Legends of Belariath


Going Off Again - Pulling Teeth Out Of The Tower: Splinters In The Soul

Okay, this is the last time I am going to talk about sex for a while... I think.

Not that the subject bothers me, but even I have limits. At least to how much I'll go on about something. Swords? Those I can talk about for days, if not weeks. Spellcraft? Probably less, mainly as I really don't like going into topics that pull too much of what's the real deal out of me. Raging and rampaging about things is great for my chest - it gets things off of it. But the moment you start opening up about those moments in life that define you, it can get into all sorts of needless strife that'll lead to getting out the war hammer and cracking people in the chest.

Right then, I need to be a little less violent. There's at least three women working on that right now. And that's where this next bit all comes into play: interracial sex. Now, before you get your tunic all twisted up, I'm not about to start talking about purity of race and how ever dallying with someone outside of your own little fortress of fetishes is a bad thing. How in the world could I, when there's only been one person of my own race I've ever had any sort of interest in? If you saw her, you'd understand though. Legs almost as long as mine. Her behind is shaped so well, every time I see it I just want to put my hands right onto it. A chest that's so nice, I'd want to have a painter create a masterpiece with the woman from the waist upward. A neckline that I'd weep to place my lips on and kiss downward from the earlobe to the shoulder blade and back up again. Every time she moves, it is like pure poetry in motion. For her, walking is not so much of a chore and necessity, as it is an art and a wonder. Is it wrong to admit that I could just see her moving around a room and smile the entire time? And... she won't have sex with me. Why is that, one might ask? Because when it comes down to it, I'm not a one-woman man, and I never have been.

I almost want to cry.

Anyway, the main thing about interracial sex is that with some people, it'd just not going to fit. I mean you are not going to get an ogre's cock into a halfling's slit. Not that I haven't heard of them trying to, but the end results are what you'd normally expect. Well, except for a few of them that managed to have enchantments and runes upon themselves that allowed for larger than normally accepted parts. It's something I've heard a lot of minotaurs get on elven slaves for the most blatant of reasons. Elves, humans, and a lot of those nature spirits tend to be snagged for such things, mainly as the males of all those races are looking for something small and pretty to slide themselves up into. Catpeople camps are raided for just that reason, males wanting something small and tight to shove something inside. (Some females as well, but it's normally men doing raiding.)

So then, where does that leave the females of those larger species? Up shyte creek with only there arms to paddle. Big arms, big hands, big... bosoms. Now, some of those races aren't that bad to look at, if you manage to find a more comely member of their species. Wolven, for example, are not are horrific when they aren't stalking you through a summer's rain in the depths of an old growth forest. I, for one, have seen quite a few of their number that have been more than welcoming in terms of their physical appearance. Just because my head only came up to their shoulders does not mean I discriminated against them. (It was purely the fact one of them was a shaman who had a flail made from the heads of her fallen foes on her belt, and the other one had a dress made out of rather questionable leathers.) Women being larger than me has rarely been an issue, because so few women I have come across are from races that are generally big. You know, centaurs, ogres, minotaurs...

And trolls.

Size difference makes a different. Cultural difference just as much, because of all the wars and enslaving that happen between the races, some couples are a little less likely than other ones. Like a Sheykan and a moriel getting together? Probably not happening, unless one of them is doing something horrible to the other. (You can guess who would be more likely on the giving end, there.) Another one which is unlikely - even if they are both literal lightweights - are torians and chirot. The fact they don't always kill each other on sight is a marvel to many that are familiar with both races. You'd think since they both have wings they'd have at least something to talk about. That and all that aerial sex the could try to get up to. Though from what little I've watched, it really doesn't work that way. (Maybe a few feather fall spells and a flight spell would make a difference, but it almost defeats the purpose that way. I'll have to ask one of them sooner or later.) There was a third set of races I was thinking of, but the mind just isn't working for me at the moment. I am sure it'll come to me at a much later date - probably while someone from that race is trying to get at me with a spear or a trident. Always seems to happen that way recently.

Well, something I've found really interesting in some of the larger cities is the amount of bragging that goes on. Comparing one's dick size against someone else's gets real strange when you really start getting creative. Stop me if you've ever heard this one before: a satyr, a dwarf, and a moriel walk into a bar... Wait, you haven't have you? Well, I've seen it, and the next thing anyone knows, they are all arguing about who has the longest schlong. When they whipped them out, I knew I was in the wrong place. Considering all the salivating I saw from one table full of fops out of Hurema'Inca, it looked like those three actually knew exactly what they were doing from the get go. Something in the air smelled funny as well, like some incense or whatever. Needless to say, something was up and mouths were dripping. The last time I was in a situation like that, I was between a pack of wolves and a moose struck dead by an errant spell. There are times to know when you don't want to be between ravenous predators and their meat. Also in the case of those well-heeled types, I doubt they were really the ones doing the hunting. If you ask me, the trio by the bar were doing a pretty good fisherman impression.

Really, I should stop talking in case people think I'm just purely made out of bitterness. That is by and large not entirely true. I mean, there's things I've done sexually I'm not particularly proud of, and that's regardless of the nation or the nature of the person I've been with. Have there been times I've used someone's race against them - carnally speaking, that is? Yes, and I'll freely state I'll do it again sooner or later. I've never quite been the completely wholesome type when it comes to getting down and dirty with people. Never saw the need to, as I've always looked at sex being different from loving someone. A separation of faith and fealty, you could say. Works really well when you have a sithian priestess nibbling on your ears and sliding hands along your sides, whispering into your ear about how Tepictuc would accept me into their service as long as I bowed my body and soul to their servants. Not that I had any interest in either the sithian OR Tepictuc, but I'd rather not be struck down dead for being a blasphemous bastard because some dame's draping fingers along my flesh flute. The sithian was a sexy sultana, but there's no way I would consider changing allegiances just to get a little serpent sucking and snake shafting into my day. Pounding the pussy isn't worth a lighting bolt through the butt.

And that leads me into one of my favourite subjects: weaknesses. Elves have their ears, sithians have certain scales to stroke, et cetera, et cetera. It changes depending on who and what you have in the bed with you, right? Wrong. The one thing I've learned in my years of fornicating follies is that there's three things that seem to matter more than anything else: location, location, and (you guessed it) practice. (No, really it's location, but I wanted to be more of a pricktard than usual.) Learning the hard way isn't always as hard or as brutal as one'd think. That's of course if you are bothering to pay attention once to get some random (or not so random) dame into the woven reed mats with you. Inside a dame and outside of a man, certain parts almost always react the same. It's usually a matter of intensity. Magic helps some, which is why I noticed certain races like torians and chirot have real successful sluts - male ones, I might add - that are healers or druids. I'd say the same of vulpines but I've never met one that treats the body. Well, they treat the body, but that's more like treating your tongue to a chocolate covered cookie. Same thing can be said of catgirls, even the rough and tumble ones that like to snap the necks of rampaging barbarians. Find the sweet spot on them, and they purr in pleasure like anyone else. (Okay, I've never made a minotaur purr but I've heard it can be done, alright?)

So yeah, that's interracial sex. Trying to not get smothered by someone whose chest is as big as your head is a real threat. Some people would be like "and you say it like it's a bad thing." It's painfully apparent to me they've never seen a group of catgirls and vulpines hopped up on some strange potion chase down two satyrs and literally fuck them to within breaths of their demise. It was some "ritual" held every season by the Temple of Ishtar. (My understanding was that for winter it was a group of sex-starved wolven and fae chasing prisoners of the town. For some reason, I don't think that ends too well too often.) For some, it's an "any hole will do" situation. Callous I know, but nothing really unusual in Belariath. It's not as if there's some prize for deflowering damsels solely of your race. There's nothing stopping the average denizen of the land from riding some rampant rustler from outside their village or lineage than their own personal lusts and hatreds. If you want to get your cock creamed on by an ogre, by all means go ahead. If halflings are your personal piece of ass to favour and savour, there's little stopping you from going out and getting some. (No puns intended or recommended. They don't like that sort of thing.) Just remember one thing: cleanliness gets you repeats.