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Part of the Fairy Tale Stories. Not a series, but a group of related tales

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The blue sky shines with that late summer lazy heat, the sun hidden behind the big leafy trees. The still air echoes in the quiet forest, even the squirrels have had their energy sucked by the afternoon mood, and the seldom travelled tracks are randomly littered with sticks and leaves. Peace overshadows all, when footsteps are heard from down the path.

A tall, almost thin twentysomething man walks into view, strolling happily along, whistling, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, shirt and tie haphazardly pulled loose, so very relieved to have walked out of the conference, so lucky to have found the quiet path, somehow accepted by the foreign environment of the forest. Just walking and whistling.

Not looking very closely though. As he nears the clearing, his shiny black shoe catches in a tree root, and he falls forward, dropping the suit coat, and stumbles to the side of the track. Thrown off-balance, he falls back on his butt.

"Shit!" he shouts, and it comes out much louder than he intends. Putting his arm behind him, he pulls himself up, picks up his jacket, and then pauses, looking puzzled, and turns back to the spot where he fell.

Some of the shrubbery has been pushed aside as he stumbled, and there is an ornate wooden leg, like one from an old-fashioned billiard table, uncovered in the spot. Walking back over, he sweeps some more of the loose leafy material from the leg, and finds that it supports a large glass case. Pushing aside some of the more stubborn shrubs, he realizes the case is the size and shape of a coffin, sitting on four of these ornate legs, and he can vaguely see something through the glass. Using the suit jacket, he wipes the thick layer of accumulating rubbish from the top of the coffin, and suddenly it becomes clear. There is a body in there. A woman's body. But the scratched and dirty glass doesn't allow him to see more clearly. He's filled with a need to see exactly what is in the coffin, and he frantically searches for a way to open it, but the coffin seems to be molded from a single piece of glass, no lid, door, nothing.

Looking around, adrenalin pushing him into action, he spies a rock on the track, picks it up without hesitation, and smashes it through the lid of the glass coffin, and the whole top of the container shatters into small blunt pieces like a smashed car windscreen, and then he can see inside. It is a woman, a beautiful woman, and though she must have been hidden in the bush for years, she looks fine, fresh, though pale and still. And then he notices for the first time that she's stark naked. The coal black hair on her head and between her thighs is the ultimate contrast with the whiteness of her skin, and only her blood red lips provide any variety.

As he stares, mouth open, unable to move a muscle, he realizes that her chest is moving gently. She's alive! Rushing closer, he brushes she glass pieces from her face, desperately trying work out what to do. The confusion of the situation, and the vague thoughts that something familiar was happening threw his normal caution and reservations aside, and he reaches in, lifts the woman's head from the cushion it rests on, bends down toward it, and touches his lips to hers, surprised first that her lips are warm, second that her eyes flutter open, and third that as he releases her head, she sits up, and looks at him, her eyes sparkling with moisture, her bare breasts thrust defiantly, ignoring gravity.

"I thank you kind sir", she states in flawless, inhuman, unreal speech, accompanied by a twinkling of tears, and followed by a broad, honest, grateful smile.

"Yeah, but I.... I mean, you.... But it's not.... Um, ah, that's alright, I guess."

"I can see you are confused, my hero."

"Well, yeah. I just... well, umm, just exactly what the fuck is going on?"

"It's alright, really. Just help me out of here, and I can explain."

"Ah, look, have my coat. Really. Please. I don't understand."

"Why Sir, you are a gentleman. Thank you kindly. Could I possibly ask for your assistance as well?" she says, as she lifts her legs over the side of the coffin, and reaches out to the man.

He reaches around her, trying not to touch her, though the desire to do so is almost overpowering, wraps his jacket around her shoulders, and helps her stand, as she puts her pale feet on the ground, and stands calmly in front of him. "Hero, you have done me great favours. May I ask your name? I am called Snow White."

Suddenly it all clarifies in his shocked brain. "Snow White? The Snow White? Oh, Mark. My name is Mark. You can't really be Snow White."

"Marcus you continue to amaze me. You have heard of me?"

For some reason he doesn't want to correct her pronunciation. He has always hated the name Marcus, but it sounds different as she says it. He leans against the coffin, strangely dizzy, and manages a quick, fuzzy, and not quite correct recitation of the classic Snow White story, ala Disney.

"Ha ha. My hero, that isn't quite how it all happened. I suspect things have been misinterpreted over the years. I think you need to hear the correct ending. After all, you're now part of it."

"I don't know that I'm up to too many more surprises princess, but go ahead."

"Well, the part at the castle is roughly right except that I must admit to being less of an angel than the story you tell. My stepmother wanted me out of the way because she didn't want me to provide an heir to the throne, and well, I was having a great time practicing, if you understand my meaning." She says all of this without a hint of embarrassment, smiling at Mark cheekily.

"And the dwarf story, though entertaining is completely false. The Queen was an evil witch alright, but she wasn't imaginative enough for that apple business. She cooked up a spell that should have killed me there and then, but she was unaware that my mother was something of a witch herself, and the spell resulted in my entranced sleep."

"So what about the true love stuff?"

"Well, that's close to correct, but love isn't the issue. Anyone who found me desirable would do. You must have thought I looked pretty in there."

Blushing bright red, Mark looks at the Princess again. "I have to admit, I did, and I still do."

"Just as well my hero. You see, there is only one way to break the spell completely. You must make love to me."

"What? You've got to be kidding. I can't even believe this is for real. I can't do that."

"Of course you can Marcus. You are the only one who can break the spell."

"But listen. Just give me some time here ..."

"Marcus, look here." She throws the coat to the ground, and stands there, completely naked, and definitely desirable. "I might be a Princess, but I like to do it. I want to do it. Here. Now."

Grabbing his shoulders, Snow White pulls Mark toward her, and kisses him on the lips. No gentle brush this time. Full lip contact, gentle tongue exploration, and a buzz like nothing he has ever felt. Mark's whole body feels lighter, warmer, hornier, and he realizes he wants her more than anything in the world.

Somehow Mark manages to remove his clothes without letting her go, and the two of them fall to the ground, caressing and exploring each other with tongues and hands until her hand touches his erect penis, and she stops moving.

"You appear ready my hero. I would like for you to be inside me. To explode in me. May I?"

Mark struggles into place, as the princess lies happy on his clothes, her skin still pale, but hot, very hot. "Are you sure about this? I just..."

"No more talking my hero. I need your seed, your manhood. Impale me. Do it!"

Gently moving his cock between her legs, below the blackness of her hair, he approaches her dark cunt with doubts, hesitation. Suddenly, she pushes from below him, and he is inside her, and he cannot help but to start thrusting. "Oh, God, you're so wet. So hot. How can this happen?"

"Shush Marcus. I told you my family have magic in us. Deeper in me my love. Faster."

Marcus starts to move with in time with her thrusts from below, and her cunt gets hotter, wetter, tighter somehow. Her grunts and encouragement give him strength, and he seems able to keep going for much longer than usual. Their timing is perfect. The sensations sublime. Time stops. The entire Universe grinds to a halt whilst they move like animals in the forest.

"Oh, my hero, you are magnificent. Finally I meet a real man. Oh God Marcus. I am lifted beyond physical love. I adore you all over, but especially your manhood. Oh Marcus faster my love. Deeper. Give me all of you."

Marcus can stand it no longer, and he pumps faster and deeper, suddenly unable to stop himself. As his thrusts reach a crescendo the princess screams loudly below him, locks her hands behind his back, and digs her fingernails in. His cock suddenly feels larger than ever, and he orgasms deep inside her, as she groans below him.

"My prince, you have paid the price to lift the spell. Finally I am free." She grabs his head down, and kisses his forehead. "And tired," she whispers in his ear. "Listen carefully my saviour, for I have not long to speak with you."

"I knew when I asked for your body that this would be my last time. I can also tell you it's my best. You are truly a prince. But I must go now, and you must return to your life. Please don't forget that you saved me, that you alone released the spell upon me."

"Hold on though. Listen Princess, I can't let you go now. You have to explain all of this to me. I'll take you home. Hell, I'll take you anywhere."

"You cannot my hero, and I cannot stay. Go with my love."

Marcus can suddenly feel Snow White become cooler beneath his weight, the pressure on his penis decreasing, her face becoming vague. "No, wait!" he cries out, as his body drifts down through her ghostly body, the cold seeping into him, the Princess becoming mist, and drifting away.

He jumps up from the ground, spinning around, trying to get to grips with what is happening. The coffin also turns to fog as he watches, and drifts away.

"Come back!", he screams at the top of his lungs, and reaches out to take hold of the mist, but it slips between his fingers, and disappears.

Suddenly Mark realizes that he is standing in a small forest, stark naked, and screaming. He sits down by a tree for a while, and then walks back to his clothes, puts them back on, and starts to walk back to the conference.

As he strolls along the path, he convinces himself it never happened. No woman, no coffin, no sex, no orgasm. He must have tripped and knocked himself out, or something.

As he leaves the forest and walks back out into the sun, he pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his forehead, and small pieces of glass float from the handkerchief, sparkling and glittering in the sunshine as they fall to the ground, unnoticed.