Girl Over The Hill
Jonah knew the woods like the back of his hand. After all, he’d lived near them his whole life, hunting with his grandfather and father the great elk that roamed the forest, setting traps for hare or fox, picking ripened Hawthorns every fall with his sisters and cousins. This past year Jonah had finally been deemed old enough to begin hunting on his own in the wilds of the surrounding woods. He’d come out today with the hopes of bagging a big haul to impress this one girl that lived over the hill, one he’d been eyeing for quite some time.
Scrabbling up a large boulder to go around a vast thorny expanse of underbrush, he sat still to listen to the wind. Somewhere close by was something moving… something smaller than an elk. Jonah watched as the underbrush rattled and shook, seeming to part of its own accord as whatever was moving through was doing so in a hurry.
Exploding from the underbrush a snow-white hair came bounding out, leaping and sprinting away as fast as it could. Jonah jumped from the rock to land and perhaps get a bead on it, come home with supper for his father, as he loved rabbit stew, but came up short as something far larger than the rabbit also emerged from the underbrush.
Directly beneath Jonah, to his greatest sorrow, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he was falling on top of her like a buffoon.
She gave a startled gasp and rolled through the grass, somehow ending up on top of Jonah, panting from the chase with the rabbit. Her skin was the same color as the maple-hued wood around his, as if she were carved from living bark, but her bare skin was pliable and warm. She was nude, and very well endowed Jonah noted as she looked down at him with black eyes, her hair forming a curtain around them, like the leaves of a willow tree.
“Who are ye?” She asked in a strange accent, one he’d never heard before.
“Jo-Jonah.” He stuttered, flushed at how close they were. He knew his loose pants would do nothing to hide his growing manhood.
“My rabbit got away.” She look disappointed, before running one of her slender hands along Jonah’s chest. “But I found you.”
“B-but what about your pet rabbit?” Jonah asked, panicking as her hands slipped beneath his jerkin to sensually rub his chest, another hand trailing along his thigh. “Don’t you want him back?”
“Pet?” Her face contorted as if puzzled, but continued well past that point, her jaw widening and growing thicker, her fingers running along his chest suddenly drawing blood as they sank into his stomach, his pained cry silenced only by her shushing sounds, now heavily warped by her frog-like mouth.
Jonah’s first, and last, kiss of his life, was indeed by a beautiful maiden that lived over a hill. Sadly, said maiden was also in the woods for the same reason as Jonah that day: to hunt. And boy, had she landed a big haul!