An Elven Affair
The elven princess Alilei wore a transparent many-layered gown of white silk which partly revealed the form of a wonderful body: bare feet, beautiful legs leading up to a perfectly plump ass, a slender waist, and absolutely marvelous heavy breasts. Her face was very likable, pretty and kind, and in her eyes sparkled compassion and intelligence, yet the shape of her ample lips, their red distinct against the marble of her skin, hinted at a sensual part of her nature.
The fighting had lasted most of the night and her husband, prince Valerian, lay on the bed completely exhausted and wounded in his thigh and temple, with dried clots of blood in his black hair. An orcish axe had not pierced through his helmet but had gotten pretty close. He was a handsomely shaped man, with strong features and exceptionally sharp eyes, yet there was something sensitive about him, which not many but the princess saw.
‘’It doesn't look good,’’ he said hoarsely. ‘’We might be able to hold them off for a while more but then…’’
‘’Don’t worry about that now,’’ the princess soothed him. ‘’You have to rest and recover.’’ She began to promptly unwrap herself from her gown. More and more skin like fresh snow came to view: her collarbones, shoulders, then her breasts. They were firm, large and milky-white, with little light pink nipples like rosebuds. The garment continued to lower, exposing the flat of her belly, her navel and her hipbones. She wriggled her behind to free herself of the cloth, bending over slightly to get her feet out of it, and as she stood up again Valerian’s eyes were irresistibly drawn between the princess’s legs, where there was a small gap between her thighs, a smooth fleshy mound, and an exquisite little slit, like a pair of petite lips softer than the softest silk.
He was distracted for a moment, but then continued, ‘’They promised they would come… never trust humans, they only think about themselves, just like mother always used to say.’’
‘’Let the day’s worries be enough for that day,’’ said the princess, walking over to him. She reached out and put a healing hand on his bare chest and caressed him. Her touch was warm and sent nourishing energies through his body. ‘’If we are to have hope you’ve got to get your strength back, so don’t waste it on thinking about what’s to come. I believe in you,’’ she said from her heart. ‘’Now, let’s heal those wounds.’’
She bent down to kiss his brow, her soft breasts squishing against his chest and the touch of her lips wiping away his pain. She kissed his forehead thrice more, and the bruise was gone. She moved, then, down to his thigh, and put her hands on it and blew hot air on the wound — it began to close up. She kept breathing on it for several minutes more, whispering, ‘’Thank the Goddess, thank the Goddess, thank the Goddess,’’ and slowly the wound vanished, and his leg was healed.
He sighed in relief as the pain left his body, closing his eyes. The beautiful princess didn’t stop there, however — she needed her prince not only healed but invigorated to go on fighting. She untied his loincloth and opened it, underneath which his manhood was soft and relaxed. Cupping his genitalia into her small hands she kissed him on his scrotum, and again, and then on his penis. It began to harden, but before it could the princess parted her lips and took him in, nurturing him to full length within her mouth. It took only half a minute.
The princess, then, began to gently suck on him; with her hand she lightly stroked him, with the other she caressed his muscular abdomen. The prince sighed deeply, feeling himself surrounded by an incredibly pleasant softness and warmth. After but a moment, though, she paused, climbing on the bed to kneel between his legs, then taking him back into her mouth and resuming to suck.
Her hand moved in a slow rhythm with her mouth, creating a tunnel of fingers and lips; her wavy platinum hair cascaded down to tickle his skin; within the heat of her mouth her tongue massaged his glans like a supple sponge. As she continued to fellate his penis the prince felt himself become tensed all over, as if empowered by a strong inner energy — it charged in his loins, bursting to become free and surge into the princess’s mouth, but with great effort he held it back.
Suddenly a horn sounded somewhere way below, outside the city, interrupting them from their trance. The sound was without melody; its cry was shrill and cold and it proclaimed ruin.
‘’Again?!’’ Valerian cried, jumping up and running to the window to look outside. A hundred meters below lay the city, with its many buildings of wood and stone, and walkways, and gardens; tall green trees grew here and there and a few towers sprouted up alongside them; the city climbed up the mountainside to end with the royal keep, where the prince overlooked everything from the highest tower.
The ancient, not large city was built on an island of land that was surrounded by high cliffs on one side and a deep gorge with a river running at its bottom on the other side. There were no walls or gatehouses — the surrounding canyon and mountains were deemed defense enough. A bridge of stone wide enough for only two to walk abreast connected the city over the gorge to the rest of the world.
Beyond the bridge opened a valley and beyond the valley lay a forest. In the valley the orcs had made their camp: an ugly collection of brown and black and red leather tents, like a colony of diseased mushrooms. In the camp and around it the orcs were forming up, and Valerian could estimate their numbers: between seven and nine hundred.
‘’The Goddess help us,’’ he said grimly, and rushed out of the tower room and down the long, winding staircase. The princess was left to sit on the bed, kneeling and hands folded in her lap. She began to pray quietly.
There wasn’t a soul in the royal keep and Valerian didn’t meet anyone until down at the city, where there was a great rush going on. Men clad in their steel scale armors were grouping up, wives were wishing them luck and blessings and children, not fully comprehending the situation, were watching it all from doorways and from behind pillars. On his way to the armory Valerien nearly crashed into two elven women carrying long yew bows as tall as he was. The women said nothing, averted their gaze and quickly scurried off.
Not everyone considered Valerian a good leader of his people. There were those who liked him but many more thought him completely unsuitable to the position. Some interpreted his reservedness as egotism. Valerien was aware of this and was plagued by guilt by it, but was at odds at what to do — he found it difficult to compromise between his personal callings and the duties expected of him. Also, it hadn’t been but two years since his mother, the Queen, had left with the majority of their people to the south, leaving Valerien a pair of pretty big, seemingly unfitting boots to fill.
He donned at the armory his feathered helmet and armor of silvered scale, and picked up a long, bladed spear, then started towards the bridge. On the courtyard before the bridge the elves were gathered, numbering a mere seventy but still being an impressive sight in their shining scales, glimmering swords and spears and tall shields. In the two stone towers overlooking the courtyard and on the roofs of surrounding buildings stood two or three dozen women, younglings and elderly folk armed with bows, ready to shower the orcs with arrows once they’d advance.
‘’I told you we should’ve demolished the bridge — too late now!’’ shouted the commander of the troops at the prince as soon as he saw him. He was a solidly built elf of highly trustworthy nature, and was well respected by most everyone. Eleos was his name, and he was the person in charge of most practical affairs in the city, the prince, lacking eye and interest in such matters, having delegated these responsibilities to him.
The sun shone and the morning was warm, but it felt like mockery in the fatalistic atmosphere of the courtyard. Valerian was met with a few accusatory glances to which he responded with a helpless look. In truth, he was not responsible for the state of affairs — orcs hadn’t been sighted in the land in a hundred years and no one had expected their sudden arrival the day before.
‘’The men aren’t coming,’’ Eleos said, ‘’We’re on our own.’’
The prince and Eleos passed through the elven warriors to look over the canyon to the valley where the hordes of orcs were congregating. More groups had arrived during the brief ceasefire — one battalion looked particularly troublesome: with their heavy iron armor and huge metal-plated tower shields they would be sure to pose a problem for the elven archers, who had during the previous assault caused the orcs massive casualties and had been a key factor in beating them back. The elves had, however, lost twenty fighters, while the orcs had been reinforced, and another victory looked highly unlikely.
The elves were a proud, noble race whose spirit was not easily broken, but yet, on the faces of many Valerian saw the marks of fear, and felt it creep into his own heart. There were also those amongst them, elder ones, who remembered the glory of their people and stood tall, willing to give their lives in the defense of their city without a moment’s hesitation. They, Eleos amongst them, were the bastions of courage the younger ones looked to for hope. But there was no hope, just a silent, grim understanding of the inevitable.
Nevertheless the elves formed up to defend the courtyard, closing the mouth of the bridge with their best warriors and forming a nigh-impenetrable line of defense. The orcs began to approach, with the fifty-strong company of the heavily armored ones in front and the yapping and cackling mass of the rest behind. Somewhere out of sight drums were beat.
‘’Wait until they get on the bridge!’’ Eleos yelled to the archers above. ‘’Get sure shots, we can’t afford to waste arrows!’’
The orcs began a war chant and the noise grew thunderous, booming over the city and instilling terror even in the bravest of hearts. Then, they charged on the bridge.
‘’Fire!’’ Eleos yelled.
‘’Thwack, thwack,’’ went dozens of bowstrings, but the arrows bounced off the orcs’ raised shields.
It took them only a moment to cross the twenty-meter long bridge, and where before they had then paused, wary of the elves spears and blades, they now had a different tactic and rushed forward with no intention of stopping, crashing straight into the formation of the elves, breaching the first and second line with the mere weight of their charge.
‘’Stand your ground!’’ yelled Eleos from the third line, but the formation was already breaking. A chaotic melee ensued. Both parties were heavily armored and there was at first few casualties on either side. The orcs weren’t able to capitalize on them outnumbering the elves due to the lack of space, which was exacerbated as they began to fall. The archers above were now able to get good shots on the orcs’ heads. Still they kept pushing, ignoring their own lives and throwing their weight against the elves’ warriors to force them back. Though they fell in great numbers they thus conquered space, and more and more orcs poured across the bridge.
Valerian was a skilled fighter, agile and fast, and despite the lack of space he wielded his spear to great effect. The orcs were heavily armored and strong but clumsy, and he was able to predict their movements and place lightning quick strikes where they were vulnerable. With Eleos next to him and several other valiant elves they formed a strong point in the defense, cutting down dozens of orcs. But more kept coming, and they couldn’t recover the mouth of the bridge. Many elves fell. A woman crashed down nearly on top of them, her throat pierced by the arrow of an orcish shortbow.
Valerian’s blood boiled; the fear was forgotten. Though he did not know how to lead his people he loved them, and he loved his princess and he loved the city, and he did know how to fight. Practically all he did with his time was train his body and with his spear, though for him it was more like an art form rather than being about actual combat. But now, in actual combat, it seemed like he forgot himself and was focused entirely on the present, on an awareness of the weapons of others and their reach, and on the movements of their wielders, and it felt like everyone else slowed down while he moved at full speed.
But the orcs kept coming on like a black tidal wave, clambering over the corpses of their fallen kin and hurling themselves into the elves’ slowly dwindling ranks with reckless bloodthirst. The elves were forced to give them more ground and so the orcs’ superior numbers granted more advantage. The courtyard piled up with the dead and dying, with the steel-and-silver clad ones more and more numerous amongst the brown, black and grey of the orcs. What little hope the elves had had was fading.
Women screamed in one of the towers. The orcs had advanced beyond the foot of the stairs encircling it and were now climbing up it. The men could do nothing about it but watch as the orcs conquered the pinnacle, butchering two elder men and three women, while a younger elven girl they disarmed and began to violently strip, and then they forced her down out of sight. Her screams could be heard over the battle as the orcs, blinded by lust and rage, had their way with her even as the fight still went on.
‘’The horror!’’ cried a man next to Valerian.
Was that to be the fate of the princess? A grotesque vision of her being molested by the savage orcs flashed through the prince’s head. No — he would not have it, any fate was better than that. But what was to be done? He parried the cutlass of a drooling grey-skinned orc with the blade of his spear, then brought it down hard on the orc’s thick skull, slashing half of its head apart. What was to be done? They couldn’t hold the assault back much longer.
Suddenly a horn sounded down in the valley. It was no orcish horn; the long call it made was clear and hopeful and it rang over the city and echoed off the mountainside. Several orcs stopped in their tracks, looking up and sniffing the air in confusion.
‘’It’s Tirius!’’ yelled a grey-haired elven lady from the second tower above them. ‘’The men — I see their banners!’’
The orcs stopped their charge, though the elves still had their hands full with those already engaged. Hundreds still remained on the other side of the bridge and dozens in the courtyard. They clustered together by the bridge and argued loudly about something. Then the orcish horn was sounded and commands were yelled on the other side of the bridge.
‘’This is our moment to take back the bridge!’’ Eleos shouted. ‘’Elves! With me! For the Goddess!’’
It felt like a spark of hope had lit their hearts afire, and the two dozen surviving elven warriors rushed forward, cutting down the scattered orcs. But the group by the bridge stood their ground, having no way to fall back anyway, and a fat orcish corporal threw them against the elves and the two parties slammed together. An unarmored orc ran straight into Valerian’s spear, but before he could wrench it off another was upon him; he raised his arm and deflected the orc’s blade with his armored bracer, but he still couldn’t get his spear free and he had to drop it. The orc slashed again — Valerian barely dodged and punched the orc in the face, breaking his own finger and the orc’s nose. Enraged, black blood gushing from its snout it jumped on the prince and they tumbled on the ground to wrestle. The orc was heavy and incredibly strong and smelled of rotten meat. Valerian fought to keep his arms free but the orc pinned him down, growling and drooling, trying to bite at his throat. He headbutted it in its face with his helmet, and again, and again, his vision going black from the impacts and blood spattering on his face, and again he rammed at the orc, until finally its strength faded and it collapsed on top of him, forcing his breath out with its weight.
‘’Where’s the prince?’’ he heard someone say. The sounds of battle had died down — the orcs had been driven from the city.
‘’He’s here,’’ another voice said right next to him. The prince felt the weight of the unconscious orc lifted from him.
‘’Get up you bastard!’’ Eleos said, grabbing the prince by the arm to lift him up. ‘’I know you aren’t nearly dead yet!’’
Valerian got on his feet and looked around, a bit bewildered. There were about twenty of them still standing, many with wounds of various severity. Eleos had a bloody slash on his cheek that probably looked worse than it actually was.
‘’You fought well,’’ he said, grabbing the prince by the shoulder in a surprisingly warm gesture. ‘’But it’s not over just yet. There’s little we can do, though — we can’t get to the men. Pray to the Goddess they will be victorious.’’
They went into the tower the orcs had managed to capture before, Valerian, Eleos and a few more. In a room inside the tower two men and a woman were comforting the elven girl. She was sobbing hysterically. Two half-naked orcs lay dead by the walls.
They climbed to the pinnacle and looked over the canyon into the valley. From a forest had emerged a war party of horsed men flying red and green banners, their formation of some two hundred riders spread into a crescent with the woods behind them. The orcs had formed up outside their camp into several long lines. Valerian estimated there to still be around four hundred of them. The orcs, however, had no spears, and were vulnerable to a cavalry charge.
The men blew their horn again and sent their horses into a gallop. They raced across the plains with thunderous speed, their crescent closing in around the orcs. The orcs huddled together, frightened, and many broke from the ranks and ran back towards their camp. The riders yelled fearsomely as their charge hit the orcs’ faltering line, and though many horsemen tumbled down and fell the large of their formation rolled forward and over the orcs, crushing them beneath their hooves and hacking and slashing them down, and they fell like grass to a great wind and those that still survived broke and scattered.
In the ensuing bloodbath the orcs were completely exterminated. A contingent of more stubborn ones, possibly the bodyguard of their chieftain, resisted for a while, attempting an organized retreat towards the hills, but the men encircled them and defeated them in a final, costly battle. The fight was over. The orcs had been defeated.
The mood amongst the survivors was not jubilant, however — many and more had lost their lives; many wives would not see their men again. And if the orcs would make a habit of enroaching the land again their home was not safe anymore — could they rely on trusting the help of the humans? Something would have to change. Of course, next time they could break the bridge and isolate themselves, but was isolation a good, lasting solution for their people? Over the past hundred years the elves had become more and more reclusive, and while this had preserved a certain purity in their blood and culture they had also, in truth, weakened and grown proud, even arrogant. Where once two thousand elves had called the city home that number was now a meagre three hundred. More and more had left to the far south where their wood elf relatives still prospered safe from orc incursions and human influence.
Many elves held a pompous attitude towards humans whose presence in the land had grown rapidly in the past decades. There was mutual trade but no friendship. Yet, they had now come to the elves’ aid. It was a strange mixture of emotions Valerian and the elves felt now — sadness, guilt, shame, and gratitude.
The dead orcs were gathered up into a great pile in the middle of their camp and they and their tents and equipments were all burnt to ash, while a separate pyre was constructed near the forest for the fallen elves and men. The sun had already began to set as the elven people and the humans gathered there to honor the dead. Prince Valerian and princess Alilei held hand in silence. A resolve was building up inside him though what for he knew not yet.
Then there was prepared a great feast in the halls of the royal keep, and the men and elves sat together at table for the first time in memory. Rich elven wine flowed and an assortment of dishes was served, with a special type of an omelet with herbs finding particular popularity. The men were, in fact, rather merry and friendly, more so than the elves who struggled to release their reservations.
Valerian sat at the head of the table with the princess by his side. He wore a brown silken shirt and dark green trousers and was barefoot, as was the habit of elves, though for battle they wore light scaled boots. The princess looked extraordinarily stunning that night — her silvery hair was braided and her face glowed; her wavy satin dress was immaculately white and left her arms and shoulders bare as well as a good amount of the cleavage between her breasts.
The prince’s resolve had built up, and after enjoying a goblet of wine and having not yet eaten he suddenly surprised everyone, including himself, and stood up. Dozens of eyes came upon him; dozens of faces waited expectantly as to what he would say. He did not know himself, and he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Hesitant, he glanced to his side at the princess. Her eyes were full of love and trust.
Steeling himself and involuntarily flexing his buttocks Valerian began, ‘’My people — my friends!’’ He looked at their faces and straightened his chest. ‘’We are gathered here on this night to not only celebrate a victory and mourn the fallen, but to discover something we have thus far failed to see.’’ He turned very serious and knit his black brows, then went on, the words pouring from his mouth as if by their own will, ‘’We are not that different! Elves! Look at the men by your side — what separates us from them? Naught but the shape of our ears and our stubbornness! What do we gain keeping to ourselves? The pride we hold onto nearly cost us the lives of our people — foolish pride!’’
Everyone looked at him now. Some elves looked angry, some shamed, many looked puzzled — the prince was known to largely keep to himself; he had never held his people a speech. The prince was in the grip of an odd fervor, not feeling in control of himself.
He continued, ‘’Tirius! Men! You did not have to come to our rescue but you did. I see no other reason for it than the goodness in your hearts!’’ Many men raised their goblets and cheered, and a smile came on Valerian’s face and he felt himself moved. He was inspired to say, ‘’I see a future where our peoples will shed their separation and be as one; I see a future where we will live together as brothers and sisters, as family! I hereby present an invitation: you are welcome to come and live in our city. There are plenty of houses left empty, there is much space to spare. Both our peoples would benefit from a more open relationship!’’
Tirius got up from amongst his men, bowed graciously and said, ‘’My prince, our people have always held yours in respect, and we are gladdened of this chance to deepen our connection. As to your invitation — our people are growing and many children are being born, and already there is not enough houses for everyone in our towns. Many families will be greatly joyed to hear of your offer!’’ He bowed again and resumed his seat.
The prince was, again, moved by what he considered admirable humility, and he hardly took note of a few of the elves who grumbled something about mudbloods and barbarians. The look on his face was one of a child, full of wonder, almost disbelief; he felt like he had opened a curtain, expecting it to be dark and rainy outside, and finding instead light and warmth. The princess grasped his hand affectionately. He felt his eyes brim with tears, and the faces he looked into were all dear to him and smiling.
He almost broke to cry, yet collected himself and said, ‘’Words cannot express our gratitude. But now — let us enjoy the food, and the wine, and the company!’’ He bowed and took a seat, only then noticing how hard his heart was beating. The people cheered and some banged their fists at the table, and then the feast resumed, with a greatly opened atmosphere.
Finally, late at night, the prince and the princess retreated to their bedchamber in the highest tower of the keep. It had been the longest day of his life but relative to that he was not that tired. In fact, he felt quite inspired.
What now inspired him the most was princess Alilei’s beauty. It seemed to him he saw her in a new light, or as if from a different perspective. She sat on the edge of their big royal bed eyeing him coyly as he unlaced his shirt and took it off. She had unbraided her hair and it now tumbled over her breasts, partly covering them; hiding her nethers from view were small, white silken panties, while her beautiful legs were bare. A tender smile played on her lush lips, and in her eyes was a dreamy look difficult to interpret. Watching her he felt thankful — thankful of being alive, and thankful of having such a gorgeous, loving young wife.
She looked at him, pursing her lips thoughtfully, then said, ‘’You know, we’ve talked about it for months… I feel in my belly its that day of the month.’’
Valerian looked at her questioningly.
‘’We should make a child,’’ she said, utterly surprising him.
‘’What?’’ Valerian stuttered, ‘’Are you sure?’’
She grasped her panties, pulling them off her loins and casting them aside, granting him a glimpse of the slit between her thighs. ‘’Yes,’’ she said, ‘’We’ve waited long enough, and besides… our people needs to strengthen. We should set an example, no?’’
Slowly the understanding of what she was saying arose in his consciousness, though he did not yet grasp the full significance of it. He walked over to her and sat next to her on the bed, looking incredulously into her affectionate, emotional face. They stared into each other’s eyes and he felt the tip of his nose shiver warmly; her eyes shimmered like moonlit pools of water and there was a strange certainty in them; her lips were parted and seemed to soundlessly say something.
Then she just nodded and kissed him tenderly, and her lips were so very warm and he responded, and there wasn’t so much lust in it as there was a sense of purpose; it was a strong emotion, almost like sadness but not, one that pulled them together like a spell between their hearts. Then her hand came onto his groin and there was definitely lust, too, and his hand moved onto her breast, brushing her hair aside, and its shape and firm texture felt very pleasant for him.
Maybe it was the destiny of the elves to fade away, to make way for humans who bred ten times faster — on some level the prince and the princess understood this, yet that was no reason for depression or reclusion. The ending of life was inevitable anyway, this the day had shown the elves. Their proud dream was at an end, but their life wasn’t, not nearly. At that moment life coursed through them stronger than ever, so strong, in fact, that it sought to replicate itself; to create for itself a new vessel through the union of their bodies.
Between her legs the princess felt a moist heat, and deeper, in her womb, a lonely readiness, like a seed that wanted to be watered. The man she kissed held the water, and coupled with her thirst was a trust in her bond with this man, her prince, whom she had met a year ago and left her homeland in the far south for. The rest of the wood elf delegation had returned home but she had stayed, and though she missed her royal parents and the woodlands she hadn’t once regretted her decision, so strong was the love Valerian had awakened in her.
To become pregnant with his child had always been a dream of hers — at first a result of a naive, even childish fantasy, lately she had began to feel this calling not only once a month in her loins but also somewhere higher in her being, inside her chest and, as strange as it seemed, between her brows. All the levels were now aligned and she knew, she just knew, with complete sureness, that tonight she would become impregnated.
As the prince lay her down on the very comfy bed Alilei was entranced by the sensations in her own body; she felt warm and fertile, like a garden of flowers blossoming in Spring, happy of its beauty and happy to share of it. The prince was tantalized by her, hovering over her and taking in what he saw — her skin seemed to radiate, its colour like cream and honey; her lustrous hair formed a halo around a young, welcoming face; her breasts spilled to the sides and her arms were waiting to embrace him; and then she opened her legs for him, stunning him with the sight of her sex: it looked like a small clam, its coral-coloured cleft glistening with a slick liquid in preparation to be entered into.
Hypnotized, he bent down to kiss her between her legs, sliding his tongue through the velvety lips to taste of the sweet sap oozing from in between. The heat and the scent of her drew him in, and he pressed his face against her and licked and lapped at her folds, his saliva mixing with her moisture to create a lush, highly hospitable environment for any potential visitors.
No more waiting was allowed by the intense attraction between them. Valerian tore off his breeches and climbed onto Alilei, and he guided his erection against her soft slit and pressed forward. Her flesh gave way and there was a sensation of sliding through a very tight ring into a hot, narrow tunnel, and he sank into it slowly, slowly, and completely, until finally their loins touched and his scrotum settled against her warm buttocks. Both realized they had held their breath and released it, and they relaxed into each other’s arms and kissed, and then he began to move, out and in, out and in, out and in.
He was always able to come into her very deeply, but tonight more so than ever, the princess felt; it seemed to her he was under her navel, even beyond, reaching spots that had never been reached before, spreading her. It was almost painful for her, but it was a strangely sweet kind of pain, like when getting a good massage, though this one was internal. Then he began to kiss and suck on her pointy ear, knowing how much she loved that and how sensitive her ears were, and he probed his tongue into it, and she felt just so full of him, like a carafe that is poured heated wine into.
But then he pulled out of her and rolled her onto her side, tucking her top leg against her breasts, and he looked between her buttocks and legs like he’d never seen anything so lovely — he was captivated not only by the shape of her pussy but even her asshole, tiny and pink, looked beautiful to him. The appearance of his own cock made him feel a silly happiness: oiled with her nectar and throbbing with strength it looked massive against her little lips, like it’d never fit, but then he penetrated into her again and it did fit, though not effortlessly — she felt stretched like a glove one size too small. For him her tightness felt fantastic — her pussy felt like a small silky sheath squeezing his penis.
Her hand found its way between her legs and she began to rub herself, causing her cavern to grip his shaft even tighter; moans escaped her lips and her breasts jiggled, and she began to involuntarily undulate her hips in tandem with his ever more forceful thrusts. With every stroke he hit what she felt was her absolute bottom. The tension in their loins grew rapidly — it was like a torrent of energies barely contained. Valerian thrust harder and harder, slightly hurting the princess but in their heat neither cared. The instincts that now drove them on only cared about reproduction.
Their bodies, interconnected and in sync, possessed a natural wisdom, and as the princess was overtaken by her own long-lasting orgasm her genitals began to clench rhythmically, milking his manhood and signaling receptivity, and so he, too, was sent over the edge. The charge that had been built up already in the morning was finally unleashed, and he held onto her body with such strength she couldn’t have got away if she’d wanted to, and he pressed into her completely and groaned, and his scrotum, nestled comfortably against her buttock, began to contract, and his semen rushed from its reserve and up his shaft and ejaculated into her, and the contractions of her pussy sucked the hot, thick substance from him and gulped it into her cervix, pulse after pulse.
For a moment — ten seconds, twenty seconds — they did not feel separate but like one being, like that was their true form but they had forgotten it. They remembered the truth now, like two trees that discover they have shared roots. And as they remained entangled a miracle was happening: one sperm cell of exceptional vitality, having already beforehand decided its destiny, outraced all the millions of others, and although there was a bit of jealousy amongst the others a great celebration was held that night in the princess’s ovaries in honor of the lucky, fertilized egg, who moved into the twenty-years vacant womb to grow.
Coming down from their climax they began to laugh, in an almost absurd, what-just-happened kind of way, but then the depth of their emotions made them serious again and there was warm tingling not only in their genitals but also at the tips of their noses — both had, by the way, very well-shaped noses — and they felt moved. Having never before opened as much for each other or for anyone, for that matter, they also experienced an amazement at the wondrousness of the other’s appearance and character, akin to what one might feel if a third eye suddenly opened to see with, and viewed thus with an added dimensionality the beauty of reality changed their life’s gravity.
