The Bull God
Having stooped slightly to get his great bulk through the door, he stood and swung the massive oaken structure closed, momentarily silhouetting his horned head against the leaden orangeish glow. The tigress was on a vast raised dais in the middle of the room. The platform was strewn with pillows large and small, and with assorted silk, satin, canvas, and fur bed coverings. In the midst of this diffused shadowland on the dais lay the tigress she-witch he had chosen from the harem. She was moaning softly and writhing slowly as if the burning in her loins was moving through her body, becoming one great ache of desire needing to be satiated. She had been waiting for her lord since that afternoon when the lesser satyrs had begun to prepare her. She had been fed the finest of aphrodisiacs and delights to the palate, her bath was prepared with crushed lavender and mint, aromatic and soothing, delicately fragrant. She was read to from the book of whoredom, she had been sung songs of the lake and the forest and the ram and the moon. Then, wrapped in ermine, she was escorted to the nearby mating chamber. It was here, in the glow from the fireplace at the far end of the room, that the aphrodisiacs started to take effect. The lesser satyrs used all of their profound knowledge to tease her mortal flesh to a feverish boiling heat of liquid wanton need. They had been taught their art by the Horned Deity. They were supreme in holding the tigress/whore on the precipice of ecstasy awaiting the beast. She was the goddess of the empty vessel, loins needing to be split in order to make the spirit whole. The Great God of Potency stood looking down upon her sinuous form as she stared back through half closed eyes. He smelled like damp earth and cinnamon. She swore that she felt the heat from his hand while it was still inches away, and when he stroked her thigh rivulets of lightning coursed over her skin like a thousand tongues. She gave a low animal moan and spread her legs farther apart revealing that her swollen womanhood was drenched in musky juice; the Great Satyr licked his lips and buried his head between her legs, his burning agile tongue consuming her sweating cunt. She reached between her legs to stroke the velvet on his horns, feeling the great power in his bull neck, while he fondled her ripe breasts. It was a look that was gentle yet piercing and relentless that he gave her as his head rose. The lips were moist from his feast, his teeth white as pearls in the night and his eyes glowing embers. He moved his hips so that she could reach his huge rigid cock. It warmed her mouth with its heat and the moisture at the end tasted like a pungent honey. The cock was large and rock hard. The skin was soft, supple and fragrant, with the head of the organ being plump and just a little softer than the shaft. The Great Bull quaked as she swallowed his cock. His moans were a soft low growling. She held his great rod with one hand, while she clutched at his arm leading between her legs, where he was driving her to a frenzy. His powerful arm was misted with sweat. His scent acted to make her a steaming mosaic of engorged, taut, and yielding flesh. Grabbing her at the hips, The Beast brought her flower up to his lips, holding her aloft as if she were a succulent fruit, while she kept her mouth sucking on his huge penis. After a moment the Lord of Lust let the tigress-slut onto the padded dais, almost dropping her onto the furs. With a beaming grin and a furrowed brow he grabbed her leg and dragged her to the edge of the raised platform. She knew what was coming; her hips writhing, her back arching, her fingers blurring over her clitoris, her hand straining to feel the approaching phallus. Somehow she missed it and the huge erect organ entered her without warning, sinking all the way to the hilt, a fullness she had never experienced before. Drenching waves of warmth cascaded from her melting cunt to her full breasts where they exploded in fountains of pleasure lava flowing through her senses until she was the essence of lust. Red was her color, musk was her flavor. She was purring, possessed. The Bull bellowed, his arched neck bringing his head down to her breast where he licked her neck and tasted all that was his woman tonight. He was roaring out of control, dragging her constantly tighter to him, driving into her as if it is to be his last act. Her head was shaking, violently making her hair fly about, her body arched like a bow.
Suddenly, for a barely perceptible second, they stopped moving, THEN THEY STARTED SHUDDERING AND SCREAMING, SHOUTING AND MOANING, POETIC AND FILTHY LANGUAGE FILLED THE AIR. THE TWO WERE VIBRATING SO FAST THAT THEY COULD NOT BE TOLD APART AND THE HEAT WOULD HAVE MADE A MORTAL SHRINK BACK, HAD ANY BEEN PRESENT. THE FURS AND COVERINGS ON THE DAIS WERE FLAPPING AS IF IN A GREAT WIND. IT WAS AS IF VESUVIUS WAS BARELY CONTAINED IN THE CENTER OF THE CHAMBER. WITHOUT WARNING THERE WAS A TREMENDOUS SENSATION OF PRESSURE IN THE ROOM AND THEN WHAT SOUNDED LIKE A THUNDERCLAP AND THE COUPLE WAS GONE.
In the dim silence it seemed that it was all over, unless one was patient enough to observe that the fire across the room looked hazy when looking across the dais. In a few hours the two lust mad entities could be seen rematerializing. The Great Bull was on his back and the Great Whore had her head on his chest. After a while longer they reappeared completely as if they had just gone on a journey and were back. Thus they had laid for awhile more, apparently asleep when the door opened. They lesser Satyrs entered quietly and proceeded to light new incense and to set some wine, bread and fruit besides the dais. She woke first and saw the last of them leave. As the door closed it woke the Bull God. She felt his head turn and she looked at him. He smiled at her and let out a laugh, looking her in the eye. The fire in his eyes started to glow brighter and she felt a familiar tingling......he bent his head towards her until she could not see the glowing eyes but could only feel his warm breath upon her neck.
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