Geoffrey the Bard and the Golden Phallacy

[1]

Chapter the First

 

Wherein our hero gets lost in the woods and gets a helluva handy from a pixie

 

A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine,

Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,

Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,

The cruel markes of many'a bloudy fielde;

 

Singing the ancient song didn’t make Geoffrey feel any better.

Geoffrey didn’t consider himself a knight and he wasn’t carrying any arms or armor. Further, he had no visible wounds after any battle. Nor was he riding a horse across the plain. He was running the best he could through the forest on a path that only a very generous man would call an animal trail. 

Still, it was better than being dead.

Or worse.

Having lived in cities all his life Geoffrey wasn’t used to the strange sounds of the forest. Whenever he had left the cities, he had always been in a large group and felt protected. Now he was alone. Outside. Exposed. Naked.

Metaphorically naked, he told himself. He was still fully dressed. 

Just to make sure, he glanced down at his clothing. The left leg and right sleeve were covered in bright red and white stripes while the right leg and left sleeve were green and blue diamonds. A pair of brilliant yellow boots combined with a matching belt made the clothing. The clothing made the man. 

Geoffrey liked to dress conservatively.

In addition to his small pack, Geoffrey carried a lute case. It was how he managed to survive. Songs saved his life.

He was certain that he was being watched. It wasn’t just paranoia. He could feel eyes on him. He was certain he could hear...something...being said...whispered on the mild breeze that filtered through the trees. There was a heavy buzzing of insect wings. That he didn’t like. Geoffrey hated bugs.

The buzzing was getting louder. The bugs must have been giant sized. Had he wandered into a magical forest?

Geoffrey wasn’t without means of physically defending himself. He pulled out the dagger he wore on his belt and waved it around. While he might have had a dagger to defend himself, it didn’t mean that he knew how to use it.

“Fuck off!” he shouted at the empty air that he knew wasn’t empty. He slashed the dagger back and forth to intimidate whoever was there.

The blade just cut through empty air.

After a few swipes, laughter began to fill the air, which only served to annoy Geoffrey further.

“Show yourself!” he demanded. “I’ll cut you from chin to cock!”

His threat only made the peals of laughter increase in intensity.

“Play me a song and I’ll do something with your cock,” came back a teasing answer. The voice was high-pitched and sweet, almost like that of a child. His best guess was that it was female, but with all the monsters that were rumored to inhabit the forest, it could have been a trick.

“I’m a talented musician, a traveling bard,” said Geoffrey. “When I play, I’m heavily rewarded with coin...and wine...and women.”

“From your mode of dress I would have guessed you would prefer men,” came the voice. Geoffrey was certain it was right in front of him, but he was damned if he could see anything or anyone.

Geoffrey’s mood darkened. “Anyone can see that I am a stylish bard. This outfit has gotten me more pussy than a witch’s stewpot.”

He was met with silence.

“A witch’s stewpot,” he repeated to more silence.

“Because witches attract cats as familiars,” he explained to the air. That seemed silly so he focused on a low-hanging branch of a pine tree a few feet away. Talking to a tree was only slightly less crazy than talking to the empty air.

“You’re implying that witches eat cats,” the voice said, clearly a little disturbed at Geoffrey’s comparison.

“Okay, so it’s not the greatest metaphor.”

“This conversation is going nowhere. You bore me, bard. Goodbye.”

The buzzing returned to the air. 

“Wait! Don’t go!” he sounded pathetic but he didn’t want to be all alone in the forest. He wouldn’t admit it, but fear was growing in his heart. And after what he had recently been through, that was more than he wanted to deal with. 

Since he was a bard and pathetic pleadings didn’t go well without a song and music, he quickly slung his lute off his back and started strumming. The words came to his lips automatically. 

 

Now freezing cold does shrink my cock

And I have heard a woolen sock

Will do man a better deed

Than wicked spillin of his seed.

 

The buzzing halted and seemed to return, this time stopping on the branch that had caught Geoffrey’s attention. He launched into the chorus. 

 

When the frost is on the punkin’

Tis the time for the dicking dunkin’

 

That elicited peals of laughter from his invisible audience that mixed with what Geoffrey realized were tiny hand claps. 

As he continued strumming while trying to remember the next verse, he was interrupted by the high-pitched voice. “Again, again! More, more!”

Doffing his red and yellow hat, Geoffrey paused in his strumming to say, “I’m sorry, my invisible audience, but I can’t for the life of me remember the next verse. To a different song would you be averse?” He smiled at his word play.

A small popping sound announced the sudden appearance of a tiny woman sitting on the branch of the tree to which he had been addressing his words. “You’re a funny man.”

“Th-th-thank you?” he said without certainty. The little woman in front of him couldn’t have amazed him more. The first and most prominent feature about her was she was only two feet tall. The second thing that struck Geoffrey was the pair of butterfly-like wings sprouting from her back. He couldn’t decide if her hair or her outfit—of lack thereof—was her third most striking feature. Her hair hung down past her shoulders. The left side was colored a bright purple while the right was a brilliant yellow, not blonde, but yellow. Her tiny outfit covered her—barely—from her tiny breasts down to her hips. He didn’t know what the outfit was called but it seemed more akin to a lady’s undergarment for a gown than actual, practical outerwear. 

Feeling ashamed about it, Geoffrey stared between the pixie’s thighs. He couldn’t see her cunt, but wished that he could. She was sitting on the branch at a slight angle to him. He imagined her garment would barely cover her ass. As it was, the sheerness of the tiny gown did nothing to hide the prominent bumps of her nipples. Her skin was so very pale that Geoffrey was certain he could see her pink nipples underneath the gossamer fabric. Summoning up a memory of his older sisters, he decided that the outfit was called a camiknicker, even though it hugged the pixie’s body like a second skin.

“My name is Belledane. What’s yours?” she asked in her lyrical voice.

“G-g-geoffrey?” He spluttered out his name like it was a confusingly pronounced word in a foreign language.

“It must be awfully hard to be a bard with that stutter,” she observed.

Remembering who he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Geoffrey cleared his throat, stood up straight, and repeated his name. “Geoffrey Goodrick, if it please you, m’lady,” he said doffing his hat once again and bowing to the pixie.

When he stood back up she let her eyes rove over his body and he couldn’t help but notice she was staring at his crotch.

It took all of his pride not to cover the front of his pants with his hands. As it was he shifted his lute to hide his bulging erection. She had certainly seen the evidence of his arousal, but she was polite enough not to say anything.

“It pleases me,” she said, licking her lips.

Maybe she wasn’t that polite, Geoffrey reflected.

“Are you a pixie?” he asked already knowing the answer but he needed some way to move the conversation forward that didn’t involve talking about his hard cock.

“Of course I am,” she said, delighted. She flapped her wings and flew up slightly. Geoffrey found his eyes going to the hem of her camiknicker again but he still couldn’t see her cunt. She hovered a few feet in front of him.

“Delighted to meet your acquaintance,” he said. 

She gave him a mid-air bow. He looked down the top of her outfit. He couldn’t see anything. 

“We don’t have many visitors to our forest,” she said.

“We?”

“My friends and family.”

“Right!” Geoffrey replied. Of course she wasn’t alone. “Are they around right now?” he asked. 

“No. Why?” Her eyes narrowed on him.

“Because you were invisible a minute ago. I was just wondering if anyone else was watching.”

“No. I’m alone. With you,” she smiled, hinting.

Immediately Geoffrey started thinking about what she was implying. He was a bard, after all, and more than once he had seduced a young lady of low self-esteem and poor morals. Those young ladies always seemed to be attracted to a man who could sing and play a lute. But looking at Belledane’s tiny but impressive body, he wasn’t sure if she would be able to accommodate him.

Physically accommodate him. 

“That’s good to know,” he said, with a sly smile. He was willing to experiment if she was.

Belledane turned her head slightly and said, “I have a question for you. Is your next song as dirty as your first?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he said as he launched into his next song. It had nothing to do with his previous ditty, but that was fine.

 

The four and twentieth day of May, of all days of the year, sir,

A virgin lady, fresh and gay, did privately appear, sir.

Hard by a riverside got she, and did sing loud, the rather,

For she was sure she was secure, and had intent to bathe her.

 

With glittering glancing jealous eyes, she shyly looks about, sir,

To see if any lurking spies were hid to find her out, sir.

And being well resolved that none could see her nakedness, sir,

She pulled her robes off, one by one, and did herself undress, sir.

 

Into the fluent stream she leapt, she looked like Venus' glass, sir.

The fishes from all quarters crept to see so fair a lass, sir.

Each fish did wish himself a man, about her all were drawn, sir.

And at the sight of her began to spread about their spawn, sir.

 

A lad that long her love had been and could obtain no grace, sir,

For all her prying lay unseen, hid in a secret place, sir.

Who had often been repulsed when he had come to woo her,

Pulled off his clothes and furiously did run and leap into her.

 

She squeaked, she cried, and down she dived, he brought her up again, sir.

He brought her up upon the shore, and then, and then, and then, sir.

As he did her to enjoy, you may guess what I mean, sir;

Because she all uncovered lay, he covered her again, sir.

 

With watered eyes, she pants and cries, "I'm utterly undone, sir,

If you will not be wed to me by the next morning sun, sir."

He answered her, he would not stir out of her sight till then, sir.

"We'll both clasp hands in wedlock bands, marry, and to it again, sir.”

 

The little pixie frowned as Geoffrey finished his song with a flourish.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked nervously, worried that she might have been upset with the content of the lyrics.

“But I’m not a sir,” she said. “I’m a pixie.” She leaned forward, giving him a view of her tiny cleavage. “But I’m most definitely a female pixie, if you take my meaning.”

It took all of Geoffrey’s control learned over years of playing the lute not to strum down too hard on his strings and break all of them.

“It was just a song,” he managed to get out. “And I can see that you are female.”

“Good,” she happily told him and proceeded to do a mid-air loop. He got a quick flash between her thighs, but still couldn’t see anything. “I loved your song.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Can I see your cock?” she asked.

“Wh-wh-what?”

“Boy pixies have such tiny cocks. You’re a human. You’re a giant! You must have a giant cock!”

Geoffrey didn’t know what to think. While he had never had a complaint from any of his lovers, he was a realistic man when it came to the art of love and knew his cock, while more than measuring up against any other man, was by no means giant-sized.

Then again, from her perspective, a cock the size of his pinky finger would be enormous.

“All of my lovers have found me well-equipped,” he said with a smile, but didn’t know how to proceed. She was pretty, but so tiny. He had serious doubts he could get his pinky finger in her tiny cunt, let alone the instrument he had in his pants.

“Can I see it,” she breathed with shining eyes. Her eyes seemed to grow two sizes with the question, which was an impressive feat considering that her eyes were already huge in comparison to her head.

“Uh...sure,” said Geoffrey. What could it hurt to get his cock out for her to admire?

“Show me, show me!” She clapped her hands together.

While Geoffrey was never normally shy about getting his prick out for women to admire, this was a slightly different set of circumstances. The pixie was only two feet tall and he didn’t see how his hard prick could be used with her. Still, it seemed rude not to pull out his cock, if only for her to admire it. 

“Are you sure?” he asked warily, his hand already going to the ties of his trousers.

She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. Pretty please?!”

And still he hesitated. He had pulled his prick out plenty of times in the middle of nowhere to take a piss, but now that it was for pretty pixie he had just met...that made him more nervous than it should have. Still, he was proud of his prick and there was no reason not to...unless she was an evil pixie in which case he was doomed anyway.

That’s the logic he used to argue with himself.

Opening up his pants, he pulled them down just enough for the purple head to come out. Belledane gasped like she had spied a dragon swooping down out of the sky to devour her. That in itself would have been impossible—the canopy of the forest was far too dense—but the gasp was enough to embolden Geoffrey to lower his pants further, revealing the whole of the length of this prick, even his pendulous ballsack as well. 

“It’s beautiful,” Belledane declared.

“Thank you,” he replied and was about to pull his pants back up to restore some dignity to himself, but she shot forward in the air, striking Geoffrey in the chest. The impact wasn’t that great, but it was strong enough to make him stumble backwards. That, combined with an unfortunately placed tree root along with the disadvantage of having his pants halfway down his legs was enough to make him fall on his ass.

Geoffrey started to panic. The pixie had obviously been waiting to make himself vulnerable so that she could attack and kill him.

While he wasn’t all that familiar with pixies he had heard all sorts of stories. He didn’t know what to believe. Seeing her small form diving down, he scrabbled for the dagger sheathed at his side.

He was too slow. She went directly for his most vulnerable bits: his cock and balls.

Unable to unsheathe his weapon, Geoffrey tried swatting at the pixie, but he was too slow. 

A second later Belledane had wrapped her hands around his cock and rubbed it against her cheek. “It’s beautiful,” she cooed and then stuck out her tongue to lick the underside.

Geoffrey was frankly shocked. Her tongue was somewhere between the sensation of a young lass’s mouth organ and that of a cat, just rough enough for a little extra stimulation.

“Wha-what are you doing?” he asked, staring at the pixie making love to his cock.

She seemed to remember where she was and that she had just met the bard. “Pleasuring you,” she said boldly. 

His cock started to wilt. Everything seemed out of place. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

She laughed at him. Her laughter sounded like peals of a silver bell. “Of course I do. Pixies live for pleasures of the flesh. And my friends and cousins will be so jealous when I tell them that I gave a handy to a human.”

“What?” Geoffrey blurted out. She needed both of her little hands to completely surround his cock, and even then they didn’t quite go all the way around, but even though she was a tiny woman, she was no innocent babe in the woods. Her technique was that born of practice, innate skill, and learned techniques. “Oohh,” Geoffrey moaned as he became a slave to his cock.

If she was going to kill him, she would have done so already, he reasoned.

Or if she was just trying to get him off-guard, this was undoubtedly the best way to die.

The vigorous handy that Belledane was giving must have been physically difficult for her, but Geoffrey was already too close to the edge of orgasm. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had pleasured him without him paying her.

Getting a handy from a pixie was more fun than he ever would have guessed.

He could have fought it, and he was approaching orgasm a lot faster than he liked—Geoffrey took pride in pleasing his partners first—but fighting it was a waste of time. Instead he just put his head back and allowed the moment to take him.

Her skill was advanced and before he knew it, she pushed him over the edge. He came and it felt like he was cumming for the first time. The amount of spunk that shot out of his cock took him by surprise. It was so voluminous Geoffrey was certain that Belledane had worked some pixie magic on him. 

The cum spattered on his cock and belly and spread out to his jacket and shirt. As a bard Geoffrey tried to take care in his appearance because it was easier to charm people if he didn’t look like a serf digging in the mud. He figured that a little cum stain on his shirt was a small price to pay.

After taking his eyes off his slowly withering cock he focused on Belledane. Cum was an inevitable byproduct of sex, regardless of the variety, but what he had done to the little pixie was almost a crime. She seemed to be covered in his liquid emissions from her face down to her chest and completely soaking the top to her camiknicker. 

“Sorry about that,” he told her in all sincerity. He’d cum on plenty of women and so he just figured most of them were used to men cumming on them.

Belledane’s reaction was almost the complete opposite of the women he had accidentally came on when they were blowing him. She was delighted. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter that she held in while licking her fingers, tasting his leavings.

“It’s saltier than I thought it would be,” she commented.

“Saltier?” Geoffrey didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to having conversations about his semen after cumming with his pants halfway down his legs. He felt exposed.

“Pixie cum is much sweeter,” she told him.

“Oh.”

“I think it’s because of all the fruit we eat.”

“Okay…”

“Did you know that you can get drunk on elf cum?”

Belledane had continued to lick her hands, consuming as much of Geoffrey’s cum as possible. While visiting brothels he had seen shows of women who pretended to worship and savor the cum a man had just ejaculated on them, it was the first time he had seen it in real life. 

She was waiting expectantly for an answer to her question. “No. I did not know that one could get drunk on...elf cum?” He ended the statement as a question. How would that even work?

Belledane nodded enthusiastically. “I think it’s from all the wine that they drink.”

“That would make sense.” His brow furrowed. “When have you been sucking off random elves?”

The question caused her to laugh at him. “I’m a pixie princess. It’s part of our diplomatic ceremonies.”

“You’re a pixie princess?” While Geoffrey had bedded a lot of women, this was the first time he had ever had carnal relations with a person claiming nobility. His milieu tended toward whores, barmaids, singers, and actresses. Plus the random adventurer. It would be truly epic if the first pixie he had fucked—well, gotten a handy from—was a princess.

“Well, yes. I’m two hundred and thirty fourth in line for the throne.”

“Oh.” Barely a princess, but it was a brag he could make in a self-referential introduction song.