Image: Modelling and Photography by Author
Shilly Nakedmoon is the author of the Erotic Vampire Romance Novel Agent OWL: Meeting the Shadow an urban fantasy & paranormal romance set in Japan, featuring dark fantasy illustrations by the author. Buy your copy on amazon now!
You can listen to the author read 'Kiss of Death' aloud, through the youtube video link below, or feel free to be old school and read the post here! The video is part of Shilly's weekly Kinki Ink Erotic Storytelling videos, so if you enjoy this one, please subscribe to her Youtube channel.
Something in the air told me it was time to go wild garlic picking. I observed from my kitchen window as the sunshine yellow daffodils danced in the breeze, bursting with energy from their winter hibernation. Bird song floated down from the treetops as I nursed my mid-morning herbal tea. I felt a playful innocence rising inside of me, and on the whispers of the wind I heard the frisky yelp of the spirited fae folk enticing me down to the woods. I nimbly slipped on my crushed blue velvet jacket over my favourite springtime dress. I wore a loose vintage dress of faded green cotton, clasped in at the waist with a slim belt the colour of a robins breast.
Seizing my foraging basket, I strode through the front door into the garden. The gentle sunshine kissed my bare ankles as I swung my leg over my vintage Rayleigh ladies bicycle and hoisted up my dress folds, tucking them under my seat. I didn’t give a hoot if anyone got a view of my frilly lilac panties, perhaps it would even brighten up their day.
I whizzed down the hill into the local village, the wind awakening my senses and whipping my strawberry blonde hair into a frenzy. I held my chest high above the handlebars, soaring like a bird. As my bicycle rolled into town, I pumped my feet against the pedals to maintain momentum. I glided around the edge of the green, waving as I saw Daphne O’Belle emerging from Green’s Bakery. The bell on the back of the door jingled behind her, and I guessed that she was dropping off a generous delivery of her delicious homemade pastries. My noise crinkled, detecting a waft of her infamous croissants. The flaky, buttery texture was to die for, especially when paired with a flat-white from Tintin’s, the cosy café next door. I decided to pick up a croissant and coffee on my journey home. I really need to get one of those nifty coffee cup holder gadgets for my handlebars, I thought to myself.
I turned down a side street after I passed Tintin’s, where the roads were quiet except for the rattle of my bicycle. Unexpectedly, a fluffy black cat strode across the road completely oblivious to my approach, and I slammed on the breaks. My hair flew forward as I touched my feet down on the tarmac. The cat scolded me with her green eyes, flashing luminous emeralds at me. She wailed loudly, baring her teeth before scampering. I jested about the possible meaning to myself.
An omen perhaps… but seriously though, what could possibly happen at Little Bridge Woods?
Reaching the woods, I hid my bicycle discreetly in the bushes and started my walk along the cool, shady path ahead. The presence of the trees spoke in hushed rustles, and dry leaves tickled the edges of my awareness. Since I was a child, I had been able to sense that trees were alive and inhabited by ancient spirits. My parents named me Willow, after the giant Willow tree that overlooked our garden pond where I grew up. I was tall and bony, with pale skin that shone like the moon. My face was dappled with warm amber freckles that matched my long, wispy, copper hair. My eyes were a crystal-clear hazel that mirrored the unfurling spring leaves. My breasts were small, and my body lean, made up of straight edges rather than juicy curves. Yet, I liked my quirky features and secretly knew that men were often drawn to my eyes. I had learnt that my absinthe green eyes were my magic power, my witchy weapon of flirtatious distraction.
As I meandered my way through the trees, the spirit of the forest infused me with a soothing influence that calmed my nervous system. I allowed the trickling sound of the stream to lead me to a sheltered grove of three gnarled and wizened oak trees. These three old sages stood in a cluster, allowing the sunshine to filter down to the forest floor as splashes of golden ochre. All around my feet, the floor was carpeted in wild garlic. My nostrils inhaled the pungent scent and my cells tingled with anticipation. I dropped my basket under the smallest of the oak trees, and kicked off my shoes to tread barefoot among the tender shoots. The broad leaves were laced with white flowers, sprinkling the scene with a faery-esque mischief.
I sang an old Celtic song softly as I gathered up a bunch of wild garlic in my arms. Soon my basket was overflowing with lush, green, leafy foliage. I felt sheer delight thinking of the pesto that I was going to blend up and gift to friends and family in cute little labelled jam jars. My gaze drifted over to the banks of the babbling brook, that was hidden under the arms of the largest oak tree. Feeling spontaneous, I made my way over to the water, and in between each bound I stripped off am item of clothing, leaving a haphazard trail behind me. I turned back, glimpsing my jacket hanging from a branch, my dress snagged in a bramble bush, and my underwear nowhere to be seen. I smiled wickedly at this wild act, before stepping bravely into the clear pool that collected in a miniature whirlpool under the Oak. The water level reached to my hips in the deepest part, so I bent down to immerse my torso in the water.
I allowed my head to roll back, listening to the sound of trickling water wash over my shoulders. Then something swept through me, a subtle tingling sensation that started at the base of my spine and crept up the back of my neck. I had the strangest feeling that I wasn’t alone. I raised my head to look around cautiously. The wooded copse was bathed in rays of sunshine, dripping strands of honey from the branches. Everything appeared to be as tranquil as ever. Yet, an uncomfortable gnawing in my gut told me that someone had been watching me.
I pulled my body out of the stream, water rolling down the valley between my breasts, then dripping from the crown of hair that crested my public bone, and running in rivulets down the inside of my thighs. I patted myself dry in the fresh spring air before dressing myself. My body felt awake, and my nipples were pert from the cool waters. I ruffled my hair, tossing it over my shoulder. Just then, something caught my attention; a twig snapped loudly somewhere close by. I tensed my body like a deer on alert to potential danger. I swung my body to scan the surrounding woodland, listening intently to the noises surrounding me. The air was filled with barely audible rustles in the undergrowth and a tinkling of bluebells.
Suddenly, a heavy thud on the earth caught my attention and I whirled around to see that a tall man had materialised through the trees, only a short distance away. He seemed to have jumped out of a tree, as strange as that explanation for his appearance sounded. He was further back along the path, and my eyes widened when I saw him start walking down the winding path towards the oak grove. My skin prickled, and I rubbed my arms, feeling them come out in goosepimples. Perhaps my wet hair has given me a chill, I thought.
As the tall figure advanced towards me, I could see that he wore faded jeans and a sleek leather jacket. Flaxen, unruly curls spilled over the upturned collar of his obsidian black jacket and tumbled down his chest. My heart skipped a beat to see that he wore no shirt. As the sun’s rays kissed his chest, they reflected with a golden glint that flashed in his dark sunglasses. A small gold hoop in one ear gave him an 80’s edge, and he exuded a youthful glamour. His lips were full, and his cheek bones sculpted elegantly like a model. He removed his glasses as he stopped to greet me, and I was stunned by his presence. His dark eyes bored into me, possessing an ancient wisdom that made his age hard to guess. I played it cool, concealing the fact that was flustered by his arrival. It struck me that he might have caught a glimpse of me naked.
“Hanging out in trees?” I teased him coolly, wary of this mysterious stranger.
“I’m like a bat, I sleep whilst hanging upside down in the daytime” he let a cheeky grin slide across his face, before it vanished miraculously into his flawless complexion.
“Uh-huh... So, how long have you been up there in the trees?” I asked, intrigued and mystified at the same time.
“What you really want to know is; did I see you skinny dipping? Isn’t it?”
His eyes pierced my skin and I felt naked under his gaze. My cheeks flushed with a flame of vulnerability, tinged with indignation.
“Well…. Were you?” I stammered, feeling a burning fire rise up inside myself.
“No, I am aware that you came here to swim, but I do not spy on you. I have other ways of seeing things. I see things that…. You people don’t.”
Perplexed, I searched his eyes and saw that they betrayed his innocence. I didn’t know how I knew, but he was telling the truth.
We looked at each other in a moment of silence, my heart pounding in my chest. The energy between us felt primal, and the hunter energy in me was ready to pounce or flee. I wasn’t sure what to make of this alluring stranger, I sensed danger in his enchantment, but this only served to increase my fascination. I felt drawn to him, like the spellbinding scent of a lovers perfume.
“Well, Peter Pan, I suppose you live in the trees in a fairy house?” I taunted him, a wicked smile played on my lips.
“I live on a riverboat down at the Wharf. I live with my bandmates, we play together in an Irish folk band, ‘The Lost Boys’.”
The corner of his mouth creased. I raised my eyebrows. Is he for real? I thought.
He leaned in closer, resting an elbow on the oak tree. I smelt him; traces of mossy earth mixed with a peculiar odour that seemed oddly familiar. He glanced down at my basket of wild garlic and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of something like fear steal beneath his eyes. He swallowed and without meeting my eyes again, he lowered his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.
He spoke again, in that deep, treacle tone. “Pop by and visit our barge sometime, Willow. The names Michael.” He kicked off the ground at the roots of the great oak, spinning on his heel of his leather boots to stalk off into the trees. The shoulders of his leather jacket swung under his bouncing head of curls as he sped away. Before I could take my next in-breath, he had vanished into the cover of the trees.
My heart fluttered to a new rhythm as I sat down under one of the great oaks to ponder the mystery of Michael. He dressed like a 80’s pop star and acted like a perve, yet his eyes told of a dark power and mystique. Who is he? I asked the trees, my mood pensive. I had seen the riverboats moored at the wharf, but I had never heard of an Irish band called ‘The Lost Boy’s’ before.
I gave up thinking and leaned back, relaxing my body weight against the trunk of the tree. The sun warmed my bones and dried the damp patches on my dress. Intoxicated by the hazy spring sunshine, I suddenly felt sleepy and I slipped into an afternoon snooze.
I dreamt that I was lying on a plush blue velvet carpet of bluebells. There was a sound like wind chimes in the air and white flowers dusted the carpet like stars. As I scanned the scene, twilight descended from the treetops, painting the woodland silver-blue. To my astonishment, I noticed small sprite-like creatures dotted all around the clearing. They wore mushrooms for hats and played the bluebell flower as if it were an instrument, creating an angelic jingling that reverberated from tree to tree. The fairy music filled the space with magic, and I glanced down to see my body lying naked in the bluebells, gleaming with a blue opalescent shimmer. My nipples were shining orbs of light and my breasts were two round moons, smoothly sculpted in creamy marble. I peered up through the branches of the trees, that reached like witches claws, dipping their talons into the cobalt blue. A slither of moon was suspended above me and I felt it’s dewy moisture dripping between my legs. My legs parted and I inhaled the wispy fingertips of the moonlight into the entrance of my pussy. I moaned, arching my head back, bewitched by the power of the lunar goddess. I felt her liquid mercury creep under my skin, a cool metallic flooding my veins. She cast her spell on me and I surrendered myself to her. Whispers drifted down from the trees and my body writhed, compelled by the voices. A burning sensation travelled up my neck and my breath came out raspy in the cool air. I tried to speak but only hot breath came out. Then a thick treacle voice oozed down through the silky shadows of dusk.
“Willow…. Will o’ the Wisp….”
I recognised that husky male voice. It was Michael. I sat up hastily, feeling his laser beam stare on my back. I spun my head, yet saw no one behind me. Ghostly shadows were appearing beneath the trees and the fairy chimes had dwindled to the occasional tinkle. I jumped, feeling his lips brush my neck. I whipped around expecting him to be right beside me, but I was stunned to see that the thicket of bluebells surrounding me was untouched by footprints. My hand went to the side of my neck, and found it still warm from his breath. The air was motionless, but a chilly draught ran through me. I was bewildered to find that my body was longing for him, calling to him. Tremors shot down my arms, from my shoulder blades, shivering along the wet tendrils of my hair.
Then I saw him, swinging his legs from where he perched in the old oak above me. I could make out an inky figure entwined in the branches, eyes gleaming silver, riveting me to the ground. He swooped down, owl-like, landing silently beside me.
“Watching me naked again? You might ask permission next time.” I spat hotly.
“I heard you call me, so I came.” He moved closer, his pearly eyes probing my mind.
“Have you ever heard of boundaries? Like, do you always just snoop up on women and kiss them?”
“When they want me to.” His voice was molten desire. I despised him for being right. How could he know that I wanted him?
“Well then, I’ll ask you; may I kiss you?” He drizzled the words sensually, toying with me. I couldn’t answer, I swore silently under my breath. Torn inside, I confessed to myself that I wanted to taste his lips on mine. Yet I was afraid to admit it.
As if he heard my inner turmoil, his eyes softened. “Or we can just gaze into each other’s eyes… here I’ll make things fair.”
Next thing I knew, he had stripped off, dropping his jacket and jeans to the floor. He stood naked before me, a perfect silhouette against the moonlight. He sat on a mossy mound facing me. My body was finely tuned in alert mode, ready to spring. Whether I wanted to jump him or run, I wasn’t sure.
He spoke again, “if I’m making you uncomfortable, I could just go?” He moved to get up, reaching for his jacket.
Something instinctive moved inside of me. My jaguar hunter prowled forwards, launching towards him and pinned him down. In a swift movement, I bound his hands above his head using my belt, straddling him with my thighs gripping the sides of his torso. My wet pussy pressed against his abdomen and I felt my clitoris brush his skin. I let out a low growl.
“I forgot to mention that I’m a black belt in Ju Jitsu,” I panted above him, catching my breath.
He grinned, “I like this side of you… don’t stop. I saw your wild side written in the green of your eyes and the red of your hair.” His eyes burned passionately, as he examined my face up close.
I really couldn’t believe he was enjoying this. Damn him! I ran my fingernails tantalisingly over his chest, biting him seductively. He seemed to be relishing it, which made me mad, or aroused, I couldn’t tell.
“What can I do to make you feel good?” He asked earnestly, lifting his head off the earth.
“Stay still, don’t move.” I shoved his chest back to the ground.
Then suddenly, he vanished. I found myself crouched on the earth, straddling thin air. Then I felt him behind me, grasping both my wrists, and wrapping his arms around me. I was clamped tight in his embrace. He dragged me up against the tree, tying my arms behind my back. Then he crawled towards me on all fours, hovering inches from the ground. I hissed at him as he approached, snarling as he came close. He slid his wide shoulders between my legs and his dark outline framed his silver eyes, pouring their attention onto me. I was about to be eaten alive by the wolves under the dark light of the moon. I squeezed my eyes shut, surrendering to my fate. Then I felt his soft kisses travel up the inside of my ankle, brushing my knee and the soft flesh of my inner thighs.
“Stop!” I exclaimed, drawing a shaky breath. He paused, eyes directly level with my pussy.
“You are driving me crazy. I can’t bare it any longer,” I broke, exasperated.
“Then just let go, let me take you…. On a journey…” his words mesmerised me, and I melted into the blue velvet carpet beneath me.
“Take me…..” I whispered, my eyes rolling back as I felt his tongue on me. He swirled his mellifluous saliva around the lips of my flower. I felt the knotted bark of the tree behind me, rough against my skin. His lips were sumptuously smooth, and he caressed my clitoris with a soft kiss. I moaned and rocked my pelvis, urging him to slip the tip of his tongue inside me. Instead, he roamed up my body, nibbling my belly and my breasts affectionately as he went. He tugged my hair roughly and my head rocked back, exposing my neck. He sniffed at my neck, making a noise like an animal, then dived back down between my legs.
His tongue was inside me, stroking the inner walls of my pleasure tomb. I felt his heart throbbing inside my pussy, unlocking the ecstatic codes of my cryptic vault. I rode the wave of pleasure, squishing bluebells into a pulp beneath me, as I swayed rhythmically against his moist lips. The footsteps of the forest thundered through me as I ground my pelvis into the earth, bracing my spine as twilight energy surged through me. Then I released with a loud wail, a wet pool collecting between my legs. He untied my hands and I slid down the trunk into his arms, shaking in a fever of bliss. I gazed dreamily into his mysterious eyes, willing him to kiss me. I still hadn’t savoured the taste of his hunger on my tongue. He kissed my neck fiercely, and I fingered his curls, attempting to guide his lips to meet mine. Frustrated, I noticed his eyes were fixed upon my neck, as if hypnotised by its unique curvature. For a brief moment, I saw something move beneath his eyes, something more than lust, a dangerous desire perhaps. Then his profile switched, the light of the moon illuminating his taught cheekbones. As he closed in for the kiss, his eyes loomed predatory like a jaguar. I kissed him deeply, wanting him, then without warning he pulled away. I peered at his face in the dim light, panic stricken and pale as the moon. He hissed at me, his eyes on fire, then with stunning agility, he leapt almost vertically into the tree, before evaporating into the night.
I freaked. Oh gosh, was it the wild garlic? I had chewed on a few leaves earlier and knew that the stuff was pungent. I peeked tentatively up through the branches to see the outline of a giant batlike creature swoop over the treetops and disappear. Then a screeching sound echoed from the sky, juddering through my bones, calling me to wake up.
I jolted upright, realising that I had been asleep against the oak tree. My heart pounded as I glanced around, anxiously. The sun was going down and the woods were transcending into night. I couldn’t understand how the time had passed so quickly, I must have been in quite a stupor. I looked down to see that I was naked, except from my blue velvet jacket wrapped over my shoulders. Then, a splash of red caught my attention, and I moved my hand to touch two small puncture wounds on the inside of my left thigh. When I brought my fingers away, they were stained crimson. Something dawned on me, and a nauseous feeling churned in my stomach. I pulled on my dress in a hurry. Grabbing my basket, I stuffed as many wild garlic leaves in my mouth as I could chew at once. I scampered back down the path, glancing over my shoulder, uneasy at every rustle that came from the bushes. I leapt onto my bicycle, with one final look behind me, I hissed baring my teeth and breathing garlic fire like never before.
Then as if carried on the breeze, I heard him whisper my name…
“Willow… Will o’ the wisp….”
Rattled, I scuttled off down the lane on my bicycle, vowing never to visit Little Bridge ever again, at least not without a healthy dose of wild garlic pesto on my lips.
Shilly Nakedmoon is the author of the Erotic Vampire Romance Novel Agent OWL: Meeting the Shadow an urban fantasy & paranormal romance set in Japan, featuring dark fantasy illustrations by the author. Buy your copy on amazon now!