Tale in the Darkwood

He drove into her with thrust after thrust, cock, tongue and tail, opening her wider with each push until she could no longer tell where her body ended and his began, or indeed what could ever separate her from the warm, pulsing rhythm of the spinning world.

She was full of him, she was radiant, she was glowing with a white heat that burst from her eyes and fingertips and toes, that somehow flowed into the flowing sap of the mighty tree that housed her and then, through it, into the vast rustling wood that surrounded her.

As the sensation of his fucking washed over her, Lantrata's mind opened into visions, and for a moment she saw herself and the woodling at the center of a great tapestry of fire, a thousand threads of energy weaving her into the very fabric of the living world.

She was screaming, she was howling, she was swearing with the gutter language of the slums of Saregind, the grunts of the shepherds of Vendham, and the soaring chants of the acolytes of the Pentadae.

An earthquake shook the great ash tree down to its roots, down to the very foundations of the world, and the fiery tapestry of the world fluttered in a mighty gale. In the heat, there was something new -- a wave of warmth and wetness there, between her legs, in her holiest sanctum, in her greedy cunt, both and neither and more... The woodling was howling too, and grunting, and singing, as his cum exploded in her and he filled her with his seed...

"OH FUCK, oh GODS, yes, yes, yes....Annnhhhhh.....oooohhhhh.... fuck fuck fuck fuck...." she heard herself crying as her own orgasm cracked inside her and released the final flood of her joy.

Five gods stood over her, somehow robed and naked at once, their hands raised in blessing... she was in the tree, and she was under the spinning stars of night...

And the woodling, his cum spent, collapsed onto her breasts and lay still, cock, tongue and tail sliding out of her, and they lay together in stillness as the candles burned low and went out...

She never knew how long they lay there. When they roused themselves, the woodling brought her nuts and dried meats for food and more of the dark liquor. They made love again -- three more times, Lantrata thought, but she actually stopped counting -- with delight, though the vision did not return.

Eventually the woodling slipped out in the darkness; when he returned and lit the candles again, he carried a basketful of the purple herb he called hulliroca. With a final, lingering kiss, Lantrata armed herself once again, mounted the patient mare, and rode south for the long ridges of the Red Mountains and the passes that would take her home to Hardeber at last.