1880s Nebraska 

My lover calls to me from beneath the rolling prairie. She whispers through the switchgrass, begging release from her earthly bonds. From my porch, I observe meadowlarks perching atop the single, enormous cottonwood that overlooks these plains. Dawn light illuminates chartreuse and cerise buds erupting along its bare branches. My heart flutters, and I smile. “Soon,” I speak aloud to the breeze.

Twenty years ago, I watched the red-orange flames flow across the prairie, consuming all the dead vegetation. Billowing smoke shaded out the midday sun as vigilant friends and neighbors patrolled a perimeter, containing the fire’s destruction.

By dusk, the land was a smoldering black rectangle marring the tawny landscape. I ambled back and forth across the charred turf, extinguishing cinders and digging out any remnants of scorched saplings.

When I neared the huge cottonwood tree that stands at one corner of the scorched area, I noticed a strange disturbance in the soil. A large semi-circular area was sunken and loose, as though something had been recently excavated.

I was pressing my hoe into the blackened depression when a moving shadow caught my eye. Looking up toward the base of the tree, I was startled to behold a figure watching me. I quickly straightened up, ready to confront the trespasser.

“Hey! You, there! What do you want?” I demanded.

From behind the broad trunk, a woman cautiously peered. I squinted against the harsh setting sun, bewildered by what I perceived.

She was very dark-complexioned, and her bushy afro looked to be bright yellow. Her shabby garments appeared made of old burlap, strewn with dried leaves and dead grass. I stepped forward to address the stranger face-to-face.

Now, without an obscuring glare, I was mesmerized by what I beheld. It was not yellow hair at all, but a rubber rabbitbrush which seemed to be blooming directly out of the woman’s scalp. Her skin was as dark and smooth as polished ebony.

What at a distance looked like tattered burlap was actually dried rye and wheat, intricately woven to create the bodice of a dress. Sheaves of barley, bluestem, and switchgrass jutted from her waist and hung like layered skirts down to her knees.

I rubbed my tired eyes, certain exhaustion and dehydration had overtaken my judgement. “Wh-who are you? Do you need help?” I stuttered, uncharacteristically.

The stranger kept her face cast down and said nothing as I scrutinized her more closely. I was surprised to see that her bare legs and feet were unblemished by any scrapes or scratches, and despite the falling temperature, her uncovered arms showed no sign of feeling chilled.

When I opened my mouth to speak again, the woman lifted her chin up, and her gaze stilled my tongue instantly. Her eyes were two glowing embers framed by sharp, obsidian features. I stared, utterly spellbound by the flickering orbs beneath her furrowed brow.

Without changing her inscrutable expression, she spoke, her melodic voice in my brain as though she were whispering directly in my ear. Did you spark the flame that burned across my prairie? I could only stare at her silently, confused how she could have spoken without moving her lips.

If so, you have already helped. Thank you. Again, my ears perceived words my eyes did not. I nodded in confirmation, shivering as the last rays of sun slipped beneath the horizon.

The woman stepped closer, and I could feel her radiating an unnatural warmth. The veins within her dark skin literally glowed like molten iron. Instinctively, my body drew nearer to her even as my mind raced at the situation.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

I am nameless, though man has called me many titles; fairy, witch, huldra, nymph, vily, dryad, fae, goddess…

Her fiery eyes inspected me while she spoke through her coy smile, and a rush of lust passed over me, making my cock tremble. I couldn’t take my eyes off this strange beauty. High cheekbones and a fine jawline gave her a vixen-like appearance.

She walked in a small circle around me, and I felt like I was dancing around a bonfire. The intoxicating scent of loam, daffodils, and woodsmoke permeated the air.

Starting to sweat now, I unbuttoned my shirt, seeking the cool night air. A deep breath relaxed my tired muscles, and blood flowed to my genitals, tenting my trousers.

She pulled me closer, and the heat coming off her body intensified. The sensation of slipping into a hot bath while every part of my body was caressed by a dozen hands and mouths overtook me. My skin flushed red, and sweat ran down my back and chest.

I was hypnotized by her glowing eyes and my pulsating member. My arms were too heavy to stop her as she reached into my pants and pulled my stiff manhood out the front.

Rarely having been touched by another, the contact made my dick dribble. She smiled at the sight. Mmm, so young and fertile, she cooed, stroking me softly. I whimpered with need.

She leaned in to kiss my neck, and hot air stung my nostrils. Her flesh against mine felt like touching stones fresh from a fire pit. She lifted one knee up to my hip, and the head of my cock grazed her moist, hot flesh. I want your seed in me, she purred. No further invitation was required.

I hooked my elbow under her leg for support and slid my steel into her slippery sheath. Her cunny was so hot I nearly fainted, feeling as though my rod was being encased in lava. My scrotum swung heavily as I splashed in and out of her molten tunnel.

With each thrust, the temperature around us rose. My blood was boiling, and I was certain that at any moment my entire body could combust like a vampire exposed to sunlight. A part of my mind sought to escape, yet my body kept pumping, her voice in my head urging me on.

My climax was volcanic, shooting semen out with such force my knees buckled, and I bellowed loudly at the moon. She clenched and quivered upon my lance, and our burning passion subsided to a pleasant warmth as my dick softened. I closed my eyes, feeling her body melt into mine, as I leaned back against the tree.

“Mista’ Jeremiah? Mista’ Jeremiah! Are you okay?” I was awakened by the jostling of a worried young boy. Samuel was the son of a neighbor, and I paid him to do morning chores like milking and collecting eggs. “Golly Mista’ Jeremiah, was you out here all night?”

I propped myself up on an elbow and tried to get my bearings. I was indeed outside, lying on the ground near the cottonwood tree. My shirt was open, and my trousers were unbuttoned but, thankfully, still on.

“You gonna get sick sleepin’ out in the dirt, sir.” Samuel eyed me curiously as he helped me stand, and I brushed myself off.

“Yeah…” my voice trailed off as I scratched my head. “I sat down for a little break and musta fallen asleep.” Without looking, I could feel the boy’s incredulous smirk.

“Say, uh, whadya say I give you an extra dime today, and you don’t mention this to your folks?” Sam’s eyebrows perked up, and a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as he nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, Samuel. I don’t need any rumors gettin’ started about me being some kinda looney.”

“Sure thing, Mista’ Jeremiah,” Sam smiled as he shook my hand, then left me standing in the field as he walked off towards the barn. I shivered in the brisk morning air, pondering the previous night.

Was it all some sort of fever dream brought on by a hard day’s labor in the sun? Maybe I had just dozed off against the tree. But then why did I wake up several yards away from it, and how had I not frozen overnight in the cold?

Looking down,I realized I had slept upon that oddly shaped area of loose soil. I knelt, pressing my palm to the ground, and was surprised to feel its warmth. My fingers sank into moist, hot dirt, and I grasped a handful, bringing it to my nose.  

The aroma sent a rush to my loins and caused my dick to twitch. Recollections of glowing eyes and searing skin flooded my brain. Too vivid to have been a dream. As I undressed in the house, loose black soil and tiny golden petals fell from my clothing.

My thoughts lingered on that night for a while. In the wee hours, I would ponder over the details of my hallucination and wonder how I could have conceived such a being. But spring came quickly that year, and as the workdays lengthened, I had less and less time for daydreaming.

Four years passed, and I scarcely remembered the beguiling apparition, her visage relegated to my deepest dreams. Then, one frosty March morn, a mellifluous voice seemed to float upon the wind. Release me. The sound instantly brought her to my mind, and a warmth seeped through my loins. That night I dreamt of fire.

Each day, her voice grew louder, and the warmth in my loins became a relentless burning accompanied by a near constant erection. Even when privacy and time allowed, self-maintenance brought no relief. Come to me. Release me, she demanded. I stared out at the plains toward the big cottonwood.

Sometime before dusk, I followed my feet to the base of the tree and stood there trying to visualize the prairie as it was four years ago, right after the burn. I hoed at dried stems and scraped my boot across the topsoil. After several minutes rambling through the field, I spotted the gray and tawny foliage of a shabby rubber rabbitbrush nearby.

As I moved toward the shrub, the ache in my scrotum yielded slightly. I used the hoe to clear the ground around the bush before dropping to my knees. I dug slowly at first, then pushed both hands wrist-deep into the dirt, savoring the warmth below the surface. Release me, she begged. Her dulcet voice and the faintly sweet scent of the soil caused my cock to stir.

A vision of the dark beauty flashed across my mind, eliciting a placid smile. My hands sank deeper into the earth, the humid dirt enveloping me up to the elbows. It felt as though both my hands and forearms were being gently yet firmly massaged, and I relaxed into the sensations.

The tension flowed out of my aching muscles as her voice hummed in my brain. Closing my eyes, I saw her beautiful face as clearly as if she were only inches from me. I could feel my fingers running over her smooth, radiant skin. Intwining in her curly hair.

The new moon draped the prairie in thick darkness, and as the temperature rapidly fell, my body pressed harder against the balmy soil as though snuggling up to a lover. The kneading on my limbs grew more intense as did the throbbing in my groin.

Like you, I crave release. Her honeyed voice transfixed me as much as my buried arms. I swore my hands were cradling full, soft breasts, thumbs flicking small, pebble nipples. Burn the land, her hot breath teased my ear. The warmth flowed up my shoulders and across my whole body. Memories of our last coupling played through my mind.

I awoke before dawn to find myself still outside, curled up on the ground. My clothes were caked with dirt and crushed stems, and the front of my trousers was stiff with dried ejaculate. Despite my condition, I was in high spirits and wasted little time gathering the equipment and labor necessary to manage a field fire.

Carefully, we steered the blaze across the prairie like a shepherd guiding his flock. I felt lucky the wind remained calm, carrying the smoke away without whipping the flames into an uncontrollable inferno. The fire licked across the final sector, and I watched the dry rabbitbrush ignite with a crackling whoosh, sending orange sparks into the sky.

Her voice rang out clearly in my head. What began as a contented sigh grew into amorous moaning that sent blood rushing to my pelvis. The pitch heightened, the cadence of her moans increasing until she let out a furious, passionate wail of relief that sent a shiver down my spine.

As dusk approached, I stood by the cottonwood, staring at the charred hollow of earth, impatient to see the goddess rise. Her voice was silent now, and I whispered aloud my pleas to see her. Only the distant howling coyotes replied.

My eyes flashed open in alarm at the sound of rustling, and I scraped my back across rough bark as I scrambled to my feet. I must have dozed off under the tree while I waited. Do not be frightened, she conveyed, suddenly appearing from the dark. Thank you for releasing me, she beamed.

“Y-you’re welcome.” I straightened my posture under her flickering gaze. She was more captivating than I remembered. Under a full moon, I noticed how her ears tapered to a soft point at the top where they tucked into silver and yellow brush. Her full, dark lips had a hint of raspberry to them and were so expressive without ever uttering a word.

I ran a curious finger over the intricately woven grasses that formed her bodice, only to watch it crumble like winnowed chaff. I gasped, recoiling my hand and shifting my eyes away from her nudity as she giggled. The heat emanated from her bare skin like an open hearth. I tried not to stare, but her curvaceous figure literally glowed as she stood before me, Aphrodite carved from shale.

Now you, she pointed.

I blushed as my fingers fumbled over my buttons, and my shirt fell to the ground behind me. I proudly flexed my well-muscled chest and arms, noting an approving glint in her eye. And the rest, she directed with a wink.

Tentatively, I unbuttoned my pants, suddenly feeling less majestic. I was not accustomed to undressing in front of a woman. Last time, neither of us had been naked. Sensing my hesitation, her delicate limbs reached toward me, and my gaze traveled up her arm, landing on her perfect breasts. Her mahogany nipples matched her berry-tinted lips.

I felt my erection thicken as her unnaturally warm hands tugged down my trousers. I stepped out of my boots and stood nude in front of her, wondering what would happen next. Our eyes devoured each other in silence, my gaze lingering on the bountiful, untamed curls betwixt her thighs.

You want to fertilize me. She grinned slyly, expressing it as both a question and a statement. I shifted nervously, concealing myself behind my hands. No, she reached for my wrists and guided my hands to up her pert coconuts. The heat of her supple flesh under my fingers made me gasp, and the sensation of her nipples under my thumbs felt so familiar.

Feverish fingers wrapped around my cock, and I flinched before grunting in approval. As she stroked my manhood, I slid one hand down her sculpted torso into her wild bush. The hair was dense and tightly curled so that my fingers had to massage slowly to find her slit.

When a fingertip sank between her lips, it was like touching hot candle wax. She moaned and arched, holding onto my neck with one hand while the other squeezed my balls firmly. I pushed a finger deeper into her folds, feeling the boiling nectar seep from her core. My own temperature was rising, and sweat coated my forehead and chest.

Lie down, she instructed, releasing my genitals and pointing to the dark bed of soil nearby. I quickly complied, watching in awe as the black Venus stood above me. She eased herself down onto my rigid pole, and again the overwhelming heat took my breath away.

My hands gripped her slender waist, sliding down over her smooth, round hips. Her fingers dug into my broad chest, and powerful legs pressed into the top of my thighs like hot boulders.

Bobbing up and down, rocking back and forth, she ground against me, her Vesuvian vagina clenching my cock as she rode me to a growling climax. I exploded like Old Faithful, and she kept humping until my spent cock surrendered its last drops into her smoldering snatch.

Her body relaxed, the radiance of her glowing veins dimmed, and her fiery eyes softened to smoldering embers. She smiled down at me as I panted, trying to catch my breath. My flaccid cock slipped out of her as she extended her legs and lay on top of me, blanketing me with a cozy warmth. Just before daybreak, I woke up, still outside, nude, dirty, and covered with yellow petals.

Thus continues our strange affair over these past two decades. Every fourth or fifth March, her voice cries out to me, and I respond with fire, receiving one night of unmitigated, carnal coitus in return. She is always gone by dawn, followed closely by an early spring that brings the most fragrant, beautiful blossoms. The crops flourish easily, and autumn arrives late in those years.

Even though she does not talk to me throughout every season, I remain her devoted paramour. On warm summer evenings, I often lie nude in the sacred soil, reading aloud to the rabbitbrush, feeling closest to my goddess there.

Now, I hear her sweetly singing, and I smile while I prepare to meet my enchanting lover for just the sixth time in twenty years.