The Festival Spirit by Rachel Randall

Author:Rachel Randall [Randall, Rachel]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-09-10T12:28:52.702000+00:00

It didn’t help. Nothing did.

Their little glade was truly a prison. She could walk to the border of those pale flowers but no further. And Johnny was still in whatever thrall the fairy had left him in, even worse than before. With a drawn-out sigh, Mira knelt cautiously beside him.

Since the fairy had disappeared, he’d been lost in feverish dreams. His hands were pushed through the fly of his jeans, moving on his cock with unashamed, determined strokes that brought him no closer to relief. Mira watched him writhe with answering twinges in her soaking pussy. Part guilty about seeing him like this, part avid to see more, she was at a loss for what to do.

Her desire, the fairy had said she wanted. Mira had so much of it. But how could she give in to it without hurting Johnny, who was in no fit state to agree to anything? How could Mira give him up to someone else after all these years of wanting?

But maybe…maybe she didn’t have to. If the fairy wanted desire, Mira would give it to her, but she’d spin her want for him into something intimate yet not personal. No, she couldn’t give up Johnny, not without a fight.

Out of desperation, she started to speak, letting the words just stream. With her hands tightly wrapped around his shuddering shoulders, with the hot curve of his back pressed against her breasts and belly, it was easy to let go of her secret thoughts, like writing lyrics in her battered notebook. “Lee was teasing me earlier,” she said. “About camping with the festival crowd. Well…he was right to tease.” Her cheeks flushed as she remembered.

“It started this morning,” she said, because it did, everything that was important here within this circle. “I woke up in my tent, feeling good. The sun was already high. I’d slept later than I thought I would. People passed by but I didn’t have to hit sound check until three. No reason to get up. The people outside they were only shadows to me, painted shadows on the canvas walls. I could hear them, I could see them, but they didn’t know about me.”

Johnny had gone quiet when she’d begun but now he stirred in her arms, rubbing his head, cat-like, against her. She longed to pet him, all over. But she just couldn’t, not here and especially not when she couldn’t be totally sure whether Johnny genuinely wanted it himself.

“I was warm,” she continued, looking out at the oak trees rather than down at him. “It was stuffy in the tent, but not unpleasant. Close. Safe. My t-shirt had ridden up during the night, my nipples rubbed against the edges of the fabric. It was…” She hesitated. “It was nice to touch myself there, and,” another pause for breath, “just underneath my breasts, under the curve where it was slick with sweat.”

She risked a glance down at Johnny’s tense, upturned face and lightly traced a fingertip across his cheek. His eyes were closed and it made the next admission easier.

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