"Father, I Found A Woman In The Snow" - P1 (NymphXHuman, oral:male, oral:female, cock-worship) There was nothing to see but white. The wind was howling, bringing down sheets of snow that tried to halt anyone with the gall to travel outside. There was even a rumor that a weather witch in the mountains was turning this into the worst winter of all time. For Giles, it was noon. He was covered from head to toe in his father’s old furs, his eyes small slits against the terrible cold. It wasn’t that he was particularly tough, or even an outdoorsman, he just didn’t have a choice. The road froze over, and no one was bringing supplies up to his inn. That’s why a large pack of vegetables and cured meat was weighing him down. His boots crunched through the packed snow, each step followed by making sure his footing was tight. One mistake in weather like this, and he could be stranded. The only place to go for a mile in any direction was the inn, and at the moment that was as busy as a crypt. There was a loud crunch, and Giles stopped in his path. He thought the weather was so bad, not even wolves would be out. Strange footsteps in the middle of an unnatural storm, it was enough to give him pause. There was another crunch, this one softer. Giles tried to continue on his path, his eyes scanning the vague outlines of the storm in the hopes of seeing something, anything. Instead his foot hit something stiff, and he found himself falling face first into the snow. He sputtered, rolled over, and looked around in a panic. Nothing there. He got up and looked at what he tripped on, it was almost like a strange shaped log. He almost turned, until it shifted. His eyes went wide, but he looked closer. There in the snow, he saw the drift half-covering a face. Someone had collapsed in the storm? Giles kneeled in the snow, digging with his gloves hands to pull reveal the body buried there. Leaves? A woman? He didn’t have time to think, he lifted her body up, and hastened his march back to the warmth of the inn. He burst through the front door, the den of the usually cozy mountain inn was a dark space. Giles pulled the woman’s body over to the fireplace, pulled off his gloves, and started a fire as fast as he could. A pot of soup was put over the young flames, and he grabbed a blanket from the closet. She wasn’t human. He could tell that much by looking at her as she warmed up. Her skin wasn’t quite that range of peach common in the central kingdoms. Her ears went long, and came to slight points. Plus there was the whole ‘wearing heavy layers of fern leaves instead of furs’ situation. Giles held her in a sitting position, watched as life came back to her face. He could feel his own breathing match hers, labored and weak. It was close, but it looked like she was going to survive. Her eyes fluttered, he could feel her squirming against his body. Whatever she was, lying in the freezing snow wasn’t enough to put her down. “Mea...ma…” The girl murmured. It was like she was trapped in a bad dream, her head shifting this way and that. “Are you okay?” He asked, “Come on, wake up.” Against him there, in the warmth of the fire, Giles couldn’t help but notice her form. While bundled in the snow, she was like a heap of debris. Now he saw there were womanly assets there, a lithe form that was wrapped in his arms in the den. She shifted in place, turning her side to rest against him, her head against his shoulder, her arm wrapping around him. A small groan as she settled made Giles realize this was going to be a problem. He was raised a gentlemen. Though, no woman this far up the mountainside was ever seen wearing this little clothing. He swallowed, and tried to concentrate on everything he needed to do to survive the storm. Food would need to be stored, a lot of kindling so he wouldn’t have to venture into the whiteout, blankets and bedding needed to be concentrated. She moved again, and Giles couldn’t ignore as her warmth rubbed against him. He could feel himself getting excited, it was shameful. “Oh,” She whispered. Giles looked down and saw that her eyes were looking up at him, they were sparkling, innocent, heart-melting. “Ingmar?” She whispered, her voice weak, “I made it.” “Ingmar?” Giles replied. She squeezed him tight, an arm reaching around his back as her head rested against him. “So hungry,” She added, and he couldn’t even tell if the comment was for him. “Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ll feed you. You’re safe here.” Her face brightened. It was as if the words themselves had healed her some. She smiled, and he felt her body relax. He relaxed as well. There was more to this than he originally thought. It wasn’t every day you found forest women collapsed in the snow. Brownies maybe, but that wasn’t anything to write home about. This girl was, beautiful, and in danger. On top of that, she knew his father’s name. Giles sat up straight. Her hand had wandered down to his crotch, and now her fingers were sliding over his groin. What was she doing? There was no way she didn’t notice now, that he was hard from having her in his arms. His face started to feel flush. “I’m-” He began to stammer. He was interrupted by her elbow against his chest, pushing him down to the floor in one harsh motion. His head hit the carpet, and as he looked up from his new position, he saw his lower half enveloped in the blanket. The lump of her body covering his legs, her fingers coming from beneath the edge as they cut into the straps that held his pants in place. Before he could gasp in surprise, she yanked the front of his pants open, and revealed his erection to the empty room. “Uhm,” He tried to think of an excuse, any excuse, why this could be happening. It wasn’t his fault, it was a curse? A bog witch hated their service and cursed his whole family. The girl looked at his length with wide eyes, and a smile of awe, then her mouth engulfed him in one breath. It was like a warm pit of delight, the texture of her tongue gliding over him, swirling around, testing out his every groove. Giles’s eyes strayed around the room, as if afraid someone was watching and judging as she sucked at him. Her motion was ravenous, her head bobbing in long motions that gripped him, pulled at him, teased him to the peak of excitement. He knew this sensation, if she didn’t stop, he couldn’t prevent what came next. “No,” He said, “Please, I’m going to…” He tried to hold on, his body tensing. His chest heaved with excitement, his body swelled with lust. That look in her eyes, absolutely trusting, almost thankful, it was impossible to resist. He let out a moan of satisfaction, and his seed spilled into her. Her sucking only became stronger, his back arching as she drained him of every drop. Her lips came loose with a satisfied smack, and the forest girl gave a sigh of relief. Giles watched her, bewildered. What would possess her to do such a thing? She yawned, covering her mouth and stretching, and then nestled her head against his deflating manhood. As Giles looked on, she fell asleep, snoring. Giles laid back, unsure what to do. He felt exhausted now, from his climb and the excitement after. Whatever it was about this girl, he wasn’t going to find out right now. His eyes lilted closed, and he felt himself drift away. When his eyes opened again, it was because of an odd if not pleasurable sensation. He looked up, and saw that the fire had shrunk, and someone moved the soup off to the side. The strange part was the forest woman, who was suckling his penis. It wasn’t unlike a child sucking on anything they can get their lips around. Her eyes were closed, and one of her hands rested on his hip. The small waves of pleasure were strange, they almost felt wrong. Did she understand what she was doing to him? Still, philosophical misgivings couldn’t stop the human drive to reproduce. Her soft lips sliding around his flaccidity tricked his blood once more, and he could feel himself getting erect. Her eyes popped open as if he had said her name, and her sucking stopped. “You’re awake,” She said with a smile, “I’m glad.” “Yes,” He said, resting on his elbows. She circled her tongue over his head, then kissed the tip. Giles squirmed under the attention, was she going to repeat their first meeting? “Uhm,” He said, “Can I ask your name? Do you have one?” She was about to lick him, if her extended tongue was any indication, and then she stopped and looked at him. “My name?” She said with a frown, “Is this another of your jokes? You know my name.” Her fingers tickled the base of his shaft as if his genitals were a playful pet. She prodded him with her nose, and took a long whiff of his aroma. “I assure you, I really don’t,” He said with a shake of his head and a nervous smile. The look of sadness spread on her face, “Did you forget me? Ingmar?” “I’m actually not-” She sat in his lap, and he realized then that she had stripped down to undergarments. For her, this meant an elaborate arrangement of leaves like a loincloth, and a brassiere of even more leaves. She pushed close to him, her nose up to his, and flared her nostrils. “You were the one that told me what promises meant to humans,” She said with a finger against his chest, “You taught me, as I did what I could to get us through the dark season. You said I could return whenever I wished, because that is what it meant to be good.” “Please,” He tried to explain, “I’m really not-” “I’ve met a lot of mean ones too, and I thought maybe Ingmar lied. I said no, Ingmar is good, he would never say an untruth. These must be corrupted hearts, who don’t realize they are causing pain.” She slid in closer, he could feel the warmth of her nether regions against his nudity. Was there anything under that loincloth? Why was this happening to him? “Then I felt the chill return, and I knew I needed a warm bed. I read the trees and the ferns and the seeds and I knew I was close to you again. You rescue me, you bring me here and you promise to feed me, then you pretend you don’t know my name?” Her face was too close now, as if her lips were prepared to pounce on his. He could feel her angry and desperate breath on his face, little pecks of her floral scent. “I’m not Ingmar!” He screamed, hands up. She sat up, “What? Huh?” “Ingmar is my father,” He said, trying to control his breathing, “I’m Giles. I’m sorry, I’m just not him.” That was a statement he had to make to a lot of people. He wasn’t his father. “Oh, by the willows,” She said with a hand to her mouth, “I came in your home and… oh my, I’m so sorry.” She didn’t seem sorry enough to move from his lap. In fact, she squeezed closer. Her breasts pressed against his chest, a hand going to the top of his head as if he were an injured child. “You’ve grown fast,” She said, “Your father told me all about you.” His father knew this woman? How did they meet? Did they meet in the same way? “When was this?” He said, “And, your name…” She puffed up her chest, “I am called Fernweh,” She said, “This was quite a few seasons ago. I’m sorry, I lose track of time sometimes. You would be surprised how difficult it is when you’re in the Darangee, and the only seasons are wet and less wet.” Fernweh, as she was called, laughed at her own joke. She slapped her knee, and Giles had to smile. She was a little strange, but at least she didn’t seem dangerous. Even if he had no idea what a Darangee was. “Are you hungry?” He asked, “Did the soup survive?” She turned around and crawled off of him, and Giles scrambled to pull up his pants. “It should still be good,” She said, “carrots and onions, a good choice. They would be thankful.” He tried to ignore the ‘they’ in that sentence, and moved over to pour some out for both of them. He gave her a bowl, and then fed the fire. As she sipped at the broth, he asked, “So you came up here to find my father?” She nodded, though her eyes flashed to his now covered crotch, “I got caught short by the storm. It is the rudest of the seasons, after all. It didn’t take pity on me, I fear something more is behind it.” “I’ve heard a rumor like that before,” He said as he took his own sip of the soup. He almost spat it out, every ounce of flavor had been cooked out of the soup. Still, it was warm, and he needed the energy. “Your father, Ingmar, he told me I could return here anytime I wished. He said to…” Her eyes widened, and she almost dropped her bowl as she went to the heap of leaves she had used as a coat. She fished through the folds, her butt in the air as she searched. Giles frowned and looked away before the light gave him a surprise show. “He said to bring this,” She said, holding up a small dirt encrusted rock, “I held on to it, but now I see he isn’t here.” “My father made a promise,” Giles said, then smiled “I’ll keep it. Besides, I couldn’t kick you out into the storm. I’ve seen how far you make it.” Fernweh made a nervous smile, then walked on her knees with the rock held out, “Then take this, the exchange he was promised.” Giles looked the rock over. He couldn’t figure out why his father would have her bring something like this in exchange for a stay at the inn. Was he just manipulating her strange sensibilities? A slurping noise filled the room, and she put down her bowl, “That was delicious. Thank you. I’m always surprised when my stomach growls for your food. It sneaks up, and takes hold of my insides. It is so much unlike my other hungers.” She moved across the room, kneeling closer to him. In the fire’s light, he could see the want in her eyes. It caught his breath in his throat. “Other hungers?” He asked. She shrugged her shoulders, “As a nymph, I know many different needs. That’s why I was thankful for your promise.” She crawled toward him, her hips swaying as she got closer. A nymph? What did they do again? He thought they were creatures of nature. They lived among the trees, sang beautiful songs, gave birth to fields and glens. “What promise?” He said, backing slightly. Her hand rested on his knee, her eyes locked on his hastily tied pants. “To feed me, of course.” Her hand moved up his thigh, and his own held it in place. “Wait,” He said, “We can’t, I mean, we shouldn’t.” She looked up at him with surprise and disappointment, “What? You too?” “I,” He thought, “We need to ration. I mean, we are stuck in a storm. You wouldn’t want to waste all the food, and go hungry.” Fernweh sat up and crossed her arms like a child, “Hmph. I guess.” He let out a sigh. He didn’t know what a nymph could do. What if she devoured him after she was satisfied? What if they took control of your mind? He had no idea, even if she did seem pure and innocent. “You did promise though,” She said, “Do remember.” “Of course,” He said with a nod, “you will not go hungry.” “Okay,” She said, then smiled, “Giles.” It was as if she was trying the name on. He liked it out of her mouth. Her voice was soft, playful, exactly what you would expect from someone who grew up laughing among the trees. A nymph, he was sure she was safe, but even then he didn’t know what to do with her. He saved her, but they were still stuck in the mountains, and he really didn’t know if his supply of food would hold out if the cold went on long enough. “So what are we going to do?” She asked. “We need to prepare, in case the storm gets worse.” Fernweh didn’t question him as they went around collecting supplies and bringing them down to the den. They had the last little firewood, his food, blankets and some clothing. The candles were collected, since they weren’t needed in the rooms. “Why is no one here?” Fernweh asked as they went through the rooms and stripped the beds. “The storm doesn’t usually get down this far,” Giles said, “the roads are frozen over and buried, no one is coming through White Water pass.” “Then why are you still up here?” She asked. He stopped in the hall, a bundle of blankets and sheets in his hands, “In case someone does come.” That night they had burnt soup again, and then pulled out blankets as the roaring wind overtook the roar of the flames. Giles watched her try to get comfortable, making small noises as she rolled over in the thick bedding. He closed his eyes, satisfied with their progress for the day. Then, he felt his own blanket pulled up, and opened his eyes to see her snuggling up against him. “Fernweh,” He said with surprise, “What are you doing?” “I’m sorry,” She said, “I’m never this cold in summer.” He didn’t know how to respond to that without hurting her feelings. “I can’t sleep in this cold,” She said, before rolling over and squeezing her back against his chest, “so much better.” He kept his hands to himself, but it was difficult. Her smell was like a garden in bloom, sweet and powerful. He didn’t want to give her any ideas, not while they were this close. “Fernweh,” He said, “What can nymphs do?” She tried to look at him out of the corner of her eyes, “What can’t we do?” He didn’t know if her answer was sillier than his question. She seemed normal, besides a few features, and her thirst. She ate, napped, used the facilities, and got cold. “The winter makes things harder,” She said, “I get hungry easier, my power weakens. The world is in hiding, and I’m like any other flower buried beneath a mound of snow. I need every nutrient I can get to survive to the other side. Then, I can bloom.” The next day, Giles woke up to a familiar feeling. His eyes popped open as he suppressed a moan. He looked down and there was Fernweh, suckling. He was already at full height, and in his disorientation he feared he would give in to something he couldn’t undo. “Fernweh,” He gasped, “Stop!” A look of recognition crossed her face, and her lips released him. “You’re awake!” She said with a small cheer, “You must have been tired, you slept so long.” It was hard to have a conversation with her when she seemed to ignore her sordid activities. Though it occurred to him, maybe they weren’t all that sordid to her. How that was, he didn’t quite understand. Fernweh moved up eye to eye with him, and hugged him tight. She was warm now, despite the chill in the room. The blankets and food had served her well. “You can’t do that,” He said, “okay? I mean, you have to ask, and someone has to say yes. You can’t just try to… feed on them.” She frowned, “I’m sorry. I knew that, it has just been a while.” “I don’t want us running out food,” He said, hoping that would keep her at bay. She nodded, “What are we going to do today?” He looked at the dead fire, “We better get more firewood while the wind is quiet.” They went out into the woods, her wearing some of his extra coats. When he took the first swing of his axe, the sound made her throw up her arms. “Wah!” She wailed. He looked at his axe, then at her, and thought of what the motion represented. “Does this…” He thought about his words, “hurt?” “Me?” She asked, her face covered by a scarf, “no, no. It is painful for the tree though.” “Painful?” He said with wide eyes. He didn’t want to think of himself as torturing trees. “As far as trees feel pain, which isn’t much. Don’t worry, if we use it well, its sacrifice will not be in vain.” A sacrifice. Giles frowned, and began to swing again. Each time his axe made impact, Fernweh made a new strange sound, each one different from the last. Finally it came crashing down, and he cut off enough to take to the stump out back. As he was cutting firewood, she watched him. “You look just like him you know,” She said. The wind was starting to pick up, and Giles didn’t have the patience for the conversation. “Even when you’re doing this.” “What?” He said. “Like your father. I remember, watching him come out and chop wood. I had enriched the trees myself, years of life in weeks time.” He chopped another piece. “It was a beautiful season, so much better than this unnatural cold.” Another piece cut. “Why don’t you ever talk about your father?” She said. “Because he left!” Giles yelled, leaving the axe in the stump, “You might notice he isn’t around. That’s because he abandoned my mother and I, and I’m starting to think it was because of you.” Fernweh’s eyes went wide, “Me?” It made sense. Father took care of the inn while they lived elsewhere. They visited, but according to him it was too dangerous for them to stay up there full time. As he got older he visited his father more, helped out more. He saw the great inn that his father created, the way he took care of the community up on the mountain. Then one day, it all changed. Giles grabbed some of the chopped logs and dragged them inside. Fernweh followed right behind. “What did I do?” She said with a voice that choked back tears, “I’m sorry for whatever it was, but I don’t remember.” He turned on her as she closed the door, “My father left, some night years ago. He left some cryptic note about looking for home. My mother and I had to move up here to take care of the inn, then she passed. Nothing has ever been the same.” “Oh no,” Fernweh whispered. “How long ago was it that you visited?” Giles said, “You said he talked about me?” Fernweh looked down at the floor. “Was it five years ago? Ten years ago?” He continued to pressure her. She sat down there, right in front of him. Her arms wrapped around her knees, and her eyes locked to the space between her legs. “Did you come up here and mess with my father’s head? Is that what you do? Is that what nymphs do?” “No!” She said with a shake of her head. She sobbed, her eyes pouring out thick tears. He shook his head and dropped the firewood by the fireplace. “I was a child,” She said, “Well, a young one. He found me, and took care of me. He told me how much he loved his family, and how he needed to find a place to take care of you.” “Well good job he did,” Giles whispered. Any anger had already poured out of him. “He never touched me,” She said, “He wouldn’t. I think I looked too young for him, and at first that made me sad. I was so silly back then, I just knew I was hungry, and that hunger meant I wanted Ingmar. I helped in payment for my stay, and I left when I was strong enough.” “Then why would he leave?” Giles asked, his motions exaggerated, “Did he like you more than me?” She blew air out her nose, “When I was here, I told him about my journey. I need a place to call home. I don’t have one, and I’ve wandered in search of a piece of nature to call my own. Maybe…” Her voice faded. “Maybe he decided to do the same?” Giles finished. “No,” She said, “Before I left, he told me that I had a home here. He said that a good human creates a home, and takes care of those they love, no matter if they are blood or not, no matter what they have to do to hold on. That’s why I helped him fix the inn, so he would have a home to give you.” Giles looked at her, shaking with soft sobs as she retold her tale. He sat down against a wall, and they sat in silence. It seemed to go on for some time, until Giles said, “It was wrong of me to blame you for his failures.” Her head was down, but he caught her stealing glances at him from time to time. “Are you hungry?” He asked, “We should have a little more soup.” She shook her head, “I’m not hungry for soup.” He knew what she meant, and that only made him nervous. How long could he deny her? Was he hurting her by doing so? Giles went and made himself a bowl. He told himself it was to keep up his stamina, and make sure he could survive the cold. He slurped it down, all while Fernweh sat in that same spot. “I guess I made a promise,” He said. Her head popped up, and she risked a small smile. “So?” He dropped his coats, and sat down by the fire, loosening his pants. Fernweh rushed to his side, sitting beside him, watching his progress on the straps. It was like a show for her, she clapped as each string came undone. Her eyes didn’t look away the whole time that he loosened the front. “Oh,” She said, “I know.” Before he could ask a question, she forced him to his back again. This time, she straddled him backwards, her knees on either side of his head before she leaned in to free his treat to her. “I missed it,” She whispered like a child does to a toy, “So cute, oh thank you Giles.” He tried to ignore her comments as she took him into her grip, and flicked her tongue along his tip, circled around the edge of the head. In no time he was growing in length, long enough for her to swallow, her tongue sliding and engulfing as she went. Giles wasn’t sure she was trying to suck anything from him. She rested, her chest across his body, with his member in her mouth. It was back to that suckling, strange and infantile, but oh so enticing. His question about the state of her underpants was solved. Her rear sat just below his chin, her womanhood a series of strange folds, all open to him. It seemed like it was glistening, was she as excited as him? He smelled at the air, and thought he tasted honey. Fernweh giggled, and the vibrations felt strange. With a pop, he was free from her mouth so she could tease, “Don’t sniff me, that’s so embarrassing.” She had sniffed him just a day before! It must have been a mix of the aroma, and her dutiful suckling, but he felt secure in what he did next. Giles gripped her thighs, and leaned in to lick at her lower lips. It tasted strange, a mix of flavors both sweet and salty. Still, the greatest taste was her squirm as his tongue ran over her slit. Her idle action stopped, and instead she began to suck him in earnest. Her lips surrounding him, her tongue exploring him. Giles attempted to let his tongue explore in kind, but he felt inexperienced in comparison. He sucked at her lips, catching them in his mouth before releasing them when she began to shiver. Her neck moved faster, her breathing growing more labored as time went on. It felt divine, her lips, the warm embrace of her tongue, her breasts against his body. Then she stopped. He was upset until he realized she was turning, her hips above his hardened member. “I can feed with these lips too,” She said as she gripped his shaft, pushed him against her nether lips, slid him deep within her. She gasped, and he loved the blush on her cheeks as her body surrounded him. She leaned forward and they kissed, mixing flavors of sweat and heat. Her hips began to move, practiced motions that forced him to feel every groove inside her against his sensitive length. They groaned together, the room filling with the lewd sound of her womanhood sucking in air. He hugged her close, kissed her deep, pressed himself into her. He went deeper, her body felt hot, their fingers dug into flesh. He couldn’t hold on, not through her lustful moans and her wild hips. Giles kissed her as he exploded into her, wave after wave leaving him as his body gave in to release. She collapsed onto him, and together they were left a panting mess. Fernweh kissed him, “Thank you so much, I’m grateful.” She slid off of him, and moved down his body. “Are you full?” He asked, his breathing still recovering. “So full,” She said, “But I’m always up for dessert.” Her head was above his groin, she licked at his fleeing manhood, and giggled as he squirmed in reaction to the strange sensation. Fernweh yawned, “What are we going to do tomorrow, Giles?” He thought about it, unsure what there was to do. “I think I’m going to look through some of my dad’s things.” She stretched, and nodded, “I can help, if you don’t mind.” He nodded, and smiled. She took his penis into her mouth, and began to softly suckle. Her eyes looked like they were growing heavy, he was sure she was going to take an after dinner nap. In the meantime, he thought about his father. Had his father said or done anything to explain what happened to him? One month he was just gone. Giles had packed up most of father’s things and accepted that his father had left, as many men do. His mother wanted that to be the end of it, she didn’t like the rumors that spread about his intentions. Now he had a nymph, and a small stone, that said something entirely different may have happened. What home was his dad looking for? Giles heard the sound of Fernweh sleeping, and looked down to see her sucking in her sleep.