by David Cain

I hadn’t heard from her in three weeks, but I recognized Beth’s voice in an instant when she called.

“Are you busy?” she asked. All the things I’d thought about doing suddenly fled my mind.

“What’s up?”

“Can you drive me out to the Glen?”

“Sure,” I said, “I guess so. What’s going on?”

“Just take me. You’ll see.”

I hung up the phone, changed my clothes and without wasting a moment, I cruised on over to Beth’s place. I felt a little uneasy about what I was doing; dropping everything for her, again, letting myself play the lackey, again, being the giving side of a one-sided relationship, again, but I immediately forgot my concern for self-respect when Beth came to her door. In a flash, all questions of my self-worth vanished before the azure enchantment of her smiling eyes, a vision sorely intensified by the low cut t-shirt Beth wore. I wanted to be her pawn. Any pretense of dignity was readily abandoned as I helplessly leered at the naked swells of her bosom, stared deep into the valley of her cleavage. Beth held a picnic basket in the crook of her arm.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied. I followed as Beth walked down to my car, her short pleated skirt flouncing with each eager step. “Where are we going?” I dared to ask again.

“Down twenty-three, past Apple Meadow, you know, the park at the Glen.” I took the basket from Beth and opened the car door, basking in her warm smile, watching the drift of her short white skirt as she slid into my Mustang, savoring that brief flash of her thigh. Dropping the wicker into the back seat, I walked around to the driver’s seat. “I have a quest to pursue,” she said with a coy grin, “and I thought you might enjoy a little sunshine.”

“Sounds great,” I said, revving the engine self-indulgently before I slipped the car into gear. “What are you hoping to find?”

“I’m not telling,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“You’d laugh,” she said. “We’ll have fun. If I find it, you’ll see.”

“All right,” I said, turning onto the road.

With the top down and the sun shining, it would have been hard to imagine a better day to make the long drive out of town to Glen Park. When I started down the highway, Beth scooted down in her seat to keep her hair from fluttering wildly in the breeze. I smiled as she told me about a phone call from her sister. I thought I saw the faint hint of her nipples tensing beneath the ribbed cotton of her shirt.

“Where’s Scott?” I finally asked, glancing over as we rolled along the road. Beth frowned and put a bare foot up on the dash. I couldn’t see her eyes beneath the dark sunglasses she now wore.

“Gone,” she said.

“Another business trip?”

“Nope,” she said. “Just gone.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m sorry.” Beth started laughing.

“No you’re not,” she said. “You’re a dumbbell.”

“Why is that?”

“Do you believe in unicorns?” she asked. I looked over, saw her smile, her heavy breasts, a flash of white panty between her lean thighs.

“Not really,” I said.

“I visited a fortune teller when I was at Pam’s. We went to the county fair and Pam likes that kind of thing. Do you believe in fortune tellers?”

“What did she tell you?” I asked.

“Strange things. She told me to beware of owls.”

“Was this like a gypsy, with gold hoop earrings and a shawl and scarfs and rings and big flowing skirts?”

“Something like that.”

“Have any owls been after you?”

“You know what? I think she meant Scott.”

“Then I believe in fortune tellers.”

“Really? I don’t, but maybe I’m wrong. You know why I think she meant Scott.”

“Not a clue. I would have figured him for a badger or a coral snake. A crow, maybe.”

“We were getting along and everything, but about two weeks ago he called me up and I cringed when I heard his voice. I don’t know what it was, but every word he said just irritated me. Not what he said, but the sound of his voice. It was like the screech of fingernails on a chalkboard. I couldn’t hang up fast enough.”

“Was this before or after the gypsy?”


“So what about the owl?”

“A screech owl. I’ve never heard one, but that’s what popped into my head when she told me to watch out for owls.”

“So you dumped Scott?”


“Because a gypsy told you to watch out for owls.”

“No, well, you could say that. No. Things were going all right, but it just wasn’t there. You know? I just wanted more.”

“I know,” I said. “I know that feeling.”

We drove in silence for ten miles. The road began to demand my attention as we entered the foothills. Beth seemed preoccupied, looking out into the woods. I stole peeks when I could, wondering what kind of mood our discussion had put her into. Her skirt had risen further, distracting me with an indecent view of her panties and the cooler air of the shaded drive had stiffened her nipples. I struggled between driving safely and satisfying my lewd appetite while Beth stared into the passing landscape.

“We’ve been friends a long time,” she said, now smiling.

“Long enough,” I said.

“Do you think I’ve been good to you?”

“In what way?”

“Fair. You’re always there for me. Like today. You didn’t even ask me what I have planned.”

“I asked.”

“Yes, but you didn’t expect me to answer. You listen to me.”

“I like to listen to you.”

“Why? What have I done for you?”

“Beth, what kind of a question is that?”

“Well, I just wondered. I mean, I like to listen to you. You always make sense.”

“I try.”

“I know. More than I do. I don’t think I’ve been very nice to you. I haven’t called you in weeks.”

“Posh. You’re my best friend, even when you forget about me. I know how these things go. I don’t expect more than you can spare me.”

“The fortune teller told me to listen to my heart. That made me think of you.”

“I’m glad.”

“You told me that, once. I should have taken your advice.”

“What did your heart tell you?”

“To call you up. Take you to a forest glen.”

“A forest glen?” I asked. Beth just smiled.

She led me to a shady nook and spread a blanket out under a big oak tree. I uncorked one of the bottles of wine she brought while Beth unpacked our lunch. I lifted a glass.

“Beware of owls,” I said. Beth laughed and drank her wine.

After a delicious lunch, I lay back in the cool grass, feeling the heat of the sun wash over me, my face tickled by a gentle breeze. I closed my eyes and darkness stole my thoughts. A few minutes passed, more or less, and shading the sunlight with a hand, I propped myself up.

Beth sat with her eyes closed, leaning back against the trunk of the ancient oak, her legs spread in a wide, relaxed pose. Beth had taken off her clothes. My eyes opened wide, drinking the vision in deep draughts, afraid to move, thinking I only dreamed a familiar dream. Beth didn’t move and as my arm began to ache, I finally had to, getting up on my knees. My gaze never strayed for an instant.

I had known this girl for seven years, sometimes more, sometimes less, and although I had always liked her company, my real attraction for her was only a few months old. In fact, Scott the Screech Owl had precipitated the blossoming of my feelings for Beth. He treated her poorly, with a general disrespect that genuinely bothered me. In wanting to defend her from his crude manners, I found myself falling in love.

Then I thought I saw the hint of a smile on Beth’s face. I started to crawl toward her, curious to see what would happen. The smile grew slightly and so I dared to kiss her toe. A tremble coursed her body. I kissed her foot and Beth laughed aloud.

My lips began a slow journey along her calf, to her knee, along her thigh. Beth’s hand rested in my head as I kissed the soft brown curls of her lap.

“Now I have you,” she said, moving to return my kiss with her soft secret lips, taking hold of my hair. I teased her with my tongue, pressing wet along her blossoming furrow. Beth moaned a sweet song of joy.

Her thick nippled tits bounced as she mounted and rode my stiff steed, a gallop of delight. I called her loving names and held her bottom’s rhythm steady. Beth kissed me with feverish wet kisses and told me she was mine.

“I’ve wanted you, Beth,” I said as I planted my staff deep.

“I know,” she said, surrender in her sea blue eyes. “I knew and now I know.”

A storm of ecstasies stole the afternoon away, until we lay nestled quiet in the dusk’s verdant glade.

“I love the sound of your voice,” she said. “I think that’s what first drew me to you. I like to hear you talk. It makes me feel sexy, like the neigh of a unicorn.” Beth kissed me.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked, thinking back on our strange and beautiful day.

“Yes. Somehow I knew that I would.”

“How did you know?”

“The fortune teller reminded me of something my grandmother used to say,” Beth told me. I looked into her blue eyes curiously,.

“Something about a summer’s day, when the screech owl sleeps, if a virgin listens for her heart’s song under the boughs of a forest glen, she’ll hear the Unicorn neigh and if she sits quiet and still, he’ll lay down in her lap. Something like that. Anyway, I thought it was worth a try.”

“Wise woman,” I said, stroking Beth’s pale belly. She laughed.

“Listen,” Beth said with an ear to the wind as I teased her nipple hard. “That’s him. The Unicorn’s neighing again.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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