The Luck of the Irish Part 3: Playing with Fire
The Luck of the Irish
Part 3: Playing with Fire
I was decidedly hung over as I lay in my tent the next morning, blaming the whiskey. My nipples felt very tender. I inspected them. Nothing. Just a little red, and marks on my breasts that looked a bit like tiny teeth marks – but were probably nail scratches. “Wow!” I thought to myself, “I must have got a bit carried away last night.”
My recollection of the previous night’s orgasm and the fantasy surrounding it was still very vivid, and I found myself wondering about the Tuatha and fairy forts. The folks in the pub had appeared very certain of their existence. And tonight was Lá Bealtaine, when they’d be out and about. And I was camped in a stone circle.
I recalled that, at my point of orgasm, I had declared myself the ‘chosen one’. In fact, I had shouted it out. Even though I’d decided the previous day not to visit the other summit, I felt that I was somehow being drawn to it now. The weather was clearing up and Danu’s two breasts looked glorious bathed in sunlight. Even though I would be getting a late start, I just had to go back up there.
So I filled my water bottle with well water, packed up my tent and gear, put the flask of mead in the outer pocket of my pack, and set off, back up the fairy path towards the second summit. On the way back up, I saw a number of stone structures scattered around. I’d not noticed them the previous evening and had no idea what they might be. I did register, thought, that the grass and heather around each of them seemed trampled down. The Tuatha perhaps?
It was late afternoon by the time I reached the top. As I got nearer, I had the same feelings as the day before, as if some force connected to my insides was drawing me physically in to the mountain. And there was the irrepressible desire to throw off my clothes and lie on the altar-like platform atop the cairn.
As the sun sank lower, the whole landscape darkened, except for the two breasts of Danu – each illuminated by a golden sunbeam. It was eerie and magical. I took a long drink of well water then took off my clothes and scaled the cairn. Standing naked at the top, I was illuminated as if by a spotlight. I felt on top of the world. Looking across to the west, I could see the other ‘nipple’ where I’d been the day before.
I sat down on the warm rocks once again, drawn by the primeval force. I shut my eyes drowsily, and lay down to focus my other senses and take in the smell, feel and sound of this sacred place. I thought I could hear a babbling sound, perhaps voices in the distance. It couldn’t be, could it? I was alone, wasn’t I? Feeling a little nervous, I went to sit up, but found that I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even lift or turn my head. It is as if I’d taken a drug that paralysed my muscles but left my other senses as acute as ever. Had there been something in the well water? Were the Tuatha here after all, with me under their magical control?
Whatever it was, there I lay, spread-eagled, on the warm, flat top of the altar of Danu’s right nipple, as if I were a human sacrifice. I tried to relax and think what to do, my heart pounding. I opened my eyes, and there above me was the face of a most handsome man, head framed beautifully by the clouds behind him.
It was a peaceful yet powerful face, tanned and weather-beaten with striking, blue eyes. “This is definitely the face of a god!” I thought. Looking into his eyes made my insides melt, my face flush, and my clitoris throb. I still couldn’t move, but I stammered: “Wh… who are you?”
There are no gods, I told myself. So where did this man come from? I had been sure I was the only person for miles, and I’d heard nobody else as I hiked up the mountain and clambered to the top of the cairn. But then again, I did hear what I thought might have been voices when I first lay down, dismissing it for the sound of the wind in the heather and the stone walls. Whoever he was, what was he going to do to me? My heart
“My name is Bilé,” he responded, with a low voice so full of power and sexual energy that I nearly came there and then. “The Bealtaine bonfires summon me at this time every year.”
I strained to turn my head to the side and, sure enough, there was a bonfire blazing and crackling quite close to the cairn. And another in the distance, on the other summit nearly a kilometer away.
“Bilé,” I repeated. “Bilé… one of the Celtic gods? Danu’s Bilé?”
He didn’t answer, just looked into my eyes again. I had the same reaction as before. “You are the chosen one,” he stated intensely. “You are here to seek a good harvest and fertility in the coming year. I hope you are prepared. I hope you know what is expected of you. Chosen ones often don’t. You come…” he paused, “recommended.”
His face disappeared from before me and I suddenly remembered that I was stark naked. I tried to sit up to cover myself but was still unable to move. I tried to lift my arms, only to find my wrists tied tightly to the rocks beneath me. Likewise my ankles. How had that happened? Who had done that? And who was this man… really? What would he do to me? I was in an extremely exposed and vulnerable position and was starting to scare myself. My mind was racing, wondering who had I told about where I was going, wondering whether anyone would notice if I didn’t turn up at O’Connor’s the next day, and if they would come looking for me. Or my body.
The rocks were still warm beneath my bare buttocks and my shoulders, and I could now feel some warmth on my cheeks and breasts from the nearby fire, or perhaps it was the residual flush from my exchange with Bilé!
I could hear the murmur of what seemed to be voices and, with that, a beautiful, serene female face appeared in my line of vision. She smiled at me. “Chosen one,” she said, “Welcome to my mountains. Have you come prepared?”
‘My mountain’? What did that mean? Who was she? If I believed in Celtic Gods, I’d be convinced that she was Danu the mother goddess. But… really? I focused on what she’d just said. Come prepared? What did that mean? I didn’t feel at all prepared. Confused and scared would be a better description. I started to speak: “I… I… I’m not sure…”
Before I could go on, she interrupted: “Did you bring the drink of the gods?”
The penny dropped. The little flask of mead the woman on the bus had given me. That must be it. I smiled with relief, as if I had passed a test, and replied: “Yes, yes I did. It’s in my bag. Down there.” And then I added: “Who are you?”
The woman smiled in response and whispered “Danu. As I said, these are my mountains and these are my people.” She turned her body to gesture towards the base of the cairn, but kept looking into my face. I could hear a scrambling and a metallic sound of the flask knocking against rock.
“Thank you,” she said to someone I couldn’t see, leaning back to receive the flask. She carefully withdrew the stopper, and sniffed at the contents. “Excellent!” she exclaimed, with obvious satisfaction.
Danu took a large mouthful and smiled again. Taking me completely by surprise, she leant forward, pressed her lips tightly against mine and transferred some of the mead from her mouth to mine. It was warm and silky, the mixture of honey and alcohol in my mouth, with an indescribable mix of other tastes. The sensation made my head spin.
As I was lying on my back, I had to swallow the mouthful, even though I wanted to savour the taste and sensation for ever. The feeling of flooding warmth and relaxation spread throughout my body and I could feel my skin to glow all over.
Only then did it dawn on me that Danu’s lips were still against mine and her tongue was now exploring my mouth – provocatively probing and pressing. In no position to resist, despite feeling uncomfortable with this, I passively let the exploration go on for a few moments while my brain tried to resolve the conflict between my long-held reluctance to engage any form of lesbian encounter and the sexual arousal that was building in the pit of my stomach and quickly flowing further down.
Perhaps the herbs in the mead were helping disconnect my brain from my emotions but, whatever it was, I immersed myself in the moment and kissed back strongly, my tongue delving deeply into her mouth, tasting, touching, flicking. She moaned, broke the kiss, and whispered in my ear: “My people have selected well. You are indeed the rightful chosen one. Now we are ready.”
She turned to beckon to someone, and Bilé appeared on the other side of me. Danu stood up and turned her face up to the clouds. She shrugged out of her gossamer- like robe, which fell to the ground, leaving her naked as she raised the flask as if in some sort of salute to the heavens.
Bilé stood too, on my other side. He was already bare-chested, but now he unbuckled his belt, let his pants fall, and stepped out of them. Oh my god was he a handsome figure, even viewed from my position beneath him. It was a body that would make any woman look at and lust for. The effect on me was one of unbearable arousal. I could feel my pulse quickening and a warm moistness spreading from between my legs.
Together Bilé and Danu held the flask up high, and uttered some sort of incantation in unison. It sounded something like the Gaelic I’d heard in the pub, but not exactly. After every phrase, there was a loud murmur of voices from beneath us, close by.
Danu tipped some more of the mead into her mouth. Then she leaned over towards Bilé, right above me. She kissed him deeply, just as she done to me, transferring mead into his mouth. Some dripped on to my face and chest, dripping over my breasts and on to the rock. As the kiss lingered, I could clearly see her nipples hardening and standing out, erect.
Danu was obviously experiencing the same sensations as I had done, when she’d kissed me a few moments ago. But what was more obvious to me was the effect of the kiss on Bilé. I have watched many an erection grow (though rarely, if ever, from my current ‘vantage point’, it has to be said) but this was an awe-inspiring sight indeed. I can recommend it!
He was already well hung, before this all started, but within only a few moments of starting the kiss, Bilé’s tense, veined cock was standing straight out. And his dangling balls were being drawn up by his contracting scrotum. What a view I had! I even thought I could see a shiny drip of pre-cum honey squeezing out of the end. My heart pounded and my juices were really flowing just with the look of it. “Drip on me,” I was mentally pleading. “Yes… into my mouth.” I desperately wanted to take his whole cock into my mouth, right up to the hilt. I wanted to make him come, wanted to feel spurts of god-like cum hitting the back of my throat, wanted to taste him, swallow him.
Danu bent down again and whispered in my ear. She seemed to be instructing me in what I was expected to do, now that we had all drunk the elixir. “You are the chosen one. You are the connection between gods and humans. Through you, your people will take part in the ceremony. Through you, they will reap the beneficence of the gods. They must hear you loudly and clearly. Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to speak. Her whispering voice right in my ear was playing havoc with my already heightened level of arousal, never mind the fact that she was female: my reservations about that had completely evaporated. She nodded back, and then turned away to crouch down, facing my feet. She stepped over me to straddle my breasts. I could see only the beautiful curve of her spine, and then her buttocks as she started to lean forward, and then the swollen lips of her vulva as she wriggled back to position her head between my splayed legs.
It was difficult to take my eyes off this incredible sight, but I looked upwards to try to see Bilé. He was still standing above us. Looking past his erection, I could see his piercing blue eyes still looking at me. He slowly stroked his erection as he watched us.
Danu was doing incredible things with her tongue around my clitoris, and I was twitching uncontrollably whenever her tongue, lips or teeth found a particularly sensitive spot. This was more fulfilling, more tender, more stimulating than I had experienced with any man and the sexual tension was building rapidly within me.
I was just about to give in and let the coming orgasm overwhelm me, when I remembered my instructions: ‘They must hear you loudly and clearly’. And so I moaned loudly, a long and wailing moan that surely revealed my level of arousal and pleasure. The pitch of my moan wavered depending on where Danu’s tongue was, and what it was doing. In between my moans, I could hear myself shouting things like: “Oh my god, that’s incredible!” and “You’re tongue, give me more of your tongue!” and then, finally “I’m going to come… yes, yes, yes, yes… make me come”. And I wailed a long dawn out “Nowwwwwww!”
As she sensed the advance of my orgasm, she slid her hands into the gap between the small of my back and the rock. I lifted up to make it easier and she cupped my buttocks, squeezing hard and pulling her mouth tightly on to my clitoris by lifting my bum upwards. At the same time, her whole body slid back until her sex covered my mouth and nose. It was an incredible sensation, being enveloped like this and being unable to breathe, yet not caring. I opened my mouth and started licking, probing and flicking with my tongue. I could hear a muffled cry from Danu, and strong rhythmic contractions against my squashed tongue and lips. My head was spinning with arousal and lack of oxygen, and I lost consciousness as the most incredible orgasm I’d ever experienced exploded over me.
When I came to, god knows how much later, there was Bilé kneeling between my legs, piercing me once again with his blue eyes. He leaned forwards and started to lick, then suck, then nibble, then bite my breasts and nipples. They were already too sensitive and this was almost unbearable. But I really wanted the pleasure of the pain. Automatically this time, I cried out: “Yes, do it! Lick me, suck me, bite me,” and then I wailed with the mixture of pleasure and pain as he did just that. I heard myself shouting: “Again! More!”
He paused and knelt up. Danu leaned over and tipped the last of the mead from the flask into his mouth. Then he slid back and bent down between my legs, his head moving down towards my mound, which I was pushing up towards his mouth with all the strength I could muster, longing for his tongue. I could feel his mouth encircling my clitoris, sealing his mouth against it and kissing. Then his mouth was on my opening, and there was an indescribable flooding sensation as he filled me with mead. I could feel it mixing with my own juices. Oh god, I needed his cock. “Your cock,” I called out. “I need your cock!”
And that’s what I got – in no small measure. As he knelt between my legs, I could see his erection, pointing up towards my face, parallel with his muscular belly. It was purple at the tip, and straining. He looked as aroused as I felt.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” I cried out, as his cock slid between my legs. “God that’s good. Don’t stop. Harder. Yes! Oh, you’re good. She said you were good.”
He stopped thrusting, looked into my eyes and asked: “Who said?”
“The old woman on the bus, I panted. The one who made the mead. Actually, she didn’t say you were good, she said she dreamt of you.” I regretted saying anything because I did not want him to stop; didn’t want to distract him. My mind was willing him to continue.
As if he could read my mind, he just smiled to himself, and then started sliding his cock oh so slowly out to the tip, making me beg him – either inwardly or out loud, I’m not sure which – to plunge it back in. I shivered and I could feel my muscles involuntarily grasping his cock as he inched it back in to me, millimeter by euphoric millimeter, his face clearly advertising the pleasure he was feeling with each slight movement. I so much wanted to have my legs freed to wrap around him and pull him still deeper into me, but they were still bound.
He pulled out again, ever so slightly faster this time. Again my whole body shivered with desire, and I could feel blood rushing in to my cheeks, my neck and my chest. My nipples were tightening again, standing painfully erect. Deep within me it felt as if the whole of my insides were climbing up a mountain, muscles straining as they worked to reach the summit.
He pulled out again, quicker now, and plunged back in. And again… harder this time, slapping the root of his cock hard against my clitoris. And again. My back arched against the rocks and all my muscles tensed in the final push to the summit and then everything exploded as the orgasm flooded over me. I felt that I was floating above the mountain, looking out over the vista of valleys and hills with an overwhelming feeling of intense satisfaction and euphoria.
Again I passed out, though this time with exhaustion.
I’ve no idea how much later it was when I came to, but I was cold and there was a glimmer of light in the east so I thought it must be near dawn. I tried to sit up and found that I was able to move. No sign of tethers nor of anything like brackets on the rock. My muscles and bones were stiff and sore but amazingly, given my earlier gymnastics, there were no marks on my wrists or ankles. And no sign of anyone else.
I climbed down and recovered my clothes. I was moving gingerly. My nipples very very sensitive as the fabric of my shirt brushed them. And between my legs I felt like I’d been fucking all night. It was no dream, of that I was certain. But I was confused, as there was no sign of a bonfire. No sign that people had been there. I found the flask of mead, where I’d left it in the pocket of my pack. I uncorked it… empty! Curiouser and curiouser.
Drained, exhausted and confused, I was in some sort of daze hiking back to Clonkeen, my mind going over the events, dreams or fantasies – whatever they were – of the last 2 days. I really couldn’t be sure of what might have been real and what had been figments of my imagination. I was sure, though, that I’d had a number of mind-blowing orgasms.
When I reached Clonkeen, I discovered that the Killarney bus was not due for another hour, so I took myself off into the pub for a much-needed drink and a bite to eat. There was a young guy standing at the bar ordering his drink. He turned and greeted me warmly, almost as if he knew me. I looked up him and gasped involuntarily. He was the spitting image of my memory of Bilé, though a much younger version. He had the same striking blue eyes that I was staring into the previous night. I could feel a flutter of arousal deep inside me with the memory of it.
“You’re the woman who was walking up on the Paps, aren’t you,” he stated – not really as a question.
I could feel myself blushing deeply. How did he know that? Was he up there too? Could it have been him up on the cairn? Fucking me!
I collected myself together, telling myself: “Of course it wasn’t him. He’s way too young.”
“Yes… that’s me.” I replied. “The crazy English woman!” Recovering quickly, I added: “And you are… ?”
“Oh, I’m called Beoah.”
“Beoah…” I repeated. “That’s very unusual. I’ve never heard of it.”
He laughed. “Unusual, so it is! It’s Gaelic and it’s spelled B-e-o-a-o-d-h. Imagine being saddled with that! I don’t know of anyone else with this name but my mother was determined that it would be mine. It means ‘living fire’ and it reminds her of my conception, which was near a bonfire or something. Way too much information for me! And I never knew my dad anyway.”
“Where do you live,” I asked.
“I’m from the village right here. Lived here all my life. My ma lives here too – she’s just over there.”
He gestured over to a table near the fire. There was an old woman sitting quietly, a half pint of Guinness in front of her. I was sure I knew her from somewhere; but from where? Had she been in the pub in Killarney a couple of days ago? Then I remembered, she was the woman I met on the bus… the one who gave me the mead. She’s the woman who dreams of Bilé!
Beoaodh interrupted my thoughts with: “If you’re keen on hiking, history and myths, I can take you to some grand places in these mountains. Secret places nobody else knows about; magical places. Would you like to come?”
The man behind the bar broke into this conversation, asking me what I’d like to drink. Beoaodh answered for me. “I think she likes mead,” he said, turning to smile at me. “Don’t you?”
I looked at him in surprise. At a loss for words, I simply nodded. Transfixed by his piercing blue eyes and knowing smile, feelings of arousal welled up inside me just as they had the night before. Oh god yes, I would like to come!
“Yes, thank you,” I finally replied. “Just name a time.”
“Tomorrow morning? Meet me here at 9?”
“You’re on,” I said, with a nervous smile, wondering what I was letting myself in for. “Now I have to catch my bus.”
I dashed down my drink and turned to rush outside before I could have second thoughts about the arrangements I’d just made. As I turned, a movement in the corner caught my eye. It was Beoaodh’s mother. She looked right at me, smiled a knowing smile, mouthed the words ‘thank you’, and blew me a kiss as I left the pub.
Copyright © 2016 Crystal Knight. This is an original work. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any form without the written permission of the author.