Jenny glided towards him, her tanned, toned body rippling and jiggling in all the right places. ‘You were chosen because of your stamina, Joe, your ability to spill sperm early and often.’
Joe was honoured, horny as hell. He tore off his t-shirt and flung it aside, unlaced and kicked off his steel-capped boots, unbuckled and unzipped his faded blue jeans and shoved them down and off. Jenny looked at the man’s very tighty-whities, and smiled.
She pushed her lush chest up against Joe’s hairy trunk, and he grabbed on to her like a born-again tree-hugger, crushing her hot body against his. His cock pressed urgently into her flat belly, a sticky wetness already staining his underwear. She gazed up into his gaping, brown eyes and kissed him. He hungrily devoured her soft, moist, Angelina Jolie-like lips, and she gripped the sides of his Jockeys and yanked down.
After inflaming each other with their mouths and hands and sundry other body parts, Jenny fought her way out of Joe’s hairy, blond arms and fell back onto a padded platform that had arisen as quickly and surely as the man’s erection. ‘Fuck me, Joe!’ she hissed, spreading her slender legs and pulling her pink, Jenna Jameson, petals apart, urging him to dock his rocket.
Joe was on her like gravity on a Jovian. He pressed his bony, lanky body against her soft and cushiony one, his lips against her lips again, his sweaty hands rummaging around for her impossibly upright breasts and finding them. She slid a Gene Simmons tongue into his mouth and moaned like she meant it, Joe not-so-dry-humping her stomach.
‘Fuck me, Joe!’ she repeated.
He fumbled between his legs and grabbed hold of his cock and zipped its mushroomed hood right over her slit and into her Britney Spears bellybutton. It’d been awhile since he’d done this sort of bush work. She took his cock in her hand and pressed its boiled-up head into her juicy cunt, grabbed onto his pale buttocks and slammed him home.
‘Yeah,’ Joe mumbled, tonguing a Scarlett Johansson ear and pumping his hips in a rhythm as old as all creation.
Jenny gripped Joe’s shoulders and urged him on with some Ginger Lynn dirty-talk. His thick cock sawed back and forth inside her with an oiled ease, faster and faster, until he was pounding her pussy with an animal intensity. Her Elvira-like fingernails bit into him, and he tilted his head back and howled at the moon, white-hot sperm launching from his balls and into her silky pink space.
‘More! More!’ she urged, as Joe shot his payload.
He collapsed on top of her, gasping for air, bathed in the sweat of his efforts (his first bath in quite some time).
‘Fuck me up the ass, Joe,’ she whispered in his ear, before pushing his deadweight away and doing a log-roll on the platform. She jumped up onto all-fours and wiggled her bold, bronze bum at him.
He responded like a bear to honey, possessing that rare ability of almost instant sexual recovery and semen rejuvenation. He reared up on his knees and trundled in behind her, steering his still-hard cock into her puckered, Nina Hartley asshole. His pole slid inside her like greased doweling, plunging right to the hairline. Then he gripped her Shakira hips and started banging away.
And only a minute or so after penetrating that taut, gripping bottom, watching those split-peach cheeks shudder resplendently as he smacked them repeatedly with his body, Joe went supernova a second time, shooting for the stars all over again. He tilted his head back and bellowed loud enough to register at the Arecibo Observatory, spraying sizzling spunk deep into Jenny’s chute, into her core.
He toppled over on top of his out-of-this-world lover, sliding right off her sweat-dappled skin and landing with a thunk on the platform.
‘More! Fuck me more!’ she implored. She encircled his shaft with her Palmolive fingers and sealed her lips around his cap and sucked like a black hole.
They had hot star sex in every position imaginable, every Joe-brain-inspired orifice offered and explored. He leaked semen like his pick-up leaked oil. Until at last, when he was as spent as a white dwarf, Kazar reappeared. It squeaked at the woman to wake up the depleted, dozing woodsman, and she squirted milk into his face a la slut number four in Breastpumpers III, rousing Joe back to consciousness.
‘Human, thank you for all your help,’ Kazar shrilled.
Joe rolled off the platform and hit the floor pleading. ‘No problem. I can do more,’ he gasped. He staggered to his feet and stared at Jenny, picturing her with Eva Longoria’s body for a change of pace.
‘Unfortunately, you cannot stay long - and hard,’ Kazar added with a smirk, ‘in this atmosphere.’ It gestured about the ship with a multitude of limbs. ‘An atmosphere that allows the both of us to function. No man can. That’s why we needed a man of your. special abilities, Joe. For to impregnate the one we call Jenny, much of your Earthly seed was required.’
‘Impregnate!?’ Joe yelped, coming back to his senses, his atrophied sense of responsibility.
Kazar grinned. ‘Yes. I said this was the ‘mother’ ship, Joe. And thanks to you, Jenny can now give birth to another universe, just as she did fifteen billion of your years ago.’
Joe gave his head a shake, his penis now as shrivelled as little Kazar.
‘You mean.. .I’m...’
‘Yes, you’re free to go.’
Fernie Brae by Nyki Blatchley
She was sitting in the middle of a stone circle, when I first saw her. She sat cross-legged on the centre stone, watching me calmly. She was naked; but that was the least surprising thing about her. Though small and slim, she had a luscious figure, flared hips and conical breasts with sprawling aureoles. And her delicate complexion was of pale purple.
Her face was weirdly beautiful, long and thin with a snub-nose and full crimson lips, and her slanted eyes were golden. Pointed ears poked through waist-length hair that was a riot of red and blues, yellows and greens, and colours I couldn’t quite name. And from her shoulders sprouted huge filigree wings.
I’d fallen asleep in the shadow of the standing stones, tired from a morning walking through the hills. I’d seen the tell-tale symbol on the map and planned my route to take it in. There are standing stones the length and breadth of Britain and beyond, many of them arranged in circles. They’re magic places every one, with their mystical alignment to the heavens and their connection to the bones of the earth.
It would be worth the couple of extra miles, I’d thought, but had seriously begun to doubt it, as I’d slogged up the long path. No route is ever straight in the hills, but this one had twisted and wound more than most. Now, on the last stretch, the little track that might have been made by walkers, or might have been made by sheep, had wrapped itself round and round the hillside, spiralling in like a maze.
Even though in no real state to appreciate the sight, the circle had impressed me. A dozen worn pillars, erect and proud in an irregular ring, leaning like rotten teeth with a warm breeze playing through the gaps. Lichen grew on them, and one leant so far it seemed a miracle it hadn’t fallen.
Inside the ring, the grass looked lusher than on the hilltop around. In the centre, a large flat stone was barely discernible above the waving green blades all around. Once I was within, all sound had seemed shut out, even the wind.
Slipping off my pack, I’d fished out my water-bottle and taken a long slug; then I’d lain down on my back in the grass, vaguely watching the sun flirting with wispy clouds. I’d only intended to close my eyes for a few minutes, but opened them to find the sun halfway down the sky and to the knowledge that I wasn’t alone. I sat up abruptly.
‘Who.’ I managed before my voice ran out. The single word sounded loud in my ears, telling me that I wasn’t dreaming.
She smiled. At least, it seemed like a smile, though her features were so strange that it was hard to be sure. ‘Usually,’ she said, ‘I’m called Your Majesty.’ She had a singing, lilting voice that sounded in harmony, partly from her mouth and partly from far away.
‘Your.um. ’ It was reasonable enough to be tongue-tied in such a situation, but I felt acutely embarrassed to be mu
mbling in front of this exotic beauty. ‘What’s going on?’ I managed at last.
‘You’ve slept inside my Ring,’ she said, the weird smile still playing with her lips and eyes. ‘That makes you mine.’
‘Your Ring?’ Glancing around, I realized that the standing stones no longer looked the same. To part of my sight, they were still stones, worn and lichen-covered; but they were also men, two or three times my own height and covered in shaggy hair. Their eyes were all fixed on the woman who spoke to me, and each had an erection as long as my forearm.
‘My giant-guards,’ she said. ‘They watch over my sacred place, until I fuck each one of them. Then they’ll be released.’
It was all so unreal that the thing which struck me most was that there was no crudity about the way her lilting voice said fuck. Instead, it seemed to come from a wonderful place, where music and sex were one.
‘Are you a goddess?’ I found myself asking. The question seemed absurd, but less absurd than what I was seeing with my own eyes.
But she laughed aloud, like bells in the wind. ‘Not a goddess,’ she said. ‘Not one of those stuck-up, sanctimonious bitches.’ Cocking her head on one side, she examined me. ‘Don’t you know me?’ she challenged. ‘I don’t believe mortals have entirely forgotten me. I’m the Faery Queen.’
I didn’t doubt her, in spite of the voice inside trying to tell me how stupid this was. I was speaking to a naked purple woman with wings, in the middle of standing stones that were also giants. In what way was it reasonable to doubt who she was?
I was still sitting half up, leaning on my elbows. Before I could move further, I felt a slithering at my ankles. I glanced down, almost expecting to see snakes crawling all over me, but the grass was visibly growing around my feet, twining quickly and expertly to tie me down. In panic, I tried to pull my feet back; but, for all the apparent fragility of the grass, I was trapped by solid bonds.
Trying to sit up, I realized that there was more slithering where my arms rested, and they too were held tightly. Quickly and expertly, the grass wound up and around me, pulling me back to lie supine, winding itself around chest and waist and thighs. Before I’d managed to find words to protest, I was bound firmly to the ground.
‘What’s happening?’ I finally managed.
Her strange face took on a surprised expression. ‘What do you think?’ she asked sweetly. ‘There’s only one use for mortals.’
Desperately racking my brains, I tried to remember what I knew of faery lore. I was vaguely familiar with the usual fairy-stories, of course, and I had half-memories of old ballads that seemed to deal with the subject a little more seriously. But, of course, I’d never regarded any of this as more than fanciful stories from long ago. How much of it was true? I wondered. Could I use the old tales as a guide?
‘Are you going to kill me?’ I asked her, struggling to keep a fa9ade of calm that belied my actual feelings.
Her expression grew more unmistakably puzzled, and her head moved from side to side, almost like an animal searching for a scent. ‘What’s kill?’ she asked. ‘I think I may have heard of it once. But it’s been so long.’
A little reassured, even though the weirdness was somehow increased, I said, ‘It’s to...make someone be dead.’
There was a long pause, this time. ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured at last, the distant part of her voice sounding like a faint breeze, ‘I remember death. I didn’t like it, so I forgot about it.’ The smile returned. ‘Oh no,’ she added, ‘it’s not death I want from you.’
I saw her make a slight movement with her hands, and realized instantly that my clothes had vanished. I still lay helpless in the bonds of the grass, but now I was naked.
‘Ah,’ she sighed, examining my body, ‘mortal men are best. Women can be fun, but they haven’t one of these.’ And, kneeling forwards, she reached out one small, purple hand and brushed my flaccid penis.
Her touch was like nothing I’d ever felt before. The skin of her hand seemed to be both there and not there. It felt like cool velvet, with only the slightest of chafing to mark its passing; but it seemed to pass right through the organ as well, feeling it from the inside. It was a more intimate touch than any I’d ever felt, and I could feel the blood pulsing faster through my veins. She was very close to me, her purple skin sending a tingle through the air between us. I could see a sheen all over her, like and unlike sweat. It glittered golden in the sunlight, and smelled like rhododendrons after rain.
My mind was divided, like her voice and the stones. Part of it was watching and questioning, feeling scared. In spite of her assurance that she didn’t want to kill me, I was being held captive for her pleasure, and was being whirled into sex. There was a panicky feeling, which I didn’t entirely understand. I enjoyed sex; and the Faery Queen, strange as she might be, was certainly desirable. But I was used to feeling at least partly in control; and now the helplessness of my position felt like vertigo, sending me spinning and tumbling into chaos.
At the same time, though, my consciousness was crackling between her body and mine, and that cloyingly sweet smell seemed to have got into my blood. I could feel myself careering through my veins, waking the sleeping cells of a form that was more like light than flesh.
‘This will be fun,’ said the Faery Queen softly, and she began to leave tickling kisses on my body, something like a warm breeze on naked skin and something like the suction of two sweaty bodies pressed together. Her cool, barely-tangible lips explored every part of me, caressing with warm, musky breath that soaked into the pores of my skin. Her mouth lingered deliciously on my inner thighs and my nipples and the side of my neck and my own mouth.
A jag of light flashed across my eyes. The watching mind told me that, in a sky with few clouds, it couldn’t be lightning; but then the rolling roar of thunder rose and fell, coming from every part of the sky at once. The lightning-fork had burnt itself into my sight, and I began to see two things at once, just as the stones were stones and giants, just as my captor’s voice came from her lips and from far away. I could see the stone-circle, the Faery Queen looming over me with her lips to mine and her hand caressing my now responding penis; and I could see a crossroads, with a narrow, unmade track climbing a steep hill to one side, a broad main road rolling gently downhill to the other, and a seductively winding country lane straight ahead, hung over with apple-blossom and lined by dog-roses, forget-me-nots and hawthorn.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked, when her mouth moved a little away from mine.
The Faery Queen’s face took on that expression which might have been a smile. ‘I’m going to take you,’ she said softly, ‘somewhere wonderful.’ Sliding sinuously down my body, leaving trails of electricity buzzing beneath my skin, she took my half-erect member between thumb and forefinger and gently kissed its tip.
A sensation shot through my penis and deep into my belly, something like lightning and something like solid ice. I could feel her pulling the foreskin back over the head, a sweet little tongue-tip flickering at the slit. But I couldn’t concentrate, because I was standing at the crossroads too. The Faery Queen stood beside me, and I saw now that she was small, her head barely reaching my shoulder. But she was imperious, and the voice that came from far-off was telling me, ‘This way, forget the other roads. This is the way we must go.’
I heard her give a slight sigh before, pulling back her face a moment, she opened her crimson mouth wide and engulfed my erection in a single plunge. Leaving it there a moment, she drew her lips back, sliding them along topside and sensitive underside, until they’d reached the exposed knob, before swooping all the way back.
A shuddering passed all the way through my body, and I strained against my bonds, powerless to do anything else. It was like being tickled; but from within, deep inside my veins and my organs, deeper even than that. As though that mouth, damp and insistent, were kissing the inside of my soul. At the fullest plunge, her tongue tickled my balls and her teeth delicately combed through the tangled curls of m
y pubic hair. Then she would pull slowly back, her tongue-tip playing all the way up my undershaft, her lips following with a light, silky rasp, until she was teasing the head again.
After a few strokes, without losing rhythm, she moved around to straddle my face. Remembering how short she was, I doubted that she’d be able to continue her ministrations from that position; but her wet, open vagina planted its sweet kiss on my lips while her own mouth was at fullest plunge.
I’d always enjoyed the taste and smell of a woman’s genitals, the rich, strong taste of the juices. But the Faery Queen was like no other woman. The aroma was like that from her pores, the lushness of the bloom that seduces the bee, but so wanton that my head spun with the scent. And she tasted sweet, like honey not sugar, with the delicate perfume of wildflowers. My tongue strained, without conscious effort, to drink in all it could of that heady liquor.
Deprived of sight and intoxicated by smell and taste, I found I was seeing the crossroads more clearly. ‘Come with me, ’ she told me, and I’d no will to resist. Glancing to left and right, I felt no temptation to take the other roads. I briefly turned my head and saw that the road behind led, a very short distance away, to the stone circle where I lay naked, the Faery Queen astraddle my face and sucking on me.
‘We ’ll catch up with ourselves, ’ she said, taking my hand in hers.
From somewhere in the air around me, a voice that might have been mine was singing a verse of an ancient ballad I remembered hearing once:
And see ye not yon bonny road
That winds around the fernie brae?
That is the Road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
I looked at the exquisite creature beside me, so delicate and so commanding, and my heart missed a beat at the mere thought of not being with her. There was a hollow need in my guts, and a pounding in my chest, and a need in my mind; and I set off with her along the winding country lane.
Ultimate Submission Page 5
