6 comments/  19409 views/  25 favorites

Faerie Love

By: Oldguy45



Dear Readers,

In response to various comments, I have revised and clarified "Faerie Love." I think the story may be a little better now than it was before, but of course, that is up to you. I don't know if there will be another installment. We'll see how it works out. I hope you enjoy this version of my story. Thanks, Oldguy45

*

I was a graduate student when I moved into the downstairs apartment of a rambling old Victorian home with two stories and a porch that wrapped around the entire front of the house. I liked the fact that it had its own private entrance around back. A Mrs. Margaret Merryweather owned the house. She seemed nice enough, but a bit frumpy and grumpy, with stringy gray hair and the ungainliness that the elderly tend to get. I estimated her age to be in the 70s.

After extracting a promise from me that I would have no raucous parties or engage in smoking of any kind—"None of that marijuana, young man. I have a very keen nose!"—she rented the apartment to me for the duration of the school year for a reasonable price.

It was all good with me. I was a history major, and a studious one at that. I had few friends, and no girlfriend. My idea of a good evening was to drink a few beers and watch The History Channel or a baseball game.

I moved in on Friday, and by Saturday afternoon I was settled in and looking forward to starting classes on Monday. The beginning of school came and went, and pretty soon I was deeply involved with my studies.

It was about a month into the school year when I noticed my sinuses acting up. I've had allergies all my life. Usually, I just stake some Claritin or Sudafed and I'm good. So, one Saturday night in late September, I took a couple of Sudafed with a beer and watched TV until my head started to clear up.

There was a documentary about good old WWII on TV, so I watched it until I got sleepy, and trudged off to bed. I need to tell you something about Sudafed and me, though. For some reason, I have a hard time sleeping after I take it, and it usually makes me dream strange dreams. Sometimes they are even erotic.

I wore a tee shirt and boxer shorts to bed that night. And, the usual happened: a dreamy half-sleep chock full of strange dreams.

As I lay there semi-conscious, I became aware of a light through my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes and nearly had a heart attack. There, hovering in front of me about a foot or so away, was a faerie.

I was shocked and scared. My heart started beating very fast and I tasted the coppery taste of fear in the back of my throat. At the same time, I was sure that I must still be dreaming. But if this was a dream, it was a very real one. 

After a while, I calmed down. My fear subsided and I got a good look at my visitor. She was female and about six or seven inches tall. She was raven-haired with oval, upturned, dark blue eyes and pointed ears. Her mouth was small but her lips were full. Her wings beat too quickly for me to see. They gave off a thrumming sound as she floated there. She wore a forest green shift that hung loosely from one shoulder and barely reached down to the middle of her thighs. She was barefoot, and surrounded by a faint, electric blue aura.

She was smiling as she hovered, regarding me closely. I felt my fear vanish entirely as I looked into her eyes. I reached up to touch her, but she backed away quickly. Her aura went through several color changes as she did do.

"Who are you?" I managed to say, still half-believing that I was dreaming.

She said nothing. Instead, she began flying in tight patterns, twisting and turning, leaving a trail of white crystals behind her. I realized a second later that she was writing. She stopped and hovered, looking at me and smiling. A word, presumably her name, hung in the air beside her. As I watched, however, it started to fall apart.

CLEFT was the word.

"Cleft? Your name is Cleft?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded, and a warming glow spread through me as she did.

Then she frowned. As I watched, Cleft rubbed her stomach. Then she flew to the bedroom door and hovered there. When I didn't react, she flew back over to me and back to the door, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh. Do you want me to follow you?" I asked. She nodded yes.

I got up sleepily and walked to my bedroom door. She sped ahead of me down the hall to the kitchen, her bright blue aura making her easy to track. Once in the kitchen, she went straight to the cupboard and hovered. I opened it and she danced around excitedly before landing on my jar of peanut butter. She pointed to the jar, then did a little leap and landed on my jar of honey, right beside of it.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

She nodded and rubbed her tummy again.

"Would you like some bread with honey and peanut butter on it?" I asked.

She once again flew in tight patterns and the word YES appeared in the air.

"Okay, let's make you some food."

I got out bread and spread peanut butter and honey on it. "I suppose you'll want a cup of milk as well," I said. She nodded then alighted on my shoulder as I prepare her meal, holding on to my ear with a tiny warm hand as she sat. My shoulder tingled where she sat, and a feeling of well-being came over me as I made her simple repast.

When I was done, I took the plate with the sandwich on it and the cup with the milk over to the table. I turned on the counter light and watched my little guest eat. She fell to with gusto, taking big bites, chewing with obvious relish, then lapping at the milk. I gave her a napkin, but she didn't use it. Pretty soon, her lovely little face was dripping with milk and honey. She developed a noticeable pot belly.

"You certainly were hungry," I commented.

She looked up at me and smiled, her cheeks bulging with food.

Finally, she'd had enough. She came over to me and put her face out to be wiped. I gently cleaned her. I couldn't help but notice how her breasts swayed beneath the material of her shift as she moved.

She yawned hugely (for such a little creature), and I said, "Would you like to go back to the bedroom? You look tired now that you've eaten." She nodded sleepily and flew to my shoulder. I felt her take hold of my ear. I heard a belch, then a tinkling little laugh.

I crawled back into bed and she got in beside me on the pillow. She stretched languidly, thrusting her pelvis forward. She closed her eyes and went fast asleep. I watched her for a moment. Her aura turned a soft, chalky blue. Then I fell asleep as well.

When I awoke the next morning, I was sure that I had dreamt the whole thing. I got up to pee and noticed that I still had an erection afterward. There was only one thing to do. I got back into bed and began masturbating. I tried thinking of the girls on the internet, of my old girlfriend, even of Jessica Alba. But nothing worked until I began thinking of Cleft. In my mind's eye, I saw her nude: the sway of her breasts, the small slit of her pussy, her eyes and hair. Suddenly I was cumming copiously. "Whew," I said out loud. It had all been so easy, so fast once I started thinking about her. 

I put on a tee shirt and underwear and walked into the kitchen. The bread, honey, and peanut butter were still right where I'd left them the night before."Whoa," I said to myself. "Not only did I dream the entire thing, but I walked in my sleep as well."

I made coffee and sat down at the table, trying to reason it out. I had never walked in my sleep before. Why this time? Cleft's visit had been so vivid, so real. Just at that moment, I heard a soft knock at the door. I looked through the peephole and saw Mrs. Merryweather, my landlady, standing at the door.

"Just a minute!" I shouted. I put on some jeans and opened the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Johnson! Or may I call you Robert?" she said. Somehow, Mrs. Merryweather looked a little different, a little less frumpy. She had on housecoat, but it was a pretty blue one with flowers on it. Her hair had been done as well. The style could almost be called chic. She was holding a plate full of sticky buns.

"Uh, good morning, Mrs. Merryweather," I said. "Yes, you can call me Robert, if you wish, or even Rob."

"Robert will do nicely," she said, smiling. "I come bearing a gift. Do you like sweets?" She held out the plate.

"Yes ma'am, I do," I said.

"Good. Enjoy these then. I also wanted to know if everything was all right," she said.

"Everything is fine," I said, taking the plate from her. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. Well, goodbye, Robert," she said, and left.

I ate a couple of buns, drank two cups of coffee, and went to my ten o'clock class.

Nothing happened for the next couple of nights. I went to work at my part-time job at the video store and came home. But on Friday night, I was awakened again by the bluish light. I opened my eyes to see Cleft floating in front of me. This time I'd taken no drugs. I was not dreaming, and so I was really afraid. I laid there in bed, too scared to move. Cleft was looking at me questioningly, as if to say, "What's the matter?" After a while, she did a funny little dance for me. She pranced and flew in tight little circles. She looked like she was singing, but all I heard were lilting sounds that I could not understand. I had to laugh. I was no longer afraid. Finally, she stopped and looked at me, smiling. She rubbed her tummy again.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. What a dumb question. No wonder I didn't have a girlfriend.

She shook her head yes and flew to the door, waiting for me. I wearily got up and followed her to the kitchen. I still couldn't believe what was happening, but my fear had abated. She seemed to hold no danger.

The sticky buns Mrs. Merryweather had given me were on the counter, covered in clear plastic wrap. Cleft hovered over them. "Is this what you want?" I asked. She nodded her head eagerly and flew in a tight circle. I pulled one apart, put it in the microwave, and warmed it up for her. The smell filled my little kitchen. Cleft smelled it too. She closed her eyes and sniffed deeply. I poured her a bowl of milk, set the bun and the milk on the table, and watched her eat. She sat cross-legged on the table and ate hungrily. "You really love that, don't you?" I asked. She nodded her head vigorously, smiling.

And so it went for several weeks. Cleft visited me several times a week, ate, slept beside me on the pillow and was gone in the morning. I came to look forward to her visits. On the nights she did not come, I wondered where she was. What sort of faerie business was she up to?

Of course, I never told anyone about her. I didn't have many friends anyway, and those I did have would never have believed me. Even to me it sounded insane. "Oh yeah," I could hear myself saying to the psychiatrist, "I have a female faerie friend who comes visiting. I feed her milk and honey and peanut butter, and we hang out." I would most certainly be institutionalized.

And then I wouldn't see her anymore.

Something told me that Cleft was linked to the place. Even if I left, Cleft would have to stay. I believed that she liked me, but it was because I was there, and I fed her, and didn't try to capture or harm her. I still hadn't learned faerie language, but we managed to communicate. Sometimes I caught her looking at me intently. I would smile and ask, "What?" and she would blush prettily and fly around a little before alighting on my shoulder.

Did I tell you that she liked TV? Situation comedies mostly, and old reruns of "I Dream of Jeannie" especially. She enjoyed watching me play my Harry Potter video games. She sat on my shoulder and I could hear her high-pitched laughter and chirps in my ear, as if she was commenting on the action.

One evening, Cleft and I were in my apartment having dinner—microwave for me, peanut butter and honey for her—and I was drinking a beer. She kept hovering around it, sniffing at it. "Would you like some?" I asked. She nodded.

I poured a little into her bowl, and she sipped it. At first she made a face, but she kept on drinking. After a while, I noticed a change in her. Her pretty little face got red, and her eyes looked a little bit bleary. She tried flying in her usual tightly controlled circles, but she was a bit sloppy. I realized that my little friend Cleft was tipsy. I took the bowl away and said, "That's enough for you, young lady." She protested and tried to hang onto the bowl, but I took it and poured the beer into the sink. She folded her arms across her breasts and looked at me crossly. Then she smiled a little crookedly and flew up to my face and kissed me on the lips. As she did, warmth spread through my whole body. She alighted on my shoulder. I felt her lean on me and grip my ear. She chirped a few times and we went into the living room to watch TV. A few minutes later I heard her snore. Have you ever heard a faerie snore? Well, neither had I. It sounded a bit like a kitten's cry. 

I watched television for a while, until I felt her stirring. She took off and hovered in front of me. She held her head and I said, "Ok, a little hung over are we? Well, you'll sleep it off soon enough. Let's go to bed." I held out my hand and she settled gratefully into it. I carried her close to my chest, put her on the pillow, and undressed for bed. She was already asleep.

Later that night, when the house was quiet and dark, I woke up to her bluish light. She was hovering front of me, looking at me and smiling. She looked different this time, though. More serious. 

She closed her eyes and flew towards me. I could hear the thrumming of her wings and feel the soft puffs of air against my cheeks. I closed my eyes too, as I felt her hand on my cheeks and her tiny little lips press to mine. I felt her kiss and the feeling of warmth and excitement spread through me. I opened my eyes a little. Her aura was changing color, taking on a pinkish hue. She broke the kiss and drew back, then flew forward again to kiss my eyes and nose. 

And then, hovering in front of me, Cleft performed an air dance. It was an ancient, yet timeless dance, perhaps one that she had performed before many times. She twirled and pirouetted, strutted and pranced. She never took her eyes from mine, and I could not stop watching her. Her eyes were warm and smiling, then pleading, then challenging. Her movements were sometimes slow and erotic, then rapid, leaving brightly colored trails in the air. While she danced, she sang a song composed of chirps and trills, with an occasional low growl. Although I could not understand the words, I understood the meaning. Cleft was wooing me. 

She reached behind her, undid something, and her green shift fell off in a small pile. She was now nude. Without a trace of embarrassment, Cleft took a stance and displayed her body for me to see.

She was perfectly proportioned. Slender calves and thighs, a lean belly, small round breasts. She smiled and did a little pirouette for me, allowing me to see her perfect little butt. She bent over and spread her little buns for me. I could clearly see her tiny sex. Her hair was down and floated freely about her shoulders. She looked into my eyes the entire time, smiling a little.

Cleft's vagina was covered by a neat little bush of black hair.

For my part, I was totally entranced. For several moments, I did not breathe. Cleft's beauty, her grace, her sensuality held my attention completely. I felt emotionally drawn to her in a way I had never felt before, for anyone.

She stopped dancing and hovered in front of me. She bowed slightly from the waist, laughed a little tinkling laugh and flew down and kissed me. She walked up my chest to the edge of the blanket. She knelt down and took it in her hands. Her wings thrummed, and she rose into the air, taking the covers with her. She flew backwards, pulling the covers down all the way past my boxers. She dropped the covers, grasped my boxers, and (with my help) pulled them down as well. I helped her by lifting my butt off the bed. Hey, I'm no idiot. Guys like me don't get their shorts pulled down by beautiful six-inch-tall women very often. She was surprisingly strong, and her wings beat furiously as we worked the shorts down.

So there I was, naked from the waist down, while my nude faerie friend hovered over my crotch. Needless to say, her kisses had inflamed me, and my cock was fully erect. Cleft flitted up to my face again and we kissed some more. She hovered, looking deeply into my eyes, and I looked into hers. For the first time in my life, I saw desire in a woman's eyes.

She moved back down and alighted on my cock, straddling it. She sat upright and began thrusting against the shaft, rubbing her wet little pussy on me. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, straining for her pleasure. Her mouth dropped open and she seemed transported. I could feel myself start to leak. Her strong, lithe little body felt wonderful! As she moved on me, it felt like the most exquisite handjob I'd ever had. I could hear her quiet chirps and whimpers, and then she tensed, moving faster and faster until she trembled and fell forward, still thrusting weakly. Cleft raised up and looked at me, her eyes half-closed in satisfaction, then she leaned forward again, wrapped her arms around my cock, and began kissing and licking the sensitive area just below the head. She rubbed her face against my shaft and head in abandonment.

"Ahh!" I groaned as the sweetest of all the sweet sensations in the world coursed through me. I could feel Cleft's active little tongue and lips traveling all around the head of my cock while she held me tightly against her. She rubbed her breasts against me, making little mewing sounds as her own excitement escalated. For a moment, she raised up again, working her little cunt against my shaft, thrusting her pelvis with abandon, before dropping down to suck and lick at the bulbous head of my cock. The ebony waves of her long hair added another sensation as she concentrated on me, leaving little wet trails all over my cockhead. Once again she tensed and trembled, but this time she did not let up. Instead, she kept working for my orgasm. Pre-cum was pouring out of me, and Cleft dipped her hands into it, smearing it on my cock, her face and breasts. She leaned down, embraced me tightly, and began riding my cock like a horse. By this time, I was groaning, my arms thrown out to my sides as my faerie lover rode my ready-to --burst member to climax.

It was finally time. I looked up to see Cleft gazing at me intently, thrusting with her pelvis and bending down to lick. "Oh baby! Oh Cleft!" I gasped, and suddenly I came, and hot streams of semen erupted from my cock, splattering all over my belly and chest. Cleft rode on, milking me for every drop, and it seemed like I spurted for hours. The feeling was the most intense I'd ever experienced, beating even the few times I had actually had sex. Finally I gasped, "No more," and she stopped, reluctantly it seemed. She crawled forward on my cock, kissing as she went. There was a pool of cum right at the head. I saw her dip two fingers in and lick them off. She looked at me, a tiny drop of semen on her chin, and smiled.

During our encounter, Cleft's aura had changed from blue to pink to red and, at the moment of her climax, a bright blazing purple. It was now blue fringed with pink. We were both breathing heavily. Tiredly (or so it seemed) her wings began beating again. She flew up beside me on the pillow. I held the covers open for her, and she gratefully slid down beside me, demurely folding her wings as she did so. I turned on my side, carefully placing my arm over her. She snuggled down close to my chest. We fell asleep together.

The next morning, as usual, Cleft was gone. I laid there in bed, marveling at what had happened the night before. I was being courted by a faerie! A faerie! They weren't even supposed to be real, and yet it was really happening to me! I absolutely could not tell anyone. I mean, how do you say, "There is a faerie in my house, and we had sex together," and not sound crazy? And I wasn't crazy. This was really happening. I just had to keep my mouth shut. 


Faerie Love



Later that morning, I was working on a big history project (which I was behind on, by the way), when there came a discreet knock on the door.

I opened the door and there stood Mrs. Merryweather. She was nicely dressed in a green frock, Bermuda shorts, and sandals. I noticed for the first time that she was slim, with a hint of shapeliness in years past. She was wearing a straw gardening hat and holding a plate of cookies.

"Why good morning, Robert! And how are we today?"

"I'm good, Mrs. Merryweather. What can I do for you?" I did not want to sound rude, but I was late with my history paper.

"Oh, I won't keep you, young man. I just brought you some cookies. I hope you like them. They're made with peanut butter and honey." She smiled and held out the plate.

I took the cookies, somewhat bemused. "Uh, thank you, ma'am. I'm sure I'll enjoy them."

"Is everything all right, Robert?" asked, concerned.

"Everything's fine, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"All right then," she said and started to turn away.

"Oh, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Merryweather, how long have you lived in this house?"

"Why, all my life, young man. It's a fine old house. You know, this house is built entirely of oak wood from a local tree. I got the house from my parents, and they got it from my mother's mother." Mrs. Merryweather looked up at the house and smiled. "Yes, there's lots of history in this old place. Why, for a while, back in the 60's and 70's, the neighborhood kids thought the place was haunted. They claimed to see lights dancing about in the yard. Eventually, those kids grew up and moved away, and a new breed of youngster took their place. Nowadays, the kids are all too wrapped up in their CDs and video games and I-pods to be aware of what goes on around them. Except for a few, that is."

It could have been a twitch, but I could have sworn that the old lady winked at me.

"Are you all right, Robert? You've gone a little pale," she asked.

"I'm fine, ma'am," I said, forcing a smile. "Well, I've got a paper due..." I made to step back into the door.

"Oh dear! Don't let me keep you from your work. Well, ta-ta!" she said gaily, walking away with a smile over her shoulder.

As she walked away, I was struck by something in Mrs. Merryweather's appearance. I had been in the house a little more than two months. When I moved in, she had seemed to be at least 72 or 73 years old. She'd had the usual gray-haired, wrinkled, slightly jowly look that elderly women get. She'd look tired and a bit disheveled.

Now she was completely different. Her clothes were colorful, her manner sprightly and energetic, her smile warm and genuine. What was the difference?

I worked on my paper until my eyes smarted from staring at the computer, then decided to break for the day. It was Friday, and I was off the next day from work. So I decided to call some friends and see if they wanted to drink a little beer and maybe shoot some pool.

At seven that night, I was at a small sports bar downtown. I had dinner with a couple of friends from the history department, shot some pool—which I lost because I suck at pool—and drank a couple of pitchers of beer. At 9:45, I was full of food and beer and tired of getting beaten, so I pulled out and headed for home.

I didn't realize how drunk I was until I started walking to my car. I was indeed a bit tipsy. However, I pulled myself together and drove home carefully, watching for the police the entire time. When I got into my apartment, I barely remember locking the door behind me and stumbling off to bed.

A couple of hours later, I awoke to a soft thrumming near my ear. Through my eyelids, I could see the by now familiar blue light that Cleft emitted. My head was pounding and my mouth was dry. I opened aching eyes and there was Cleft, hovering in the air about ten inches from my face. Her eyes looked worried, but as soon as she saw I was awake, her aura flared red and she crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned crossly.

"Oh. Hi," I said sheepishly.

She began chirping at me angrily in a language which, though I could not understand it, conveyed its meaning to me very clearly. I put my hand up to my head to ease the pain, which did no good, and got out of bed. I walked unsteadily to the kitchen, where I drank two glasses of cold water and washed my face in the sink. All the while, Cleft hovered nearby, haranguing me in faerie language.

I brushed my teeth and drank more water. Then I undressed completely—I had begun sleeping nude a week or so before, and crawled back into bed. Finally, I had heard enough.

"Cleft," I said tiredly, "I get your point. I've learned my lesson. Now could we please go to sleep?"

Her expression softened, becoming one of tolerant bemusement. She flew close to me and kissed me on the nose. I held the covers open for her. She also got undressed and slid in beside me. Her little body was warm against my side. She folded her wings, her aura faded to a faint dusky blue, and we went to sleep together.

Cleft was gone, as usual, the next morning when I woke up. Strangely, I was not hung over, despite the amount of beer I had drunk the night before.

I got up, made coffee, and sat down to think about my situation. It was insane, on the face of it. I was living with a faerie! She was real—of that I was certain. But if I told anybody, I would most certainly be locked away. So I had to keep it a secret. But what should I do now? I could move away, but that was out of the question. I had become too attached to Cleft. I could not leave her.

On the other hand, some part of me kept warning that I was being drawn into Cleft's influence. I was behind on my paper, and my studies were suffering. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on school when all I did was think about Cleft. I needed to snap out of this or my college plans, my life plans, would be ruined. I made up my mind to tell Cleft, when I saw her again, to leave me alone. I would tell Cleft that she shouldn't come around anymore, that I didn't want her.

With that resolve firmly in my mind, I got out my books and worked on my studies and my paper all day long. I stopped only for lunch and the bathroom, and by four-thirty, I'd made substantial progress on the paper and caught my studying up.

As the shadows lengthened, though, I found myself looking forward to the evening with a mixture of emotions. I was still determined to send Cleft away, but I knew it would hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. There was a big part of me that liked, no loved, her company.

At about that time, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and there stood Mrs. Merryweather, holding a plate wrapped in aluminum foil and a bottle.

"Why hello, Mrs. Merryweather," I said.

"Good evening, Robert," she replied. She looked very chic this evening in a silk blouse and a tailored skirt.

"You look very nice this evening," I said.

"Why thank you," she replied, smiling. "I like to dress nicely. I believe it is the mark of a quality person."

"What have you got there?" I asked.

"Oh!" she said. I brought you some dinner. Really, just some of my leftovers."

"Thanks, but you really shouldn't have..."

"It's no trouble, Robert. Let's just call it returning a favor. There's roast beef with mashed potatoes, gravy, and fresh green beans seasoned with butter and garlic. And," she held up the bottle, "a bottle of my homemade blackberry wine."

"I'm quite overwhelmed," I said truthfully. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Merryweather. But I don't understand. What did you mean by 'returning a favor'?"

"Well, Robert, you're such a nice young man. Much nicer than the others. It's just comforting for an old lady like me to have a nice young man about."

"The pleasure is mine," I said. In truth, Mrs. Merryweather looked considerably younger and less frumpy than when I had first met her several weeks earlier. She would be considered an attractive mature woman now.

"Well then, I'm off. Enjoy the food and don't drink too much of the wine at one sitting. It's got a bit of a punch," she said with an arch laugh.

"Thanks again," I said.

"Toodle-oo," she said, waving as she walked away.

I took the wine and food inside. I was hungry after working all day, so I popped the plate into the microwave and opened the wine. I sniffed it. Yeah, there was alcohol in it, for sure. I could feel my nose hairs curling a little. I poured a glass and tasted. Sweet, strong, fruity, and very good. "Well, Mrs. Merryweather, you certainly have a way with wine," I said to myself.

Outside, the shadows were lengthening. It was late in October, and sunset came fairly early. The apartment grew dark. I turned on a few lights and took my food and another glass of wine into the living room. It was Saturday and there was nothing on TV, so I watched a DVD of "Star Trek, The Next Generation" and ate while I watched an episode.

The food and wine were delicious. Mrs. Merryweather was an excellent cook as well as winemaker. I wiped up the last of the gravy with a piece of bread and finished the glass of wine and sat back in my chair, satisfied. I burped loudly. It had been a fine meal. I clicked the remote control and started another Star Trek episode.

Full of food and wine, I quickly fell into a doze. When I woke up, it was ten-thirty. I got up, stretched, put my dishes into the sink, and trudged to bed.

I hadn't seen Cleft so far that evening. I wondered whether she would appear tonight. I meant to tell her that we couldn't go on like this. She had to leave. I mean, there was so much at stake. I really liked the little creature, but she was a distraction at a time when I didn't need distractions.

I brushed my teeth, undressed and got into bed. I turned out the lights and went to sleep.

I dreamed. I dreamed that Cleft stood before me, a full-sized woman. She held her arms out to me. Her lips moved. I couldn't hear what she said, but I knew anyway. "Love me," she said. "Be my love. I love you. Stay with me." She smiled at me. Her eyes got larger and larger. I felt drawn into them. I began walking toward her. We embraced. Our lips met. We kissed. I felt her warm smooth skin against me. Then she backed away, holding my hand. She started walking away. I began following her. 

I woke up. With my eyes closed, I sensed the blue light of Cleft's aura before my eyes. I opened my eyes to see my faerie lover floating in front of me. She swooped down and kissed me on the lips. I smelled her faint scent—a mixture of rain and pine and wildflowers. She was smiling at me. We kissed again and I felt her tiny tongue flit across my lips. Warmth spread through my body. 

My cock sprang instantly to attention.

It was all clear to me now. I was in love with Cleft, and I never wanted to leave her. I completely forgot my resolution to send her away. Nothing else mattered to me now except staying with her.

Cleft looked directly into my eyes. She chirped and trilled softly. The sounds were low and intense, fraught with emotion. Although I couldn't understand the sounds, I got their meaning. "I love you," was what she was saying. She said some words, strangled with emotion, which I didn't understand. I still got their meaning though. "I love you," was what she said.

"I love you too, Cleft," I managed to say back to her.

I closed my eyes, letting the feeling and emotions coursing through me take control. I gave up everything to my faerie lover.

"She flitted away and hovered before me. Smiling, she lifted her green smock over her head and let it fall. Once again, she did her slow dance, letting me see her completely naked. She flew up to my face and spread her legs, then lowered herself onto my mouth. I felt the small moist slit of her sex against my lips. I could taste her and smell her intimately. She straddled my face, making rhythmic rocking motions against my lips. Cleft was making tiny, high-pitched grunts and mews as she did so.

I stuck out my tongue a small distance and began licking her little faerie pussy. Or rather, I held my tongue there while she moved against it. Her pussy tasted like, well, pussy. (I wasn't a total virgin. I'd had an affair with an older woman in my senior year in high school.) While she straddled me, she gripped my face with little, muscular legs. I was surprised at how strong she was. She moved faster and faster, her cries increasing, until she tensed, cried out and collapsed against my face, kissing my eyes.

After a minute or so, she rose before me, smiling. She reached down and, grasping my covers in her hands, flew backwards down the bed, pulling them down as she did so.

For a few seconds, Cleft hovered over my rock-hard and ready cock. I could feel the breeze from her beating wings. Then she swooped down upon it and began kissing the head and shaft, straddling it with her legs, and making humping motions with her pelvis. 

The feeling was wonderful, and I caressed my faerie lover with my fingertips. I touched her body, feeling carefully around the roots of her wings, then moved downward to her small tight buttocks. I touched the dimple of her anus, and moved to her vagina. Cleft looked at me and smiled, opening her legs wide to allow me free access to her private parts. She was moist down there, and she squirmed against my finger. She opened her mouth wide and began tonguing and sucking the sensitive area beneath the head of my cock. 

Then Cleft got up and began pulling on my hand. With motions and gestures, she made me to understand that I was to hold my cock upright. Then she rose and alighted on my cock, the very tip at the entrance to her pussy. Her legs locked under the ridge around my cockhead. Thus, while beating her wings and holding on, Cleft was effectively able to mount me.

I looked at Cleft and I saw that her elfin eyes were glazed with lust. Her mouth moved, and the words "In me" came clearly to me.

The most wondrous thing happened then. I was "in" Cleft. Fully inside, as if she was a normal-sized human woman and I was deep in her pussy.

Making tiny little chirps and moans, Cleft began moving on me. I swear to you, even though I cannot have been more than two or three millimeters inside her, it felt like I was totally engulfed by a warm, wet, grasping, human pussy. I felt the ripple of her muscles as she moved on me, up and down. Cleft was sucking my cock, sucking my cum, my essence, out of me. Her eyes were open, as was her mouth. I caught her scent clearly; she smelled like the forest, if the forest smelled like pussy. I closed my eyes and it was as if a woman was straddling me. I felt her breasts against my chest, her lips on mine. With one hand I held my cock upright, with the other, I roamed all over her little body. I let out a moan. I heard a little laugh, and opened my eyes to see Cleft looking at me and smiling, her mouth still open in pleasure.

I heard Cleft's cries crescendo, and the tingle I felt along my spine meant I was nearing orgasm. I was thrusting upward, and I don't see how Cleft hung on, but she did.

I felt a hearty dose of sperm gather in my balls and I looked into Cleft's straining face. "I'm gonna cum!" I gasped. She smiled and nodded her head vigorously. I closed my eyes and felt the wetness, the tightness, the wonder of her pussy as my semen traveled up the length of my cock and shot out with significant force. I opened my eyes to see Cleft riding me gamely, obviously in the throes of her own orgasm, as sperm coated her lower body. She rubbed her cunt frantically in it, smearing it all down her legs and taking some in her hand and coating her breasts and belly with it.

When I climaxed, in my mind's eye, it was as if I had filled Cleft's pussy with my semen.

Cum was still dribbling from my cock, and Cleft was still grinding against the tip. Gradually, though, I grew soft, and she rode my cock down to my belly and dismounted, like a rider dismounting a horse. She stumbled up the bed and lay down on the pillow beside my head, making contented, cooing sounds. I turned to her and we kissed. There was sticky semen all over her, and me, and the bed, but we didn't care. I pulled the covers up over us and we fell asleep together.

A few days after we made love for the first time, Cleft showed me a removable panel in the floor of my bedroom. I pulled it up and discovered an open space below. There was a ladder leading down. I took a flashlight and descended the ladder, with Cleft following closely. For some reason, her aura was changing colors rapidly and she seemed nervous. She hovered close to my head, chirping softly.

The space was actually tall enough to stand in, but there was something massive down there. I turned on the flashlight and shined it around. What I saw explained a lot.

Underneath the old Victorian house that I lived in was the stump of a huge old oak tree. It had been sawed off neatly about four feet from the ground, but what remained had not rotted. I walked around it, shining the flashlight on the exposed roots. I kicked one. It seemed solid enough. There were many small openings between the roots where, I suppose, small animals had lived over the years. Small animals or faeries. Cleft flew in front of me, stopped, smiled a little nervously, and waved her hand at the stump. Her words came clearly to me. "This was my home. This is my home." Mrs. Merryweather had said the house was built from oak wood from a local tree. I guessed this was the "local tree" she was talking about. I supposed the tree had died at some point, and she, or her parents or grandparents had used the wood to build the house. Maybe Mrs. Merryweather was under the influence of faeries, or a faerie, as I was. Maybe Mrs. Merryweather was a faerie herself. I did not know. I supposed those questions would be answered in due time. In the meantime, I myself was home.

And so that's how it is. Cleft and Mrs. Merryweather and I all live happily in the big old rambling house. I get a huge discount on my rent in return for keeping her company and doing odd jobs around the place. And school, well, let's just say that school is on hold, at least for now. It just doesn't seem as important as it once did. Don't get me wrong, I still love history. My TV is almost always tuned to the History Channel. History programs and situation comedies are just about all that Cleft and I watch at night. I love it when she perches on my shoulder. I love to hear her tinkling little laugh.

The nights are ours, Cleft's and mine. She is with me every night. After we've eaten our supper and watched our TV, we go to bed together. And then Cleft, who is a very sweet little faerie, can be very naughty indeed!