The Witch's Curse

I move a branch away from my face and take another step, my boot sinking into the damp earth. It is dark and what little moonlight I would be receiving is blocked by the heavy foliage. Thank God for my torch.

This isn't a forest to tread in the night. Many a strong man has gone missing after dark. God help us all.

An owl startles me, flapping off in the direction of the treeline where I can barely make out a crescent moon grinning maliciously.

I can see other torches like fireflies flitting about the forest. Separated, the other men from the village and I can cover more territory. But, spread out, we are much more exposed.

"Come out, witch!" a voice snarls far to my left.

Another calls, "You'll burn for what you did!"

They are out for blood, restitution must be paid.

But me, I shiver, and pull at the front of my coat, trying to close out the chill of the autumn. Coldness so early in the year is a bad omen and I fear the corn will not survive the season.

I am far outside of the village. Far away from my warm bed that lies empty. And I wish I was there as I step into a thicket that swallows me from the view of the others.

My boot hits a rock on my next step and I force my view on the ground to steady myself. When I look back up, she is there. My heart starts cascading in my chest as I view her in a black cloak like a phantom of the night.

I squint in the scant light as she unrobes her chestnut hair. Her face glows like a second pale moon.

Her big eyes fix on mine. They are as big as when we were children. My mother always tsked at her brashness, said girls ought not talk like she did. She warned me to steer clear of girls like her, claiming the devil sent evil wrapped in beauty.

But I never could stay away.

She turned all the heads in the town, the whispers following behind the swish of her dress. When she announced she would never marry, the preacher gave an extra long sermon that Sunday. Guard yourself from the temptresses, he preached. A woman will always be the stumbling block of man.

"John," she smiles with reservation.

My hand flinches up to the hilt of my knife.

"Molly." I tip my head in her direction, my throat suddenly dry as the wind. I hold my breath as I watch every movement, unsure which of us is the predator and the prey.

She eyes my hand and takes a step toward me, her gait as light as a cat's.

Heaven help me, I can't help but glance down at her breasts. My length twitches at the sight of her bosom.

"You think me a witch, John?" She tilts her head at the question and I'm caught staring at her slender neck, my mouth watering at the sight. My heart quickens from anticipation or from fear. It's hard to say.

My mind flashes to the last time we were alone.

We always seemed to find each other in the dark.

I steady myself, remembering the situation and taking a breath.

"A man's dead, Molly. You've got to account for it."

"No one will believe me."

She's close enough now I could grab her. And I want to do just that. But my hands want to grip the soft flesh of her hips and grind her down onto my shaft.

Her eyebrows raise and she smiles as if she can read the thoughts straight out of my head. Maybe she can. She steps toward me and I can feel the temptation rising from my groin, up into my chest, heating up my face. I'll be damned from those lips begging me to kiss them. I can still remember the taste of her skin.

I shake my head trying to remember my task.

"You always were the good one, John," Her voice is huskier now, a warm whisper against my skin. Her breasts push up against me as her dress slips a little off her shoulder.

I'm ashamed of the desire rising up and how all I can think about is the many layers of fabric separating me from what I want. What I desperately need.

God, let this cup pass from me.

"I..." and I hesitate because she bites her lips and my mind is suddenly empty.

Discomfort snakes up in my trousers; I grip lightly on the folds of her gown and I'm shamelessly rubbing myself by pressing her against me.

"Oh, John," she moans.

We're panting at the delay, bodies pressed close together, a dam about to burst.

Trailing a hand down her backside, I twist to set the torch down on the wet dirt.

As I move to rise up, I'm gather fabric as I swipe my hands up her leg. My fingers brush soft legs and I ache so bad it hurts. Our mouths crash together.

It's tongues and nipping and biting and panting.

I grip her ass and I rip her undergarments down as she unties my sheath. She strokes me as I suck her neck and I can feel the precum she rubs over me. The cool air is nonexistent to the friction we're emanating.

Wetness drips down at her center and I grind my exposed length between her legs.

I pull her bodice down, exposing her ample breasts. My mouth is upon her and she whimpers even as I press harder against her hips. I place my other hand on her mouth to urge her to be quiet. It is dark enough to not be seen but being heard would surely draw them close.

She pulls her hands up to rake her fingers through my hair as I back her toward a tree for purchase. Her leg wraps around me and I'm driven mad by the slickness of her entrance. My control is shattered as I drive my hips forward and slam myself down to the base, pinning her against the hard surface.

"Punish me, John."

And I do. I grip her hips and back out to tease her entrance, making her squirm against the trunk. I thrust deep inside of her like a wild animal, mindless and in heat.

"You naughty girl," I grunt as I pump. "Wicked, wild thing," I pant.

I reach one of my hands to grip the side of her face and I plunge my thumb into her mouth even as I hold her hip with the other hand, never slowing my relentless pace.

The greedy woman sucks my thumb and I am rabid as I ram into her. My dick so hard it might snap, the tightness in my balls warning me that release is building beyond containment.

As the pressure builds and fear I cannot go on, she tips her head back, deep moans shuttering through her body as she shatters while I'm pressing deep inside of her, slamming over and over again.

She feels so good around me; I cannot hold back.

In a rush of hot pleasure, I release all of my seed, exploding into her sex.

It is heaven as I shudder, pulsating waves of joy radiate throughout my body as I begin to slow until I can no longer move and instead breath big hearty gulps of cool air.

We stay pressed together as the fog in my head begins to clear. I drop my head on her shoulder and relish the warmth of her soft body.

She kisses the side of my head.

Wetness runs down my leg, and I can feel myself harden slightly at the thought of us mixing together.

She unwinds off my body, and smiles at me, an angel in the moonlight.

"Turn around please, so I can right myself."

She begins to tug at her bodice as I dazedly step back, still breathing heavily.

I miss her heat instantly as the night grazes my flesh, but do as I'm asked.

I tip my head back and fully exhale, looking up at the stars shining brightly in the dark. The sound of the others echoes in the forest. Their torches still buzzing about in the ink black.

"I... uh.. well," I clear my throat. "That was unexpected."

I'm flash through the images of our copulation and chastise myself for my imprudence.

The men's voices calling out in the night are an accusation.

"The men have questions, Molly. Are you about done? "

The voices seem to be nearing. Still she doesn't say a word.

"Molly?"

I turn around and she's gone. Only darkness remains where she last stood. The torch I had set down is weakly burning, losing life on the mud. I reach down to pick it up and see my hand is crusted red.

Using the torchlight, I look down to discover blood all over my pants. Terror seizes me of discovery and how I am to explain this encounter. Perhaps I have been cursed after all.