Forest of Dreams

A weekend deep in the woods beside an old fishing hole was just what forty-year-old Neil Spencer needed to get away from it all.

What he didn't anticipate was meeting the sexy forest nymph who lived there.


Published: 06/2013
Length: FREE Short Story
Word Count: 955
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Rating: Spicy
Available formats: online


Cynthia Breeding


© Copyright by Cynthia Breeding, June 2013
© Cover Art by Mariah LaMott, June 2013
ISBN 978-1-60394-
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636


This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.


Sunlight filtered through the trees as Neil Spencer hiked the narrow trail that wound its way along the river bank. The ground was still soft from recent rains and bright sprigs of spring grass poked hopefully through the remnants of last autumn’s leaves.

He paused to adjust the camping gear on his back, wincing a bit at the stiffness in his shoulders. By God, he needed this weekend in the country where the air was clean and the only sounds came from small animals scampering away or birds calling to one another. Putting in sixty-hour weeks in a stuffy office was taking its toll.

If he remembered correctly, a favorite fishing hole was not too far ahead. Beavers had dammed up a bend of the river, creating a small pool that trapped some of the biggest rainbow he’d ever caught. Or, at least they had seemed huge when he was a teenager.

Neil shook his head as he continued on. Had the last time been that long ago? Twenty-five years? A quarter century? He had to get off the fast track and get back to living life. Appreciate a few sunsets before his own sun set.

Oh, yeah. Frying up a fresh catch and enjoying a cold one from the insulated pack he carried was just what he needed tonight.

Rounding the few boulders that formed a wall of sorts for one side of the pond, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

A woman sat submerged in the middle of his tranquil pool, her long brown hair floating around her. Overhead limbs shadowed the water, but he could make out the milky whiteness of her breasts just below the surface. She turned her face toward him, slanted eyes as green as the new foliage, looking him over. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Or that there was actually a woman out here in the middle of nowhere—a beautiful, hot, naked woman. He closed his eyes. He hadn’t smoked dope in years—was he having some kind of delayed hallucination? Or maybe this is what over-working did to the mind. Slowly, he reopened his eyes. She was still there like some mystical forest nymph.

“Why don’t you join me?”

He might be crazy as a loon and she might be an illusion, but he wasted no time in stripping. Bracing for icy cold, he plunged into warm water.

She smiled at his look of surprise. “There’s an underground spring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, no.” The water had never been warm. Trout liked cold water. And she knew he’d been here before? How? Who was she? He looked toward the bank. Where were her clothes? And, for that matter, how had she gotten here? The trail he’d hiked was the only one leading to this spot and there had been no footprints in the soft mud.

“So many questions,” she said even though he had not spoken. With a graceful, gliding motion she was beside him. Taking his hand, she led him to the shallow end that was only thigh-deep. “None of that matters. Just enjoy the moment.”

Turning him, her hands slid across his shoulders, kneading gently, easing the tightness. Warm fingertips made tiny circles along his neck and he felt the strain of the last weeks slip away as quickly as water droplets sluicing off his arms. Her magic fingers worked down his back, stroking firmly outward, then upward, in ever increasing arcs until her palms gripped his buttocks, massaging them and he felt his cock grow hard.

As if she knew, she slipped around to his front, pressing the soft mounds of her breasts against his chest, her hips undulating around what now felt like a stick of granite. His arms went around her, hands roving her upper back. Immediately, she increased the friction, rubbing her nipples across him, her body serpentining along his. Her hands never stilled, traveling down his biceps, skimming his ribs and lower belly until, blissfully, her fingers coiled around him and she began to stroke the length of him firmly, then easing the pressure, then building it. Her other hand cupped his balls, tugging gently, squeezing lightly, jiggling a little. The sensation tightened his groin and he wondered how much longer he could hold out.

Her mouth covered him, suckling first one ball and then the other as her hands rolled his engorged shaft between them. The pressure was exquisite. He didn’t think he’d ever felt such heat. Her warm, velvety tongue lapped around his throbbing erection, spiraling upward until the tip of her tongue circled the sensitive head.

He looked down at her, kneeling in the water that left her perfect breasts exposed. She stared back at him, her cat-like eyes as dark as the forest behind her. Her cheeks hallowed as her hot mouth closed over him. He could feel himself coming and, drawing on every ounce of will power he had, he began to pull out. Her eyes shot green fire as she took more of him and sucked hard. His world exploded, thousands of brilliant shards of light flashing around him.

He felt himself falling backward into the water, his legs suddenly too weak to remain standing. Sputtering, he sat up, reaching for her. It was her turn to be pleasured.

But she was gone. He sat alone in the midst of a chilly pool, trying to make sense of it. Had she been an illusion after all? He felt totally relaxed, his body languid, yet completely satisfied. As he slowly climbed up the bank, he heard her voice, softly whispering in his mind.

“Until next time…”