are you?”

  He sniffed out a breath, as though surprised that she was talking. Then he reached forward, took her hand, and shook it as though they were being introduced at a meeting. “You can call me Kel.” He raked his dark eyes up and down her body.

  “I’m Jenny,” she said, then squealed as Maple pinched a nipple hard.

  Kel smiled, a hint of bad-boy nastiness in his eyes, and stepped closer. His hand pushed one of Maple’s aside so his fingers could run over Jenny’s nipple. He flicked it hard through the fabric, then slid his hand over her full breast, soothing the sting.

  Maple’s hand slithered down between Jenny and Kel’s bodies, settling hot and firm over the crotch of Jenny’s jeans. Her other hand moved from Jenny’s breast to her side, then up her back to stroke her hair.

  Jenny let out another moan, then a softer one Kel slid two fingers from his other hand into her mouth. Her jaw was held in place by the grip of his thumb and fingers.

  Pressed between the two of them, Jenny was unspeakably turned on and drunk on the feeling of being attended. She tried to grind against Maple’s hand, but she was still leaning back against the dryad and couldn’t find the right angle.

  Kel moved his hand from her breast and slid it under her sweater, drawing the fabric up until the lacy edging of her dark red bra was visible.

  His fingers felt colder than the night air when he pinched her nipple again. She moaned as his fingers rolled the tip of her breast to the point of pain.

  Just then, Maple rubbed once, slowly and teasingly, over Jenny’s pussy.

  Jenny wanted to tell her to undo her jeans or at least fit her hand into them, but she couldn’t speak. She might have managed a few words around Kel’s fingers, but the mental clarity required to speak was gone, scattered by desire.

  Kel drew his fingers out of her mouth and slid them over her breast. The cool of her saliva added to the sensation in her nipple. He pinched her again, then put his big hand over her breast, tugging her bra farther down.

  In the back of her mind, the practical part of Jenny winced at the stretching of her best bra. That thought was quickly pushed aside, though, by the thrill of being disrobed in public.

  Maple squeezed her again.

  “Yes,” Jenny moaned.

  “Here, all the way off,” Kel said. He pulled the hem of her sweater over both her breasts, dragging it over her head. He turned her by the shoulders so she was facing the other woman, brushing Maple’s hands away as he did. He was too tall for his hips to be level with Jenny’s, but he crushed her against Maple nonetheless.

  The dryad’s thigh ended up between Jenny’s legs, solid, hot, and unmoving. Maple offered a smug smile and settled her hands on Jenny’s waist.

  Kel’s hands came around and pushed her bra up this time, grabbing at her breasts. He fumbled at the ornamental bow in the front of her bra, huffing a breath against her neck when it failed to untie.

  In a brief, semi-lucid moment of humor, Jenny noted that the spirits of Arcadia’s mountain were not experts on undoing modern clothing. She reached back and undid the clasp of her bra, letting Kel pull it off.

  Kel’s blueish hand reached forward and ripped off Maple’s tattered shirt too.

  It burst into a shower of leaves as it left her body.

  Jenny had no time to be amazed.

  Kel’s hands grabbed at her breasts again and then at Maple’s, and he pushed Jenny against Maple so that their nipples rubbed together. His breath was hot against her neck and shoulder as his hand crept down her leg. His height forced him to bend down and lean against her and Maple.

  Jenny worried for an instant that they would topple, but she was quickly captivated by the ease with which the dryad took their weight. The creature truly was as sturdy as a tree.

  Kel shifted favorably, but instead of reaching for Jenny, he moved his hand away.

  She whimpered in jealousy as she realized he was fingering Maple. Jenny felt needy and wild. She wanted his fingers deep in her.

  “Patience,” Kel said, his free hand coming back up to rub and squeeze Jenny’s breasts. He pulled his other hand back from Maple’s pussy and dabbed her liquid on her nipples. Then he pressed Jenny’s breasts back up against the other woman’s.

  The sensation was slick and hot, and Jenny heard a moan escape her lips again.

  Maple laughed softly and shivered, her fingers tightening on Jenny’s waist.

  Kel pulled Jenny back against him, hands gripping her hips hard. “You’ll get your turn.”

  Once more nearly overwhelmed by Kel and Maple’s attention, Jenny shivered and gazed beyond their close tangle to try to collect herself.

  The clearing was well lit, the fading sunlight having been replaced by the silvery light of a full moon. Groups of two, three, and more copulated on the ground and against trees. The frantic sounds of the flute continued to move over the whole scene, and some of the dancers were still kicking high, leaping, and twirling near the imposing flute player.

  Kel’s hand slid over the front of Jenny’s jeans, bringing her attention back to him and Maple.

  Maple squeezed her waist, then drifted away.

  Jenny’s skin prickled into goosebumps. She shivered back against Kel and pressed down onto his fingers, lowering her hands to unzip her pants at last.

  Kel caught her fingers in his other hand, pulling them behind her back and holding her by the wrists. He rubbed her slowly through her jeans, massaging her thighs as well.

  She felt her pussy clenching at nothing. “Please,” she whispered, shivering with need.

  Kel flicked open her jeans and rubbed her pussy through her panties.

  She knew she’d soaked them through.

  Putting some of his weight on her, Kel pulled them both to the ground so she was on her knees and he was kneeling behind her, still holding her arms behind her back.

  She could sense others close by, watching them from the shadows. The awareness of an audience was arousing. Jenny moaned and bucked her hips against Kel’s slow hand.

  “Need a cock?” he said, tugging her jeans farther down, rubbing the soaked crotch of her panties between his fingers so the knuckle of his thumb brushed her labia.

  Jenny moaned again.

  With a bit of clumsy, eager maneuvering on her part, Kel tugged her pants the rest of the way off. Then he pushed her legs apart, settling behind her.

  “Yes,” she gasped, spreading her legs wider.

  One of the watchers from the shadows stepped forward into the light, looking down at them.

  Jenny felt a dim instinct to close her legs, but the drumbeat, the flute, and the fire of her arousal kept her posture open and wanton.

  Kel’s hand played over her belly, just above her pussy.

  A
t first glance, the watcher looked more human than Kel. The newcomer was completely naked with brown skin and curly brown hair. His cock jutted up straight from a thicket of tight curls, and he had yellow eyes like Melia’s. In his right hand, he held a small bunch of grapes. He stared down at Jenny and Kel, then crouched in front of them.

  “You’re one of the mortals,” the watcher said, putting one hand on Jenny’s thigh.

  She twitched with desire.

  Kel’s grip on her wrists tightened.

  “Yes,” she said, breathless. “I’m Jenny.”

  The watcher’s expression didn’t change, but he pulled a few of the grapes off the bunch and crushed them to pulp and skin in his hand. He returned to his feet. With yellow eyes fixed on Jenny, he rubbed the crushed fruit over his cock, slowly and sensuously.

  She could see the bits of fruit sticking to his skin.

  “Clean me off, Jenny,” he said. His voice was imperious, and a small smile flickered at his lips.

  Jenny was pleased that Kel moved with her, refusing to relinquish her arms. When she looked back, his eyes were hot and intent, flicking between her mouth and the man’s cock.

  As Kel fitted himself close behind her, she could feel the press of his cock through his heavy loincloth against her ass. On her knees, she felt off-balance. Kel’s weight was now intimidating instead of comforting. Still, in the strange atmosphere of the clearing, the uncertainty and fear were arousing too. Her nipples hardened again.

  The new man noticed, humming faintly.

  She leaned forward and took his cock in her mouth. The overwhelming sweetness of grape juice cut the taste and smell of skin and musk. The resulting taste was sharp yet sweet, making her suck eagerly at him. Her tongue flicked out to capture every little piece of pulp and skin. She swallowed to get to the base of his cock.

  Kel rubbed her panties, his thumb firm over her clit.

  She sucked and gasped around the cock in her mouth, moving to the rhythm of the constant drum. She had never felt so good sucking cock before. The excitement made her pussy drip and her nipples tingle.