A Satyr for Midwinter…coming in the middle of summer

A Satyr for Midwinter may be a tale of Yuletide, of snow and the celebrations that ensure the sun’s return after the longest night of the year, but I guarantee it won’t cool you down. All right, maybe the descriptions of the heroine Laeca, determinedly slogging through a snow storm to right a wrong she perceives she’s committed, might take the edge off a hot summer, but with not one, but two satyr heroes, this story will make a sultry summer night even hotter. Make sure your AC’s working, because it’s coming on July 11.

Even if one of those heroes is, strictly speaking, dead. In the Soranian Empire, though, death isn’t necessarily an end to love or lovemaking, especially if the deceased happens to be a satyr shaman with even more magic than the rest of his enchanting race.

A taste of naughtiness on a winter’s night, to enjoy on a summer’s night (unless, of course, you’re in the southern hemisphere, in which case it should warm you up nicely)…

When Laeca ever so delicately licked his horn with a tentative tongue, Kallios knew, though, that it was all a dream.

No, he’d died at Laeca’s feet in the courtyard at Thermanae and joined Agapios in the afterlife. But since his last earthly sight had been Laeca’s beautiful face, he was imagining her in place of whatever amorous dead lady was welcoming the two of them to paradise.

As he thought that, Laeca stopped what she was doing. “I’m no spirit, although I’m honored you think I’m too good to be real. This is me, Laeca. Don’t forget it.”

She’d read his thoughts! But most humans couldn’t do that…

“I can’t either.” She grinned. “But Agapios can. And he snitched.”

Then she delicately swirled her tongue around his horn.

“It’s not like a cock,” he managed say between pleasured gasps. “The tip…feels wonderful…but the base is most sensitive.”

She grinned and complied, licking down to where the stubby horn met his forehead.

The sensations her tongue caused were at least as erotic as her mouth on his cock would be. Maybe more so. Satyrs often enjoyed physical pleasure lightly. A blowjob was always delicious fun, but it might mean no more than sharing a flask of wine with a friend or splashing in a pond together on a hot day. Horn-play was intimate, though, something you shared only with those you really trusted and cared for.

His erection, already strong, turned to something forged from iron.

He moaned and pressed against her, seeking entrance to her sex. Nothing could be better than being inside a woman while she licked around your horns–unless, of course, it was having someone inside you while he licked your horns.

“No, the only better situation is enjoying both. I think I can still fuck you, beloved. At least I can make us both feel like I am. Would you like that while you enter your beautiful human?”

Would he ever! They’d played that way many times over the years, as often as they could get a female friend or adventurous human to join them, and it had always been great sport. But now it would be far more–a beginning and, sadly, an end, because it wasn’t right for a ghost to linger too long in the land of the living and sooner rather than later, he’d need to find the courage to say goodbye to Agapios.