The Futa Ring Ch. 01: Fools Rush In

"Oh, wow," Fiona breathed. "Which one's this? Nenya?"

I laughed. "It does look like it." In fact, the ring was silver with a white crystal, but it wasn't a Tolkien-inspired creation. "But I'm pretty sure no Elven queen would wear this." Although, who knows.

"But is it magic?" Only Fiona would ever ask me that and actually mean it.

"Oh, yes," I said, just as seriously.

"What does it do?"

"Why don't you put it on and find out?"

"I'm engaged, remember? I shouldn't be accepting beautiful rings from other lovers."

Fiona and I share everything. Clothes, secrets, adventures,... Once we even shared a man, and I don't mean as a casual threesome (though it started that way). We are occasional lovers too, the love being that of life-long friends who also enjoy to fuck. It's not romantic, in other words, but it's everything else.

It's also, occasionally, magical. Not that either of us is naturally magical, at least I don't think so, but I have a certain affinity for magical places and beings that I really don't understand but that I am willing to embrace. Such as my sort-of annual visit to the shop in Edinburgh that sells invisible boots and magic lamps and books filled with arcane knowledge.

And rings that would not look out of place on the fair hand of the Lady of Lothlórien.

"It is beautiful," Fiona said, admiring the silver-clasped gemstone. "And outside your price range, I'm sure." She held the ring to her eye and peered through at me. "Who did you have to fuck for this?" She mouthed the word fuck, but it was unmistakable.

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. "No one," I said.

"Oh, please. You just went bright red."

No doubt. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. "Technically I didn't fuck anyone." I too mouthed the word, looking around uncomfortably at the other diners. The restaurant was busy and noisy (but not too noisy), but the tables were close together.

"Hah! Spill!" Fiona clearly didn't care about eavesdroppers.

I took a sip of wine. Tears of Christ. "There was a woman there."

Fiona grinned. "An old hag? A witch with warts and a pointy hat?"

"No. About our age, I'd say. Quite attractive. Imposing. There was something feline about her, and her tongue when she kissed me was rough like a cat's."

Fiona raised an amused eyebrow. "She kissed you? Not the other way round?"

"Well, I certainly didn't object." I offered Fiona a satisfied smirk, and she laughed.

"And so passionate was this kiss that she gave you a precious ring to remember her by?"

"No, of course not," I said, rolling my eyes. "She'd seen me studying the ring, and heard me asking the old man about the cost, and -"

"How much?"

"No idea, he just started cackling like a demented chicken. One of those 'If you have to ask' type things, I guess."

"So cat-lady bought it for you. In exchange for what, exactly?"

I felt myself blushing again. "Permission to lick me out whenever she liked."

This time Fiona raised both eyebrows. "That hardly seems a high price - not for you, anyway."

I mock-glowered at her, and was rewarded with another laugh. I love making her laugh. "Yes, well," I said, "what I didn't understand was that 'whenever' really meant 'whenever'."

"Ohh, now it's getting interesting."

"The train south was packed. I'd booked a table seat, but I was jammed against the window with a big guy next to me, rugby player or something, and opposite us were a couple of Scottish grannies blethering away, both casting critical looks at my breasts as if going braless were a crime against God."

"Isn't it?"

"No more than having a plug in your ass."

"I guess we're both damned."

"Damned hot..." We shared a grin. "Anyway, there I was, my legs pressed tight together, the train sweeping past trees and swaying as it curved around hills, and suddenly there was a mouth down there, kissing my inner thighs. I stared down in shock at my lap, but could see only my skirt, no evidence of the impossible presence beneath.

"I knew it was her. I recognised the tongue, so rough against my skin. I felt her warm breath as she teased her way higher, enjoying herself at my expense. I closed my eyes so that I didn't have to see the grannies staring at the points made by my obviously swollen nipples. I tried to control my breathing, and tried to keep my hips still despite the itching need to open myself to my unseen lover.

"Fuck she was good. She tormented me for ages. Before I knew it, we were in Berwick, with people staring in from the platform. 'You a' right, lass?' the big guy asked, perhaps mistaking my excitement for anxiety. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. There was a very inhuman tongue circling my clit, and if it hadn't been for the grannies glaring at me I might have made a move on him, or let him watch me finger myself, anything to hasten the end I so desperately needed.

"The noise and motion of the train helped disguise my whimpering orgasm a few minutes later, Lindisfarne visible in the distance."

Fiona's eyes gleamed. She hid it well, but I could tell she was aroused. "I wish I'd been there to watch you."

"Maybe next time."

"Do you think there will be?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Will you tell me?"

I played it mysterious. "Maybe."

Fiona pretended to sulk, while I munched on pizza. Four Seasons. "So, what's so special about this?" she asked, holding up the ring. "What did you buy with your over eager pussy?"

"Put it on. Find out."

She frowned at me suspiciously. "I'm not sure I trust you."

I just shrugged. Fiona is no better at resisting curiosity than a cat. "Oh, fine!" she hissed, and slipped it tentatively onto her middle finger, right hand.

Nothing happened. At least, nothing obvious. I wasn't even sure anything would. After all, maybe it was just a Tolkien replica.

We ate in silence for a while, feeling a mixture of disappointment and hopeful attentiveness. "I've been having an argument," I said eventually. "Online. With... let's call him Bob. At least I assume he's a him. We've been arguing about futanari."

Fiona perked up, as I knew she would. "Oh, yes?"

"Bob likes his futanari to be alphas. I think he imagines himself in the role of the male lover, submissively worshipping his huge-cocked mistress with his mouth and his tight, virgin ass. He thinks this is romantic."

"I, er, uh," Fiona said. She had suddenly gone pale, her eyes wide with shock.

"Whereas I want to see the futa as the perfect and ultimate mix of masculine and feminine, both in terms of physical attributes, and in the pursuit of sex. She may have a huge cock, but she also has a pussy that is equally deserving of worship."

Fiona nodded, saying nothing.

"That's part of it," I continued, "but my main point is that the futa's craving and capacity for sex is antithetic to romance."

"Antithetic," she echoed, nodding.

"I mean, after a few weeks of almost nonstop sex, of being completely exhausted, of having to shower several times a day to wash away the cum just so you can feel vaguely normal, there has to come a point where you say, 'Honey, I love you, but can we just not, for once, fuck?'"

Fiona whimpered audibly. Indeed, several people glanced round at her curiously, and her flush of embarrassment was delicious. As soon as they turned away again, Fiona reached up her back, under her top, and after a moment's struggle, popped the clasp of her bra. "Oh, that's so much better."

I stared at the new outline of her breasts as she tugged the bra out through her sleeves. They had grown substantially and strained now against her top, her swollen nipples making prominent points in the fabric. "Impressive," I said.

"You have no idea."

"I have some idea."

"What if I take the ring off?"

I shrugged. "You'll go back to normal."

But Fiona made no effort to take off the ring. "I think you're wrong," she said. "If the man truly loved his futa bride, he would let her use him every day of his life, because he'd know how much she loved it."

"What about your fiancé? Would he be happy to give up his job in the City to dedicate his life to serving you?"

She looked uncomfortable with the idea. "Maybe you're right. I'd want a harem of men, and women too, and I could take turns with them. Variety is the spice of life, after all."

"You the queen, and they the worker bees, buzzing around, serving your every need."

"Mmm, absolutely."

"Is that what you truly want? As I understand it, the ring gives you the power. You could even make me into one of your busy little bees." Part of me really hoped she would say so. There was something incredibly seductive in the idea of being her loyal fuck-toy, of spending my days with my legs spread to receive her no-doubt-magnificent cock. No mere man could match such pure virility, or even begin to satisfy me the way she could.

Indeed, I was beginning to think I was wrong about there being nothing romantic between us. I could absolutely see myself as her wife - even as one of many. Nor could I mistake the desire burning in her eyes as she looked at me across the table. The was no mere friendship. This was the fire of lust that united lovers in myths across time. Fiona was Paris, and I her Helen, doomed to love against my will.

"Wow," I said, overwhelmed by this rush of unnatural passion.

Fiona chuckled. "Why don't you put your mouth to good use why I think about it?"

"Yes, Mistress Fiona," I said, and slipped beneath the table, uncaring about the many witnesses. The tablecloth concealed me, just as it concealed Fiona's newly grown cock. And it was magnificent! As thick as my arm, with length to match. It pressed up against the table as if attempting to lift it.

Wrapping both hands about that mighty shaft, I pulled it down to my mouth, and was only just able to fit my lips around that bulbous head. It filled my mouth completely. All my lingering doubts were banished in that instant. Of course I could spend my life in willing worship of Fiona and her divine cock. Of course I would be willing to share it with others - I could never be enough for her by myself.

I made love to her cock with my mouth, lavishing it with my tongue and lips, sucking on the head as glistening trails of salty precum oozed from the tip faster than I could catch them. My hands caressed the great shaft with long, firm, gentle strokes, my fingers brushing lovingly against her swollen clit.

As if the moment weren't perfect enough, a familiar touch against my thighs announced the return of my impossible lover, her feline tongue teasing its way towards my centre.

This was my nirvana. I had become a creature of pleasure and submission, nothing mattering beyond the moment, and beyond the act. How long I knelt there I cannot begin to guess, for it was eternity and yet too brief. Did I cry out in ecstasy? Or did the ecstatic release of that gorgeous cock, jerking powerfully in my hands as cum flooded my mouth, distract me too much?

All I know is that as I sat opposite her afterwards, gazing at her in adoration, as she removed the ring with an expression of infinite sadness, I crashed hard. For days I was numb with depression, my heart aching for the loss of that absolute joy.

Until she sent me the ring with a note. "If I ever wear it again, it will be forever. Your choice."