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From behind the bonfire, Arthur stepped into the clearing. He was naked and beguiling in the firelight. Her desire for him was immediate, and she tried to step over the circle of stones but couldn’t. It wouldn’t allow her inside to be with him.
Regan leaned against the trunk of an ancient tree, clung to the bark, and stared at Arthur, willing him to see her, to come to her.
She called his name but he seemingly couldn’t hear her inside the stone circle.
Regan could only stare, worshipping him with her eyes, the long lean strong body she’d explored every inch of, the chest she’d slept on, the arms that had held her, the mouth that had kissed her lips and her clitoris, the hands that had given her more pleasure than she knew she deserved.
He must be waiting for her. Why else would he be naked? She was his lover, no one else. Yet there was someone else.
A woman came out from behind the bonfire. A beautiful young woman, she looked about twenty, no more. Ten years younger than Regan. She had rich dark hair that fell to her waist and vivid blue eyes, large full breasts and pert nipples, pink and tender.
Regan could only watch as the girl went to Arthur. He took her by the waist and pulled her close. They kissed, a deep passionate kiss, and Regan tried to call out to him, to remind him who he belonged to.Her. Not that girl in his arms.
The girl’s eyes gleamed with such desire it looked more like greed than passion. Ravenously, she wrapped her arms around Arthur’s neck to latch onto him as she opened her mouth, greedy for his kisses.
Regan watched, sick to her stomach, bile in her mouth, as the girl drew Arthur to the ground. She positioned him onto his back on the bare ground and took his cock into her hand, stroking it until it grew stiff. She rose up over him and put it into her body, sinking down onto it as Regan watched in impotent rage.
The girl rode him in a frenzy. Arthur didn’t touch her, which could have comforted Regan but didn’t. Vines growing from the ground had wrapped around his wrists. He was tied down. The girl’s breasts bounced as she bobbed on top of him, her face a parody of pleasure. She cried out with her climax but it was an exaggerated cry, almost a scream, like she was playing a part and playing it poorly.
The vines broke and Arthur was able to free himself, but even as he stood up the girl turned and offered her body again to him. She bent over at the waist, her cunt wet and open, glistening in the firelight. With a thrust Arthur was inside her hole, rutting in a fresh frenzy, holding the girl by the hips with a bruising grip. Regan knew those should be her hips he held, her cunt he fucked.
The bonfire grew higher, formed the shape of a tall oval and reflected the vision of Arthur and the girl coupling madly.
All of this was hers, Regan knew, her nights with Arthur. Who was this young woman who dared take what didn’t belong to her?
And now they were waltzing naked around the fire. And now he was pushing her to the ground where he mounted her and penetrated her ripe red vagina. And then he was out of her but she was on her back, her legs spread so wide it looked obscene. Arthur held a string of pearls in his hand and, one by one, pushed them into the girl’s open waiting hole.
Even as Regan watched in horror, her body remembered that night. She remembered how shocked she’d been Arthur would do something so daring, so erotic. How smooth the little pearls were as he’d slid them through the opening of her vagina, how slick and cool. The strand was long and Arthur had been determined to fill her with every inch of them.
At first it had felt like nothing more than a ridged dildo inside of her, so much like the ones her husband had used on her, forcing her to have one powerful orgasm after another until she would weep for him to stop.
But it wasn’t like that for long. The more Arthur had given her, the more she’d wanted. As the pearls filled her, her cunt had begun to clench and contract, protesting the intrusion even though she’d wanted it. But then…gradually, her body had opened to take it all and as the pearls filled her beyond what she thought she could take, her vagina opened itself like an iris to receive every last one. She still felt them inside of her, touching every nerve, spreading her out, working their way into every secret cleft inside of her…
It had been the most erotic moment of her life, and when they’d seen the book and the painting—Woman with a Pearl Necklace—after, she’d felt such a horror at the thought that the most precious, private, erotic moment of her life had been witnessed by anyone other than Arthur.
Now she was being forced to watch as her lover did that to another woman, a younger woman, a woman he clearly wanted more than her. If he could betray Regan like this…
It wouldn’t stop. Arthur kept pushing the pearls into the girl’s open cunt. It had to stop. But as endless as the pearls were, so was the girl’s capacity to take them. When the entire strand disappeared from view finally, she took Arthur’s whole hand inside of her, all the way to the wrist and then the forearm. The girl’s stomach swelled as if he’d impregnated her with those glistening white pearls, and Regan couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
She tore herself away from the tree, fled the fire and the fairy circle and the sight of Arthur with that woman who was not her. As she fled, the white whisper of mist floated behind her, mocking her.
“How long until he leaves you for a girl who will love him?” she said. “How long will he allow you to take his love without giving any in return? How long…how long…how long…and what will you do when he’s gone? Will you die?”
“I don’t want to die,” Regan called out.
“Then live,” the voice said.
Regan nearly stumbled over another ring of fairy stones. She stopped at once, unable to cross them. Panting, heart in her throat, she stared into the ring and saw a woman standing at an easel. In the moonlight, Regan saw the woman was painting. At first she didn’t recognize the woman with the chin-length brown hair and the glasses, wearing paint-spattered jeans and a man’s shirt, the too-long sleeves rolled to her elbows. Inside the ring of stones, a shadow moved and out of the darkness stepped Arthur. He was dressed this time. He came up behind the woman at her easel and rested his chin on her shoulder.
Desperately Regan longed to be inside that circle of stones, but the magic kept her back.
“Painting again?” Arthur said.
“This is the secret to eternal life,” the woman replied with Regan’s voice. She smiled and leaned back against his chest.
“I knew you’d find it.” He kissed her cheek and returned to the shadows. The woman smiled and Regan saw it was her own smile. This was her? The woman, the other Regan, put her paintbrush into a glass of muddy water and followed Arthur away and into the darkness.
Regan tried once more and found that now she could step over the stones and into the fairy circle. She had to see what the woman had been painting. If it revealed the secret of eternal life, she’d sell her soul to see it.
