Celtic Women Gone Wild

Celtic Women Gone Wild

Erotic Retelling of the Wooing of Etain

by Colt Stevens

 

Dedicated to my darling wife,

who is my Etain and my goddess.

Chapter One

(in which a great God fucks a river Goddess while her husband is out)

Our story begins with the birth of Aengus Mac Od, the young born, the fastest born, the most preemie ever born? He was called such because he was conceived at the crack of dawn and born before sunset. How is that possible? He was one of the race of the first rulers of Ireland. They are known as the people of the mound.

This story begins in a place called the Palace of the Brugh. In this region of Ireland you can find Neolithic mounds, chamber tombs, standing stones, henges and other prehistoric enclosures, some from as early as 35th century BC — 32nd century BC. Have you ever been to Ireland or Britain and seen these mysterious lumps in the green fields? They are perhaps burial mounds, perhaps ritual sites. Or they are more likely portals, through which one may pass and see even today an “other world” where the ancient Celts still live.

I have made a portal in one such mound with these words. Walk through it with me and you will come to the place some call the Land of Youth. Here a race of Gods or supernatural beings still live. They are called the Tuatha Dé. Their men are the mightiest warriors the world has ever known. And their women are the fairest.

And in this magical realm now begins the story of the birth of the loveliest female spirit, dakini, fairy, naiad, whatever you want to imagine her as. She is called Etain. Picture her loveliness as the essence of female beauty, in a form of such grace and enchantment that your soul crumbles when you behold it. Her gown, it is transparent, as though made of see-through silk. And her breasts are lithe and lovely there. Her hips and her bottom are delightful. Her legs supple and smooth as she walks. And there you see her pussy, through the see-through silk, as she stands upon the green. Do you hear some strange and lovely singing? It is in another language, the language of the Tuatha De, this is the langue of Etain the Lovely.

She is yours if you want her. Come with me, and you might have her. But as in all the old stories, your reward must be earned. To earn the right to have this most delightful of females, you must be steadfast in your imagination as you travel with me through this other world, and forget for at least this hour everything about your “real” life. You must transport yourself entirely to the realm of the Tuatha De.

Here we return to Mac Od. The young born. How did this mysterious young birth take place? It was because of Eochaid, a king so mighty in ancient Ireland that he was called the Good God. He seemed to have power over the weather and the rivers and the mountains themselves. He brought abundance and prosperity to his people and was well beloved, respected and feared.

One day he felt a lust for another king’s wife. She was the wife of Elcmar of the Brugh. Her name was Boanne, she was the goddess of the river Boanne. See there, in that valley in the east of Ireland, they now call that lazy, languid river the River Boyne. But as you look at the river now, the waters slowly assume a female form. And they rise up to meet this great King, Eochaid. This is a sexy couple. Eochaid has biceps the size of old poplar branches. He takes this river goddess in his strong arms and he kisses her deeply.

“Oh, great Eochaid,” sighs the river goddess. “Honored am I by your lusty kisses. But my poor husband Elcmar will be home soon. I wish to cuckold him not, as I do have a great tenderness in my heart for him, even as my loins now are burning to have you inside me.”

“Do not worry about Elcmar,” says the mighty Eochaid. “I have sent him on a great errand. It will take him 9 months to complete it, and yet the sun will move so slowly for him that it will appear that only one day will pass. In the meantime, I can take off your delightful robes here on this mound. And fuck you with the huge cock of the first king of Ireland.”

Watch now as a real man fucks a real woman. These two are not soft modern pieces of fluff. They are really alive. And when they shout they don’t mumble — no they roar to the heavens. And when throw their head back in ecstasy they don’t sigh, they howl with desire. They are more like animals and more like Gods. They are a thousand times more alive than you and I. In fact, what we do is not even living compared to what they do. They are in another category altogether.

Watch as Eochaid lays the river Goddess tenderly down on the mound, but suddenly with such a fury, tears her clothes to pieces. Remember, this stud can control the weather and drain swamps and fell entire forests with his magical power.

“Oh Good God,” cries Boanne. “The current is so strong within me, what have you done?”

“I’ve set your soul ablaze with desire, woman,” cries the Good God. “Fear not, for you have the strength to withstand this ecstatic power.”

“No!” she cries. “It’s tearing me apart!”

“Impossible!” shouts the Good God. “A river cannot be torn asunder! A river is thus much stronger than a mountain. For though I be as strong as a mountain, it is you who are destroying me. I am crumbling to bits in your arms, my lovely.”

It’s as though huge boulders are bounding down the mountainside as the Good God enters the Boanne, and starts making love to her. He can’t believe such a pleasure exists. Nor can she.

An enormous ancient phallus enters a delightful mysterious womb. It goes in, slowly, slowly. The womb opens, slowly, slowly. The friction is so great, the pressure so strong, it’s as though the earth itself is being pounded into by a gigantic ancient Irish cairn. It’s as though the ground is opening up, and an entire landscape is forming. It’s as though something volcanic is surging up from deep within the surface.

“Good God,” cries Boanne. “What is this explosion within me?”

“It is something divine,” shouts the Good God in his delirium. “The most divine. The most delightful. I possess you, beautiful one. I possess you now. And you possess me. We own each other. Just for this hour. This hour of bliss no being should ever feel.”

“Tis too blissful, great one,” screams Boanne. “You’re killing me with pleasure.”

“No, it’s me who’s being killed. Look now, Boanne, look upon my face as I blast my seed into your loins now. Do you see this look? This is the look of the deepest, purest, strongest satisfaction. Ayyyyyy!”

And he cums in her then, gallons and gallons of godly cum shoot up inside her. It fills her whole body until she fears she might drown. She is gasping and gasping.

“Help! You’re killing me Good God, I can no longer breath,” she cries.

“Just push, push, push my lovely,” commands the great God.

And Boanne is surprised then, because she is giving birth. It seems only a second has passed since he shot inside her. And already she is delivering a child.

And oh what a child. The most comely little babe. The Good God holds the lovely child in his arms.

“What shall we call this angel, dear one?” he inquires of his beloved Boanne, as he hands the child to its mother.

Boanne puts the child on her breast then, and they lie there in a trance of great fulfillment.

“Aengus Mac Od,” she breathes. “He shall be called Aengus the Fastest Born.”

And that is how our great story begins. Are you still with me?

Chapter Two

(in which a wife gets fucked;

as does a young virgin;

and in which a voyeur watches a strip tease)

“No, it’s true, I’m not your father,” said the man whom Aengus thought was his father all these years. “But we are related.”

Aengus, who some refer to as the Irish God of Youth and Love, was indeed a beautiful young man. He had been raised by the great king Midhir as his son. But then one day during a curling match, an opponent had shouted out in anger that Aengus had no father. And Aengus went home to his father in tears.

“I am your brother, I suppose,” explained Midhir. Midhir’s father was the also Good God, the mighty Dagba, also named Eochaid Ollathair, who had sired Aengus out of wedlock with the river goddess Boanne. He had taken the lovely child from Boanne, so her husband, Elcmar of the Brugh, would know not of their infidelity. And he gave the child to one of his grown sons, Midhir, who lived in one of the most famous of Ireland’s mounds, Brí Léith in Tethba. So they were really half brothers.

Aengus wanted to know his real father. So Midhir agreed to take him to him.

Midhir’s wife was worried. Her name was Fuamnach. And she was schooled in magic by the great wizard Bresal who had raised her like his own daughter and taught her ogham and runes and ancient mysticism.

“This is as the wizard warned me,” said Fuamnach. “It shall lead to my destruction.”

“Nonsense,” said Midhir. “I’ll take him to meet the Good God. And he will get his rightful ancestral lands. And I’ll be back, good wife.”

“Oh, you’ll be back,” said Midhir. “You’ll be back with the most beautiful maiden in all of Ireland. And it shall lead to my destruction.”

“My wife,” said Midhir. “Surely you are the most beautiful woman in all of Ireland.”

“But no maiden am I,” said Fuamnach bitterly. “Daughters I have given ye. And your foster son I have raised as my own. And in the bedchamber you grow weary of me.”

“Weary of ye?” said Midhir. “How could that be possible?”

And he took her to the bedroom beneath the fairy mound of….. There in the mystical realm, the bedrooms were adorned with petals. Birds chirped there. Fragrant mists of many colors wafted in the air. There were little magical creatures that seemed to be gathered around watching as Midhir took his wife into the bed of soft down pillows.

He kissed her softly on the lips.

“My wife, Fuamnach,” he said. “You are only shaped like an ordinary female now. But I know what is your true form, I know your mysterious depths. You are a like a deep mine in the earth. And as I go down in you, gold I do mine.”

He slowly kissed his way down her belly, which was adorned with pretty pictures painted by ancient dyes, with symbols the meaning of which is now lost to us. But to Midhir, these early tattoos on his wife’s belly showed him the pathway down….down…down to her delicious womb. And there he did mine. Soon, as he licked and kissed her flesh and squeezed her thighs, a golden elixir streamed out of her womb and into his mouth.

“There, I have found the gold I was searching for,” he said, drinking the golden elixir. And now he was in an ecstatic state. These ancient Irish demi-gods straddled two worlds. Midhir was half in our world, and now under the influence of that strange elixir which had poured forth from his wife’s womb, he was in the Other World. There he witnessed the past and the future all as one. In the past, he saw his race of Irish Gods arriving on the Emerald Isle for the first time. It is said that they arrived, these Danaans, in ships from the air. Midhir saw it now. There was a dark cloud, hiding the ships that landed on the shore, and came not from the sea, but from above, far above. Then Midhir saw that it was indeed the stars that this race had come from.

“Where is this we come from, my wife,” he said. “Is it possible we come from the stars?”

“Come into me, my husband.”

Midhir then put his manhood into her womb. And the two rocked together for what seemed like hours. They became as one. Now Fuamnach and Midhir witnessed the scene together — the ancient Irish came from the heavens. They were as gods, with powers and magic that cannot be explained to the rest of the folk on earth. They brought with them their stone of destiny called the Lia Fail which they placed on the mound of Tara and wherefrom the rightful kings of Ireland were chosen when it called out. They also came with the spear of Lugh which gave victory to whoever swung it, the Sword of Nuada which no foe could survive, and the Cauldron of the Dagba from which none would ever go hungry. These were powers from the beyond, from the very distant past, and from the very distant parts of the heavens, and were now all but incomprehensible even to these, the Tuatha Dé Danaan.

“We are a different breed,” said Fuamnach. “We are a breed apart.”

Then Midhir saw the future. And it was as his wife had warned him. The future was gloomy. The gloom was unclear, but it was something to do with this half brother and Midhir’s father. The Good God.

Afterward, he lay with his wife in tranquility. He said to her, “Forgive me wife, I see that you are right. That this will bring misfortune upon us. But I have no choice. I must send the boy to his father. To my father.”

Nothing Fuamnach could do, even with all her powerful magic, could stop what happened then.

Midhir brought Aengus to Uisnech of Meath in the center of Ireland. They approached a mound, and there Aengus saw a great god of a man, wearing a brown tunic, a hooded cape and horse-hide boots. Behind him he was pulling his eight pronged war club on a wheel.

“What is that man, and what is that great club he pulls behind him?” inquired Aengus.

“That is your father, the Dagba,” said Midhir. “And that is his war club. One end of the club kills the living and the other end revives the dead, and when it is dragged behind him it leaves a track as deep as the boundary ditch between two provinces.”

“I dare not approach him,” whined Aengus. “I’m afraid. He is so mighty and fearsome.”

“Ah, he’s a big old softie,” said Midhir.

He called out to the Dagba then.

“Father,” he cried. “I’m bringing ye back your bastard son. It’s time he knew ye.”

The great Dagba came over to them. He looked at the comely young man Aengus, and he smiled. Aengus knew then that all would be well.

Midhir left Aengus with the good God. The good God was pleased with the charming young man.

“I will give you the lands of the Brugh,” he announced one night at dinner, to his bastard child.

And Aengus was given the lands of the cuckolded Elcbar, which pained his mother Boanne, but what could she do? She was overjoyed to have her son returned and near her shores. But she dared not reveal herself as his mother, for fear of her husband Elcbar’s mighty wrath.

So Aengus settled there on the Brugh, near his unknown mother.

It was sometime later, while traveling to Ulster, that Aengus was traveling past a farmhouse when he heard the singing of the fairest female voice he had ever heard. He looked up at the window and saw a young woman of great beauty singing there. When she was done he praised the beauty of her voice.

“Well then, why not come upstairs here, handsome young God of youth and Love, and praise the beauty of my maiden’s body.”

Aengus was surprised at his good fortune. But without ever learning the maiden’s name, he did as she bid. He went upstairs and she took off her gown. There he praised her eyes, the color of emeralds. He praised her long hair, yellow like the corn. He praised her nipples, ripe like the fruit on the vine. He praised her breasts, plump like the apricots. He praised her bottom, round like the moon. He praised her thighs, soft like pillows. And finally he came to her pussy.

“And here the finest thing I’ve ever seen, the pussy of a maiden who has never been fucked!”

“Then why don’t you fuck it, and make it no more the pussy of a maiden who has never been fucked. Make it a pussy that has bled. Make it a pussy that has cum. Make it yours, God of love.”

He was hard as the cliffs of Moher. And he pushed his also virginal dick into her pussy. A drop of blood did fall. And soon she was screaming.

“Will not your father hear?” inquired Aengus, worried.

“He is away till supper. The servants have gone home. Come on, now. Fuck me harder!”

And he fucked her silly, there on her childhood bed.

“Now you must go,” she said, as she looked out the window at the setting sun. “My father will be back soon. Go!”

He went and never learned her name. But before he left he promised he would come back for her.

His foster father, a few days later, arrived for his annual visit, for the two had kept in touch and were the very best of friends — indeed they were half brothers after all. It was during a night of hard beer drinking that the drunken Aengus made a hasty promise out of the affection and care he felt for the man who had raised him.

“Old Midhir,” said Aengus. “So grateful am I for your friendship and love, that I make this vow. Anything thou wishes, strike me dead if I do not grant it. For that is the strength of my devotion, by the sword of Nuada I swear, your wish will be my command.”

“Fine,” said Midhir then, also drunk,, and not thinking too much about it. “Bring me the fairest maiden in all of Ireland.”

“But you already have a wife,” said Aengus, darkening. “And like a mother to me she was.”

“Ah, I see your promises mean nothing. Shall I strike you dead?”

Although they were both drunk, Aengus sobered up quickly seeing how serious his half brother Midhir was.

“Alright,” he said. “The fairest maiden in all of Ireland. Strike me dead if she shall not be yours. I swear to it.”

They shook.

“Now where do I find her,” asked Aengus.

“Her name is Etain,” said Midhir. “I heard she lives near Ulster way. Ailill’s daughter Étaín Echraide, daughter of the king of the north-eastern part of Ireland. She is the dearest and gentlest and loveliest in Ireland.

“Fine,” said Aengus. “I shall bring her to you, father, brother, uncle, friend.”

The two embraced.

The next day, he was hung over, but set off to Ulster to find Etain. After a day’s journey, he came to Ailill’s house in Mag Innis. “

I am sure you have guessed it.

He saw her there in the back garden, gathering flowers for the evening meal. He looked over the fence, unseen.

It was the very same farmhouse where he had heard the singing of a virgin girl, who had invited him upstairs to deflower her.

It was Etain.

Aengus felt a huge hole forming in his heart. He was torn. But you have to remember, a man’s word at this time in Ireland was worth more than his life. He had given Midhir his word that he would bring him the fairest maiden in all of Ireland. Even if it was this virgin he had deflowered and yes, fallen in love with.

He hadn’t seen it before. Perhaps it had been in his mind as his first “peccadillo” or sexual adventure. But suddenly he felt the love that had been planted there, as he watched this beautiful angel picking the flowers, and taking them inside.

“I’ve come for your daughter,” he announced, when he was put before the father, Ailill.

“My daughter?” said the father. “Why….by all means you may have her. But at some price.”

“Whatever the price, name it.” said Aengus. And there in the kitchen, behind some curtains, he could see that Etain was looking on, eagerly, secretly. She couldn’t announce that she knew the man, of course. But she presumed (and why shouldn’t she?) that he had come to buy her for himself.

“My price is her weight in gold and silver,” announced the greedy old father.

Etain almost cried out when she heard that. Too steep surely, for anybody. Her father was going to blow this great romance.

“Father!” she cried out silently into her closed fist. “What are you doing, you fool!”

But Aengus answered quickly.

“Done,” he said. “I will return with the gold and silver tomorrow.”

Etain was pleased.

“I must really be the fairest maiden in all of Ireland, as they say,” she said to herself. “If my lover is willing to pay my weight in silver and gold for me. Oh, who is the happiest woman that ever lived? Etain! That’s who.”

She danced around the house and kissed all the farm animals and was singing all night long.

The next day, after going back to his lands and obtaining loans and sureties, Aengus returned with a cart full of gold and silver. Now he was greatly in debt, but he had kept his word.

They emptied the cart of the gold and silver, and Etain the beautiful so joyfully hopped aboard for the voyage back to the Brugh.

“My love, Aengus,” said Etain. “Why do you look so gloomy?”

But he answered her not.

Finally, as they approached the Aengus’s mound in the Brugh, she demanded, “Aengus, you’ve not even looked at me since you purchased me from my father.”

“Because,” he said to her bitterly. “I purchased you not for myself, but for my half brother, whom I promised in a moment of drunkenness to bring the fairest maiden in all of Ireland. Now go to him. He awaits you on my doorstep.”

Etain looked up. There was Midhir. He was much older than Aengus. And not as handsome. It was a bitter blow.

“You wretch! How could you!” she said, and she pounded her fists against the desolate Aengus.

“I knew not your name!” he explained. “The next time you give your virginity away, wench, have the sense to give your name with it.”

She blanched and then blushed and finally turned green with fury.

“Oooooooh!” she yelled. “Thank you! Now I’m no longer heartsick to not be wedding you. If it’s your half brother I’m wedding, then all the better. I’ll fuck him harder and better all night tonight, our wedding night, and I’ll curse your name when I cum! So there.”

She was quite volcanic at times, our Etain. It only made Aengus love her more.

“Here,” he said, handing her a little vile. “You’ll need this, for your wedding night tonight.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a little vile of pig’s blood. Spill it on the sheets after he has his way with you. Otherwise he’ll be wanting all that gold and silver back from your father, you not being a virgin, as we both well know.”

“Oooooooh! I hate you!” she screamed, and she snatched the little vile from him and placed it in her pocket.

He watched as she went with up to Midhir, and bowed down before him with exaggerated deference.

“My lord, I am Etain. At your service.”

Aengus watched as Midhir held out his hand, and bid her rise and join them inside where a great feast and celebration awaited them all.

“Thank you my half brother,” said Midhir, over the beer. “I’ll never forget this. She’s indeed the fairest woman in all of Ireland. And I have only you to thank for it.”

He raised his glass.

“Now come on, my wife,” he said, “It’s time we went to bed!”

With a great booming laugh, he took his new wife by the hand and let her up to the special bridal suite that Aengus had equipped for his half brother — that was before he had known it was his true love Etain.

There were petals, and fragrances, and heavenly touches in this room. But there was also, Aengus knew, a little hole in the door. He had meant to fix it. But had forgotten. Now he remembered. And soon he fixed his eye upon that hole and he witnessed his brother taking his true love to bed.

“First my love, the fairest in all of Ireland, I will lie here in the bed while you dance for me.”

“But there is no music to dance to,” complained Etain.

“Do you not hear the music?”

Then by some magic that Midhir knew, he made some lovely fiddle and flute music, very atmospheric, with an accompanying drum beat. Where this music was coming from was not clear. It was there in the room. But it was somehow outside the room. It came from a different realm. And it soon had the desired effect on the young bride.

“Oh ’tis quite lovely,” she said, smiling. Soon she was spinning around, and moving with such grace, Aengus’ heart practically bled out there where he stood at the door, with his eye pressed hard against that hole.

As she danced, she opened the top of her gown, so that her new husband could see her breasts.

“Ay, they are the loveliest apples in all of Ireland,” he said. “I cannot wait to feast on them.”

“You like my lovely apples?” said Etain, coyly, and she began to rub her fingers lightly over the nipples, which swelled up as she caressed them.

“Ah, I like how the stems are growing larger,” he says. “If you keep tickling them like that, do the stems grow even larger?”

“I know not,” said Etain, still moving her body rhythmically to the music. “Me, just a virgin, never having been with a man. I know nothing. You’ll have to instruct me in everything.”

“Well, you’re doing just fine,” said Midhir. “I’d like to see the rest of you now, if you please.”

She turned her back to him, and slowly she pulled the rest of her gown down, revealing her backside to him as she wiggled to the tune.

“Turn around, my beauty, and let me spy you,” he commanded.

“I’m terribly ashamed to have you see me,” she playacted.

“Nonsense, I’m your husband,” he said. “Turn around now and show me the fairest pussy in all of Ireland.”

She turned around but kept her hands over her pussy shyly.

“Show it to me now,” he commanded. “Remove those hands.”

She slowly moved her hands away and revealed her pussy to the great King.

“It is,” he cried. “It is the sweetest pussy in all of Ireland. Come here my lovely. Come to your man.”

She slowly walked over to the bed, trembling. Or mock trembling. Aengus at the door couldn’t tell which. But then, as she joined him on the bed, and put her mouth to his, Aengus saw that she was giving herself, body and soul to this great man, his elder half brother. This great man, who lay with a foot long hard cock on the bed.

“You can’t put all of that in me, surely,” she said, pulling away from the kiss.

“Oh, you’ll be amazed at how it slips in,” he said. “Of course, there will be a drop of blood. There’s nothing to fear there. It’s just tearing away the wrapping, so to speak. And then the snake will find its prize, deep inside you.”

Aengus could watch no more. He pulled his eye away from the hole. But he stayed by the door. Soon he heard his beloved moaning with delight.

“My King!” she screamed. “What are you doing to me, my King? What are you doing!”

“I’m fucking you!” he roared. “I’m fucking you with a cock as hard as the stone of destiny that our ancestors called Lia Fáil. How do you like it, my beloved?”

“I love this stone of destiny,” she cried. “I love what you’re doing to me. I’ll love you forever, my King. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

That last one really stung Aengus. He suddenly sensed that she knew he was there, listening, and that these last words were an insult to him.

“Never ever in all my life have I felt any pleasure nearly half as great as this. Or even a quarter as great. Maybe an eighth as great I have felt, perhaps at the site of a fair swan, or while riding a mare. But only an eighth of the pleasure that you are giving me. Oh, my great, great King. Greatest of all kings. My Midhir.”

He walked away then. He could take it no more. He went to his bed and he wept.

Chapter Three

(in which there is a wild threesome;

a woman fucks her foster dad;

and a wizard teaches ass play.)

Midhir was so smitten with Etain that he lost his reason nearly completely, and decided to take her home with him to Brí Léith.

“Take her home to Brí Léith? But you already have a wife there. Fuamnach. Who was like my mother. And whom you know is powerful in the ways of wizardry. How can you take her home when you already have a wife?”

“I will have two wives, that’s all,” Midhir said. “They will both attend me. And they will attend each other. I already know that Fuamnach is almost as fond of pussy as I am. She has lain with some of the servant girls and we have all lain together. And it’s been fine.”

“But this is different,” said Aengus, concerned for his beloved Etain’s welfare, knowing that Fuamnach was capable of the darkest of acts. “Fuamnach will not tolerate a rival, and equal in her bed.”

“Well, she won’t be an equal,” said Midhir, foolishly. “Etain is the fairest woman in all of Ireland. She has no equal. But if Fuamnach doesn’t want to share her with me, she is under no obligation.”

“Be careful, brother, that’s all,” warned Aengus. And then he took his new sister in law aside and told her, “I know you are angry at me, and I do not blame you. But listen, no matter what happens, if you are ever in danger there in Brí Léith, send word to me. Or come and find me. And I will offer my life as your protection. I swear it. You will always have a friend in me.”

“Ha,” said the haughty Etain. “As if I would ever trust you, you the one that deflowered me, then bought and sold me like I was some cow. Farewell and good riddance, bastard son of Dagba. Oh and by the way, I’ve heard your mother is that whore of the river Boanne. The wife of the cuckold whose lands were taken from him and somehow granted you, by the Dagba. Well, I made sure to have a piss in that river yesterday before leaving.”

Never mind. Aengus was warmed by these words. They showed she still felt emotion for him. That their connection was still somehow alive. He kissed her hand. She spit on him.

“Don’t you dare touch me, or I’ll have my husband slice off your head.”

“Yes’m,” he said, bowing. “My apologies. But remember my offer. If ever you need my help…”

She left without another word. She got on the cart with her husband and went up the hill and around the bend. If Aengus had been watching carefully though, he might have seen her turn quickly back toward him just before the cart disappeared. For one last glance at the young God.

Aengus had already learned this truth of his mother’s identity. And many an evening he would go down by the river Boanne and play his harp to his mother. And she would seem to sing along, with her waters lapping against the stones in time with his music. And together they would have this mother and son time they were robbed of during his childhood.

Meanwhile, Midhir and his new wife arrived home at Brí Léith. Fuamnach came out to meet them in front of the mound.

“Midhir! What a fine gift you have brought home for your wife,” said Fuamnach.

“Your wife?” Etain was surprised. This was the first she’d heard of Midhir’s wife.

“Didn’t he tell you, dear,” said Fuamnach, coldly. “Oh never mind him. Men are such oafs. Now come, after your travels, you must be weary. Let me bathe you and prepare you for a night of carnal pleasure.”

She took Etain by the hand and took her into her bathing chamber, where a spring of hot water came bubbling through the fairy palace in which they lived.

“Come come dear, remove your clothes,” said Fuamnach. And together they got in the spring naked and caressed each other. Soon Etain was quite at ease. After they were clean and soapy smelling and delicious, they came naked into the bedroom, where the great Midhir lay naked on the bed, looking proudly at his first wife and his new young wife.

“The two loveliest ladies in all of Ireland,” he said proudly.

His big kingly dick was hard and throbbing, as the woman got in bed on either side of him. They each put a hand on that big dick and they stroked it together. Soon they were each kissing it and taking turns sucking on it and kissing each other. And very soon after that, Fuamnach was tasting Etain’s pussy.

“Ahhh, succulent,” she said. “I understand why you’re so taken with her.”

She sucked her to climax. And then she fucked her husband.

“Are you sure you can handle all this, my King,” she said. “It’s not too much for your old heart to bear.”

“No, I can handle it well,” he said. And Fuamnach fucked him and fucked him, but he didn’t cum.

“Ah, you’re saving that for your new wife,” said Fuamnach, understanding.

“Well, it seems the polite thing to do,” said Midhir.

“Very well then,” said Fuamnach, and she climbed off her stud. And Etain the lovely got on top of him. Fuamnach came behind her and kissed her neck and felt her breasts as she fucked Midhir. And then Fuamnach looked down in horror. The face of her husband! She had never seen that pleasure. As his young bride fucked him, he was seized with delirious ecstasy. She fucked him so gracefully too. Fuamnach was humiliated. She stopped caressing the young woman’s breasts and turned away on the bed. It was too much for her to watch. But she heard the roar as her king ejaculated into the new bride. And she heard the reciprocal moan as the new bride climaxed together with her man. And Fuamnach was filled with hatred.

At breakfast the next day, Etain went to sit at a lesser chair, but Fuamnach said, “No no, sit here, in my chair. It is to the seat of a good woman you have come. Now sit.”

Etain sat on Fuamnach’s chair. Midhir looked on, worried. There was something in his wife’s tone that concerned him. Then suddenly, without warning, his wife whipped out a rod of scarlet quicken tree and whipped the young woman on the head with it, while uttering some magic spell she had learned from her foster parent, the wizard Bresal. And Etain disappeared. Where she had been, there now was a pool of water on the ground.

“What have you done, ye wench,” cried Midhir. “I will kill ye!”

But Fuamnach fled back to the house of her foster father Bresal the wizard. And MIdhir was left with just this puddle of water.

“This puddle of water, which once was the fairest female form in all of Ireland,” lamented Midhir, languishing by the puddle. “Which once was a face so fine, with lips so succulent, and with eyes radiant, and with skin so soft. Oh, puddle of water, you have no idea what it was like to touch her skin. It was like this, soft as water.”

He put his hand in the puddle of water, and the salt from his tears poured into it. He continued.

“Oh, puddle of water, you have no idea what it was like to lift off her gown, and reveal her nudity. There’s never been a nudity like it. This nakedness of hers, it had a power. It lifted me almost off the ground. It made the bottom of my balls heavy. And then, the way she gave herself to me. Oh puddle of water, no female has ever given herself to a man so completely, the way she did. She enjoyed the act of love, puddle of water. She gave herself over to it entirely. She really fucked, she did. She ground her pelvis round and round like it was a whirlpool when you fucked her, a whirlpool that sucked you into the void. Oh puddle of water….if you only knew what you once were. How hot you burned. How deeply you fucked. Oh, how crazy you screamed. Now…you are silent.”

But then, the heat of the air — it was a balmy August — and the seething of the ground — it did seem to seethe beneath the puddle of water — made Midhir wake from his lamenting. He saw then, the puddle of water dry up suddenly, and there in its place, he saw a little worm — a larvae actually.

“Oh, worm,” he cried to the little larvae. “You are not as fair as Etain. But you are something. I will settle for this something. After all, it’s better than nothing.“

He let the worm crawl on his great big fingers. And he felt the same affection for the worm that he had felt for the fairest of all Ireland, his Etain. He fed the worm a little leaf here and there. Soon it curled up into a ball and Midhir was worried.

“You’re not dying, are you little worm! Don’t die!”

But then, to his surprise, the worm sprouted great big purple wings and took to the air. It was a foot long purple butterfly. MIdhir cried out in delight.

“Etain! You’ve returned to me! You’re come back!”

He shouted with joy, and he caressed her beautiful wings. She hummed back at him in a voice sweeter than flutes and she sang to him in a strange language that he understood not, but that delighted him. At night in the dark her eyes lit up like diamonds and she stared at him longingly. He fed her pollen from the flowers. He gave her water. And she hovered near him always, or sat on his shoulder.

Soon the people around those parts had heard tell of the marvelous purple butterfly, and would bring their sick to be near her. A drop from her wings would cure them. The fragrance and the bloom of her brought delight to all that looked upon her.

And Fuamnach was furious.

“What is this,” she complained to her foster father, when she heard tell of this marvelous butterfly. “Where doth this magic come from? And how can I disperse it?”

“It is some great destiny, more powerful than our spells,” explained Bresal. “To summon the strength to banish it, we must combine our powers. Come and lie with me foster daughter.”

“But tis wrong,” said Fuamnach, coming to sit on Bresal the old wizard’s bed. “You’ve always been like a father to me. A sacred master. You’ve shown me the light and the dark. You’ve taught me everything.”

“Not everything,” said this guru/wizard magic man. “There’s one more power than can only be shown this way. Come, come close to me, daughter.”

And then, the daughter brought her lips close to the foster father. And he put his lips against hers. It felt so strange and forbidden but nevertheless a great desire welled up inside Fuamnach.

“How can it feel good,” she asked. “If ’tis so wrong?”

“Wrong is sometimes right,” explained the wizard. “Come, let me touch thy breasts, step-daughter.”

She pulled down her gown and showed him her lovely breasts.

“While I place my mouth on them,” explained the wizard. “Things will become more clear.”

This is the place that mortals were not meant to go, Fuamnach saw then, as the wizard sucked her tits. Then as he placed his hand on her thighs she was frightened.

“No, I’m afraid of this unknown power,” she complained. “I can’t contain it.”

“Contain the power of all the heavens shall we,” said the wizard, and his hand went up to meet her crotch. And there he began rubbing and incanting a certain spell.

“Numnana numra numra ra,” she chanted along, as the rubbing of her clit continued. And as she came, she felt a great power coming into her heart.

“Now lie down flat on this bed, step daughter,” commanded the wizard. “And all the darkest powers that ever were will be granted us.”

She lay down flat on her belly. And then she felt the old wizard’s mouth at her bottom, licking his tongue down the crack of her bottom, and then she felt the wizard’s tongue on the edge of her butthole.

“No, I’m afraid this time it’s too far,” she cried out. “It will destroy me.”

“Ay, we will be destroyed, but born again,” explained the wizard.

He then began to lick a circle around the edge of her butthole. And she found herself speaking again chants in this strange tongue.

“Numnana numra numra ra,” she cried out.

“And now I initiate you, child, into the greatest darkness,” announced Bresal. Fuamnach felt something big entering her ass then. The wizard was slowly, slowly, slowly, pressing in his ancient Druid shlong into the tiny circle that was her ass. Fuamnach felt her whole being expand as that circle stretched wide to accommodate the schlong.

“I see it now! I see it,” she cried.

Fuamnach saw then in a cosmic void, a circle of mystic magic that she made her own. She possessed it, and now she knew she had the power to confront this butterfly.

“I can do it,” she cried out then, as the wizard pulled out and pushed back in again, at an ever-increasing pace. “I can destroy that damn butterfly!”

And the wizard shot his load into her ass.

 

 

Colt Stevens’ full-length erotic novel Celtic Women Gone Wild is available here on Kindle and Amazon.

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