Matriarchal Embrace

       In this mid-morning day the crowning of the new queen comes into play, the young Matriarch of ebony and gold. The coronation complete and Matriarch arises. The guests, the spectators, and the retainers, celebrate with sincere cheers so loud that for shortly I could not hear. The ceremony over and Matriarch was free to her own for days to come until duties to be encountered both simple and troublesome. The queen seems restless, though no one but I has noticed her slight distress.

      Her eyes have caught my stare, her eyes they were hunting me. I felt she is out of reach as she is a true Matriarch now, not before as a friend of glee. Perhaps I'll retire to my rented chambers for afternoon tea. I stepped out of the grand hall and into the presence of white and yellow plumeria flowers upon a single tree. The gentle wind stirs up the scent of the flowers and carries it all around from the nearby forest to sands by glistening sea.

      A quick stop and pivot on the floor I proceeded to make a patron of myself at the store. With funds in my pockets I went insane with comical temptations for tasteful delights and concoctions. Treasures in hand I returned on the path to my rented chambers with another pivot that sparked embers. As wonderful as I felt, eager to eat, meager I've what I've eaten earlier, there was a uneasy feeling abound. This was surprising as I found the queen, Matriarch, on the scene at my door.

      Surprised am I, but cheerful to see Matriarch visit me, simplistic simpleton, of her own free will. I offer her a needless yet wanting invitation to my quarters for tea, dessert, and meals from the grill. A smile appears on Matriarch's lips and a gesture to have her fill. We went inside and I started the pot, laid the dessert, and all was well until....... Matriarch's eyes, staring me down, a mixture of desperation, excitement and thrill.

      She is queen, empress, monarch, no need to hunt unless the reason is that of a mating season. The door is locked and now I know that I am prey to her emotional fray. Matriarch approaches and reaches my lips, my hand frantic yet smooth disrobes her gown, to and past her hips. She is purposely raw, without mind or gown, and in her lustful aura I definitely drown. Mindless I have become to my queen's call, I follow her suit and become defenseless as well, and into the bed we fell.

      With hard deep kisses she has soon mounted me, my lips moved to kiss her valley, her mounds massaged each with a hand. Challengingly she finally inserts me into herself and moves as much to enjoy the method on chest and breasts, a feeling for her grand. Matriarch continues to ride and within moments my sack is soaked with her honey and into the linen strand. She covers mouth to hide the sound pleasure that could've surprised the denizens of her land. My method ceases and I pull her close, kisses deep and shallow, and my hands now on her hips, hoping to extract more of her honey brand.

      Tea is usually had with milk or honey, a taste that is always employed and enjoyed. Matriarch's honey has already poured, and the milk is soon to be spilt by the sword. The queen's ride hastens to a reasonable pace, agony and ecstasy written on her face. Our hips moving in tandem, my kisses on her neck, her ever-flowing honey is in disruption with my sudden eruption. Despite the now milk and honey mixture I encouraged her ride until she finally came to stop, inching cute moans and little groans. She shakes a final stride and serving of honey, a sign she was satisfied, and finally collapsed to my side. Within my rented confine she kisses me and sleeps in my arm, telling me she is mine.