He tries to determine the source

Dear Sir Williard,

You can perhaps now understand my hesitation in putting down on paper the events of early this morning. I have returned to the Alterson Cottage unsatisfied in any way and I hope to end this entry before Akemi arrives for my morning routine, for I am in as bad a state now as I was when I left my cottage to take that late-night row up the river.

You will recall that I left off at a particularly embarrassing moment. The shock of being discovered flagellating myself on the small punt was as dampening to my libido as a bucket of ice-water dumped on my loins.

"Who's there." I tried, my Lord to sound both confident and calm, but I'm afraid that under the circumstances I may have seemed like a first year student caught sneaking out of his dorm.

"Don't stop." I was no nearer identifying the speaker than before, although judging by the pitch and tone of the words I was more sure than ever that this was a female, and one with no discernable accent.

"Show yourself." This time I was more authoritarian, but the results were much the same.

"I will, but only when you are done." As you can well imagine, I was both angry and frustrated by the laughing vixen and with four hard pulls of the oars I maneuvered the light craft swiftly along the overhanging branches of the willow-like trees that lined the far bank. However, even from this new location I was as much at a loss as before. "Show me what a man would do to that innocent maiden," this time it sounded like she was further down stream, but how anyone could move silently through the tangle of brush along the river bank was beyond me. "Show me how you'd claim her tight sex as she wiggles and moans under your muscular frame."

Her voice shifts to a surprisingly good imitation of Miss Alice's soprano. "Ohhh Mister ... so big ... ooooh ... it's so hard ... Oh Sir, are you going to ravish me with that mighty sword? Here in my own bed!" In spite of my frustration and anger, her moaning was having a definite effect on my manhood. Her tone took on a more sensual note, that of a maiden resigned to her fate. "Please Mister, I've never done anything like this ... not so rough ... please, be gentle...I'll be a good girl."

"Stop this!" Any hope I had of identifying my mysterious observer was long gone, but at this point I found myself once again succumbing to the weakness of the flesh. Perhaps, my Lord, this entity had some way of reading my mind because she seemed to know each and every one of my darkest desires.

"Can you picture it?" The uncanny voice probed softly, "That pure gentlewoman's thin nightgown pulled up and bunched around slender wrists high above her head so your hands are free to grope her ripe young body..." Sadly, I could indeed picture the fair Miss Alice with her dainty wrists crossed and secured within a tangle of pale silk. In this position the young Colonial's firm round breasts would be lifted provocatively and in my mind's eye I saw her long smooth thigh tilted demurely over the other just hiding from my gaze her sweet pink lips.

"Stop this, please." My whisper was hoarse and low, as by this point in the encounter, I was completely overwhelmed. "Please, show yourself...please have mercy..." I must confess that I was once again stroking my manhood as firmly as I had been when I was first discovered. As much as I knew it was wrong, I found this siren's seductive cooing impossible to resist, and her imitation of Miss Alice's surrender of her virtue to my imagined assault was intensifying the need in my loins.

"That's just what the sweet Alice would say as you began to push into her oh-so-tight passage." For the first time Sir Williard I saw the source of the voice. A cerulean phosphorescent glow that rose slowly from a circle of ripples between the roots of a tree hanging dangerously low over the still, black waters. "No don't ... you wicked man ... Stop this please ... oh please, NO! ... oww it hurts ... ooh it hurts ...hurts so good ... " By this point I could see her head and bare shoulders like a nymph from the old Greek legends of Earth dripping as she floated there. My observation of the phenomenon are unfortunately not as detached and professional as I would like in a witness, but by I can report the following facts.

But for the grey-blue glow of her skin, the figure appeared mostly humanoid. Instead of hair, what looked like wide bands of glowing tissue draped from her head over her nude shoulders and just barely covered what looked like, at least to my lust-filled eyes, small pale breasts very similar to those on a mature female of our Homo-sapient species. In spite of the alien nature of this creature her speech was easy to understand, her English as fine as mine and her accent nearly indistinguishable from any of the fine colonials that I have been interacting with. It was impossible to tear my eyes from her swaying figure and might well have been my imagination, my Lord, but I swear I could see fingerlike appendages stroking the pale round globes hidden under the hanging layers.

"Would a red-blooded man like you be gentle with your innocent victim?" She swayed gracefully in the water less than 20 feet from where I was shamelessly rubbing my manhood, "Or would you ravage her without mercy, ruining her chaste pussy for any other man?"

To be honest, Sir Williard, I don't know which of the two scenarios pushed me over the edge, but with a grunt of release, I shot my pearly streaks over the low gunwales of the punt and into the waters between us. With a smile of contentment the nymph (for what else can I call her?) slowly submerged into the water. I called out to her, hoping to learn more of this exotic creature, but as you well know the oars of a rowing punt like mine are designed to propel the craft away from where the user sits and by the time I back watered the dozen or so feet to where she was she was long gone.