The Golden Seed

[oneighty]

In the deep forest I select a giant oak tree to sit beneath to rest me from my morning's journey. By my side I lay my bow and quiver of arrows. From my food pouch I remove my lunch of bread and cheese. From my leather bags of water and of wine I drink equally.

On later reflection I think perhaps I drank too much from the red wine bag. Having eaten and drank my fill a sudden tiredness enters into me and leaning my back and head against the tree I fall into a deep sleep.

In my dream I am startled awake by the sweet singing of a maiden's voice. The small clearing in front of me is brightly lighted by the afternoon sun. Standing in the clearing is a black Unicorn. His mane and the other long hairs of his body are golden in color.

He snorts and trots proudly about the clearing. It is then I notice the golden haired maiden standing at the edge of the clearing. She too is watching the Unicorn. It is her singing that awakens me. The Unicorn is drawn to her voice and he stops in front of her.

She reaches her slender arm out to him and with her hand caresses his neck his ears and around his mouth. From her gown she removes an apple and urges the Unicorn to eat. The Unicorn responds with a quiet exhalation and stands trembling in front of her. He eats the apple.

Now she drops her gown to the ground and naked leaps upon the Unicorn's back. A flash of pink and of golden curls are exposed as she accommodates her body to that of the Unicorn. With her two hands she grasps tightly the single horn and pressing her knees to his side she urges him into motion.

He moves slowly at first about the clearing. Her pressing knees drive him on faster and faster. On his back she is rocking back and forth in time with his motion. Her face becomes flushed as he moves faster and faster about the clearing. From his nose rushes exhalations of hot breath misty as morning fog. He is soon snorting from the exertion and about his neck white moisture is building.

Suddenly his forelegs rise high from the ground pawing at the air. She is forced to relinquish her hold on the horn and instead wraps her arms tight about his neck. The golden mane is captured between her breasts. Her golden hair is mingled with the golden hair of his mane. His Golden Seed gushes forth and falls wasted to the earth.

On his back the golden maiden moans loudly her song of seduction and fulfillment. Finished they become quiet and from deep in the forest cames the musical call of a flute.

She leaps from the back of the Unicorn and scooping her gown up from the ground she runs laughing and singing to the call of the flute. The Unicorn trembles and fades from view. A cool wind then blows across the clearing.

I wake refreshed from my strange dream and there in the clearing where in my dream the Golden Seed was spilled one by one Golden Flowers as golden as the maiden's hair spring up from the earth.

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[Dangerously Amused]

1. Sex thread!! Sex thread!!

I tease.


Well, this is quite a departure from your usual subject matter, but well done nonetheless. I think our friend Mr. Freud would have something enlightening to say, however. :)

[oneighty]

4. Well my whimsical story

passed inspection by my wife and her sister. So I have permission to continue 'The Golden Seed'. And I will.

Thanks for comment DA

180

[frogmarch]

2. Great imagery!

The setting had a wonderful, mystical, days-of-yore feel to it, and as for the story itself, wow, talk about evocative!

Beautifully told, 180.

[oneighty]

5. Thank you frogmarch

It was your writings that tempted me to try fantasy.

Not only that but I have 'glass' painting of a Black Unicorn with golden mane and horn and long hairs and tail hanging on the wall opposite me. He is on his hind legs his forelegs forever pawing the air.

In the background are three golden pyramids and the moon. The background is all black. With changing light the whole works shimmers.

Garage sale five dollars-I could not believe my luck.

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[frogmarch]

7. I'm glad

you did, oneighty. Are there more unicorn stories waiting in the wings? With a painting like the Black Unicorn in your midst, I am surprised you weren't inspired to write the story sooner. Maybe you will find you're on a roll now!

[oneighty]

8. My wife and her sister

tease me about 'writing porn', but they say they like the story anyway. I intend to keep going on it.

Sister in law likes 'The Striker' better. I guess I do too as it is a true story and at one time we were all fisher-folks. So the striker events are familiar to us.

180

[JitterbugPerfume]

3. uuuh , did anyone smell anything

when they heard the sound of the flute?


just askin'

[oneighty]

6. No Jitterbug

In scene one the 'Stinking one' is far away and the wind is blowing in the wrong direction.

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[BikeWriter]

9. Very well done, my Friend! Thank you for posting this.

:-)