Anselm’s boots clapped upon the masoned blocks that wound up the tower’s interior, his torch guttered and roared in his grasp. Normally he was guard here, but it wasn’t his shift. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to be here at all: it was supposed to be two guards posted to this remote perimeter tower, an entire forest away from the keep. Anselm had had to save up several months’ pay and a keg of beer to pay off his fellow guardsmen to take the night off, but off they fucked and left the place to him. This wasn’t the first night they’d done so, and it wouldn’t be the last if Anselm had his way.
He emerged breathlessly at the top of the tower, mounting his torch in a low sconce. He stood upon a narrow roof that could hold two archers uncomfortably. They weren’t meant to engage in combat, simply raise the signal—a couple flaming arrows sent in a southerly direction—that something bad had been spotted. That was it: two people maintaining a tower in the middle of nowhere, watching out for a threat that, so far, had never presented itself.
Anselm rested upon the merlon and looked out across the land. The treetops, puffy and rolling like clouds almost all around him, glowed in the light of a half-moon. A clearing led down a gently sloping field to a river; the moon behind him, it did not glisten in the night but only wound like a dark ribbon in the distance. Mountains rose far off to his right, imperiously tall, and from among them he thought he spotted movement. It could’ve been an avalanche, maybe, or a massive flock of crows taking off at once from the woods around the foothills, but it was neither. Anselm smiled at the shift of shapes and shadows in the mountainous valley, at the dark figure that waded through the trees without effort. He pulled out the torch and waved it overhead in a wide arc, and the figure raised one long arm and waved back.
Within a few strides her features could be picked out in the moonlight. Serious, straight eyebrows arched at the far edges, betraying a capricious interest in the man in the tower. Proud cheekbones glowed above a tight, rumpled grin. Long, thick hair that absorbed all light spilled down the sides of the massive skull and flowed like rivers over creamy, round shoulders. Immense breasts swayed ponderously with each step, each one large enough to blast the top half of the tower in an errant swing.
Anselm’s heart raced as Valgerðr grew closer. The tall trees only brushed above her knees, whispering between her long, slender thighs. Her dark navel swam in a plane of glowing flesh, rising above the tower’s reach as she neared. Huge fingers casually brushed half her dark mane behind her, thick cords of hair that could have drowned a trading vessel or buried a squad or two of cavalry. Her teeth lit up in the night, far overhead, radiant as she loomed over the tower. Anselm, face to face with her wide thicket of pubic hair, strained to gaze up the landscape of her belly and between her breasts. He smiled wildly, waving the torch jubilantly, then ensconcing it once more.
The giantess waggled large fingers cutely at him, far overhead. She stepped back to kneel upon the ground, sitting massive buttocks upon her heels until her vast face hovered just over the tower. Anselm’s heart was hammering in his chest, beating faster than a destrier at full gallop: the giantess would have been beautiful as a woman, one his size, but in the shape of this goddess she was ravishing to the point of madness.
“Valka! You came!” He had to scream out to her, to cross the distance between his perch and her ears. He was only a little self-conscious of the racket he was making, but around the giantess, he couldn’t care. “You’re beautiful as always. You don’t know how happy I am to see you again.”
Large eyelids flapped in the night air, and her eyes focused upon him with fearsome intensity. “Thank you for saying so, Anselm. You’re such a little charmer, as always.” Her cheeks swelled cutely with her smile.
“Who couldn’t be helped but to be charmed by this gorgeous construct, wiles stacked upon wiles, a mountain of priceless beauty?”
Valka laughed, and Anselm’s knees went weak to see her moonlight spilling across her broad tongue, writhing between rows of savage boulders of ivory, leading to an inky chasm. Quickly she turned her head and covered her mouth to giggle, peering at him sidelong. “You flatterer! You’re too much, sometimes. I’m just a girl, after all.”
“Just a girl?” Anselm looked offended. “Maybe to your people, but to say you’re ‘just a girl’ is like the Library of Alexandria was just a collection of books, or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon was just a spot of moss on a rock.” He leaned far, dangerously far over a crenelation. “Come closer and let me give you just a smooch.”
Her face dimpled and she also leaned in, carefully, slowly. To her, the horny little guard was a bug sitting upon a narrow stylus. To him, however, it looked as though a temple in the shape of a goddess’s face was tumbling toward him from the heavens. Her eyes were illuminated pools of gold and hazel as they crossed with ridiculous cuteness, peering down at him as she brought her nose down to his level. He placed his hands upon the sides of its mere tip and nuzzled his face into the rounded end. So warm, just soft enough to press his head into, with dozens of fine, translucent hairs brushing over his cheeks.
“My goddess, my goddess,” he moaned, quietly. His heart nearly broke when the huge nose withdrew, and he caught himself before he toppled out of the tower and fell a lethal distance to her lap. “You call that a kiss? You missed me entirely!”
Valka giggled into her fingertips. “Oh, this again? It’s so dangerous, Anselm. What if you got lost in there? I’d never forgive myself. I’d never notice, but the idea would haunt me.”
“Please, Valka! You don’t know what this means to me. Our time together is always too short.”
“You’re truly alone out here, now? There are no curious little rats scuttling around to spy on our tryst?” Her head swayed left and right, golden eyes rolling in huge sockets to sweep over the grounds about the tower.
“No, no one. I bought the guards off easily. They know they’re ripping me off, but I don’t care! I need this time with you. I need you, Valka.” His hands gripped the merlons, and it took all his strength not to pitch himself at her, in the half-formed notion of latching onto her nipple and clinging there, like jewelry, forever.
“All right, but just for a little while. You have to climb out when I give you the signal. Promise?” The giantess tilted her head back, regarding him down the length of her fine nose. He stared up into her nostrils, slender black tunnels into her massive skull, and readily agreed to whatever she said. “No, you have to really promise this time! Anselm, look at me.”
He did, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. He stared at the long lashes, any ten of which he could tie up to make a broom. He studied her lips, a perfect cupid’s bow with the most heartbreaking pout in her bottom lip. When she exhaled through her nose, warm breezes washed over him and he nearly fainted from longing.
“Of course! Oh, my Valka, of course I promise! I promise you the moon, the stars! I promise you the wealth of far-flung and yet unheard-of nations!”
“Anselm.” Deep furrows formed around the corners of that beautiful mouth, digging up beneath her cheekbones and around her nostrils. Her pouting lip rumpled with wrinkles like the bark of an ancient oak, turning up into a fearsome scowl. Anselm wanted to bash his head in with a rock, in a transport of grief at having caused a moment’s distress to his young goddess.
“I promise you, Valka.” He placed one hand upon his heart and raised the other. “I swear, at whatever signal you give me, I’ll crawl right back out and end it.”
Her lips parked to one side. One broad eyebrow rose and arched dubiously. But then her entire visage melted into a glorious smile, squinting eyes disappearing behind her cheekbones. “Okay. I believe you. But just for a minute, all right? Do whatever business you’ve got to do in there for a minute or two, because that’s all the time I can spare.”
Something in Anselm’s head caught on that phrase, but he ignored it and pulled his tunic over his head. He looked up at Valka, how her huge head tilted, how she grinned at him as he kicked off his boots and shucked his trousers. She walked around as naked as the day the gods made her, yet he always felt a little humbled, maybe humiliated, stripping down in front of her. The way she stared at him, the way her brow wrinkled, how her eye twinkled, these made him feel as though there were something entertaining about him, rather than a woman watching her lover prepare.
At least he stood, pale and glowing in the moonlight, and spread his arms wide. “Ready!” he called up to her. The giantess covered her laugh a third time, then slowly leaned into the tower. This time it wasn’t her nose descending upon him but her wide, open mouth. Cavernous it was, wide and tall and so deep! Her eyes disappeared behind her cheeks, the nearer she got, and her nostrils flared urgently with her widening jaws. Her thick lips pulled back and exposed the large plates of her teeth. Anselm stared up into these, this cave of death, these shards of mutilation, and wondered why his penis got so ragingly hard at the sight of them. He should be shitting himself, but whenever Valka presented her gaping maw to him, every last crumb of self-preservation was swept aside by a fiery libido.
Valka leveled her head to the side of the tower and slowly unfurled her heavy tongue, bridging the distance between her mouth and the tower’s tip. A blunt, glistening, quivering carpet of pink tongue dumped upon the narrow roof. It blocked the trapdoor through which Anselm had emerged, and it covered the pile of his clothes, drenching them in her saliva. He gave them the fleetingest thought before he fell to his knees upon the tip of her tongue, then to his hands.
Her tongue was soft and dense beneath him, hot but cooling down rapidly in the night air. Slowly he began to crawl upon her tongue, entering her mouth. His fine little fingers ran between her taste buds, fascinated with how they quivered and rolled like the surface of a mostly calm sea. And just beyond them were the jagged peaks of her molars and premolars, proud and strong. If she wanted to, he knew, she could close her jaws and shatter him like the thin scrim of ice on a river bank at the start of winter. His sinewy body would offer no resistance at all, not his ribs, nor his skull.
He nearly came right there.
Valka’s breath roared around him. He looked up, and in the ambient reflection of moonlight he saw her huge throat widen, just before cold air rushed up his ass and ruffled his hair. He dug his fingertips into her tongue, a primal reflex against getting sucked into her windpipe. Could she do that? Could she inhale so hard, she’d draw him into her throat and on into the cathedral of her body? He didn’t wish to find out.
When hot, humid air blasted his face and shoulders, he crept in further. His knees dragged over the spongy floor. Anselm wondered whether he was hurting her, concentrating most of his weight upon one knee in the center of her tongue, the groove between the long ridges that rose up from her throat and ran down to her tip. He knew it was ridiculous, there was nothing he could do to hurt this monstrous woman, but a tongue was still a tongue.
Cold air blew between his thighs, and he flattened himself upon the giantess’s tongue. There he was, entirely inside her mouth: the soles of his feet rested upon the inner ridge of her lower incisors, cleared of the biting range. There was no part of him that stuck outside of her lips, nothing to pull him back to the safety of that cold, narrow tower platform.
He was in Valka’s mouth. He was inside the giant woman’s mouth!
One hand pushed its way between his belly and her taste buds and wrapped around his cock. Anselm pressed the side of his face against one of the thick ridges and suckled a large nodule among the papillae, as though it were a nipple. His cock was long and hard: he gripped at the base and ran the sensitive tip deliriously over soft, giving, nubbly little taste buds. “Oh, my goddess,” he moaned again. His voice echoed crisply in the back of her throat. Again, it should have been terrifying, but instead he sobbed in longing and buried his face between her ridges, drawing his own tongue over her saliva and tasting her. Tasting the juice of a giantess. How many men in the kingdom could claim such a thing?
The moonlight went away as Valka slowly closed her jaws around him. He could hear rows of fearsome teeth clack and grind against each other as they settled shut. The darkness was complete in the giantess’s mouth, and the sound of her breath shifted to the current of jet streams running up from the depths of her chest and into her nostrils, behind the fleshy wall just beyond his head. If he wanted, he could have scooted a little further up and hung his head above the nothingness of her throat. He did not want.
He only poked his butt up against the roof of her mouth and churned his fist around his cock as he moaned and groaned into her taste buds. It was apparent the giantess was trying to keep her tongue still for him, but hundreds or thousands of micromuscles wouldn’t obey, entirely, and the cushioning, hot, moist bed writhed like a living, restless thing beneath him. He opened his jaws and sucked on her taste buds, he lowered his hips and ground his cock and balls against them, and he spread his arms to attempt to embrace her wriggly, twitching tongue.
Valka moaned for him. It was something she did strictly for his pleasure: he asked once, and she never forgot. “This does nothing for me,” she had assured him, though he hadn’t asked. “It’s just a bare morsel of cold meat lying on my tongue, squirming like a baby mouse. It’s as hard not to swallow you as it is to not spit you out.” That hurt, a lot: how could it be that something so significant and meaningful to him, something more valuable than the entire world upon which they crawled, meant less than nothing to her? He vowed to find a way to please her, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
She moaned, and her entire mouth vibrated with the sound. Anselm cried out in ecstasy as her vocal chords rattled him to the core. The moan made every last follicle stand up on his entire body, it shook his head until thought was impossible, it rumbled in his guts until they nearly liquefied. And it made her tongue dance against his cock like nothing else in this world.
Anselm howled down the back of her throat, into the bottomless darkness. His voice bounced off glistening, churning walls, on and on into the depths of Valka’s chest. His biceps strained as he hugged her tongue to his body, bunching it up into his face and chest and belly. He was greedy for her tongue, he needed it all. His thighs flattened against her taste buds, his calves hooked around the end of her tongue, where the veins showed and the saliva squirted. He clutched her, Anselm selfishly crushed Valka’s tongue against his entire body as her sweet, low moan rattled an agonized orgasm out of him.
He cried, burying his face into her taste buds. His arms ached. His thighs burned. His hips shuddered and spat, and his cock sought desperately for a hole, settled on grinding against the nubbly surface as his seed dissolved in her spit. He cried, clutching the giantess’s tongue, as his cock gave up the last of his essence. He cried, needing this so much, needing to live in this beautiful woman’s mouth, to hide away from the troubles of the world and—
Chilly air swirled inside the balmy cavern. Moonlight once again glinted upon teeth and glowed upon pallid buttocks. Valka’s enunciation boomed around Anselm’s limp, drenched body: “Ung-hung.”
For a split second he thought about pitching himself into her throat, to live inside her forever, or at least, for the rest of his life. To be so close to this young goddess, to belong to her, even to be a part of her, wouldn’t that be worth it? That consummate intimacy, to be absorbed by her? The ultimate act of reclamation and possession.
A promise was a promise. Anselm wretchedly scuttled backward over her tongue, clambered over her teeth, and collapsed to the dusty tower platform. Once she sensed he was extracted, she sucked her tongue between her lips, and her beautiful face hovered gently away from the tower’s peak. It was heart-rending to watch, saying goodbye to this moment of heaven with her.
He lay, panting. The huge head tilted and regarded him with that damned amused smile. “It was good for you, huh?” Her voice flowed in waves over his body, making him feel tiny.
“Valka, my beloved, I can’t tell you how wonderful that is.” He gasped for breath, his pale chest heaving in the night air. “If I could put it into words, if I could sufficiently impress upon you what it means to me, you would never take me away from it.”
The giantess rolled her eyes and grinned at the stars. “Such a little drama queen.” Slowly she sat up, stretching her back, flinging colossal arms into the sky. “Welp, you better get dressed. Or don’t, I guess, but I’ve got to take off.”
Anselm pulled his pants free of the damp mound of clothes. “Why so soon, this time? Usually we get a couple of hours together.” He wrung out the legs of the pants before jamming his own chilly legs into them. “Will I see you again next month, at least?”
“I don’t think so, Anselm. I think this is it.” The giantess sat back and, far below, rested her palms upon her thighs. “I want you to know, I had a lot of fun with you, with all these little visits.”
He stared at her, then sprang to his feet and pulled his tunic back on without wringing it out. It was as cold as ice. “Wait, Valka! What are you talking about? Why aren’t you coming back? You were going to teach me how to pleasure you, you know, down there.”
He couldn’t read the gross wince on her expression. “Yeah, well, sorry we never got to that. But you knew this wasn’t going to last forever, it was just a short-time thing. You’ve got your world to tend to, and I’m sure there’s tons of lovely little women in it just waiting for you. And I’ve got my own thing going on.”
Anselm stared up at her, the distance between his tower and her bosom seemingly further than ever. He wanted to grab onto her somehow, a finger, a lock of hair, something, but the colossal woman was entirely inaccessible to him. “But you can’t go! You can’t just leave me. Take me with you! Can you do that? Couldn’t you keep me with you?”
Valka’s broad face transmitted sympathy upon him, but her body swayed back as she stretched out her legs and got ready to get up. “That’s so sweet, Anselm, but it would never work. Ours are entirely different worlds. You wouldn’t enjoy it there, the food’s different, and people would probably kill you if they saw you.”
“Couldn’t you protect me from them?” Slyly he grinned. “Couldn’t you, you know, hide me on yourself and keep me safe?”
Slowly she did rise, incalculable tons of feminine meat lifting into the sky. Clumps of loam flaked off her thighs and shins and spun their way back to earth. “This is really entertaining and everything, but I really should’ve left about ten minutes ago.”
“Now, hold on a damned second! What’s the all-fired hurry?”
The immense nude woman glared down at him. “Hey, watch your tone, little man. You’re super cute and everything, but I think you forgot who’s in control, here.”
Valka had never spoken to him like this before. He was… the ship of his emotions was tossed between multiple whirlpools: abandonment, lust, resentment, humiliation, insult. “I’m sorry I took such a tone with you, I am, but what’s going on here?” The next words were a ledge he willing walked up to, and he knew it. “Don’t I mean anything to you?”
The giantess’s sweet mouth opened, far overhead, but no words came out. Instead, quiet thunder rolled in the distance, drifting from the mountains from which she had come. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, her gorgeous eyes widening.
Anselm, unable to see around the giantess’s vast hips, called up to her. “What’s wrong, what’s going on?”
“My girlfriend’s back.” Valka shrugged her huge shoulders helplessly and turned to greet the thunder.
Photo by Cesar La Rosa on Unsplash
One thought on “Tender Playthings, pt 1.”
This really struck a nice balance between the characters’ perspectives. It’s Anselm’s story (so far), and he’s harmlessly besotted. Valka’s entrance is magnificently operatic and deliciously detailed. What a tide of moonshadow. I may spend too long out on my deck this evening, hoping for a similar visitation. I guess that’s what spiced cider is for.
VERY good mouthplay. Almost all the action is Anslem’s; Valka just admits and slowly encloses him. This reinforces her claim that she derives no gratification from such encounters (and introduces the question of why she comes at all). You do a marvelous job of depicting how Anselm enjoys the experience, and it is accessible to everyone; one need not be a devout worshiper to see the attraction.
Anslem’s idiosyncratic perspective remains foregrounded, however, and his precipitous temptation is earned. La petite mort, indeed.
Reading Part 2 next.
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