Legends of Lust

by Autumn Bardot

  “Take off your clothes.” Nazani undid the clasps of Garin’s gold-embroidered arkhaluk.

  She’ll see my breasts!

  Garin pulled down her trousers, glad the tunic fell to mid thigh and that her legs were thick and straight. “Get on your knees, wife.”

  Nazani squealed with delight, rolled over, and wiggled her succulent white ass. Garin bit into it and Nazani yelped.

  Nazani shook her ass, the sweet flesh quivering like pudding. Garin’s tongue ran over the curved mound and her fingertips glazed across Nazani’s wet clit. Nazani’s gloss was thick and fragrant with need.

  “Do you want me? Are you ready?” Garin nibbled on her flesh.

  Nazani looked over her shoulder. “Ready? My puss feels empty without you.”

  Garin thrust into her.

  “Oh! I like it this way!”

  Garin pushed deep into Nazani and leaned over to twiddle her nipples. They rocked and ground into each other, Nazani climaxing again and again, Garin temporarily forgetting the strap-on cock wasn’t real.

  “You’re insatiable,” Garin whispered in Nazani’s ear as she slept.

  Except for Nazani’s pleas to see Garin naked, the fifth and sixth nights were the same, Nazani preferring to be entered from behind.

  On the seventh night, the last day of the wedding celebration, Nazani stood with her hands on her hips.

  “I demand to see your cock! I need to touch it. I want to taste it.” Nazani gathered Garin’s hands in her own and brought them to her lips, her eyes bright with love. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

  You do?

  “Don’t look so frightened.” Nazani kissed Garin’s fingers. “You wanted to make sure I focused only on my body, my pleasure. Mother told me this proved what a kind selfless man you are.”

  You told the queen?

  “But now it’s my turn to focus on you, to lick and caress your body.”

  Garin’s heart raced, her mind in a panic. “My cock is so large you’ll be frightened,” she finally blurted out.

  Nazani laughed. “Amazed is more likely.” She tugged small scissors from a deep pocket in her dress. “Let me love you properly.”

  She ripped open Garin’s trousers before Garin could stop her. The trousers dropped to the floor.

  “What is this?” Nazani’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand. Where is your cock? Was it cut off? Did you have an accident as a child?”

  Shame suffocated Garin’s reply, her guilt a noose tightening around her neck.

  Tell her! Show Nazani who you really are.

  Garin unhooked the apparatus and held the strapon in her hand. With the other she spread herself wide. “I’m a woman.”

  Nazani backed away. “A woman? I’ve been fucking a woman? A woman’s been licking my clit?” Her hand covered her mouth. “You...you...tricked me! You deceived me!”

  “No, Nazani, I love you.” Garin’s hand patted her heart. “I am a man here. And here.” She touched her head. “I feel like a man.”

  “You’re a woman!” Nazani shook her head, tears

  running down her cheeks, and fled from the room.

  It seemed to Garin like only a moment passed before the king and queen stormed into the room, the princess wailing behind them.

  The king looked at the strap-on Garin held and hurled a chair across the room. “You bastard!”

  “I’m so sorry. I love your daughter. I really do.” Garin collapsed on the floor crying and prepared herself to die.

  “I’ll kill you—” bellowed the king.

  “No!” The queen stayed the king with an outstretched arm. “We will be the laughing stock of the kingdom if word of Garin’s treachery gets out. I have a better idea.”

  They locked Garin in the room.

  Garin picked up the scissors. I deserve to die. Not only did I deceive my true love, I committed treason. My life was doomed the moment I realized I was a man trapped in a woman’s body.

  Early the next morning, the king returned, his eyes hollowed from a sleepless night, and found Garin curled in a ball on the bed, the scissors laying next to the dismembered strap-on.

  “I have a task for you, son-in-law,” said the king. “The mare I gave you has a brother living in the forest. He’s a wild stallion no one can subdue. Don’t come back without him.”

  It was a fool’s errand. One Garin could never hope to return from.

  “Don’t worry, I know where to find him,” said Lulizar as Garin fitted the saddle over her the next morning. “Here’s my plan.”

  After finding a necessary ingredient deep in the forest, Lulizar took Garin to the stallion’s favorite grazing spot near a mountain stream.

  Garin followed Lulizar’s instructions exactly and scattered the narcotic weed she’d collected into the surrounding grass. It wasn’t long before the stallion arrived. After that, it was easy. Garin threw the lead rope over the wild stallion’s head and led the lethargic horse back to the palace.

  The king was astonished when Garin returned with the wild stallion.

  “You were lucky,” said the king. “But tomorrow’s task is more difficult. You will go to the home of the demons and collect the seven years of back taxes they owe me.”

  Princess Nazani burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Garin,” she moaned as the queen led her away.

  “Don’t worry,” said Lulizar the next morning as Garin saddled her up. “I have a plan. The demons’ mansion is next to a marble quarry. All we need is a mixture of saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur to create an explosion. That should give you enough time to run inside the house and find their cache of gold.”

  Once again, Garin followed Lulizar’s instructions. The thunderous blast shook the quarry. Rocks and boulders plunged into the quarry’s depths. Every demon flew from the house screaming in horror and into the black smoke, dust clouds, and falling debris that left them disoriented and dazed. Garin ran inside the unguarded mansion, found the gold, and grabbed enough to pay seven years’ worth of taxes. With interest.

  Nazani wept with relief when Garin returned. “Stop, Father, I beg of you. I love her.”

  The king was amazed by Garin’s fearlessness, but that didn’t change what Garin had done. Garin had to die. And he knew one task his son-in-law would never survive. “Long before I was born, a she-devil stole my grandfather’s gold rosary. Bring it back.”

  “Noooooo!” Nazani fell at her father’s feet and clutched his legs. “The she-devil will cut out Garin’s heart!”

  “Garin made a fool of you, of all of us,” said the king.

  “Don’t worry,” said Lulizar the following morning. “I know where the she-devil lives and—”

  “You have a plan,” said Garin laughing.

  But when they arrived at the she-devil’s black marble palace, Garin had doubts.

  “Just make sure to take a really good running leap from the window.” Lulizar’s tail swished away a pesky fly. “The window, there, overlooking the ravine.”

  “What if the she-devil catches me before I escape? What if I don’t leap far enough? What if I miss the ledge? What if—”

  Lulizar nudged Garin’s shoulder. “You can do this. Have faith.”

  While Lulizar brayed outside, Garin crept into the mansion, slipped past the distracted demon guards, and tiptoed upstairs.

  Outside, Lulizar continued creating a ruckus.

  “What’s got you spooked, you old mare?” shouted the she-devil from the window. “Go away, before I turn you into a worm.”

  In the room across the hall, Garin found the golden rosary in the enameled box on the sideboard. Just where Lulizar had said it would be.

  The she-devil sniffed the air, the foul scent of human sweat accosting her sensitive nose. Following the putrid odor she turned from the window and found Garin with the rosary. “What is this thievery?” She hurtled across the hall, her eyes ablaze with wrath.

  Garin ran, looping the rosary around her neck as she sprinted toward the window.

/>   “Stop!” Arms covered in sharp scales reached out and swiped at Garin, tearing her sleeve.

  Garin launched herself out over the window ledge and into the ravine below. The world blurred and spun, all senses and emotions eclipsed by the free fall.

  Garin slammed down onto something solid. Her hands sprung out and hugged Lulizar’s neck.

  “Told you not to worry,” said Lulizar, who had leapt through the air over the wide breach in the ledge.

  “I curse you, thief!” shouted the she-devil as Lulizar galloped toward the tunnel that led out of the she-devil’s territory. Seething with rage, she pronounced the vilest curse she could think of. “If you are a man, you are now a woman! If you are a woman, you are now a man!”

  Garin groaned in pain, her stomach twisting as her womb shriveled and a cock sprouted between her legs.

  “I’m a man!” cried Garin, his low voice a surprise. “A real man!” He shifted his new balls to a more comfortable position.

  Lulizar galloped out of the tunnel and into the forest. “See? I told you I had a plan. I know this she-devil well, and that’s her favorite curse.”

  Garin returned to the palace and the king saw the difference immediately—his smooth-faced and lean son-in-law had been replaced by a man with chin fuzz and muscled girth.

  Nazani wept for joy when Garin told them what happened. The king and queen marveled at their good fortune. The curse was a blessing that would allow them to welcome the courageous and good-hearted Garin with open arms.

  Nazani pulled her husband to her side. “I want to see your new cock,” Nazani whispered in Garin’s ear.

  Garin scooped her up and ran all the way to their chamber, where he stripped off his clothes and grabbed his nine-inch cock.

  “It’s beautiful.” Nazani kneeled before him and examined every inch, Garin groaning as she stroked.

  A bead of cum leaked from Garin’s cock and Nazani licked it off. She closed her mouth around the tip and sucked.

  “It’s not like my strap-on,” said Garin. “I won’t be able to fuck all night long.”

  “What’s to stop you from fucking me and then using the strap-on?” Nazani cupped his balls as she swirled her tongue around his rigid length.

  “Nothing at all,” said Garin, easing her head away. “But first I want to fuck you.”

  They tore their clothes off, and Nazani lifted and spread her legs on the bed.

  Garin grabbed her thighs and slid into her hot gloss, his pleasure so intense, so right, that his groan as he entered could be heard in the hall.

  “What does it feel like?” asked Nazani.

  “Paradise.” Nazani was tight and hot and slick, and Garin’s new cock swelled even larger, filling her up. “Like I’m finally home.”

  Garin thrust deep and withdrew slowly, enthralled by the marvel of sensations coursing though his body. Fast plunge. Slow withdraw. Again and again. He changed his rhythm. Slow entry and quick withdraw. He changed his rhythm again, each new thrust a discovery in sensation. “I’ll need a lot of practice,” said Garin.

  Nazani was too close to climaxing to do anything but moan and buck. Once again her raspy sounds sent Garin over the edge and he hammered into her without control. He howled his release, felt cum pulse out, heard Nazani’s throaty growl of pleasure. Garin gave her a few more thrusts and pulled out, his cock wet with cum.

  “Keep fucking me with your leather cock,” said Nazani.

  Garin obliged his horny princess.

  It didn’t take long for the newlyweds to discover all sorts of ways to include the repaired strap-on into their daily lovemaking.

  Garin and Nazani enjoyed a long happy marriage, ruled their own kingdom, and always consulted with Lulizar.

  This cross-dressing transsexual ancient folktale comes from Armenia. Passed from generation to generation, Lulizar’s name remains constant, while the others are merely identified as the king, queen, princess, old woman, and daughter. A search through any Armenian folk story collection will invariably turn up a version of the Lulizar story. Many of the story elements suggest it predates Christian times. Therefore, it’s safe to assume that over time the Christianized rosary, the final object retrieved, took the place of some pagan relic.

  THE VACATION FLING

  “Damn, girl, the night’s still early. You Americans need to learn how to party.” Cousin Maria grabs my wrist and tugs me into the third nightclub of the evening.

  I’m tired. A ten-hour flight from Los Angeles to Quito, Ecuador, plus the six-hour drive to Tena tends to mess with sleep patterns. I’m not complaining though, I’ll sleep in late tomorrow.

  “What do you think of our city?” Maria is amped up—it’s not every day an American cousin visits.

  “I love it so far.” What else can I say? I’ve only been here for about four hours.

  Tena is a mecca for the kayak, rafting, rain-forest hiking set (so not me!), its river a tributary to the Amazon, which for some reason is supposed to be really cool. Tena is also home to about fifty cousins on my mother’s side. This trip is a graduation present. Four— okay, six—years of exams, papers, and textbooks done, over, fini. Career pending. Not sure what I’m going to do with my liberal studies degree yet. Maybe teach? Besides allowing me to do some sightseeing and meet all

  my cousins, I’m hoping this trip takes the sting out of a nasty breakup. I was expecting an engagement ring after graduation, not a love-you-but-I’m-not-ready-for-marriage text. But it was more than that. I didn’t do it for him anymore. Our sex life was Blahsville. He stopped putting in any effort, and by that I mean he expected me to climb on top and do all the work. All. The. Time.

  I look up at the neon sign over the door of the night-club. CULEBRA NEGRA. Black Snake.

  “It’s muy especial,” says Maria.

  My other two cousins (whose English is not as good) nod energetically. My cousins are gorgeous, all smoldering dark eyes and curvaceous Latina bodies, their big breasts pushed high for maximum cleavage spillage. All three wear a different version of the same dress, painted-on tight, Barbie pink, and peekaboo-panty short. They’re amazing. We’ve been drinking and dancing all night, and not one has complained about her feet in fiveinch spike heels.

  Standing next to my petite femme-fatale-dressed cousins, my five-foot, ten-inch height, black cotton dress, and flat sandals make me feel like a giant. But, thanks to my Norwegian dad, at least I’m a blondehaired, blue-eyed giant.

  Culebra Negra went for an all-black vibe: walls, floors, ceilings, tables, and chairs. Everything’s painted black but the stage. Two enormous yellow snake eyes look out from the back wall, and a long red tongue slithers around the platform. I feel like Mowgli in The Jungle Book when he meets the giant snake Kaa.

  My cousin scores a table near the front from some hikers (sunburned Caucasians wearing trendy sweat-whisking gear) who look like they forgot to wear insect repellent.

  “Did we miss the band?” The stage is set but nobody’s there.

  “They come on at eleven.” Maria looks at her watch. “Any minute.”

  My cousins order a round of the house specialty, Snakebites—a shot of honey-flavored whiskey and a splash of lime juice.

  “What’s the name of the band?” I throw back the Snakebite. Yum.

  “Mono Suavo. Smooth Monkey,” says Cousin Rocio. “The singer is muy caliente.”

  The recorded dance music is replaced by a steady drumbeat, and the crowd starts clapping and thumping their feet. Mono Suavo walks out from behind the curtain. There’s five of them, and except for one guy, they’re all wearing black T-shirts with a Ray Ban-wearing monkey hanging from a tree branch emblazoned on the front. The back of the T-shirt has their name in a jungle font, the M and S like curling vines.

  The guy in the loose black shirt and jeans is gorgeous. Movie-star sexy. A Latin hunk of smoldering sexuality. Bedroom eyes, square jaw, pillow-thick lips, ponytail, and just enough facial scruff to be a model for designer cologne. He’s one of those guys
you see and immediately think, Bet he’s wild in bed. He lifts the guitar strap over his shoulder and flashes a killer grin at the audience.

  The women hoot and holler. He smiles again, and this time it’s shy, like he’s humbled by their cheers. He adjusts his straw fedora, strums the guitar a few times, then turns to the band to discuss the set list.

  I lean toward Maria. “What kind of music do they play?”

  “Some of their own stuff. Some cover.”

  When the lead singer sits on the stool, the drummer begins. The ambient noise level drops, everyone waiting for the song.

  His voice is amazing, a deep velvety baritone that seeps into your skin and soaks into your soul. It’s sexy as hell, a voice you want whispering in your ear while fucking. The song is romantic but sad, about a man searching for a woman strong enough to peel away his protective layers so he can love fully. Or something like that. Translating Spanish songs isn’t that easy for me.

  My eyes close, and I let the song wash over me. His voice is cream: rich and smooth and decadent. He’s like an overpriced frothy mocha, spreading heat through my body and awakening my senses.

  When I open my eyes, I find him staring at me, and it feels like he sings the rest of the song just for me. After that, our eyes meet often. Maybe it’s because I’m the only natural blonde in the room.

  I don’t know how many Snakebites I put down, but I’m pretty buzzed when the band finishes their set. The lead singer sets his guitar in a stand and makes a beeline for our table.

  He steals a chair from a nearby table and slides it in next to mine. “Hola, blondie.”

  My cousins burst into giggles.

  “Hi.” Call me articulate.

  He flashes me that killer smile, wide, bright, and

  confident. “You from the US?” His English is excellent, my-private-school-teacher-was-an-American perfect.

  “Yeah.”

  One glance at my cousins tells me they are horrified by my lack of flirting skills.

  “I’m Marco.” He extends his hand. “What’s your name?”