Legends of Lust

by Autumn Bardot

  He does. He thinks it’s a game. He touches my breasts. I giggle and dive into the water. He follows. By the seventh dunking the stink and dirt are gone, his face is clean, and his golden brown skin glistens.

  Enkidu is handsome, with intelligent brown eyes that taper at the corners and a strong hooked nose with wide nostrils. A face of strength, dignity, and intelligence. This favor for Gilgamesh may not be so bad after all.

  He follows like a lost puppy as I walk backward out of the waterhole, and yet when I lie on my robe he just stands over me. The wild man’s cock is impressive. Not as big as Gilgamesh’s but big enough to amaze women and make men jealous.

  I spread my thighs and pat the ground between them. Enkidu sits on his haunches and sniffs. Like an animal catching the scent of a female in heat, he advances with caution.

  Letting him rut like a dog is out of the question. So uncivilized! I direct his approach, guide him inside, and wrap my legs around him. He pushes inside with a low guttural moan. He feels good. I like big cocks. Prefer the way they fill me. I feel complete. Whole. Divine.

  My hands glide over Enkidu’s expansive sharp shoulders, roam over the ridges of his back, and cup his hard buttocks. He’s a novice. I’ll have to teach him everything. But that’s okay. Virgin men are a pleasure to instruct in the art of fucking. Most are eager to understand the secrets of a woman’s body. They realize having erotic skill gets them more women. Only brutes don’t care about a woman’s pleasure.

  I treat Enkidu like a virginal youth. I let his hands wander, encouraging him with sighs, since any man who’s lived among wild beasts must be attuned to the slightest sound and movement.

  Enkidu is a quick learner. My breasts enthrall him, and when I guide his head to them he latches on. Thank Inanna this diversion slows his wild thrusting. I rock my hips, control his rhythm, and Enkidu succumbs to my tempo. He grunts like an animal and when he does look at me his eyes are lust-glazed. He snorts his orgasm, pushes deep inside, and collapses on me. I wrap him in my arms and wait for him to fall asleep.

  “Shamhat,” the hunter calls quietly from behind the tree. “What should I do?”

  “Leave us be awhile. It will take more than one coupling.”

  “How many?”

  How do I know? I’m good, but it’s going to take more than one fabulous Shamhat-style fuck to convince a wild man to join civilization. “Wait for us at the shepherd’s camp.”

  “I’ll leave enough food and ale for a week.” The trapper crept away.

  Enkidu is out, snoring with sexual satisfaction.

  I make good use of this time to study his face. A shave, beard grooming, haircut, nourishing oils, and clothes are all he needs to join the civilized world. Haircut first. It’s too matted for a comb. I pull a bit of straw caught in the snarled mess and Enkidu’s eyes fly open.

  “Hello, Enkidu.” I touch his hairy cheek.

  He tries wiggling between my thighs but I stand and walk to the cedar tree where the trapper and I made camp. Enkidu, of course, trails close behind.

  I drink from the ale-filled skin. “Ale.” I hand it to him.

  He mimics my actions, smacking his lips after a few hearty chugs. Enkidu’s standing so close to me, his hard cock pokes my belly.

  “More fucking?” I ask.

  Enkidu’s head turns away, his gaze on the gazelles near the waterhole.

  “We need to work on your eye contact, Enkidu,” I say. “Good thing I know how.” I pour ale over his cock and his head snaps back around. I kneel down and give him a Shamhat Special.

  It works like a charm. (Even better than the charms the shamans sell at the market.) Enkidu cannot take his eyes off me as my mouth and hands work his cock.

  “You like?”

  Enkidu’s eyes shine with adoration. “Like.”

  A blow job inspires Enkidu’s first word. Why am I not surprised?

  Enkidu doesn’t take long, and cum fills my mouth after a few slurping sucks.

  “Like,” says Enkidu watching as I rummage through the sack stuffed with barley cakes, lentils, chickpeas, and cucumbers.

  After grabbing a handful of chickpeas and a barley cake, I return to the edge of the waterhole and sit down. I tear off a piece and eat, share a piece with Enkidu. He studies it, mushes the dough between his fingers and takes a tentative nibble.

  “It’s good.” I tear off another piece.

  “Good.” He clears his throat. “Good. Like.”

  Our first meal together. So far I’ve taught the wild man how to eat and drink, and say two words. Not too bad for one day. After we eat the chickpeas I rinse my mouth in the waterhole. Enkidu does the same.

  Kissing time.

  I put my lips to his cheek and he pulls away. Maybe he thinks I’m going to eat him. I try again. Same response. I take his hand in mine, rub it against my cheek, and kiss the top. Enkidu tilts his head. His cock tilts too. Out and up. This is a good start.

  Enkidu imitates my actions and I giggle.

  “Like,” he says.

  “Like,” I say and kiss his cheek.

  He kisses back.

  “Good.” This time I kiss his lips.

  Enkidu holds them still, unsure but curious. I push my tongue into his mouth and his eyes grow wide.

  I kiss him again, thrust in my tongue.

  This time Enkidu responds. So does his cock. It’s bobbing about like it’s looking for something.

  I must admit, teaching Enkidu how to kiss makes my sex slick with desire. He kisses for the sheer pleasure of it. No expectations. He takes his time exploring my mouth, sometimes substituting his finger for his tongue. The sun is going down when he pulls away to sniff. He smells my desire.

  I lie back and spread my legs, and Enkidu pushes in. After a few thrusts, I lift my legs over his shoulders.

  “Good,” he says, duplicating the first tempo I taught him.

  I reach around and cup his testicles. He yelps with surprise, then purrs with pleasure as I stroke.

  His orgasm is more intense this time—his loud grunts startling a bird in a nearby tree—and while cum rolls out of my sex, he sits back and gazes at me with amazement.

  He learns three more words—ale, water, and gazelle—before we go to sleep.

  He wakes me twice to fuck.

  He sleeps through the sunrise, no surprise there, but I get up, my mind preoccupied with thoughts. Civilized worries. Which words do I teach next? What happens if he runs away? What if I fail to civilize Enkidu? Will Gilgamesh be angry with me?

  I’m making a porridge of barley, garlic, and lentils when I see him stretching like a leopard. Enkidu points to his erect cock.

  “I’m sure you have one every morning.”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll ‘good’ later. Eat this and then let’s do something about your hair.”

  I know better than to bring out a knife—it looks too much like a pointy horn or lion’s canines—so I show him how to comb my hair.

  Enkidu buries his nose in my tresses. “Mmmm. Shamhat.”

  “Your turn.” I tug on the ends of his snarled mess.

  Enkidu shakes his head. He looks embarrassed. This is upsetting. Enkidu is pure, a son of nature, and yet in one day I make him feel inferior. I never imagined there were drawbacks to being civilized.

  While Enkidu watches the gazelles grazing on the far side of the waterhole, I get a knife out of the sack and pull a few blades of grass from the ground.

  “Enkidu.” Once I get his attention, I cut a few blades of grass. “I’ll cut your hair.”

  He turns away, a sad faraway look in his eyes. I’m losing him.

  I put down the knife, stand in front of him, and jump, flinging my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He laughs, surprised, and I plunge my sex onto his ever-erect cock.

  The faraway look vanishes. Gazelles forgotten.

  He loves this position. He strides around the cedar tree, walks to the waterhole and back. The second lap around the tree is
much slower. He stops and grunts, jiggling my ass to thrust deep.

  Later, the gazelles ignored, Enkidu lets me cut his hair. I cut his beard, too, but he’ll need a barber before we go to Uruk.

  “You’re very handsome. Like a god,” I say.

  Enkidu’s hands roam around his head, rub his square jawline, and he shrugs.

  “Come on.” I pull his arm.

  We race to the waterhole and splash around like children. Later, I comb his hair.

  Enkidu no longer looks like a wild man. One problem solved.

  The third day is much like the second. I teach him more words and we fuck three times.

  It’s the morning of the fourth day, and Enkidu stares at me with a troubled look.

  “What is it, Enkidu?”

  He shakes his head, frustrated to express what must be complex thoughts.

  Animals convey fear, aggression, and affection with their bodies. So do we, so I pantomime a few things— eating, swimming, Enkidu’s peeing (he bursts out

  laughing). “Act it out, Enkidu. I will give you the words.”

  Enkidu drops to the ground, pantomimes fucking, grunts several times, points to his cock and then points to my sex. Easy enough.

  “Your seed goes inside me.”

  Enkidu rolls on his back, spreads his legs and points at me again. He shakes his head and frowns.

  Praise Inanna, is the wild man concerned because I don’t ejaculate? Is he aware enough to realize I haven’t climaxed? Enkidu might not know language or customs but his heart is in the right place. That makes him more civilized than most men.

  Time for the next lesson. I straddle his face and spread my sex.

  Enkidu inhales my cunt. “Good.”

  His fingers explore the valley and ridges slowly as though memorizing it. When he touches my clit I purr my pleasure. Enkidu is a thorough and careful explorer, his fingers probing all the way to my anus. He grabs my ass, scoots me forward, and laps his tongue back and forth. Hail the wild man. He is attuned to the slightest change in scent, sound, and movement. A lifetime of relying on instincts and senses make him an attentive and exceptional lover. Every “oh” and “ah,” every flinch or tensed muscle, he responds to. My cunt goes from moist to dripping (from purring to moaning) in no time.

  He knows how to tease. Whirling and suckling and slurping and lapping, keeping me on the edge of paradise—bringing me forward, holding me back—until my entire bottom (from slit to anus) is a wet quivering valley of carnal tension.

  It is oral pleasure without boundaries, preconceptions, or misinformation. His honest hunger is so pure and voracious that my whole being is lost. I am nature and beast. I am gods and demons.

  My thighs squeeze his head. My body twists and jerks. My voice screams praises to the heavens. I spin and tumble, orgasm after orgasm lifting me up and over the cliffs of reason.

  I want cock!

  I shimmy down, wrap my hand around his cock. It’s sticky with cum. My pleasure made him orgasm, and yet my wild man is still hard.

  “Fucking good,” says Enkidu as I sink onto his length.

  It is fucking good. I am a temple prostitute no longer. I am a woman. A wild woman in need of wild man sex.

  If we fucked a lot before, we fuck more now. Six times a day. I don’t know who’s hornier. I show him every position I know. Enkidu even comes up with a few of his own. Being impaled backward on his cock while he stands is my favorite. We fuck in the waterhole, in the grass, and hanging from the cedar tree (good thing he’s very strong).

  Strange how such fucking awakens Enkidu’s intellect. His hunger for knowledge is as voracious as his sexual appetite. He’s like a giant python, unhinging its jaws to swallow a goat whole.

  I show him in which direction Uruk lies, draw symbols in the sand, teach him about the gods and demons. Once he learns enough words he asks questions.

  How many people make up a herd? It depends on the size of the city.

  Is there an alpha? His name is Gilgamesh. He’s the king and stronger than you. (Enkidu snorts at the improbability of this.)

  Do all men wear clothes tied at their waists? Yes, and sandals, armbands, bracelets, and rings, and their hair and beards are braided.

  Will you braid mine? Of course, Enkidu.

  What do people do all day? They have jobs, like baking, brewing ale, carpentry, and farming.

  What’s your job? I perform rituals in Inanna’s Temple.

  “There are festivals every day,” I say before he asks what a ritual is. “People dance and sing and eat and drink with their friends.”

  “Are we friends?”

  “Yes.” I hope he doesn’t ask me to explain friendship.

  “I want to be friends with the alpha, this Gilgamesh.”

  “I think you will be good friends. You are alike in many ways.”

  The morning of the seventh day, the earth trembles beneath us.

  Enkidu leaps to his feet. “My herd is leaving. I must go, Shamhat.” He takes off running.

  I draw my knees to my chest and watch Enkidu race through the grass. I failed. The wild man cannot be tamed.

  The gazelles change direction as Enkidu approaches. He chases after them. They veer away, the herd sprinting and leaping over rocks and shrubs. Enkidu can’t keep up with their flight over the hill. At the hilltop, Enkidu stops, his hands on his hips, and looks over his shoulder at me, then back at the retreating herd. He paces the hilltop for several moments.

  Both sadness and happiness fight for control in my heart as I watch him walk back to me. The child of nature is now a man of civilization.

  “My herd ran away from me. They don’t know me anymore.” Enkidu sits beside me. “I smell different.” “Why do you want to run wild with gazelles when you can race with man?”

  “Is that a job? Like baker or carpenter?”

  “No, but you will find your place soon enough.” I run my fingers through his wavy brown hair. “There’s a shepherd’s camp two days from here. It’s time you made more friends.”

  Enkidu nuzzles his head in my neck and inhales my scent. “Let’s fuck first.”

  This time Enkidu teaches me about fucking.

  I thought I knew it all, yet he shows me how to abandon oneself to absolute sensation. He fucks me from behind first, thrusting slowing, his fingers rubbing my clit. He withdraws, sucks on my clit, and finger-fucks me while I’m on my back, my hands pulling my ankles toward my head. My cunt is his feast, and his tongue flutters, his lips torment, and his fingers plunge until I babble like a savage. He enters me like this, plowing so fast and deep, I can’t tell one climax from the next. He pulls out and aims his cock at my open mouth. I catch his cum, swallowing it all.

  “Good?” he asks.

  “You’re a god, Enkidu.”

  Enkidu is different now. Like dry farmland saturated with nourishing rain. His mind is fertile, his personality taking root, his confidence ripening like an orchard of pomegranate trees. Enkidu will be Gilgamesh’s greatest harvest.

  The four-thousand-year-old Epic of Gilgamesh was transcribed from clay cuneiform tablets. Shamhat and Enkidu appear in the first tablet. The next eleven recount the adventures of Gilgamesh and his friend Enkidu as they battle fearsome creatures and discover the truth about man’s eternal struggle.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AUTUMN BARDOT writes erotica, historical fiction, paranormal romance, and even academic literary essays. She has a bachelor of arts in English literature. Her day job and family keep her busy so she spends every spare minute writing her next novel. She lives with her husband and rescue pooch in the Los Angeles area. Which mythical lover are you? Take the quiz at www.autumnbardot.com/lover-quiz/

  You can connect with Autumn at www.autumnbardot.com, and on Goodreads, Instagram, and Twitter at @ autumnbardot.

 

 

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