You decide to have a little more fun.

You glance beside you, still seeing his cock fully erect. With your last bit of strength, you lean over and place you mouth on it, licking and sucking him clean as a show of appreciation. You don’t stop pleasuring him until you taste the sweet cum splash across your tongue, now thin from him having come so much.

You see the satyr stand up after catching his breath. “I think it’s best I see you off,” he says.

“What..? Why?” you ask in confusion.

“Since I’m cursed to forever be ready to rut, I fear the temptation of your body may be too much. Should you stay, I’ll be left as nothing but a dry husk.”

“But I want to stay,” you say. “Please, let me stay!” you beg. You don’t even know why you feel so attached to the creature.

“It cannot be. We are of different worlds,” he says collecting your clothes and handing them to you. “You are free to seek me out come next spring—should your desires drive you so—or should you find a half-goat kid suckling at your tit.”

He stands you up and helps you get dressed, keeping your uncoordinated and drunken body from falling over. And with one last goodbye, he turns you around and gives a pat on your ass, sending you stumbling forward. “Follow this direction to avoid the lurking beasts,” you hear him say.

As you catch your footing, you turn around, seeing that the faun has completely vanished from sight along with all food and wine. “Wait… Come back,” you whimper, feeling a sudden loneliness.

You stand alone in the forest, wondering if you had imagined the whole encounter. Yet you know from the continued drip of the faun’s semen from your opening that it was all so real. With a lowered head you turn around and follow the given direction, wandering through the forest drunk, alone, and potentially pregnant. What’s worse is that you’ve forgotten your spear behind, only the knife still attached to your belt offering you any protection.

Just as dusk arrives, you find yourself stumbling out into an open roadside. Beside the road sits a large stone bridge spanning a river. Aware of the increasing winds and your tired limbs, you head straight below the bridge for cover. It doesn’t take long for you to settle underneath the roomy underside of the stone construction. The moonlight does not reach underneath the bridge, but neither does the wind.

Your still half-drunken body is quick to pull you into a deep slumber. You don’t resist the pleasant feeling of falling asleep, dreaming that you’re cuddled against your now-gone faun lover.