How Fairies Come to Be

The forest was damp and warm, nearly sultry.  She often walked through its serenity and peace and had found her private place where she would slowly remove her clothes and lay in the fragrant litter of spruce and pine.  Not awaiting any communion with the woods but simply accepting the rough caress of its hand upon her back as she lay there, a placid pearl in a bed of leaves.

The first drop softened and warmed by the canopy was an electrifying awakening of touch. Slowly more astonished parts of her she had never felt aroused wantonly accepted these sharp wet kisses that came in ever more passionate impressions. 

Immersed in a cacophony of scattographic sensuality silently she screams uncontrollable rivulets of clean quivering joy pouring sodden heat through swelled scorched lips dissolving and melting her.

One with her dark red earth, she rises with sated relief and blessed union with her jeweled wing nature; free to fly.