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Complementarity
Always on the lookout for masculine characters!
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2016
- Location
- Italy (I'm fluent in English, tho)
The feast of spring started the day before the equinox, and all of the tribe was ready to welcome the raising sun with an offer to the gods, as they celebrated in the great megalith circle their ancestors erected countless generations ago.
As people noticed the new sun setting the horizon on fire, ready to be born, the dancing and drinking was interrupted. Smiles and laughter turned into serious expressions, solemn chanting. Women dropped on their feet, men raised their hands to the sky, where the glimmering of stars was slowly disappearing.
A man and a young woman were lead to the stone altar, at the top of the hill. They were both naked.
The man walked confidently among his peers, smug in his gait, proud. On his own, that man killed a great bear whose pelt was now covering the altar, thus gaining the right to participate in the rite.
The young woman, at the peak of her ovulation, displayed a modest demeanor, trying her best not to fall to the temptation of covering her smooth curves in embarrassment, unable to look up at those around her.
The two stepped before the bonfire, now extinguished. A feverish, decrepit, old priest grabbed some of the hot, faintly glowing ashes in his hand and started drawing sacred signs on the maiden’s belly, then on the muscled, hairy chest of the man. The ashes burned on their skin, but they had to endure the pain, for their bodies were being consecrated to the gods, who would have melted all snow from their lands with the warmth of their blessed sight. And what best way to attract their otherworldly gaze than to create life in their name, begging for a fertile land, for fruitful people?
Vestals asked the maid to lay on the soft fur of the altar, they made her spread her shaky legs and even lightly pushed the man towards her, whispering soft nonsense, invoking the gods. The couple had to mate immediately, as the sun was rising.
"This mating is sacred. Filly, let the Stallion take you, don't struggle. You'll be pregnant with his seed and bear his children...". One of the vestals whispered as the girl starred in the older stranger's deep eyes with terror, feeling as terribly vulnerable and ripe as a fruit ready to be picked. She felt the touch of the vestals on her knees, keeping her legs spread open as the man tore her hymen with a powerful thrust, making her squeal in surprise.
"Let him inseminate you, let him plant his potent seed deep inside you. Open your womb to him, bear his child, sweet filly, bear his child..." The vestals caressed the broad back of the stud, then they walked backwards, circling the altar, turning their words into loud chanting.
Soft and wavy brown hair rested on the altar, as those firm breasts swayed with every thrust the hunter inflicted against the fertile womb. The maid grabbed the stranger's hairy forearms trying to stabilize from the powerful lunges, and lost herself in the fertility runes on his muscular chest. The man was hitting her cervix: she couldn't help but moan, writhing in pleasure, desperate for more, yet terrified.
The Stallion groaned, looking down at the fertility sigil on her stomach, as it seemed to swirl and suck him in somehow, spurring him. He forced himself to the hilt inside her, feeling the head of his member press against her cervix. Grunting, roaring as he exploded, his hands tightening on her hips, unable to hold back as a torrent of potent semen rushed out of his heavy balls.
The man was blinded by the first rays of sun as he screamed at the sky. People followed, cheering, rejoicing, welcoming the warmth of the new year in their beloved land!
As people noticed the new sun setting the horizon on fire, ready to be born, the dancing and drinking was interrupted. Smiles and laughter turned into serious expressions, solemn chanting. Women dropped on their feet, men raised their hands to the sky, where the glimmering of stars was slowly disappearing.
A man and a young woman were lead to the stone altar, at the top of the hill. They were both naked.
The man walked confidently among his peers, smug in his gait, proud. On his own, that man killed a great bear whose pelt was now covering the altar, thus gaining the right to participate in the rite.
The young woman, at the peak of her ovulation, displayed a modest demeanor, trying her best not to fall to the temptation of covering her smooth curves in embarrassment, unable to look up at those around her.
The two stepped before the bonfire, now extinguished. A feverish, decrepit, old priest grabbed some of the hot, faintly glowing ashes in his hand and started drawing sacred signs on the maiden’s belly, then on the muscled, hairy chest of the man. The ashes burned on their skin, but they had to endure the pain, for their bodies were being consecrated to the gods, who would have melted all snow from their lands with the warmth of their blessed sight. And what best way to attract their otherworldly gaze than to create life in their name, begging for a fertile land, for fruitful people?
Vestals asked the maid to lay on the soft fur of the altar, they made her spread her shaky legs and even lightly pushed the man towards her, whispering soft nonsense, invoking the gods. The couple had to mate immediately, as the sun was rising.
"This mating is sacred. Filly, let the Stallion take you, don't struggle. You'll be pregnant with his seed and bear his children...". One of the vestals whispered as the girl starred in the older stranger's deep eyes with terror, feeling as terribly vulnerable and ripe as a fruit ready to be picked. She felt the touch of the vestals on her knees, keeping her legs spread open as the man tore her hymen with a powerful thrust, making her squeal in surprise.
"Let him inseminate you, let him plant his potent seed deep inside you. Open your womb to him, bear his child, sweet filly, bear his child..." The vestals caressed the broad back of the stud, then they walked backwards, circling the altar, turning their words into loud chanting.
Soft and wavy brown hair rested on the altar, as those firm breasts swayed with every thrust the hunter inflicted against the fertile womb. The maid grabbed the stranger's hairy forearms trying to stabilize from the powerful lunges, and lost herself in the fertility runes on his muscular chest. The man was hitting her cervix: she couldn't help but moan, writhing in pleasure, desperate for more, yet terrified.
The Stallion groaned, looking down at the fertility sigil on her stomach, as it seemed to swirl and suck him in somehow, spurring him. He forced himself to the hilt inside her, feeling the head of his member press against her cervix. Grunting, roaring as he exploded, his hands tightening on her hips, unable to hold back as a torrent of potent semen rushed out of his heavy balls.
The man was blinded by the first rays of sun as he screamed at the sky. People followed, cheering, rejoicing, welcoming the warmth of the new year in their beloved land!