Legends of Lust

by Autumn Bardot

  Yoki panted, her body succumbing to the fleshly demand of her löwa. Her back arched and lifted skyward and out of the water. Her nub ignited, embers of bliss sparkling over her limbs. Her soul flared outward to dance with Earth Mother, Sky Father, the Sun, Moon, and all the kachinas. She hissed her rapture while her legs thrashed. And then her body sunk heavy into Nova’s arms, her trip to the sky and back complete.

  Kokopelli’s cock hauled itself out of Yoki’s snug löwa and dove deep underwater.

  “Is he leaving?” Nova was confused. She wanted Ko-kopelli’s cock inside of her, except she was afraid.

  Yoki detangled herself from Nova’s arms. “I hope not. It’s your turn.”

  “I don’t know.” Nova chewed on her lip.

  “There he is!”

  Kokopelli’s cock leapt from the river like a fish, then made a wide circle around the girls. Even from his hiding spot upriver, Kokopelli sensed Nova’s anxiety. Nova would be a challenge. A fertility god, he knew how important it was for every maiden to enjoy baby making. He employed an old trick.

  Nova stretched out her hand as Kokopelli’s cock drifted away. “Don’t go!”

  That’s all Kokopelli needed to hear. His cock spun about and veered straight for her. His cock circled Nova four times before flying from the water and into her arms.

  Nova gripped it with both hands, felt it swell and stiffen even more. She pushed back the foreskin and rubbed her palm over it. Kokopelli’s cock jerked and trembled.

  “Taste it,” said Yoki.

  Nova licked the tip. It tasted like the river with a hint of salt. “You try it.”

  Yoki licked the head. “It’s so smooth.” She swirled her tongue around the head.

  Nova licked the length and together the girls wound their tongues around Kokopelli’s cock.

  Beyond the bend, Kokopelli gripped the rock, his breath ragged as a runner after a race. “Those maidens will certainly make their husbands happy,” he thought.

  “Look,” Nova pointed to the creamy bead leaking from the tip. She licked it off. “Salty and . . .” She squeezed the tip and more seeped out. “The taste reminds me of the smell of the shells we trade for.”

  Yoki wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked hard. “You’re right. Do all men taste the same?”

  Kokopelli braced himself against the wall. Took measured breaths. It was taking all his willpower not to spill his seed. Two maidens licking his cock challenged even his self-control. He wanted his seed inside their sweet snug löwas, not their mouths.

  Kokopelli’s cock squirmed away and plunged into the river.

  “Did we make him angry?” asked Nova.

  “I hope not.” Yoki looked into the water’s depths.

  Kokopelli’s cock bumped Nova’s calf.

  “It’s him.” Nova looked down.

  Kokopelli’s cock nudged her thigh, nudged higher, and higher. He pushed until he wedged himself between Nova’s closed legs.

  “What do I do?” Nova stared down, unable to move. She was torn between fear and desire. A man’s cock inside was what made you a real woman, not a squashblossom hairstyle.

  “Let him in,” said Yoki, and she moved behind Nova. “I’ve got you.”

  Nova leaned against her friend as Kokopelli’s cock wedged between her soft thighs. With its head tilted upward, the cock bumped against the entrance of her löwa, which was thicker and tighter than a skin stretched across a drum.

  “Relax. It’s fun,” said Yoki.

  Nova yelped. Kokopelli’s cock broke Nova’s seal and struggled to push itself inside Nova. Once all the way in, Kokopelli pulled halfway out, thrust in again, softening her löwa with each thrust. Nova closed her eyes and surrendered to Kokopelli’s cock. Her anxious löwa grew misty with desire as Kokopelli’s cock glided effortlessly in and out. A strange, wonderful energy gathered at her löwa’s entrance. Her feet tapped the river bottom to the beat of her awakened spirit while her long moan soared skyward. Nova’s skin tingled like it was being brushed by a grass broom. Nova spread her legs, let them float on the water and submitted to the energy that was Kokopelli’s thrusting cock. She was water and sky and earth, her weightless body afloat on a pleasure cloud. Then Nova jerked and twitched in fleshly release.

  “We’re ready for a husband now,” said Yoki when she felt her friend return to earth.

  “Mmm.” Nova sighed and stared at the gray sky as the first raindrops fell on her lashes.

  Yoki looked around. “Where is Kokopelli’s cock?”

  His cock had already headed upstream. It glided under the water, sluggish and exhausted. At least for today.

  Nine months later three babies were born to two happy brides and a no-longer-barren wife. Kokopelli lifted his flute to his mouth when he heard the news and danced into the next pueblo.

  Kokopelli is a trickster and a fertility god of some southwestern Native American tribal cultures. There are probably as many stories about him as there are images of his iconic form on ancient petroglyphs. Over the centuries, his oversized phallus has become less pronounced. On today’s images it’s gone completely, covered by a kilt, probably so as not to offend our more modern sensibilities.

  RIDING THE MARE

  “Help me! Someone, please help!”

  Not far away, an old woman picking wild berries heard the shout. She cocked her ear and stopped to listen. A long, loud wail followed a few moments later. The old woman slung her basket over her arm and followed the cry deep into the forest.

  She found a maiden sitting on the ground, her skirt making a wide circle over the leaves and pine needles. Suspicious it might be a thief’s trick—although the old woman had nothing of value—she crept forward, her soft leather shoes making no sound, and peered around the trunk of a big old oak tree.

  The maiden was fair-skinned and beautiful, with brown doe-eyes and full lips. A pure white veil covered the maiden’s hair and her striped cylindrical headpiece was threaded with gold and embellished with coins, one row strung across her forehead. The silver beads hanging beneath her chin matched a multistrand necklace, and her red dress was richly embroidered and belted with sheer layers of multicolored silk. This Armenian maiden was no commoner.

  The old woman stepped from behind the tree. “Are you lost?”

  The maiden’s head lifted. “You found me!” She bounced up, nimble as a cat. “I was getting worried.”

  “Where is your home, child?” The old woman shifted the basket of berries into the crook of her arm.

  The maiden swung her head from left to right, and exhaled her exasperation. “I have no idea.”

  “You don’t know where you live?” asked the old woman, thinking the maiden was daft.

  The maiden raised her eyebrows as if insulted by the question. “I live in the palace. I just don’t know which direction that is.” The maiden squared her shoulders. “I am Princess Nazani.”

  A princess! The princess? What good fortune! The old woman curtsied. “How did you come to be lost?”

  Princess Nazani lowered her eyes. “It’s all my fault. My parents and I were arguing—they want me to marry a horribly ugly prince—and I became so angry I ran and ran and ran...” She lifted her gaze and shrugged. “I’ve been wandering for hours but nothing looks familiar.”

  “You’re a good way from the palace, at least a halfday’s journey on foot. You best come home with me before it gets dark. We don’t want to meet any hungry bears along the way.”

  Princess Nazani looked around as if expecting the beast to leap out at any moment. “Father says there are leopards too.”

  “Not in these parts. Unless it’s lost too.” The old woman beckoned her forward. “Come along, I don’t live far.”

  As they walked, the old woman was delighted to discover that the princess was a curious, intelligent girl. She asked lots of questions, from where to find the best blackberries to what the old woman liked best about her village.

  When they came to the edge of the forest, the old
woman pointed to a house built of volcanic rock. Nearby, a tall lean figure with three trout strung over a shoulder emerged from the copse of fruit trees and waved.

  “Is that your son?” asked the princess.

  It was a common mistake. Folks often mistook the old woman’s daughter for a boy. Garin was a tall girl with broad shoulders, a square jaw, and a strong nose. She often dressed as a man, like today, claiming trousers and a shirt with an arkhaluk was better for completing her daily chores. She also preferred fishing and hunting to sewing and cooking. Despite the old woman’s attempts at matchmaking, Garin insisted she would never marry.

  “That’s Garin.” The old woman did not correct the princess’s assumption.

  “Mother!” Garin waved. “Looks like you found more than berries.”

  “This is Princess Nazani,” said the old woman, approaching the house. “She was lost in the forest.”

  Garin’s mouth dropped open. A princess? She glanced down at her worn dirty trousers, suddenly aware of her manlike appearance. She could not remember ever being so flustered. “Welcome to our humble home,” she said, her voice too loud and overly formal as she held open the door.

  Princess Nazani blushed and lowered her eyes. Garin’s handsome face made her unexpectedly bashful.

  “She thinks you’re my son,” whispered the old woman as she passed under the low door frame.

  A wonderful fluttering filled Garin’s belly. Garin pulled at her collar, her body suddenly too warm. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the princess. Neither could the honest and forthright Garin tell the princess that she was a girl.

  She’s gorgeous. And she’s blushing at me. At me! My body is cursed. I should be a man. I feel like a man. Now I understand what the men mean when they talk about seeing a woman they want to fuck.

  Not for the first time, Garin wondered why she was born in a woman’s body. It was a secret feeling she had never told anyone. How could she possibly explain that a man’s heart beat inside her woman’s body? People would think she was crazy. Better for them to think her fondness for wearing pants and men’s activities was a character flaw or peculiarity.

  If the princess thinks I’m a man, then I’ll play the man.

  Garin put the trout on the table and sat in the big chair by the fire. “Can Mother get you something? Water? Some bread?”

  The old woman was about to scold her daughter for not helping, then snapped her mouth shut. Mother and daughter looked at one another, a silent agreement to keep up the ruse passing between them.

  “Water, thank you.” Princess Nazani batted her thick black eyelashes at Garin.

  While the old woman fetched the water, Garin and Princess Nazani tried looking everywhere but at each other. It didn’t work. Their gazes met so often they

  flushed pink and shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

  “Well, what should we talk about?” asked Garin, having no idea how to flirt, let alone with a princess.

  “Well,” Princess Nazani said coyly, “you can ask me questions.”

  “Ah . . .” Garin did not know what kinds of questions were proper to ask a princess.

  Happily, Princess Nazani was a talkative girl who found royal protocol very tedious and both asked and answered her own questions. Age: sixteen. Interests: riding, hawking, and rug weaving—but only when it rained. Favorite flower: gladiolus.

  “And that’s why I ran from the palace,” said Princess Nazani, finishing the story about how she came to be lost in the forest. “How could I marry a man with both an ugly face and a mean-spirited personality?”

  “I know I couldn’t,” said Garin truthfully.

  Princess Nazani giggled. “Of course not.” She glanced at the old woman busy in the kitchen. “Do you have a sweetheart?”

  Garin shook her head.

  “Whyever not? You’re very handsome.”

  The old woman threw her daughter a stern look that she pretended not to see. Those stern looks became questioning ones during supper.

  The princess didn’t notice, as she was too enamored by Garin. Not once was Garin anything but supportive and understanding when Nazani talked about the problems of being a princess.

  By the end of supper, Garin and Nazani were chatting like old friends.

  I should tell her I’m a girl just three years older than she. Oh, Mother is giving me that look again. I’ll tell Nazani tomorrow. Right now I just want to sit and listen to her talk and imagine her naked.

  “I’ll show the princess to her room.” The old woman stood.

  Princess Nazani flashed Garin a bright smile. “I’m overwhelmed by your hospitality. I wish . . .” She bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes, hoping they spoke what she could not.

  Garin understood and it made her man’s heart lurch. Their wish was almost the same. Nazani wished Garin were a prince, and Garin wished she were a man.

  Later that night, Garin rapped softly on Nazani’s door, determined to tell the princess the truth.

  Clad in Garin’s own white chemise, Nazani opened the door, her dark hair falling in thick waves to her waist. “It’s you,” she smiled.

  Once again, Garin was struck by her beauty, imagining what it would be like to run her fingers through Nazani’s tresses.

  “I will take you back to the palace tomorrow.” Garin tried not stare at Nazani’s large upturned breasts through the thin cotton.

  “So soon?” Nazani pushed her plump lips into a pout.

  Garin swallowed, felt her body warm with desire. “I’m sure the king and queen are frantic with worry.”

  “Oh, I know they are.” Nazani dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “Can I ask a favor? It’s a rather big one.”

  Garin nodded. She would do anything for the princess.

  “Will you kiss me?”

  Garin’s eyes widened. “You’re a princess.”

  Nazani put her hands on her hips and the sheer fabric of her chemise stretched across her breasts to reveal her hard pink nipples. “That’s right. And as I am your princess you must do as I ask.” She tilted her face upward.

  Garin leaned down and kissed her. It was quick and closed mouthed, yet Garin had never felt anything so wonderful.

  Eyes glinting with mischief, Nazani snatched Garin’s hand and yanked her into the room.

  “I want a real kiss.” She closed the door. “The kind my maid gives to the stable boy.”

  Garin couldn’t tell Nazani the truth now. Not when the only thing she wanted was to kiss her again. Garin wrapped her arms around Nazani and pressed her lips to Nazani’s, this time prying open Nazani’s mouth with her tongue.

  Nazani’s tongue was just as eager, and together they tasted and explored.

  Tell her!

  Garin tried pulling away. Nazani’s demanding lips and tongue wouldn’t have it. The princess crushed their mouths tight.

  I feel like a real man with Nazani.

  Garin’s hands roamed over Nazani’s narrow waist and full hips, rising again to feel her breasts—so much larger than Garin’s. She groaned. Their hips ground against each other, their mouths melded together.

  Nazani pushed close, her arms tight around Garin. The thrill of this handsome man’s hands on her body made her feel deliciously improper and very horny.

  A knock on the door startled them apart. “Everything all right in there?” asked the old woman. “Do you need anything, Princess?”

  “I’m fine,” Nazani answered without opening the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Garin and Nazani stood motionless until the old woman’s footsteps faded away.

  “Garin,” Nazani stroked Garin’s cheek. “You’re as hairless as a woman.”

  Garin rubbed her chin. “I’ll never have a beard.” That’s the truth, at least.

  “Good, I don’t like them.” Nazani’s hands snaked around the back of Garin’s neck. “You’re nothing at all like those dreadful princes coming to ask my father for my hand in marriage. They’re always so superior
, so subtly patronizing whenever I tell them my views on things. Not like you. You like me for me.”

  “I like every part of you,” said Garin. “Your smile, your eyes, your spirit.” Garin’s gaze rested on Nazani’s breasts. “Everything.”

  “I like everything about you too.” Nazani stood on her tiptoes and whispered into Garin’s ear. “Especially how you make my body feel all tingly and wonderful.” “Mine too.” Garin softly kissed her lips, pulled Nazani’s hands away, and stepped back. “I should go.”

  Tell her! Tell her NOW!

  Nazani’s finger dragged across Garin’s lips. “That’s probably a good idea. I don’t want to do something we shouldn’t.” Her eyes slid sideways. “Or rather do more of what we shouldn’t have done in the first place.” There’s no chance of that. I don’t have the right parts.

  Garin grinned. “I was just obeying my princess.” She kissed Nazani’s hand and left the room, careful of the squeaky door.

  The old woman was in the hall, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “What were you doing in there?” Garin strode into the main room and flopped down on the chair near the fire. “I love her, Mother.”

  “Life has not been kind to you, Garin. You finally found love and it’s all wrong.” The old woman sat next to her daughter and stroked her back. “I could not ask for a better daughter, and yet sometimes I have felt that you’re more like a son. You remind me so much of your father, your untiring strength, your courage, your honesty, your preference for clever girls.”

  “I’m cursed.” Garin blinked back tears. “My own body fights with my mind.” Garin grabbed her mother’s hand. “Tell me the truth, Mother. Did a gypsy curse you while I was in your womb?”

  “No, that would have explained your problem.” The old woman tapped her chin in thought. “There’s a woman in a nearby village who says her son is more coquettish than any girl. Maybe that’s who you’re meant for.”

  Garin scowled. “I want to make love to a woman not a man.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, child, but I know it must be a miserable thing not to fit into the skin given to you.” The old woman patted her daughter’s back. “Go to bed and stay away from the princess. There’s nothing you can offer her—even if you were a man.”