Page 49 of The Tenth Muse

There’s a new apple tree to the left that wasn’t there before, and where she once had a little vegetable garden is now a thick bed of clover.

A pond has formed where that bed once was. It is alive with frogs. They sit on lily pads and watch me from under the water with their bulbous eyes. Dragonflies skim the surface and hover in the tall grass that grows in patches around the water’s edge.

As I cross the wide grass toward that bed of clover, I see the garden hidden away behind a small copse. Rabbits and a badger sit in the dirt rows, nibbling at carrots and turnips.

Holding Fyrn close, I go down on my front knees in the clover, laying her down before gently dropping down to join her.

“The Goddess is kind and cruel, isn’t she?” Fyrn asks with a sad sort of smile.

I nod, even though the Goddess is finally kinder to us than she is cruel.

Easing her legs open, I say, “Let me show you how kind she can be.”

Fyrn made her pussy for me. She created it for familiarity, and because I love pears.

In the valley between the legs she has made, her pussy grows outward, forming the shape of a halved pear. The flesh is red instead of white, and the small dark spot above the weeping slit isn’t a pip, but I don’t want it to be a pear. I want it to be what makes her shudder through the same pleasure she’s given me.

That pip-like spot will be my focus in the end, but right now, I dip my head and drag my tongue over the sweetness she has made for me.

It’s only half as delicious as the soft breath that escapes her lips.

Fyrn is always quiet, even in this. I love that I can pull these sounds from her. I love that she lets me.

Fingers gripping my hair, she guides me and when I finally work my way up to her clit, my face is a mess of juices.

Thiswasn’t fashioned for me. It is one of the few parts of her that doesn’t change. The Goddess gave her the capacity for this pleasure without making her create it on her own.

When my tongue flicks it, she sings like the prettiest songbird, her body rippling and blooming.

Vines shoot out of her thighs. They wrap around my harness, holding me down so tightly the leather threatens to snap, and they coil around my head, pulling me forward.

I don’t fight them. I’ll never fight them.

I hold her tighter, too.

She doesn’t taste like a pear. Her nectar-like sap is too woody, but it’s sweet and syrupy and I drink it down between flicks and licks and sucking at her clit.

Fyrn is an old being. Her body grows and glows as her orgasm builds.

The air fills with magic, pulsing from her as she murmurs ancient words.

Her body grows around me, caging me even more tightly than before, but when she comes, that cage splinters away from us like it has been hit by a microburst.

Eyes closed, I drink in the last of her orgasm, not stopping until, at last, she pulls me away.

“The Goddess is very kind indeed.” She kisses me before I can tell her she has no idea.

six

. . .

A Long Life Ahead

Fyrn

Birds flutter down,collecting the sticks and splinters for their nests.

We watch them, curled together, and then my gaze wanders to the woman I love.

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