Javla Historia

Jävla Historia #2: Birka, Sverige - Jul 1st, 2004 4:48:28 pm EST

Inspiration finally strikes me. I've long since left the coffee shop, and I am taking advantage of a library with computer access in a small Iowa town.

Ah, Sweden, you are a lovely and depraved country shaped like a hard and circumsized cock about to enter the pile driver position. I love to visit you whenever I can, whenever, period, because you are my home. While Mikey slumbered dreaming about Orlando Bloom, I snuck a quick visit to the Midwest.

Runa worsted spun wool yarn into a gorgeous tapestry. Judging from the fitting form on her living room, she completed her beaded belly dance costume. The crystal blues and iridescent greens caught my attention until she whispered, “Messing around with wormholes again, dear?” A sly grin formed in her face as she wove.

I feigned a giggle and retorted, “Droll… clichéd, but droll.” I studied the beaded pattern one of the costume’s patterns, just a little closer. “Is your student here?”

“Valentine is in the bathroom.” A malicious glint shone in Runa’s eye. “There’s nothing that needs removal right now, is there?”

I flipped Runa the bird and smiled back at her, red-faced and trying very hard no to laugh. I just know that I will never live down the Irish pub incident.

The hissing of water and toilet flush prompted me to check myself using the mirror inside my powder compact. My rose lipstick looked fine.

Valentine emerged from the bathroom. When she saw me, she ran up to me with a hug. “How did you know I’d be here?”

I brushed my hand across my braided wig. “I’m an inter-dimensional being. I know things.”

Eyes checked me out up and down. Valentine folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “That seems a bit matronly for you.” In truth, a reconstruction of a Viking linen tunic covered by a woolen gown further layered with an apron dress and an unwieldy belt, isn’t simply dowdy, it is sheer hell in summer weather in the Midwestern United States.

“I am about to visit the ninth-century Sweden.” I believe my tone sounded rather snappish, even for my ears. “What are you wearing?”

Valentine placed her hands on her hips. “Are you the period police?”

“In three days, I will most likely be.” The entire room burst out in laughter, as I rubbed my crotch. I covered my face and added, “I’m sorry. I just get like this around that time.”

“Hey”, Valentine tickled my chin, “don’t you have ways to control your period in the future.”

I answered in the affirmative, but personally, I prefer to be natural. I prefer for my menopause to be a surprise gift from Mother Nature rather than a chemically induced certainty. I’m not into the blood-eating thing, per se, but I feel that a woman’s period is beautiful mixture of joy and pain. It is a secret scarlet sisterhood that no man wants or covets as his own badge of biology. It is one of the last remaining bastions of feminine taboo. Even in my time, this forbidden flowing jewel that brings creativity and devastation at the same time, still held mystery in a time when the dissection and categorization, destroyed the miraculous nature of the unknown. To feel blood on my fingers and pain on my body, is one of those rare treasures that separate me from the machines and remind me that I am still human.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” The trip to the Viking age peaked Runa’s interest. “This will be great costuming research opportunity for me.”

Valentine’s face turned completely red. “You are aware that Zillia and I are going to look for some hot lesbian action with shield maidens?”

Runa’s heavy sigh of delighted frustration caused her ever-visible cleavage to heave. “Excuse me, who just broke up with Asshole Man and, desperately needs rebound sex with someone cute without strings attached?” The heavy bosomed pale redhead shot a salacious gaze at her already flustered student.

“It is wrong to do intimate things with my teacher.” Valentine’s normally silky voice shrunk to a helpless elfish peep.

With my eyes firmly fixed upon Runa’s full breasts, I replied, “If you say so, Val. Yes, you can definitely come with us, dear, in more than one way if you so desire.” She giggled.

Two faired-haired ladies, one in proper garb and the other leather-clad like a Wagnerian Valkyrie, along with an Irish-blooded bellydancing witch dressed in something akin to a shimmering tsunami of beauty, traveled to a place, where one would not expect proper ladies to visit. Then again, we were not exactly proper ladies.

Runa, her weaving loom, Valentine and I materialized by a gigantic ash tree somewhere in a forest located somewhere in the outskirts of Birka. Before we could form a plan of action, a group of Vikings caught us in the act of appearing out of thin air. I could see another group of Vikings in the distance, riding away on horses. Judging from the ornate saddles, (hornless) spangenhelm helmets and the chain-mail armor, fancy swords, and other decorative finery, I deduced that the departing party consisted of the king and the professional royal army. Our new acquaintances were obviously the citizen’s militia.

None of the rather alarmed bearded men wore armor stronger than leather, if any, over their tunics and furs. None of them wore helmets. Instead, they wore meticulously groomed heads of hair. (Bless those cleanly medieval Pagans.) The poorer looking men wore short hair and smooth faces, while those less destitute wore beards and manes of hair to the shoulders. Each one carried painted wooden shields, knives and spears. Only the burliest, leather clad, red-faced Viking in the party carried an ax. Wagner would have been shocked.

The burly leather-clad Viking demanded, “Who are you?” Runa and Valentine squinted, trying to figure out what Germanic language the big man had spoken.

Having visited other periods within the Viking age and knowing that there was a common language among all Nordic people, I replied, “I am Urd the eldest crone of the Norns. I am the keeper of events that have past.” Pointing at Valentine I explained that she was “Skuld, the most mysterious Norn, and the Goddess of Future Fate.”

Valentine seemed to understand that I had called her Skuld because she smiled and squealed, “Oh my Gods, I’m Skuld.” She looked back at me and squealed. “I love Skuld!”

One of the Vikings asked another, “What is she saying?”

“Silence mortal!” I tried so hard not to laugh at these hideously confused men. “Behold the sight of the splendor of Verdandi, the most beautiful of the tapestry weavers of fate. Runa stood up from her loom and shook her boobies at the amateur soldiers. The bells of her bellydancing outfit mesmerized the men.

One man, a particularly handsome Thor-Wannabe stood out from the ranks and sang heroic ballad in the direction of Runa. Baritone and sky blue eyes bewitched my witchy friend. Before the Thor-Wannabe could finish his poetry, another Viking slapped him on the head and called him, “Quit singing, for you are white-backed Christian who flees from the vaginas of women.” The Thor-Wannabe decked the heckler with left hook. The big burly leather-clad Viking shook his head and warned the Thor-Wannabe, that flirting with the Norns might not be good form.

Valentine and I told Runa to go and have fun with the Thor-Wannabe. She gladly obliged and took him by the hand. I told Thor-Wannabe, “She has chosen to bless you in a very special way. Take her to the nearest lodging and she shall bring happiness into your life.” With a smile, he scooped Runa and carried her away.

Our lucky “Norn” shouted in the distance, “I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.” I envied her, yet I was happy for her.

“‘Urd’, do you see any shield maidens?” I bit my lip and shook my head at ‘Skuld.’ She had been hoping for some hot dyke action, and so far, the situation was not looking good.

The big burly Viking interrupted us with the howl. “I am Skeggi the Robust, Son of Oddr, and I demand to know why you have appeared to us.”

I shouted back, “Take us to the sleaziest and most festive tavern in this town, and we will show you.” The amateur soldiers seemed taken aback by my outburst, and responded with a collective, “Yes Ma’am.”

Valentine seemed disgusted by the situation. “I can’t understand that guy, but I can tell that he’s an asshole.”

I smiled at my dear friend and told her, “We’ll get back at him, just be patient.”

Valentine stared at her tumbler with derision. She poked at the viscous liquid and scowled. “What the hell is this stuff? I looks like used motor oil and it feels like slime.”

“It’s ale, dear,” I replied as I sipped the nourishing brown brew from my drinking horn.

“Ugh!” Valentine could barely choke down a small gulp the gooey beverage. “If this is ale, I can’t imagine what the beer is like.”

I scratched my head at a memory, “Viking beer is hard pear and apple cider.”

“I’ll have one of those instead.” Valentine pushed her tumbler aside and forced a grin upon her face.

“I’ll take your ale, it’s delicious and nourishing.” The poor girl looked nauseated as I poured the fermented barley syrup into my horn. I looked towards a nearby table and screamed in the old tongue, “Hey Skeggi, buy a beer for the lady.”

He gladly obliged by belching out, “Woman,” and placing his order with the modestly and traditionally clad barmaid.

Valentine glanced at the wench, with a look begging for less clothing on such a beautiful body. She sighed loudly, and picked at her ale-stewed chicken without any real desire to eat it. “So what would it have been like if we had gone to the height of Anasazi Culture instead of here?” Her tired, bloodshot eyes carried a heavy load of anticipatory dread, as I felt my lips parting for speech.

“We would’ve seen gorgeously crafted folkloric art, beautiful dances, houses carved on the side of hills, sustainable agriculture, earth-friendly roadways, a fully functioning aqueduct system, vibrant trade, carbon-based hover cars powered by the sun, and the loveliest secret lesbian rituals you can ever imagine, all before the existence of the Hopi and Zuni tribes of Aboriginal-Americans came to be.”

“And of course, I erred in my choice. Hmmm…” My dear friend bashed her head against the table several times, before the sound of glass breaking on someone’s head snapped her out of her monotonous action. She clenched her teeth again and snorted. “So, we are stuck in a place inhabited by dorks who would be perfectly at home drinking Budweiser, watching professional wrestling, driving pickup trucks with shotguns racks, and blathering on about getting some ‘poontang’ as they listen to Ted-fucking-Nugent. Am I right?”

The uncensored truth would have been akin to me killing a puppy with a steamroller. I took a swig of my ale and patted my forlorn friend on her shoulder. “Look at the bright side. We’re getting all the free liquor and food we can consume.”

My poor friend bawled loudly. The barmaid whispered into my ear and handed me two apple beers. I relayed her message in English, “Inga the wench thought that you looked sad, so she’s giving you two beers for the price of one.”

Valentine lifted her head, and studied the beer. She lifted one of the tumblers and lightly sipped. She licked her lips and chugged the rest. A smile appeared. She drank the other tumbler and nodded her head, “Sweet…” Inga came back to the table with two more complimentary pitchers of beer. My friend giggled, “I like that girl. She’s a pleasant and she simply looks delicious.” I concurred with her assessment. Valentine filled her tumbler with more beer. “Gods this stuff is fantastic.” Valentine nearly spit out her drink when at the sound of a quick, yet brutal bar fight. Her eyes grew wide at the commotion of men cheering for the victor. She looked into my eyes, hoping for answers. “What just happened?”

“The thin man with the grisly brown hair, called that unmarried warrior woman that just walked out, a “cross-dressing virgin who flees from the penis.”

Valentine rubbed her forehead and cringed. “In other words, she knocked him out for calling her a dyke.”

“Right after she called him a ‘man who takes penis in the ass.’”

“I hate this homophobic, Euro-Hellbillyhole, so badly.” As Valentine bashed her fist against the table, the waitress topped off one of the pitchers. “Oh Inga, I couldn’t have another beer.” Inga ignored Valentine’s hand waving of negation and smiled brightly. “Oh what the fuck, I hate the idea of drinking excessively, but….” My miserable friend took one of the pitchers to her lips and imbibed its full contents. She passed out a few minutes later. Her pulse seemed okay, so I decided to let her sleep off her inebriation

I never finished the second ale, but I didn’t care, my horniness was killing me. I poured the liquid to the floor and strutted up to my Viking buddies, hoping for a little action. In the spirit of bringing a little rhythm into Northern Europe, I decided to engage in a little booty shaking stripper action. The unbuckling of my belt was greeting with wild cheering and hooting, and spirited bar singing. The owner walked into the room just as my apron hit the floor. He called me a whore just before a hairy Viking named Hrappr beat his ass for being rude to a Norn.

The hairy fat man lifted the owner by the collar of his tunic and shook him vigorously. “If you try to pester the Urd again, I will fuck you in the ass and unman you.”

Skeggi chimed in, “We shall all fuck you in the ass and unman you. Are you in accord, men?” To my delight, they all screamed out yes. Cultures with simultaneous receptive homophobia, and socially encouraged insertion for the aggrandizement of manliness, are ridiculously amusing to me.

I threw my gown and my tunic over my head. I turned my ass at the men and shook my legs subtly, to achieve the legendary “Black girl bootie shake.” Many of the men remarked how a butt that shook like mine could only belong to a goddess. “Do you like what you see, brave warriors?” I felt so proud of myself, so I bent over and spread my ass cheeks to show off my soaking pussy. “Do you want to fuck me in every hole and between my tits?” I could tell that the drunken Vikings wanted to say yes, but I could tell that their wives and girlfriends had trained them.

“Come on, I can’t get pregnant and whatever happens here, will stay here.” I stood erect and placed on hand on my hip, while the other one poked at the air. "I’m a Norn. Block the doors. We’ll have fun." The men still stood like idiots, grinding their feet into the ground, whistling and looking for something in the ceiling. Men should not be prudes. Hell, no adult should be a prude unless there’s a good excuse.

Inga, with a broom in hand, rolled her eyes at the pathetic situation. She hoisted Valentine over her shoulder and lifted my plastered pal off the ground. With a swipe of gnarly broomstick, she cleared out a large table and tossed my unconscious friend down upon it. With a knife on her belt, Inga sliced Valentine’s sexy Xena dress in half. She pulled it open to reveal the sexy body that hid inside. The barmaid cut the panties off as she screamed to the patrons and the owner, “My loins are burning with lust!” She removed the remainder of Valentine’s panties and dove into her pussy.

Something in conscience told me that it was probably a bad idea to allow the barmaid to rape other helpless women. By the same token, I felt that Valentine would be very disappointed if she didn’t get some hot lesbian action going on before returning back to her present. I stood naked and terrified, right behind mortified Vikings who looked like they were on the verge of having their heads explode. As Inga flicked her tongue on top Val’s clit, I grabbed her by the sleeve and slapped her. “Who do you think you are trying to rape a Norn?” She slapped me right back. I bit her covered tit. She moaned and pushed my head in closer.

“Oh, I like how that feels.” I bit harder, curious about her reaction. “I want you to bite my nipples.”

I released the barmaid’s belt, a peeled off her layers of clothing in front of dozens of lustful eyes. She looked embarrassed, but she played along. I loved how she was willing to stay and allow me to show off her muscular, yet feminine body to everyone in the bar. I sucked on her fingers and licked mine as well. I guided her hand to my cunt. She nervously touched my clit. It was obvious that this horny thing was not too sure about being watched at such a vulnerable moment. I sucked on her nipples as hard as I could and gave her a good bite. She cried in pain, begging me to stop. “Are you going to be a good girl and do as I say?” Her affirmative answer earned her a finger up her pussy. “Get on your knees and show these limp dicks what bad girls deserve. Show them your beautiful ass.”

She raised her rump and I stuck a finger inside her pussy at the same time I ran my tongue from her hood and up to her rim of her ass. The men’s eyes felt heavy upon us and I loved the weight. I stuck two more fingers inside her hole. Her clammy skin told me that she was completely humiliated, but her begging me to fuck her harder told me that she cherished the psychological torture. That’s when I stopped. She pleaded for me to continue, but I refused. Instead, I took my belt and looped it. I explained to the men that I was going to punish Inga for being bad. I told her that I would stop only when she asked me too. She nodded with tears in her eyes.

In synchronicity with the first smack of the ass, Valentine sat on the table and gawked at us rather wobbly. After the next three smacks, she stated rather giddily, “No fair, I want some of that,” before passing once again.

I held back the fifth belting, and made an exaggerated gape to Inga. “Oh dear, I guess I was wrong about Skuld not wanting you.” I helped the abused barmaid stand up. I kissed her in my mouth and stuck my tongue inside it. She squeezed my ass in response. With a childlike taunt I asked, “Do you sweet boys think this little girl is a good one?”

The bar remained quiet, until a rather embarrassed bar owner finally announced, “My daughter makes me proud. She would rather lick women than give her virginity away to a strange man, even in the face of great temptation. We should celebrate her virtue for years to come.” The bald man looked towards a rather horrified Skeggi, hoping for some support.”

Skeggi stood stiffly looking around at his warriors and the other patrons. He looked at his fiancé. She refused to return the eye contact. I lifted her face up towards her man. He walked towards her and held her tenderly. He gazed at her with more love than you would expect from a man preparing to enter an arranged marriage. He kissed her on the forehead and announced to the bar, “I agree that she will make a virtuous wife for me and now I know for certain that she will be an excellent lay.” Yes sir, you simply have to love that selective homophobia. The entire male contingent of the tavern cheered. I smiled at the sweet couple, and deep kissed each one of them. Inga’s jealously furled her brow when I kissed her future husband. I stopped right away, because this was a definite boundary problem.

I asked Inga to take care of Valentine’s limp body and I told Skeggi to watch his bride fuck another beautiful girl. I told him how much his wife wanted him to watch. I warned him not to fuck his future wife, lest he take away her virtue prematurely. I also asked him to not fuck Valentine lest he wished to invoke his wife’s fury.”

“That’s right, so don’t you even dare fuck any girls other than me! You will not cheat on me with another woman, even if she is Fate herself.”

“But, Inga…”


“Nothing, you will watch me suck on her tits until her nipples turn red and will you sit still.”

Skeggi stared at his crotch dejectedly. “Yes dear.”

I felt bad for him. “Why don’t you play with your cock while you watch your lady’s suck on some other woman’s sweet love juice?”

The blonde barmaid screamed, “No!”

I pulled out Skeggi’s thick bulging cock and licked the pre-cum off. “What’s the matter? Are you a virgin who flees from the penis? If you don’t let him have some fun, I’ll give it to him.” I briefly swallowed his cock to lubricate it, as a way to illustrate my point.

Inga blinked her eyes rather shocked. She thought for a few seconds and smiled at her future husband. He yanked his bulging member at the sight of the woman he loved while she pleasured a sleeping beauty.

With my good deed done for the night, I skipped over to my bag, grabbed some lube and loaded both holes with the stuff. I pranced back to my audience. “Before you take me boys, let me propose the wager. If I pass out before I do it every single guy in this bar, except for Skeggi over there, I will grant incredible luck to all of you and I will give you this device.” I presented a solar-powered laser cigarette lighter to the men and demonstrated how easily it could start a fire with a piece of paper. “Oohs” and “ahhs” filled the room, as I doused the lit paper with beer. “If I manage to screw everyone, without collapsing, you will give me a battle ax and you will all drink fluids from a penis. Each one of you can only do it with me once, so if you cum, you’re done.” A collective gasp filled the room. It satisfied me. “So, do you want to fuck me, or do you fuck and play?”

The men in the bar discussed the proposal loudly and in a chaotic manner. I checked my time, and they had already wasted three minutes of my horniness. I could not stand it anymore, so I sauntered over to a happily spent Skeggi, who still watched Inga getting it on with Valentine. I whispered the proposal in his ear. Without hesitation, he ordered everyone in the bar to, “Fuck her and hard as you can, instant fire and incredible luck are worth the chance.” They all came after me. Hundreds of hands groped at my body. I had no idea which one belonged to whom. Cute guys, ugly guys, weird guys, normal guys, I didn’t give a shit, because they were all after one thing. I relaxed myself until I became as limp as a doll. My body became a receptacle, a slave to the whims of the masses. They entered my mouth. The entered my ass. The entered my hole. Each visitor pounded hard until the fluids squirted. One, two, three, eleven, twenty-six the whisky dicks and the younger ones quickly fell from the tryst. Look at toy soldiers fall.

Thirty, thirty-three, thirty-six, what the fuck, forty already, no fair giving me two dicks at once while two others are pounding the shit out of me. Holy cats, now there’s three to blow and my ass is starting to feel shabby. Forty-five and next fifty, cum stings my skin and vision is starting to blur. Am I already pushing sixty? Why am I so sensitive? Why is it that every touch feels like knives slashing my skin? I’m going insane and I want to throw up. I spit anything that comes near my mouth, now. I don’t want to suck anymore. I need to breathe, but I can only do it through my nose. My mouth is numb and I need air. This is fucking out of control.

I buck off anyone who touches my ass now. The rawness is killing me. Why don’t I give up? Why won’t I stop and concede defeat? Why am I still letting them inside my pussy? Please don’t get so tight. Please make me a little more lube. Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I allowing myself to cry so hard that my eyes burn? What the hell is wrong with me?

A beautiful creature green-eyed slams his hands against the ground as semen hits my walls. Built like Hercules, hair like fire and hung like the Green Man, I lasted longer than he did. As I watched him pull out in retreat, I feel menses escape the dam of my womb. The pain of the cramping seems like nothing compared to this. Another one takes his place. I’m too dizzy to count anymore. The pain of stillbirth, the pain of heartache, the pain of being female, I need to understand the analogy in order to gain complete self-awareness and mastery full mastery over my body. That is why I am allowing this to happen. That is why I choose to be a willing slave. I am stronger than any man is. I am more determined than any man is. A man will not best me. I won’t let it happen. I am stronger. I am a woman and this pain makes me feel alive. I will not submit to my master, even though I shall make him believe that I did. I am a woman because I am alive. I suffer because I love the sensation of being alive.

Suddenly, I feel calm. My body is numb. I feel so cold. I am still alive, but I am so exhausted. I need to stop. I wrap my arms tightly around whatever is around me. I whisper, “I’m so tired.”

A distorted voice answers, “I’m tired too…” As I collapse, unable to continue the momentum I feel a small tinkling sound against my belly. Everything is moving so slowly. I feel my body slam against the floor, convulsing and writhing. Yet, I feel nothing. I close my eyes.

I see myself back home, as an awkward young thing lying on crushed blades of autumn wheat, surrounded by a field of skinny golden titans who still stood up to reach the sky. I readjusted my glasses and picked my nose, as I dreamt of finding my true love and contributing something marvelous to a world full of blue skies and cottony clouds. In my mind, a place full of soft flannel shirts, bubble gum, kittens and chocolate cupcakes, was wonderful place deserving something in return for all its kindness. Yes, there were mean people at school and bad stuff on the news, but overall, life was grand. It was on that day that I decided to create a magical pill to make people’s illnesses less painful.

As I lay supine in the field of wonders, I read my great grandmother’s journal. I heard that she was a sweet and religious lady. I wanted to be pretty and kind just like her. I wanted to meet her, just once. I promised myself that I would learn the secrets of time travel so I could tell her, “Thank you for making me brave. Thank you for making me strong.” I did not want miss anything. I didn’t want to live with regrets and unfulfilled dreams the way she did. I wanted to feel every sensation that God had to offer. I lived to feel alive.

I woke up in a strange bed, confused, wondering if I lived in a dream or if the dream was reality. I smelled like cleanliness. My skin felt nice. I rose up. My ears were greeted by cheering. I rubbed my eyes and to my surprise, seventy-eight smiling faces surrounded me, including those of Skeggi and Inga. I looked around for Valentine. She wasn’t there.

Inga twirled her long straight hair nervously. “Skuld is very cranky and a different room.” I shrugged my shoulders indicating a lack of surprise.

“The game was a draw,” Skeggi announced with great pride. That bit of news actually surprised me. “I swear by Odin’s eye that Þorfiðr the Ravisher blew his load as the exact same time of your fainting.”

A nasty looking man who resembled a cross between a bearded Ichabod Crane and a skinnier Aleister Crowley grumbled, “I always screw them until they are out cold and completely unable to move! He crowed as he pointed at me, “This bitch was so tight I couldn’t even hold it in.” He shifted his eyes dangerously and twitched nervously. “This woman survived being fucked by seventy-six strong Norsemen, before I even touched her. Her endurance can only belong to a creature more powerful than the gods of Asgard, and even the devious Loki himself. Men, we have actually fucked a Norn.” I appreciated this compliment and the silent stares that accompanied it.

“So we tied,” I grumbled as I felt a throbbing headache coming on. “How about each one of our teams picks one prize and then we’ll call it even?” The Vikings nodded in approval. “So what do you want, incredible luck or instant fire?”

Without any hesitation all of the men, including the bartender responded, “Incredible luck!”

I clicked my fingers and said, “Done.” The men cheered wildly.

Skeggi asked rather presumptuously, “So, do you want the brand new ax, oh powerful and insatiable Urd?”

I thought about it for a few minutes, and I knew that the other prize would be far more effective in terms of keeping the Norn incident, a secret. I grinned at Skeggi. He frowned worriedly.


***



The Vikings and the bar owner carried Valentine and I back to the loom by the ash tree. They didn’t say goodbye. They didn’t say thank you. The Norsemen remained speechless. They knew that if they spoke of the Norns who granted them incredibly good luck, a horrible fate would befall them and bring shame to their families for generations to come.

Valentine, despite suffering from a painful hangover, cackled wildly. “I initially thought that the squirting dildo you bought was a silly idea, but now that I’ve seen it in action, I must say that it is the funniest toy ever.”

“I know.” I beamed gingerly as my body told me, “I hate you” in two million different ways,

“It was so hilarious to watch them willingly drink my apple beer “piss” from my fucking plastic cock.” Valentine rubbed her temples to ease the migraine. “I especially loved it when I made that fucking Skeggi suck me off before I squirted him. That kicked ass!”

“I told you we’d get them back.”

Abruptly Valentine’s mood changed. “It’s kind of sucky about the shield maidens. I was totally looking forward to some hot lesbian action.”

“Owwww….” I clutched at my cramping belly. “You were drunk as all hell, so you were pretty useless.”

“You had to tell me that didn’t you.” Valentine crossed her arms indignantly. “By the way, what happened to you? You look like you got gangbanged by an army.” A slight tinge of concern seeped into her voice.

I sighed, “I was. Plus I fucked Inga and everyone else in the bar.”

“Did I get gangbanged?”

“No.”

Valentine stomped her foot and shouted, “Suck,” just as a familiar figure appeared on horseback holding on to a hunk who could’ve stepped out of a romance novel. “Well, if it isn’t Runa.”

Valentine’s teacher kissed her dreamboat goodbye and dismounted the horse. She took pair of sacks with her. As the rider disappeared into the distance, Runa clasped her hands. With the most saccharine tone of voice she could muster, the Wiccan teacher gloated. “I had delightful time with Glúmr. We watched a horse fight, and he placed the winning bet. With the earnings, he bought me this arm bracelet, a fur shawl, brooches, a ton of fabric, an exquisite metal-brocaded silk fillet for my hair, plus two new bags to carry my things in.”
“Glúmr took me to his family’s home where we enjoyed nettle soup, pickled herring, flat bread, berries and the most delightful mead I have ever had the privilege of tasting. I listened to him recite an epic poem that captured the attention of everyone in the house. I had no idea as to what it was about, but I loved listening to him. He tucked me in the guest bed, kissed me goodnight and left me to my dreams. In the morning, Glúmr worked the fields for two hours, bare-chested and sweaty, with his equally attractive brother, and father. For breakfast, we ate porridge, sausages and berry pancakes with jam with a glass of pear cider to wash it all down. My perfect gentleman returned me here by horseback and the rest you saw. I feel so wonderful today. How are you two doing?”

Valentine and I, pained and crabby, stared at each other dumbfounded. We growled, turned our glares towards Runa, and chanted, “Fuck you,” in unison. Runa beamed proudly, sensing our disdain.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. “Let’s go. I need to drop you two off at home, and I need to go back to Mikey’s to get some sleep.” With that, our Nordic adventure ended. I wasn’t neatly packaged or pretty, but it was entertaining nonetheless. I hope that Valentine will not boot me in the head when she discovers what happened to her while she lay unconscious on the table. It will be interesting to see her reaction when she finds out.

3:04 AM - Thursday, July 1, 2004 - post comment