Untamed Bliss

Untamed Bliss, However Temporary

The ocean was lapping against the shore. The elven hunter stood, topless, staring out through the opened walls of his home. The house was little more than a hut on stilts, raised up in case the encroaching ocean one day rolled in too close. The roof was covered with a thatched mix of straw and plant fronds. The supports were incredibly strong poles made from local trees naturally immune to the ebb and flow of the salt water. As he stood on the one covered platform that made up his hinterland house, drinking from a mug of bourbon, he did not fret about the house tumbling down around him. He didn't fret about the ocean creeping in one night to pull him and his household out to sea.

But just maybe he should have worried about the stealthy she-wolf running along the shore towards his stairs. And just maybe, he should have felt a tingle as she neared his home. When she lunged for him, maybe, perhaps, he could have been prepared.

He was not.

The large white wolf struck him full force in the upper arm and shoulder, her jaws snapping for his neck and barely missing, grazing along his cheek. As he fell to the side, trying to fend the bitch off, she clawed at his arm and tore great gashes into his uncovered flesh. The hunter scrambled along the floor, kicking at her with his hard leather boots and causing her to whelp in pain. Then he reached for his axe, pulling it from where it had been leaning against one of the corner supports. He whipped it around and swung it at her, causing the wolf to crouch. He kicked at her then, putting her on the defensive and giving him the time he needed to get to his feet.

He couldn't speak her language telepathically as he could with most animals. That could only mean one thing. She was not a real wolf. As if she knew his thoughts, she transformed before his eyes into the troll shaman she in truth was. Her blue tinged skin was sweat soaked and her braids flung side to side from her uncovered head as she shook off the effects of the magick that had let her take on the form of a white wolf. She still crouched in the corner of his home, making no motion to move even as he lunged testingly at her with the tip of his axe head.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. The troll's yellow eyes were on fire. The elf's green gaze was aflame with rage, his pale skin flushed red with anger and his brown hair, tied up on top of his head, hanging half limply around his face and shoulders. Neither said a word, until the troll began to move along the side of the floor, further into the house, away from the door.

"What are you doing here," the hunter grunted. "I come for ja," the troll shamaness responded. "Ja smelt so good."

He blinked at her. What the fel could that mean?

"I come for ta kill ja," she continued. "But now I be wantin' somethin' else from ja."

"And what's that?" he asked. "My blood? My skull...? Wanna rip my heart out of my chest?"

He stood up, less afraid now. It was a crucial mistake on his part. The troll lunged at him again, throwing her whole body onto his and pushing him back to the farthest wall of his house. He dropped his axe and gripped her throat, squeezing. And he barely managed to grip her wrist, which had been swinging a serrated edged dagger down towards his neck. Her two fingered hand was pushing against his shoulder, using his own sturdy stance to give her more force as she aimed to free his life's blood from his jugular. For a matter of seconds they struggled, faces so close they had no choice but to glare eye to eye. To smell each other's battle sweat. The pure force and energy of their bodies began to make both fighters shiver and shake.

"No," the troll hissed, moving her hand from his shoulder. "I come for ja seed, mon."

Her hand slid down his chest. He found himself not stopping her, he was so stunned by the implications of her words. He could see her lips curling in a wicked smile around her two short tusks as her almost paw-like hand slid down his slick belly. And he didn't stop her as she slid her hand into his leggings, along his groin, to grip his member firmly.

Without ever realizing it, he had become erect. It could have been the battle, the sudden rush of adrenaline that had engulfed him when the wolf first struck him. It could have been the sight of a bare mid-riffed troll shamaness in his house, his own wife not attending his needs for ever so long and his body aching to see a feminine body of any sort naked and pressed against him. For whatever reason, as her hand moved into his pants and groped for his cock, he gasped in surprise when what she grabbed was thick, long and ready.

The troll gave him a sniff, and he could feel the forcefulness of her striking dagger-holding hand relaxing. He loosened his grip on her throat, catching himself off guard as he moved his own hand over her simple leather tunic. She hadn't come wearing a lot of armor. She might just be serious with her words. He considered them not one bit as his own hand moved lower. He looked from where he touched her to her eyes and back again.

The troll dropped the dagger and carefully moved her hand down to hold his. Then she licked her lips, drawing his eyes to the action. Her wet red tongue licked her top lip, then the bottom, then expertly licked the inside curved length of each of her inch long tusks. The elf gulped hard, enthralled instantly by the action of that long, tendril like tongue. Then the troll was moving his other hand. Was she going to bind his hands suddenly behind him? And would he object?

She moved his other hand to her chest, then slowly pushed it over her leather covered breast. She smiled at him smugly and moved both of her hands to his belt, unfastening his leggings.

He had both hands on the troll woman's chest. His palms, large though they were, could barely encompass her well rounded tits. He swallowed hard again and squeezed her breasts, then began to massage them. By this time she had pushed his loosened leggings down to his thighs, where they slid the rest of the way down to his ankles. He couldn't believe what was happening. One moment he had been drinking bourbon and watching the serenity of the ocean. The next he was under attack by a wolf gone rabid. And then a troll female was crouching in the corner of his house like a would-be assassin.

And now? Now she had her very capable hands all over his hard cock, and he was squeezing her large tits and moving them around, rubbing and massaging them and making her groan.

"Dis be a modda's bodeh," she whispered. "An' I come ta become a modda to ja son, huntah."

The thought offended the hunter. It made him snarl and sneer. He'd never heard of a troll elf half breed before. Was the woman insane? Crazy? Some shamans went loopy if they spent too much time in animal form. Hunters heard the crazy stories as trainees, for they were used to keep any hunter from becoming too attuned to his or her own animal pets. Too much time spent thinking like an animal, and any person would begin to forget what civilized rational thinking was like. Had that happened to this troll woman?

He didn't know. And suddenly, he didn't care. He thought of his wife, a high and mighty lady of the higher elven social circles. He recalled her perfect face and unblemished skin and her full and coifed platinum hair. She was like a rare pearl, even among the exotic looking elves, the beautiful people of the world. This troll in front of him was nothing like his wife. But it didn't matter. She was flesh and bone and eagerly wanting him, right now.

The hunter tore the troll's shirt open, ripping it loudly and quickly grabbing at her tits. He moved his mouth to her large round dark blue nipples, suckling first one, then the other. He bit and chewed, making her drop her head back and gasp before lowering her gaze to watch him again. She put a hand on his head, stroking his long dark hair out of his face so she could see his mouth on her breasts again.

"Dere now," she almost purred at him. "See how good I taste for ja? I know ja wife, she be elsewhere, mon. I be here, right now."

He lifted his mouth then, releasing her skin after one final bite. And he eyed her, green eyes squinted. She gripped him by the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. Somehow the natural curve of those tusks made it so his face fit perfectly between them. She kissed him hard and he let her, gripping her around her waist and back, then sliding his hands to her ass. She undid her leggings as their mouths continued their frenzied meeting, and he helped her push them down. Then she was crumbling under him, lowering herself to the floor while still keeping their lips locked. Forcing him to follow her down.

With her back flat to the floor, she lifted her legs on either side of him then finally broke their kiss. He was fast and quick as he positioned himself between her legs, panting as he pointed his cock towards her darkly furred crevice. Only for a moment did he pause, considering the consequences of what he was about to do.

The troll shaman had no doubts. She gripped his cock and teased him against her labia, using the head of his dick to flick over her slowly hardening clitoris. He groaned as she continued to tease them both and spoke to him in a low, almost sultry voice.

"No one evah need ta know what we do," she cooed at him, bringing him slowly into her folds. "I come in secret. An' I didna tell where I goin'. I watch ja for awhile, dis mornin', las' night. An' I kin tell ja need a woman beneat' ja. I be here now, mon. No one else. Ja tink what ja need ta do da job. But put ja membeh inside meh, an' fuck meh til I be wit ja chile."

With that, she reached over and gripped his hip, tugging at him. There was nothing he could do, he thought. There was no point in fighting it. She was half right at least. No one ever need know what he was doing, his wife wouldn't ask for fear he might ask her some questions of his own about her personal activities. And if she were out doing half of what he thought she might be doing, he had earned this dalliance with the troll.

He thrust into the woman so hard she grunted. Her eyes widened in pain. He put his hands on either of her shoulders, both pushing her into the hard wooden floor and pulling her towards him slightly. His grip was claw-like as he thrust again and again into her. Beating against her pubis with his own, the hunter did indeed fuck her. Harder, faster he went. And soon he was cumming. His elven seed was spurting up into the troll woman's womb, fulfilling her wants for the most part. She cried out when he expanded inside her canal, as he continued to pound over her. And it wasn't until every drop was finished pouring and shooting out of him that he released her and fell to the side.

Panting, temporarily spent, he lay there staring the ceiling of his house. Again he could hear the crashing of the waves against the shore. A storm must be coming, he thought, because the waves were getting louder than usual. This time though, the hunter could also hear the gentle breathing of the troll next to him. He dared not turn his eyes to see her blue sweat-soaked skin, her nudity there on the floor of his house. The house he and his wife shared when they came to this forest, this grassy beach.

The troll was not done though. And she would not be ignored. He felt her fingers on his hip, slipping along and over the muscles and over towards his cock. To his dismay, she gripped it and it bounced, overwhelmed by the sudden touch on the sensitive skin. To his delight, she seemed to understand and released him, then began to carefully stroke his thigh. Her yellow animal-like eyes were on his and he glanced at her.

Yes, he thought, looking quickly away. She's definitely insane.

"It takes sometimes mo' den one time," the woman said softly, caressing his leg from knee to groin. "An' I come 'ere only dis one time. I kin only be sure o' tha chile if ja do it mo' times dan jus once."

He swallowed. She wanted them to have sex again. And he wasn't sure if he could. Or if he should. One time being with another woman, and without his wife present, should be enough shouldn't it? To think of having sex with this stranger again. He didn't even know her name!

But her gentle touch at exactly the right places, her subtle pressure along his muscles, was causing his penis to stir hungrily. Had it been so long since he and his wife had spent time alone? Since he had even bothered to take care of his urges himself? Maybe it had.

"Dis be 'ow we do it in mah tribe," the woman said.

With that, she carefully moved over him, putting her back to him as she straddled his hips. She rested a hand on his knee, her other hand stroking his half hard cock a few times before slipping him into her already soaked hole. He groaned, unsure suddenly of what to do.

"Put ja hands on meh hips, mon. Don' be shy. Much too late fo' that now, 'ey?"

He obediently put his hands on her hips, staring at his pale skinned fingers as he gripped her blue flesh. She began to rise up and down, leaning forward slightly. Her braids he could see now were beaded with small bits of carved bone and chiseled ivory. They clanked together slightly, the sound tribal and primitive as she moved over him.

She was nothing like his wife. He moved a hand to the small of her back, pressing against the small scars there. Spear, arrow, axe, sword. Who knew what had made the silvery wounds? He fingered them and realized each time he traced one of the markings, the troll woman shivered. For some wild reason, it excited him and he felt himself push his hips up further into her, matching her rhythm. And he continued to trace the map of battle wounds along her back, reaching up as far as her shoulders, tickling over her spine.

Her dark navy blue braids banged slightly over his hand. He couldn't resist. And he reached out and gripped them, snarling slightly. He tugged her head backwards, forcing her to change her motion. Now her hands went behind her, gripping his hips hard for support as he took over the fucking that she had intended to give him.

The troll shamaness hissed lightly but did not fight him, knowing the result would still be the same. She took a hand from his hip and put it on her lower belly. He could imagine her stroking herself, maybe in circles, maybe forcibly rubbing herself as her hand slowly went lower. Then he felt her fat digits as she stroked her own sex. Part of him felt intimidated; her fingers, though there were only two, were very agile and very thick. He was tempted to push her up and withdraw his cock from her pussy, shove it into her forbidden ass and let her finger fuck herself with the thick digits. But one glance to the side, to where the wicked dagger had fallen, and he knew he wouldn't get far following that idea.

Besides, he thought, pulling hard enough on her braids to make her cry out, this was better than he had expected.

She was spasming slightly now. He could feel her sopping wet cunt milking him. The tight muscles were stroking him to a steady beat, even as her body jerked and jolted over his. He'd made her cum, or maybe it was her fingers on her pussy and not his hand in her hair. Either way, he knew it was his turn. He thrust up harder and harder, releasing her braids so both of his hands could grip her hips and lift her up and down over him. He made her heavy body bounce on him, her muscular ass almost bruising his slender but muscled hips. He grimaced, forcing himself to cum hard inside her, his semen fighting gravity and shooting up inside her pussy.

When he was done, the troll woman stayed on him, though she leaned forward. Both of her hands were grabbing his knees and he could feel her arms shaking. He stayed laying back for awhile, listening to her voice as she muttered and chanted. As long as his cock didn't shrivel up and fall off right now, he didn't care what magickal spells she might be casting. Just the occasional sensitive bounce of his dick inside her was making him dizzy.

Finally she made to roll to the side. The elven hunter reached out as she did, and he caught her, spooning his body around hers and behind her, keeping his cock inside her. With one arm beneath her, cradling her close to him, he curved himself around her ass. Surprisingly? His cock was half hard. What else could he do but continue to slowly, almost tenderly, fuck his sudden lover?

And that was how he spent the entire night. A storm did indeed come crashing down upon the beach, the winds buffeted at the open walls of the house. The roof above their heads barely managed to keep the rain from landing on the two lovers. With their bodies tightly entwined, mouth to mouth and hips to hips or hips to ass cheeks, nothing could disturb them. Not the cool rain sloshing down the edges of the roof. Not the wind tearing at the tightly bound poles and thatch. Not the lightning flashing through the sky and the thunder booming in their ears. The hunter's thoughts were now only on fucking the troll woman. And she, panting, exhausted and at one point bleeding heavily from his teeth tearing at her neck and shoulder, continuing to let him. He was relentless. He'd never felt so hungry for someone, not even the wanton seductress that was the woman he had married. And the troll objected not one bit. She continued to stir and excite him, keeping him somehow mysteriously aroused and ready. And willing to use him inside her each and every time.

In the morning, he found himself much in the same position he had been in the day before. He was standing facing the ocean, bringing a mug of bourbon to his lips, wearing nothing this time. But now his hips were rocking forward and back. And his free hand was gripping those beaded braids again, tugging on them. The troll was on her knees in front of him, suckling over his cock like a lamprey or river eel sucked on a fish, like a parasite that would starve without its host. He looked down at her, an almost nonchalant gaze now. He'd gotten used to her satisfying him. He hadn't slept at all last night but not because of the storm.

Because of her. Of her whispering magicks and wicked chants. He was sure of it. She was working some strange troll magick on him and he didn't care.

Carefully he set the bourbon mug down on the edge of the half wall he was standing next to. Then he moved both hands to grip her braids.

"I'm going to cum soon," he whispered to his lover.

She pulled off his dick and smiled that terribly toothy smile.

"Den dis be da part where ja turn me ovah an' fuck me, ey?"

He smiled and stroked her cheek a moment, wistful. Then he gripped her braids, harder, and forced his cock back into her mouth. Her eyes went wide with surprise and she fought at him, but her nails were short, her punches and slaps weak from fatigue.

"Not this time," he said, sighing.

The hunter continued to fuck her face. He moved steadily, even as she fought him to the best of her ability. She was too weak though. Troll shamaness she might be, she hadn't counted on his stamina as a hunter, a creature trained in the harshest forests the world had to offer. His wife knew what she had married into and had her own struggles with it. But she at least was his match. This troll, ignorant and insane, hadn't known well enough to realize how she would feel the next day. Tired. Drained. Barely able to stay on her knees in front of him, completely unable to fend off his fuck thrusts.

And he, the proud hunter, gripping her braids and pulling her on and off his cock without mercy or pause. He stared down his hard, lean muscled stomach, watching the drips of sweat slipping down to his groin and irritating the troll's nose and eyes. Leaking into her mouth and making her twist and turn her head. She was angry. But she was too weak to do anything about it. She fought to the end. And he loved it. Loved seeing her on her knees.