As the maple and oak leaves turn their deep shades of autumn, the magical force within their transmutation grows steadily. From the changing face of nature the very terms of existence demand that enchantment be recognized and a silent reverence be paid to it. Make no mistake in understanding the fables and superstitions are aligned with the most enthralling moments in the earth's cycle. As recognition of nature's slumber impinges upon the human brain stem, the magic turns dark and animalistic, even diabolical. From there the demons are called to life, but only for a time! Amid the cornucopia of full harvest, when nature's bounty provides us with it's generosity, those demons appear so we can vanquish them rapidly, steadfast in belief that something good will take place, something will protect us, as we lay down for our long revitalizations.
Soft moist wind, made warm by the afternoon sun, clung to the leaf as it turned and drifted at the mercy of a thousand atmospheric variables. The maple leaf discarded by it's own creator suddenly careened against the stain glass window of an affluence abode. The almost imperceptible ticking sound produced by the soft collision, startled a truly magnificent, feminine, beauty lost in her wistful daydreams.
Christobel had been staying at a close friend's estate to have a much needed change of scenes. Everything in the city had trapped and enclosed her in the horrible doldrums of existence she couldn't bear anymore. The exhilaration she felt on her nature walks through the grand estate were as astounding as that deep feeling of solitude from being there alone. It was just what she needed to sort things out.
Over the course of the last several years she had gone from heterosexual to bi in what she considered a normal manner of discovery and the transition to becoming exclusively lesbian was something she knew was not of her own choosing. Still she had to admit that she truly was exclusively lesbian now and found that a difficult concession at best. One thing just lead to another but she did so love the feeling of another female's gorgeous body pressed and slithered all over her own. That naughty spirit was tremendous. The rich aroma of their secretions mingling into a greater sum of feminine essence felt as if she was wrapped in a protective cocoon. The thick taste of another's raw womanhood gliding down her throat as she produced so much of her own juices for her lover's passionate repast, gave her so much more intimacy than their other likenesses. The bond so strong between them for their sameness was supernatural. The knowledge that she could feel exactly what her sex partners felt when they were in the throws of passion held such overwhelming certainty and brought her intimacy further than anything she had approached with men.
Men were so hard to figure out, so hard to understand. But still she longed for the touch of a male, to feel the combination of the yin and yang in an alliance of passion's very creation, and it was so enticing. She was always guided away from it by the possessive women she knew, and the places she now frequented, offered little to change that. She needed to be in control of her own life and recognized she was not. Even though she knew she was gaining a greater understanding of human nature as she went from the passive effeminate, being taken by her women friends, to the strong and almost truly male aggressive initiator, she knew there was something more. Something was missing.
It wasn't the wanton need for conducting another woman's orgasm, it wasn't her own unquenchable desire to drink the female ambrosia, it was more a psychological desire to be in control of her own life that drove her on. Cutting her hair and dressing butch was almost a robotic action. She was denouncing the feeling which gnawed upon her that she really didn't want to do this, and wasn't really naturally inclined to be totally lesbian. Yet wrapped in that Sapphic cocoon, her expectation of becoming the butterfly within ,was glorious inspiration.
Other people told her she was beautiful and she guessed she was, sort of, but she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for them to see her as plain and ordinary. Continuing through life as a lesbian shielded her from the feeling of being just ordinary, that persuasion certainly made her something different. Amid the naughty, exquisite, saturation of sultry female essence she was bolder and more alluring, daring to do, and try, things she would otherwise never have done.
What made her decide to take the risk in her walk to get the mail was supported by the fact that she had not seen another soul in several days. She looked in the mirror and saw her firm breasts appear as the blouse she wore fell softly to the thick carpet. Admiring herself for a moment she saw her breasts flush slightly and her full nipples extend into their erectness. Her collogen filled lips were wet now as she thought of the splendor of suckling from another woman.
She turned with animated grace and pulled down on the stretch pants she wore so often now because they showed her ripe swollen vulva to the entire world. Cascades of sweet flesh revealed themselves in the mirror as she whimsically performed a striptease for no one. Sensual feelings pervaded her spirit and she knew she was making the right choice. The only problem she could encounter in her walk was going to be the slim chance that someone would be coming down the road when she fetched the mail from that barely manageable antique iron box.
Yet modesty still clung to her consciousness tightly and her heart escalated at the thought of what she had decided she would do. A tiny drop of clear vaginal fluid hung from her protruding majora and she gathered it on the tip of her delicate finger. She brought it to her lips and consumed it eagerly as if it were liquid courage.
Staying true to her decision was more important than risking being seen in lewd expression. With confused steps of uncertainty Christol began her constitution. She walked down the trail shielded from above by the entwining branches of mighty oaks planted in two rows, only meters apart, with their limbs forever wrapped in open, devoted, embrace.
The sound of the leaves breaking, ripping and crushing beneath her bare feet was a sort of thrush, sending shivers up her spine. The magic of their transformation as they were ground down under her feet ushered forth a change deep in her soul, a small, imperceptible, alteration.
Yes it felt good to walk in the nude through so pristine a natural surround. The archway the trees formed, on the way down to the road, made her feel as is she was locked in fond embrace with nature alone.
Suddenly the depth of her perception was augmented as she witness the trees readying themselves for their long winter sleep and her own ripeness hung like a sizzling mantle in the air around her. Her footsteps through the thick layer of fallen leaves touched down softy as she gracefully, deliberately, sway her hips in an enchanting dance so beguiling. The exaggerated swirling thrust felt in her abdomen drove sensation into the depth of her womanhood and she felt the warm slippery fluid moistening her majora and then her labia as they slide across their matches in delirious sensuousness. Her soft inner thighs soon glided through her own dampness in a sweet waltz so enthralling.
A heart screamed out for all of nature to hear, "I am woman!" In celebration she traversed the distance to the road and then dug into the mailbox carefully.
Most, in fact all, of the mail was for the owner of the Estate save a single gold embossed envelop addressed to her. Who even knew she was here? As her mind whirled in puzzled query, images of her friends and acquaintances formed in her consciousness. Actually that broke the enchantment of her solitude as much as hearing the sound of a truck downshifting gears on the winding road.
When she heard the noise the truck made, it startled her in a most pleasant sensation. Her flesh stand opening all it's pours and almost breathing in the air around her, through her whole body, now flush with warm startled blood coursing hard through her countenance. A jolt of passion ran through her clitoris and the thought of being caught in the nude at the roadside made her suddenly fearsome. She felt the crimson glow of embarrassment as she ran for the cover of the Estate's inner sanctum, forgetting the envelop in her hand for now.
The glimpse the truck driver beheld was an exquisite female form disappearing into the thick brush. Those shapely, strong legs and that firm, sweet tushy bobbling in so alluring a manner stirred the man's imagination instantly. Christol hid from view and the man thought to himself that he must be imagining things as he sped up the engine to climb the next hill.
She was not in the protective surrounds of other women sharing her anxious declarations of nudity and feminine spirit. She was one single woman lost in the acknowledgement that she could be raped out here in the woods so easily, and there would be no one to save her from it.
Still she managed to relax and continue her stroll through nature, in awe of everything she beheld while intentionally walking more slowly, consuming the environment and feeling her corporeal fluids trudge down her delicious legs. The birds now sang love songs to only her, while the sweet autumnal winds kissed and embraced every erogenous center within her and the gentle deer revealed themselves to acknowledge her presence. She had become one with nature.
Once inside she glanced at her cloths on the floor and felt glad she had communed with the warm autumn afternoon, assured it was an edifying sojourn. One she would repeat for as long as she stayed on the Estate. After carefully opening the envelop she discovered it was an invitation to attend a 'special" Halloween Party.
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