For the fifth night in a row, Sheelagh turned the electric blanket on, stripped off her clothes, and lay on top of the blanket. She was sixty-five years old and determined to catch a pixie inside her faighin. She used the Irish word for vagina because she had been raised and lived in Carrickmacross Ireland.

She was Irish with sky blue eyes, pale skin, and, when younger, flaming red hair. Now she was gray-haired and as determined as she could be to catch a pixie. Her husband, Kevin O’Donnell, died two years ago and Sheelagh had not had an orgasm since. Sure, Kevin was Red Irish and he had the average four and a half inch red Irish dick, but he had been giving her sheet-wetting orgasms since they married forty-three years before. If size ever mattered, it did not measure up to the fact that Kevin could nail her G-spot with every stroke when he had a mind, too. Sheelagh wanted now at sixty-five what she once had with him: an all-consuming orgasm.

Sheelagh masturbated tonight with her bedroom window open -- the same way she had done the past four nights. She fingered her clit with the right amount of pressure and pace to produce a wet film between her labia. She could get herself that far but could not make it the rest of the way. It was pleasant enough but it wasn’t the climactic experiences she once had.

The stories she had been told in her youth all said pixies were attracted to the nectar of a woman; young girls in particular, but older women, too. All Sheelagh had to do was leave the window open, sleep naked with no covers on, produce a little nectar as an attractant, and wait for a pixie fly-by. She should leave her legs open to make it easy for a pixie to taste her but the stories said it could happen even if they were closed. When a pixie stopped for a sip, she just had to pop her legs closed and catch it inside.

Sheelagh rubbed a little of her moistness on the outside of her faighin as a scent lure for a pixie. She typically fell asleep at night with her left leg straight and her right leg bent, the bottom of her right foot placed alongside the knee of her left leg. In this position, like the number 4, her faighin was open and, if she fell asleep, it was likely to remain that way for a while.

This was the fifth night and Sheelagh still hoped to catch a pixie but she was becoming more practical about it. She had given herself a week to catch one and if not successful, then she would go buy one of the vibrator toys and give it a try. It would be a little embarrassing to use one at her age; she had never needed or wanted anything other than Kevin’s cock for the previous forty-odd years. She had once thought about dating again but the memories of Kevin would be ever present and she would feel she was betraying him. She still wore her wedding ring for goodness sake and she did not want to feel that she had betrayed his memory.

Sheelagh was falling into that dreamy state now between wake and sleep. She felt something like a gentle breeze blow across her faighin. It was sensitive to air currents since she had shaved it four nights ago. (It was a little kinky in her mind to have a sixty-five-year-old shaven faighin but she felt it was necessary to catch a pixie.) Tonight she was grateful she had the blanket turned up more than halfway. A breeze meant something, too.

It might get colder tonight. Sheelah drifted a little deeper into her sleep.

Flick!

Suddenly Sheelagh was alert. She had been touched.

Flick! She could feel her labia being parted. Something was moving them.

A pixie!

Sheelagh did not dare open her eyes or move her body. One wrong move and the pixie would flee. She felt the tentative nature of it. It was cautious. Sheelagh needed to be careful, too.

Sheelagh could feel the four-inch-tall, nude, short-winged pixie spreading Sheelagh’s labia open a little further to taste her.

Not yet. Wait until it goes deep.

Sheelagh became wetter. Being tasted by a pixie was the most erotic thing she experienced since Kevin had passed. If he were here, she imagined he would be as excited as she was about it.

His pecker would be as stiff as a hitch pin.

Sheelagh could feel her labia spreading further open and the pixie going deeper to sip more of her nectar.

Sweet mother of Mary, almost there. A little further, please.

The pixie’s wings fluttered on her clit. Sheelagh was tempted to let the pixie milk her for more nectar. However, she must catch it before it had its fill and flew away. No one knew how much a pixie could sip before it was full. Better to act now!

Slap! Sheelagh slapped at her faighin and snapped her right leg out straight. The pixie had nowhere to go except inside Sheelagh.

The pixie was furious at being caught! Sheelagh’s faighin began twitching and vibrating as the pixie tried to extend its wings and escape the way it came.

Sheelagh was having none of it. She clamped her legs closed.

The pixie struggled and vibrated inside; angrier by the second, it buzzed. Sheelagh began to moan and pant. This was the most intense sexual experience she had since Kevin had shared her with a Black Irishman with a seven-inch cock.

Sheelagh was along for the ride on this. The pleasure was intense. No men, and only a few women, had ever experienced an orgasm caused by an angry pixie. Sheelagh gritted her teeth. Torrents of pleasure coursed through her body. Her thighs tightened and pulsed.

Oh my god. Oh, shit! It’s hitting my G-spot the same way that Kevin did. Oh, fuck.

Sheelagh let out a moan. Ripples of pre-orgasm ran down her thighs to the bottom of her feet. Her toes curled. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Every muscle in Sheelagh’s body clenched and clenched again. The pixie knew exactly what it was doing, Sheelagh could sense it. The damn pixie was giving her an orgasm on purpose!

C’mon, little one. Bring it home. I can take it. Do your best. You want to get out? You better bring your A game.

Sheelagh bore down harder and harder. She focused on the pixie to hamper its movement. She clenched as tight as possible.

The pixie was not giving up. It vibrated faster and faster and began to spin and burrow its way toward freedom. The hot, wet, slippery inside of Sheelah’s pussy was no match for a determined pixie.

The vibration and the burrowing were intense and within three minutes, Sheelagh felt the Big One was coming.

Oh, shit.

Sheelagh couldn’t hold her orgasm back any longer. Her legs snapped open. She squirted and spurted her fluid across the electric blanket. Her faighin and her anus contracted and pulsed in orgasmic relief. Sheelagh groaned under the release. Between each contraction, the pixie forced a little more of itself between Sheelagh’s labia until it was finally free.

Sodden and exhausted, the pixie lay on the bed and breathed heavily. The experience had taken a lot out of it. Its wings were soaked in Sheelagh’s juices.

Sheelagh knew it had gotten out. She didn’t care. That was a first-rate, world-class, pixie-induced orgasm.

She looked over at the pixie and saw it was female. They looked into each other’s eyes.

Tired and satisfied, Sheelagh spoke, “Thank you, little one. I needed that. You can sip a little if you like. I seem to have plenty of nectar at the moment.”

The pixie brightened, stood up, and shook the nectar off its wings. She tested her wings for flight and flew up to Sheelagh’s labia. She sipped for a full minute to fill herself. When she was done she vibrated her wings and flew up to Sheelagh’s face to look at her.

It was the first time Sheelagh had seen the pixie version of a happy dance but she knew what it was when she saw it. The pixie darted about and dived and rose again almost, but not quite, triumphantly.

“It was good for you, too, I see. Come back any time, little one.”

The pixie dipped and swirled its good-bye and then flew out the window.

Sheelagh fell into a very deep sleep wondering if the pixie would return.

And as often happens with pixies, it returned many times over the years. Sometimes she brought friends and together they drove Sheelagh to hysterical gibberish with the pleasure they brought her. Sheelagh was always happy to feed them.

As you can imagine, Sheelagh lived happily, I should say, very happily ever after.