Chapter 1: The lemon garden

The English adventures of Delia continue. The subject is adult oriented. Read it forward only if you are 18 years old or more.

Delia pushed the ear-shaped door and, for a second, the light blinded her. She could move a step over the doorway, only by keeping one arm in front of her eyes. Delia had just moved beyond the threshold when the door shut behind her. She turned to look, and it was as the door had never existed in the first place. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the bright light and then she looked around one again. Wherever Delia pointed her eyes, she could see nothing but lemon trees, one after the other. Every tree was almost identical to the other in shape and dimension, and each of them was loaded with flowers.

Under the trees, grew a gorgeous meadow, covered by the greenest grass. The chirping of the birds had disappeared, though, together with the butterflies she had glanced at in the Doctor’s studio. Delia started to move pointlessly first in a direction, then in the other, because the everywhere she ran the landscape was the same. She prayed to discern a landmark, to hear the birds chirping again, to catch sight of butterflies flying by. She could not bear that her inner garden might be so vast, sour and empty.

She felt onto the ground, begging to at least one single butterfly, just one. And then a small white butterfly appeared right in front of her nose. Delia held back a joyful yell to not scare the tiny creature and, in perfect silence, she raise on her feet. She was ready to jump ahead to follow her little guide, her winged hope when another butterfly arrived. And then another. And another more, with colourful wings. Filled with joy, Delia could not restrain anymore the laughter and jumped among the butterflies, singing and dancing among them, in the hot air filled with the scent of the orange blossoms. Then Delia noticed a lightly marked path among the grass, decided to follow it, without stopping to sing. Her thin dress left uncovered her soft skin, kissed by the sun and caressed by the breeze. Delia felt happy, and from time to time, she strayed from the path chasing a could of butterflies among the luxurious trees, singing under her breath a lullaby she had learned in her childhood. After all, her garden was full of life, but she continued to ask herself: It’s all?

She stopped chasing the butterflies and lent one ear to any sound, her eye out to catch any novelty. After a long time spent walking among the trees and the butterflies, she noticed a rhythmic sound of a harness horse coming from afar. The pace was fast and, within few minutes, Delia could distinguish the horse and his rider ahead of the path. The horse, at the same time lively and muscular, had a dark and shiny coat, while of its rider Delia could see only the white shirt and the black flat cap that covered the upper half of his head. The man rode his mount in a decisive way and though the girl stood in the middle of his way, he did not seem prone to slow down his pace or either change direction. When only few foot were between them, Delia was afraid he was going to run over her. She tried to jump aside, to find cover under a tree, but the man pushed the horse even harder and, bending over the saddle, he grasped her around the waist and lifted Delia on the horse with apparent ease.

«Gotcha!»

«Where are you taking me?»

«To my Lady’s mansion, lemon thief!»

«I am not a lemon thief, moreover, here there aren’t any fruit, only the flowers! And who the hell is this Lady?»

«The Lady is the owner of the garden, little tart. Then, tell me, you are not a thief, what are you doing here?»

Delia didn’t know what to say.

«So?», insisted the horseman.

«I was wandering around?»
The man laughed at her but slowed down his beast pace, softened the grip on the rein and pulled his eyes and his hands above and under her dress rather brutally. After an extensive examination of the girl, he informed her of his erudite conclusions.

«Sure you are a smoking hot slutty.»

«Ehi! You can’t talk like that to a lady!»

«You are no lady. There is only one Lady. At best you are just a nosey farm girl. A farm girl who should use some more respect to the Lady. Do you understand, dumb hotty?»

«Stop insulting me! Mad sycophant!»

«Ah! You play the innocent with me, but you know my fame! You know who I am».
The guy smirked at her.

«Your name? Your fame?».
Delia didn’t understand what he was talking about, but the more she looked at him, the less she could stand it because she was physically attracted to the jerk and resist to him had skyrocketed up above the level hard to glide towards impossible.

«My name is Matt, Matt O’Sycophant, as you said. Head Guardian at the Lady’s mansion, as it should be of every firstborn of the O’ family a.k.a. Head of the sycophants. I am the eighth, and so “sycophant” is part of my name. But you can call me Matt, slutty.»

«Again? – Delia sighed, resigned – Thanks for the big honor.»

«You are welcome, slutty, but I grant it to every whore I fuck.»
And he squeezed her right tit.

«Tell me, slutty, aren’t you a little thirsty?»
«Oh yeah, a lot!»

Matt grinned maliciously.
«Now we go to the river to refresh a little. Eh?»
And he squeezed her left one.

Delia didn’t say a thing, and the sycophant urged the horse to go faster to reach sooner a secluded location on the riverbank. After a short stretch, Delia sensed, interspersed with the beat of the horse hooves, the murmur of a water stream becoming louder and louder. Once they were close to the river, Matt stopped his animal, dismounted and took his prey between his arms, rubbing the girl onto his body before letting her stand on her own feet. He tied the bridle to a big willow, hiding the horse among the leafy branches, and then turned to Delia pushing her before himself, toward the riverbank. He guided her to a small enclosure surrounded by the canes, between the complaints of the girl and the croaks of the frogs and then, he made her trip with his boot.

«Ouch!»

«You are a smoking hot pussy».
Said him while he was already rising her skirt high above her head. His voice had a warmer voice, and his breath had become more urgent, or maybe he was just breathing on her back, while he was preventing her from standing up.

«Great arse!»
Bam! He slapped her with both hands. At the moment, Delia decided that it was the time to turn and look in the face what was happening: the jerk, or Matt, as he preferred, was tearing apart his white shirt.

«You make me really thirsty, slutty.»

Delia had just grasped how the guy intended to satisfy his thirst that Matt had already glued his lips to her source, after lowering her pants to her knees and was licking her like a maniac. She tried to preserve some self-control, but she was already close to the climax. He then abandoned her sweet spring, leaving Delia halfway to her pleasure.

«You are an animal, a beast!».
Delia would like to add something else, but the guy pulled his tongue dripped in her juice deep down her throat, pressing her down with his entire body, pushing and sucking rudely. Still kissing her, he started to fumble with his trousers belt. Delia tried not to open her knees immediately. “If only I could wait a little longer – she thought – if only I could control myself a bit more, this jerk will force me.”

Matt did make her wait too long. He opened her thighs forcibly with his hands and immersed himself in the gap with his entire body.
«Take it, slutty! I know what you were looking for in the garden. I heard you singing! Just with your song alone you got me stiff!»

It really was thick and rather big as well. Delia’s jujube had already melted in broth, and the orgasms struck one after the other in an impetuous way, such that Delia feared to lose her mind but Matt went on fucking her until he was completely drained and he took a lot. When he felt satisfied, he collapsed on her, placing his head on her breast. After a while, fatigue and warmth beat Delia as well, who fell asleep into the arms of the brute.

From the Italian: “Le Follie di Delia – Fiaba licenziosa con streghe, incanti e passione” 

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