A Red-Lit, Bare-Bodied Tale of Elder Hyperborea

Dim lanterns of orange and red dotted the rain-soaked docks, Lighting the way for fine-carved and dark-stained bamboo sandals to click down the alleyways and narrow streets chiseled deep into the stones of Mu-Thulan. Gaudy and imported like the tan-skinned women-of-the-evening they adorned. Along with Jade jewelry, ivory hairpins, and dark orichalcum laced rings and needlelike piercings, inlaid with fine elven gold and brought, in trade, by frozen caravan across the region of Ultima, swung and jiggled from many a ringed and bared tan bosom, or the many many magical scrolls used by the wizard’s for their sciences and alchemies, all of these matters of culture and exchange came from the land of Mu.

These docks were not the usual gut covered and sea stained wharfs, those were downcoast. These docks were for pleasure, commerce and whoring. And so the trade was plied, between the wrap-hanging cloth doors, one glimpses the likes of naked, golden haired dancing girls, entertaining mercenaries, with bodies adorned in nothing but paint, and oils harvested from exotic powerful, monstrous Prehistoric creatures from deep below the waves, glowing and shimmering white and gold and blue, spread across the neck to make the skin beautiful for ages and keep men hard and entranced longer even than that

3 elderly men with hard and erect members lay naked, while 3 beautiful, young and energetic women of 3 different kinds of race made sweet, slow sensations of pleasure at their whim using every sensual asset at their command, from fingers to toes, lips to sweet suckling, youthful loin. nearby at the line where the tents ended and the stone buildings on row after row began, a pale youth showered the trembling back of a swooning young woman in the last drops of his burdensome virginity, as his glaring stone-wall of a father waits patiently outside with iron barbarian club in hand, so that his vigorsome heir may know of manhood in peace & comfort. 2 friends share the warmth of 1 whore, as they, leaving tomorrow aboard a ship to fight in a distant war in a land she could not pronounce.

Easy to see that they 3 were just as much in love with one another as they where overwhelmed by this last remaining thirst, that all-consuming need to know woman at her most desirable. As the fairer ejaculated, howling, the other mounted her in turn. This, likely going on and on and on until they could no longer wait, soon, called away to die someplace distant. making all of this heat and lust seem as a dream. all is business as usual as this black-haired native of the red-light rimmed night continues on her way. Of this naked working-girl who walked with a round, tempting strut born of confidence and experience, like the long white Fur cloak she wore over her skin, a wide Silk wrapped bamboo triangular hat with ornate painted cranes and swords of the north upon, and deep thun-grass & bamboo dark-stained sandals, Half of her bloodline was of that continent a world or more away, while the other half Was bastard to half a dozen bloodlines of Southern Lemuria.

Still to these blonde haired northern barbarians and foreign savages still native to Hyperborea, she was the very definition of foreign and exotic beauty. With Silken black hair, tan skin and violet eyes that were speckled with amber, she was tall and curvaceous. hers was a look, still somewhat unnatural even in a world as old as this. Much Like the strange red-Darkwood Bamboo grasses of northern distant Muian-influenced northern-Hyperborea, she was the result of a type of ages-old, polycontinental engineering, achieved through breeding and the making of fine stocks to meet the various apatite and desires of the world. Made for pleasure and luxurious exotic comfort.

And indeed, oh how Her beautiful, golden tan body had made her very rich. Yet still, she played her charms, waiting for a boat whose captain was more than happy to trade her bare body and pleasure For passage to the South. Far beyond Hyperborea, To retire from whoring in the warm realms of Atlantis. And live life as a madam.

Though she trusted the man for passage, And found him attractive, it would no doubt annoy her to no end to know that even he, knowing this would be her last Time aboard his vessel and rocking the Bowers of his bed thusly, Waited and dragged his anchor the whole way down the coastline of mysterious Atlantis, Making the trip down take longer than it ever had before, So as to savor her sweat and the wetness between her legs and the depths which he wrote his name in pearlescent white divine nectar upon the gateway to her hot and untouched womb, doing so at least once a night. She had never been to Atlanta’s, had only ever heard about it from the likes of sailors and captains such as he. She was happy spending close to 2 full months in his cabin, Slapping sweat covered skin against a native-born son of Atlantis. Eating fine fish he caught. Whales sang them to sleep at night, oft with him still sheathed within her. Heavy was his Anchor, Deep was his lust for her, and he smiled Every night, for that trip of 2 months should have taken all but 2 weeks. At most.

She departed to a beach and luxuries without even looking back. He stayed a while. Feeling content and manly with himself, having spent the last few nights with her, quenching the white-hot fire of his dripping hot, bronze Atlantean sword, driving himself with every ounce of what he had to give. Swooning and biting down onto her neck like a tiger, as he ejaculated Deep within his Beautiful, ornate and most exotic of imported basins. such an elegant treasure, now sleeping atop him, full of wine and oil, And perhaps maybe a few drops of dragons blood from the far away lands which she came. Not a single night of the end to this long, slow voyage had gone by without her taking the flow of his seed.

Haunting nearby to her paradise from Afar, Taking a few months and in his own time fathering some more children to the women of the local tribes. No doubt lonely and missing their husbands. Whence finally 1 day scanning the horizon of a white sand beach, He spied his buxom basin, In her silken wide rim hat, Naked and beautiful as the day he left her, But with round swollen belly and heavy hanging bosom filled with milk. Nearly tempting him to dive away from his beloved vessel and swim to shore to suckle until death. Indeed, Atlantis would love nothing more than to lure him back in such a way. So he laughed, played his pipes and fell asleep content with himself. Indeed, having finally amalgamated, hot, into sweet Mu-Thulan bronze.