An Encounter on the Trail

Sasha Fleischer
Nov 6 · 9 min read

A tale of fantasy erotica

Mirryn turned her horse to graze in the meadow near the pond to the side of the trail. The day was hot and they both needed a break. She didn’t know this trail, and was happy to discover the pool shaded by a large willow. She slipped her cloak pin out of her bodice and deftly pinned her white-blond hair atop her head. Her long fingers untied the laces of her short bodice. It barely covered her breasts. On a more familiar trail she would have left it off altogether, but here she didn’t know if there were low hanging branches or brambles that might mar her milky skin. She admired the soft maroon suede of her britches before she slipped them off. Mirryn snapped her fingers and her clothes arranged themselves on a nearby branch. A satisfied smirk crossed her lips. Oh, she didn’t have the power of a mage, but she could manage just fine. Secretly, Mirryn believed that elves harnessed magic by willpower alone. They simply wanted it more.

Mirryn slid into the cool water from the bank under the willow. She could have walked right in from a spot farther down, but she really wasn’t one for doing things the easy way. Here the water reached her chin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the cool stillness of the pool. Her mind started to wander.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. There was another horse on the trail. Mirryn slipped deeper into the shadows of the willow as the horse drew nearer. It’s rider dismounted and led the pretty roan mare toward the water. Mirryn considered staying in the shadows until they left, but shook the thought out of her mind. She wasn’t some pretty pixie flitting through the forest with flowers in her hair. She was a warrior elf. There were tales of refined, docile elves in faraway lands, but here elves were practically feral. Mirryn had left her dagger in the pack on her horse, but a snap of her fingers would bring it to her hand.

Still, she hesitated. She eyed the man, for that is what he was, a human man. He wore a crumpled linen shirt, unlaced across his chest, revealing a patch of soft, dark hair. This he lifted over his head as Mirryn spied, and with a toss it landed on a branch. Mirryn cursed herself and hoped her dark clothes hadn’t been spotted a few branches above. Her eyes drifted downward over the man’s broad chest. A wide leather belt rested at his hips. Two small satchels were tied to one side, a hatchet hung from a loop on the other. He removed this and laid it carefully on the ground. He moved his thick fingers to the ties of his britches. His thick thighs strained at the material and Mirryn’s small, sharp teeth bit into her lip. If she was going to stop him from entering the pool, she had better move now.

Her green eyes flashed as she moved through the dappled sunlight. Everything about her looked sharp and dangerous, even the upturned corners of her eyes. She cut through the water like a blade. The man didn’t flinch. Slowly and deliberately he met her gaze. Mirryn cursed herself again. He’d known she was there. A wave of elfin arrogance stirred in her. It didn’t matter. She’d been there first. It was her pool, at least at this moment. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. The water was shallower here, and her breasts lifted free of the water. The droplets sparkled in the light as they fell away from her creamy skin.

“Aye, lass, I mean ye no harm,” the man spoke quietly.

Oh, but what if I mean you harm? Mirryn thought. The corner of her mouth curled up devilishly.

“Lass, I’m just needin' ta water my horse. Then we’ll be movin' on.” He wasn’t pleading, most men would have pleaded.

Mirryn opened her mouth, as if to speak, but her tongue flashed across the points of her teeth.

The man straightened. “Now lass, I won’t bother ye none, but I’m not goin' till my mare’s had a drink and a rest,” his voice was firmer now.

The tips of Mirryn’s ears twitched with anticipation. She hadn’t been in a fight in quite a while. Too long, really. Oh, she wasn’t really all that bad, she got along with all sorts of creatures- pixies, mages, even satyrs, but sometimes an elf just craved a little excitement. She moved steadily closer to the shore, exposing more of her lean body as the water fell away. When the golden mound between her legs came free of the dark water, she felt the man’s gaze linger. She wasn’t looking at him though. Her eyes were fixed on his hatchet, a few feet behind him in the loam. He realized too late where she was concentrated, and with a snap of her delicate fingers the hatchet embedded itself 40 feet up in a pine. The man shook his head and dark hair fell over his eyes. He lifted a hand to sweep it away and finally met Mirryn’s gaze with his deep brown eyes. His gaze made her breath catch in her throat, but only for the barest moment. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Her delicate feet stepped onto the shore. He took a step back. She reached a slender hand toward his cheek, ran her pale, pointed fingernail along the edge of his beard. She matched his height evenly. Mirryn tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him. And then she struck. The man easily blocked her blow. He wrapped a strong hand around her delicate wrist. Mirryn glared at him as she raised her other hand and slapped his face. Her nail sliced his cheek and she spun away. She crouched, animal-like, a few feet away as the man touched his face.

“Now lass, you shouldn’t 'a done that,” he scolded.

Mirryn smirked and bounced on her toes, her long fingers dragging through the dirt.

The man shook his head again. He looked off to the side and stroked his beard. And then he laughed.

Mirryn lunged but he sidestepped her easily. She growled deep in her throat and spun for another attack. This time she swept his feet out from under him and he went down hard. Mirryn grinned, her tiny white teeth glistening in the afternoon sun. She leaned over him, her pale breasts hanging inches above his face. His tongue flicked out toward her delicate pink nipple and she recoiled. She kicked him in the side for good measure, her thin foot connecting solidly with his muscular side.

“Oof!” He groaned and rolled away. He raised himself to his knees as Mirryn crouched, half hidden under the willow.

“C’mere lass, finish whatcha started.”

Mirryn’s green eyes flashed. She was breathing hard. She hurled herself from the protection of the willow and rushed headlong toward him. She was set to barrel straight through him, a deep growl growing in her throat.

Somehow he sidestepped her and grabbed her upper arm. Mirryn gasped. She was off balance, physically and mentally. How could this human match her? She teetered on her long toes, but his grip on her arm was firm. She could feel her flesh pinched between his fingers, imagined her dark blood welling up beneath her milk-white skin.

He spun her counterclockwise and pressed her face and chest into the nearest tree. But instead of rough, the bark was shaggy and fell away where she rubbed against it.

“Now lass, yer gon' ta hafta pay for this scratch on me pretty face,” he whispered into her pointed ear. She could feel his hot breath, the softness of his beard brushing her long neck. Mirryn heard two soft thuds and a jingle of coins as he released his satchels from his belt. Then she felt him unlatch his belt, his chest still pressed against her bare back. Mirryn closed her eyes and sucked in her breath as she felt him pull back. He still had her arm twisted up and pinned behind her. The other was trapped between her tender breasts and the tree bark.

Mirryn let out an unearthly noise as the thick leather belt landed against her buttocks. She gritted her teeth before the next blow. Again the belt fell, and again Mirryn couldn’t contain her groan. Again and again she felt the heavy thud of leather against her soft flesh.

He pressed himself against her again. “Have ye learned yer lesson now, lass?” She heard the belt drop softly to the ground, and then his large hand slid down her backside. He nudged her thighs apart and roughly jammed two fingers into her most delicate place. He pulled his fingers out of her warmth and licked them clean right next to her face. The point of her ear twitched.

“Lass, I asked ye a question,” he growled, “have ye learnt ye lesson?”

Mirryn bucked her body against his grip and growled. He laughed, a deep laugh of pure amusement.

“I guess not,” he chuckled, as he reached to untie his britches. Mirryn tried to struggle but he still had her firmly pinned. She felt his thick, hard cock pressing against her tender asscheeks. She would’ve collapsed if he hadn’t been holding her. He pressed himself into her wetness and an unwilling groan escaped her lips. He was thrusting his largeness deeply into her. Her face was scraping against the tree and bits of bark were falling around them. He moved back to wipe the dust from his eyes and Mirryn took her chance to break free. She fell and scrambled along the shore. If she could reach the pond, in just a few strokes she could cross and reach the meadow where her horse was grazing.

She felt a strong hand grasp her slim ankle. She screamed as he yanked her toward him. When she was close, he flipped her over. She could feel leaves and twigs clinging to her hair. He forced his thick thigh between her slender ones, and then dropped his mouth to her breasts. She struggled as he licked and kissed her perky, round breasts. He gripped her nipple between his teeth and she broke a hand free and struck his head. He sunk his teeth into her breast and her body arched against him in pleasure and pain. The hand she’d hit him with tangled in his dark hair. His hand reached blindly along the ground, searching for his belt. His fingers found it and slipped it around Mirryn’s free wrist. He pulled her other arm from behind her back and bound the two together with his belt. Mirryn’s ears quivvered but her eyes held an emerald green death-glare. His brown eyes danced as he moved lower, his face poised above the golden mound between her legs. Her body arched off the ground as he tasted her depths. His hands hoisted her hips off the ground as he devoured her. She twisted and arched and squirmed to get away, but he only gripped his fingers tighter into her hips. Her sharp teeth bit into her tender lips and deep red blood stained her mouth. She couldn’t contain herself any longer and she screamed from the depths of her soul as spasms of pleasure shook her body. She collapsed back onto the ground but he pulled her to her feet by her bound hands. He placed one hand under her chin and tilted her face so he could examine her mouth. Her green eyes looked pleadingly at him. If he let go of her, she’d fall. Her legs were weak and she was running out of fight. He kissed her deeply and licked the blood off her lips. He moved his hands to cup her small, round buttocks and she winced at his touch. He lifted her lithe body clean off the ground and eased her down onto his cock. She groaned and lifted her bound hands to slip them over his head. She was done. She couldn’t fight anymore, she gave herself over to the pleasure of him filling her. His strong hands bounced her hips, lifting her off and driving her back onto his thick manhood. Mirryn laughed deliriously. Manhood. Man. This was a man fucking her. No elf could do this. He moved her toward another tree. This time she felt rough bark scratching and digging into her back. He started thrusting into her harder and harder, her legs still wrapped around his waist. She felt a trickle of blood as her tender ass pounded against the tree. Mirryn was groaning and screaming now, but she didn’t even notice. She was floating on the waves of pleasure and pain. Her head lolled, her green eyes rolled back. She felt another explosion of pleasure building deep inside her. Deep where his cock battered into her. A howl emitted from her as they exploded together. She felt his heat throbbing as his seed erupted into her, it made her pleasure redouble and she groaned. He held her there for another few moments, his head resting on her shoulder.

Finally he released himself from her warmth and set her feet on the ground. He held her steady until she opened her eyes. Then he unbound her hands. He kissed her forehead and turned to gather his clothes. Both horses were waiting patiently by the trail.

Mirryn stumbled forward to gather her things. She moaned as the soft suede slipped over her throbbing ass.

He looked at her with a smile. “To the pub?”

She smiled back, and with a snap returned his hatchet to him from high out of the pine. She lashed her own horse to his, and he pulled her up in front of him on the roan.

“To the pub,” she answered and nestled back into him. He pulled the cloak pin from her hair and let the white-blond strands fall against her shoulders. He buried his face against her and inhaled.

“My love,” he whispered.

    Sasha Fleischer

    Written by

    Mama, Wife, Writer? Maybe.