The man with the flute led her to the bed, and guided her to sit down. She noticed the flute between his legs was ready to be played, and she felt her eyes expand another centimeter. If she hadn't been in shell-shocked mode, she would have realized that it was actually a rather lovely sample. Others seemed to surround her, many lounging on the landing/bed, and others settling to the floor like children at some weird nude story time. The door to the house remained open, as if to welcome whomever might wander in.
"Where did you come from?" was the first question she heard but then the rest suddenly exploded, as if they had all been dying to ask her just that question. She pulled her knees to her chest, and hugged them, noting the weight of the key still in her pocket and wondering how long it would take if she ran out the door right that moment and straight back to the door.
The questions died down when flute boy let out a whistle. Usually people use harsh whistles to demand attention, but his was as lovely as the song that had been tempting her down the path. Molly wondered if she had taken the other path toward what she suspected had been the girls if they would have ever let her go. Red had seemed very determined to keep her away from the villagers, it was entirely too late to change things... Things quieted, and she answered as best she could. "I came in through the door." This caused another eruption, a louder one, and even her whistling hero did nothing to quiet the madness, breasts and penises flopped excitedly as people gestured and moved and spoke animatedly.
Turning to flute boy, Molly asked, "Where am I?"
He smiled at her crookedly, and shrugged "you are through the door."
It was like saying "you are here" a non-answer. She rolled her eyes, and he smiled more broadly. He was cute, playful, and cute. She would have appreciated it more if his penis hadn't been less than a foot away and standing straighter than a flagpole on the fourth of July. She nibbled her lower lip and looked back at the audience.
Someone asked, "Why did you come here?"
Molly considered that question. She had been wondering it herself for some time. Why had she come through the door? What had she hoped to find? Mutely she shrugged not wanting to admit that the wet man in the pool had settled her internal debate.
"She doesn't know," someone else whispered, but the words carried weight, and magic, and awe and they were repeated several times over.
Molly felt a chill run up her spine and settle in her hardened nipples. There was something strange in this place. She gazed at the men and women around her, looking for clues to who they were. She tried to play the role of objective anthropologist, but it was very difficult for her, because of the appeal she felt for the penises, and the opposing discomfort she felt for the women so innocently touching one another. Their nudity was disconcerting, shameless. They seemed to share no guilt. She registered that realization as a man fiddled with himself right there in the middle of the room, adjusting an uncomfortable position. He looked up and caught her eye, and smiled brightly as if enjoying her interest, or perhaps inviting her to stroke him as well.
Molly couldn’t meet his eyes, they might feel no shame in their bodies, but she did. Several people came in at that moment, giving her reason to look up. She recognized the green-eyed vixen from the willow, and she wondered if the man whose hand she held now was the same person. They had damp hair as if they had stepped out of that inviting pool, and run back down the path to the village. The two individuals were followed by three or four other couples and five or six other singles both male and female. A few of the people near the door acknowledged the entrance of the new people. Molly thought this at least seemed appropriate, and it made her feel more comfortable.
Several of the men stood up, and moved to the far end of the one room cottage, stepping over women so swinging penises came perilously close to noses and lips.
They stroked a fire in a small fireplace, and Molly wondered for a moment at the lack of stove, and other electric essentials. She saw a woman lighting oddly shaped candles, and thought it odd, because outside the world was still very much light and alive. Red and Brownie One and Two came into the cottage, all three swinging hands and smiling happily, daisy chains around their necks, and single flowers adorning their hair. Inside the cottage they seemed much less the lovely natural picture they had made outside, and more an oddity.
Someone touched Molly’s leg, and she jumped with a small scream. The people in the room responded in kind, jumping away from her and squeaking in a small chorus. Molly looked at the hand as it shrank away, back to the lap of the man in front of her. This time he was not touching himself, but staring wide eyed at her. It was as if she had been thrust into a world of sexually sophisticated individuals with otherwise childlike personas.
More than anything Molly wanted to sink down through the bed, and vanish. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave quite yet, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be the center of attention. The man’s eyes were wide and almost brimming with tears, Molly wanted his feelings to not be hurt, but she didn’t want to touch him. The two feelings fought a vicious battle, and his feelings won out. She put a hand lightly on his well-built chest. The move seemed to comfort him, and he gave her a watery smile.
The smell of herbs and spices came from the area the men had moved into, they were- cooking dinner? She watched their taut backsides as they bustled about, and smiled remembering all those crude jokes about women pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen. She much preferred the idea of men naked and barefoot in the kitchen, and the punch line didn’t involve a squalling baby. The men were definitely cooking. One of them bent to stir, and she had a delightful silhouette of him in front of the fire. He stood again and set down the spoon he had used. Another man was cutting something, and a third was removing dishes from cupboards. Molly’s stomach grumbled, and she thought ruefully of the frozen dinner she had left in the microwave at home.
Slowly realizing that she was no longer responding to their questions, and in fact hadn’t been for some time, people began to disperse. Leaving Molly time to take things in. She watched them interact. A woman slipping into the lap of her male companion, not even flinching or budging as her hip made contact with his organ. They simply had no concept of appropriate and inappropriate touching. A man would wander past another man, giving no thought to the fact that the other would see his member. A couple of the girls had dissolved into giggles, and she looked at them to find that they were tickling each other in the kind of abandon that she had only seen previously in children.
Everyone here was beautiful, and young, and healthy, Molly realized with a jolt, that no one here was old, or extremely young. Though many behaved with the careless regard of children, none were in fact children. All the bodies were developed into early adulthood. No one seemed younger than perhaps 16, and no one older than approximately 28. And, perhaps more interesting, though many seemed to have spent the day locked in the arms of one lover or another, none of the women’s bellies were swollen with child. Molly felt uneasy at this, and wondered at it. In all, there seemed to be 35 people in the cottage, all beautiful young, and seemingly healthy.
Molly saw a pair in the corner begin to make out, they were on the younger end of the spectrum, but the girl seemed to know more tricks than Molly herself knew. She ran a finger around the boy’s cock, and he shuttered visibly shaken from the move. Molly looked out the window, and gasped. All of the light went out in the world beyond the door. The little cottage she had passed on the way in that had been visible moments ago, no longer was. There was a sudden jolt in the room, and people closed shutters from the inside, and the door for the first time was also shut. Everyone seemed tense suddenly, as if the change had startled them as well.
"Where did you come from?" was the first question she heard but then the rest suddenly exploded, as if they had all been dying to ask her just that question. She pulled her knees to her chest, and hugged them, noting the weight of the key still in her pocket and wondering how long it would take if she ran out the door right that moment and straight back to the door.
The questions died down when flute boy let out a whistle. Usually people use harsh whistles to demand attention, but his was as lovely as the song that had been tempting her down the path. Molly wondered if she had taken the other path toward what she suspected had been the girls if they would have ever let her go. Red had seemed very determined to keep her away from the villagers, it was entirely too late to change things... Things quieted, and she answered as best she could. "I came in through the door." This caused another eruption, a louder one, and even her whistling hero did nothing to quiet the madness, breasts and penises flopped excitedly as people gestured and moved and spoke animatedly.
Turning to flute boy, Molly asked, "Where am I?"
He smiled at her crookedly, and shrugged "you are through the door."
It was like saying "you are here" a non-answer. She rolled her eyes, and he smiled more broadly. He was cute, playful, and cute. She would have appreciated it more if his penis hadn't been less than a foot away and standing straighter than a flagpole on the fourth of July. She nibbled her lower lip and looked back at the audience.
Someone asked, "Why did you come here?"
Molly considered that question. She had been wondering it herself for some time. Why had she come through the door? What had she hoped to find? Mutely she shrugged not wanting to admit that the wet man in the pool had settled her internal debate.
"She doesn't know," someone else whispered, but the words carried weight, and magic, and awe and they were repeated several times over.
Molly felt a chill run up her spine and settle in her hardened nipples. There was something strange in this place. She gazed at the men and women around her, looking for clues to who they were. She tried to play the role of objective anthropologist, but it was very difficult for her, because of the appeal she felt for the penises, and the opposing discomfort she felt for the women so innocently touching one another. Their nudity was disconcerting, shameless. They seemed to share no guilt. She registered that realization as a man fiddled with himself right there in the middle of the room, adjusting an uncomfortable position. He looked up and caught her eye, and smiled brightly as if enjoying her interest, or perhaps inviting her to stroke him as well.
Molly couldn’t meet his eyes, they might feel no shame in their bodies, but she did. Several people came in at that moment, giving her reason to look up. She recognized the green-eyed vixen from the willow, and she wondered if the man whose hand she held now was the same person. They had damp hair as if they had stepped out of that inviting pool, and run back down the path to the village. The two individuals were followed by three or four other couples and five or six other singles both male and female. A few of the people near the door acknowledged the entrance of the new people. Molly thought this at least seemed appropriate, and it made her feel more comfortable.
Several of the men stood up, and moved to the far end of the one room cottage, stepping over women so swinging penises came perilously close to noses and lips.
They stroked a fire in a small fireplace, and Molly wondered for a moment at the lack of stove, and other electric essentials. She saw a woman lighting oddly shaped candles, and thought it odd, because outside the world was still very much light and alive. Red and Brownie One and Two came into the cottage, all three swinging hands and smiling happily, daisy chains around their necks, and single flowers adorning their hair. Inside the cottage they seemed much less the lovely natural picture they had made outside, and more an oddity.
Someone touched Molly’s leg, and she jumped with a small scream. The people in the room responded in kind, jumping away from her and squeaking in a small chorus. Molly looked at the hand as it shrank away, back to the lap of the man in front of her. This time he was not touching himself, but staring wide eyed at her. It was as if she had been thrust into a world of sexually sophisticated individuals with otherwise childlike personas.
More than anything Molly wanted to sink down through the bed, and vanish. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave quite yet, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be the center of attention. The man’s eyes were wide and almost brimming with tears, Molly wanted his feelings to not be hurt, but she didn’t want to touch him. The two feelings fought a vicious battle, and his feelings won out. She put a hand lightly on his well-built chest. The move seemed to comfort him, and he gave her a watery smile.
The smell of herbs and spices came from the area the men had moved into, they were- cooking dinner? She watched their taut backsides as they bustled about, and smiled remembering all those crude jokes about women pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen. She much preferred the idea of men naked and barefoot in the kitchen, and the punch line didn’t involve a squalling baby. The men were definitely cooking. One of them bent to stir, and she had a delightful silhouette of him in front of the fire. He stood again and set down the spoon he had used. Another man was cutting something, and a third was removing dishes from cupboards. Molly’s stomach grumbled, and she thought ruefully of the frozen dinner she had left in the microwave at home.
Slowly realizing that she was no longer responding to their questions, and in fact hadn’t been for some time, people began to disperse. Leaving Molly time to take things in. She watched them interact. A woman slipping into the lap of her male companion, not even flinching or budging as her hip made contact with his organ. They simply had no concept of appropriate and inappropriate touching. A man would wander past another man, giving no thought to the fact that the other would see his member. A couple of the girls had dissolved into giggles, and she looked at them to find that they were tickling each other in the kind of abandon that she had only seen previously in children.
Everyone here was beautiful, and young, and healthy, Molly realized with a jolt, that no one here was old, or extremely young. Though many behaved with the careless regard of children, none were in fact children. All the bodies were developed into early adulthood. No one seemed younger than perhaps 16, and no one older than approximately 28. And, perhaps more interesting, though many seemed to have spent the day locked in the arms of one lover or another, none of the women’s bellies were swollen with child. Molly felt uneasy at this, and wondered at it. In all, there seemed to be 35 people in the cottage, all beautiful young, and seemingly healthy.
Molly saw a pair in the corner begin to make out, they were on the younger end of the spectrum, but the girl seemed to know more tricks than Molly herself knew. She ran a finger around the boy’s cock, and he shuttered visibly shaken from the move. Molly looked out the window, and gasped. All of the light went out in the world beyond the door. The little cottage she had passed on the way in that had been visible moments ago, no longer was. There was a sudden jolt in the room, and people closed shutters from the inside, and the door for the first time was also shut. Everyone seemed tense suddenly, as if the change had startled them as well.
Choose:
- ID: 38447
- Nickname: the cottage
- Hits: 199
