Happy Yule! Yule is a special time of romance, drinking, sacrifice, and violence. This year to celebrate, we want to give to you a special, sexy Yule meditation–a seasonal romance.
You can read it as is by yourself, you and a partner can whisper it to each other as pillow talk before mid-winter love making, or you can step it up a notch and add a textual element with the use of evergreens. Holly leaves can be used like a Wartenberg wheel; pine, fir, rosemary and other evergreen boughs can be used as a fragrant love nest; smaller boughs can be used as invigorating switches (the scent of many evergreens are used in aromatherapy for invigorating sluggish souls) or sensual ticklers; ivy vines can be used make sure your lover doesn’t run off in the middle of your winter revels. As with anything sex and BDSM related: make sure everything is consensual, everyone is legal, safety is top priority, and outdoor sex occurs on private land that you have permission to use.
It was approaching Mid-Winter. A time of great frivolity and expectation. A time when the ancient winter crone tries to sneak up on the waiting spring maiden. A time of bittersweet sacrifice.
A cold crispness filled the air, like biting into an apple from the icebox. She waited outside, growing impatient as she grew cold, waiting for entrance to the large castle. To wait outside like a common visitor, she thought to herself, and in the snow no less! Her retinue of ladies, whom she fondly called her ‘tendrils’, waited behind her. More patient than their mistress, they smiled sweetly thinking of the vigorous festivities that waited inside. Finally, she completely lost her poise and patience and started pounding her delicate fist on the sturdy oaken door.
“I am the Ivy Queen! You can’t keep me in the yard like a stranger! There’s snow on the ground and it’s freezing! I’m freezing! Open up! Open upppp!” She screamed in all her fury, her nearly exposed bosom heaving in her tight, rabbit fur trimmed bodice. She pounded until her hand was bruised. ”Let me in!!!!!!!! I demand an audience with the king!” She could hear a deep, mirthful laughter resonate from the heart of the castle, as if the castle itself was laughing at her predicament.
“And who have you come to see, lady?” The laughing voice asked from an upper window.
“I’ve come to see the Holly King! I’m expected! You know that! Stop asking and let me in!” The Ivy Queen screamed. Her hand would have ached if it wasn’t numb. Her teeth were starting to chatter. She pulled her green velvet mantle around tight, trying to still her shivering. She knew that most of the shivers were from the cold, but a certain amount of it was anticipation and nervousness. Would there come a day when he wouldn’t admit her at all? When her body finally was no longer attractive to him? When he just didn’t return? That was always a possibility, she felt. Then she would be left forever with his twin, the stern Oak King, who was not nearly as much fun.
The deep laugh boomed again. ”No! Not yet! Not ’til you learn some respect!” The Holly King shut the casement, but stayed close to the window to see the resulting fury. The Ivy Queen screeched in rage, yelling obscenities and threats. Toying with her turned him on in ways that her vine like fingers crawling over his body in foreplay never could. He loved seeing her creamy skin flush in anger, contrasting against her green clothing that she was so fond of. Today she was in a heavy green velvet, covered in embroidered ivy vines. Although she never aged or changed, he never grew tired of seeing her, being with her, holding her tight. She embodied everything that mankind hoped for in a woman. She was the ‘Every Woman’. She was Queen.
The Holly King looked down again. She was literally fallen now, utterly broken. She was a green heap against the snow. He opened the casement and could hear her soft crying. Her Tendrils looked embarrassed for their mistress as they waited behind her, all in light green with their hands in white fur muffs. He could feel the crotch of his trousers tighten. He had had each of the ladies during his season, but now it was time to be with his queen again, the last hours of passion and love before she became his brother’s queen.
The great door opened on its own, and the Ivy Queen looked up, not sure that it had finally done so. Every year it was the same for the first and last meeting. She always said that the Holly King was the nicer of the two twins, but he did have his mean streak. He enjoyed reducing her to tears before he built her back up to being queen. But his method of building was lots of fun. She got up stiffly and shook off the snow. The Holly King smiled watching her trembling shivering movements that shook the bounteous blessings of her breasts.
Once inside, the Ivy Queen moved quickly through the castle to her love. Although this was an endless drama that continuously played out, she always felt a great sense of urgency, as if that if she didn’t take advantage of every moment with the Holly King, she would regret it forever. She arrived at his door, panting slightly for breath. A sudden blush flooded her face as she thought about the things he would do to her. She blushed a little more deeply thinking about what she would do to him, how she would slid her mouth down…
“Do you prefer the hallway to my rooms?” The king teased.
She looked at him, and the warmth beneath her gown that had been building all day accelerated. ”No, I’d much prefer your rooms.” That was all it took. The King grabbed her up and spun her around, kissing her deeply. As they kissed, the Holly King felt as though his heart was being encased in vines, binding him to her forever. ”Oh, I’m so hot.” the Ivy Queen said, as they pulled apart.
“Well, let’s get you out of some of those clothes.” The king replied with a broad grin. Broad was the key word with the Holly King. Broad smile, broad shoulders, broad appetites. Built like a tank, he was a brawler, where as his wiry, lithe brother enjoyed quick jabs. He removed her fur muff that matched the Tendrils’ and her heavy dark green cloak. The king reached into her low cut bodice and pulled out a handful of breast. ”Your girls don’t have girls like these,” he whispered as started to softly squeeze and suckle her ivory globe. She bent her head forward in a protective gesture, their crowns meeting and caressing each other as her vine fingers twined in his hair. The king liberated the other breast but turned his head to the side so that his holly crown pricked the skin.
“So we’re going to play that game, are we?” The Ivy Queen coyly inquired, fully knowing the answer. They always played ‘Tickles and Prickles.’ It was one of her favorite boudoir activities. The Holly King loved to play long games of seduction, full of rich food and sweet, intoxicating beverages. The Oak King was all business. All procreation, hard work, plain food, and plain water.
“Of course we are, my love. And if you try to scoot away, I’ll tie you with ivy vines.” He laughed as he pushed her large tits together and blew into them like a motorboat. The Ivy Queen giggled. That was a tickle. The King untied her tight bodice that her breasts were now hanging out of, and slipped it off, along with her gown. Her clothing was starting to litter the floor.
“Wine?” The king asked, fully drinking in the sight of his darling standing before him in nothing but a thin green silk shift. The Ivy Queen had slipped her breasts back beneath the silk so that her nipples now pressed tauntingly against the fabric. She nodded as he handed her his goblet. That’s how it was with him. They shared. He shared with everyone, despite his large appetite. Enough was never enough but there was always plenty. His twin was miserly with everything. The only thing that he shared halfway willingly was his bed, and even then he preferred that the Ivy Queen bring her own blanket.
Outside the darkness was starting to gather as the sun set. It was always iffy if the sun would rise the next morning. The Ivy Queen knew that somewhere the Ancient Mother Goddess was pacing and squatting somewhere in the throes of labor. The couple moved to the window to watch the bonfires being lit. The king stood close behind his queen so that she could feel his growing need against her back. He wrapped his thick arms around her and held her tight as she sipped. He blew lightly on her neck exposed by her ivy snood. She shivered. Then he took a holly leaf and very lightly rolled it across her neck. She shimmied against his hard-on, making him very happy.
“More wine?” The King asked, drinking the last from the goblet and refilling it. While his back was turned, The Ivy Queen slipped off the last of her clothing so that she now stood there in all her glory. She stood there full figured with nothing on but her crown of ivy with leaves and tendrils hanging down over her vine snood. She bit her lip in anticipation of his reaction. When he saw her, he grinned with a wolfish delight.
“I’m going to eat every creamy ounce of you!” he declared and made a playful lunge at her. She squealed and danced out of his reach. Here and there she dodged him, her curves bouncing to the King’s delight. During the Oak King’s reign, she always slimmed down on his meager rations, but her figure always blossomed under the Holly King’s largess. Finally, she found herself cornered on the bed. ”Do you concede, lady?” he asked, his cheeks ruddy from the chase.
“Mmmmmm, uh, no!” she squealed and started pelting him with pillows.
“Then I’ll have to tickle and prickle you into submission!” he roared as he pounced on her, holding her down with his brawny arms. He lowered his head once again to her naked breasts and lolled his head back and forth, letting the leaves of his crown prick her flawless skin. The sensation was almost electric for the Queen, and it unlocked the passion between her legs. She could feel herself growing moist in anticipation. He moved slowly down her torso, rolling the leaves over her rib cage and soft stomach. Her sighs turned to moans as he prickled her thighs, which could be very properly called ‘gams’, and gently across her mons. He let the leaves comb through the silken locks, tickling and prickling at the same time. He pushed his crown back on his head and started softly tickling her delicate skin with his beard, urging her to open up to let him in.
“I don’t think I should be the only one naked,” the queen said in response to the king’s ministrations.
“Hmmm, then you should undress me.” The queen took a deep quaff of wine, and proceeded to undress her king. She unlaced the front of his shirt and slipped it over his broad shoulders and head, being careful to leave his crown in place. Then she turned her attention to his boots, which were a little more difficult to remove. Finally, she was at his pants, more precisely between his pants covered thighs. Through the fabric she started kissing and nuzzling her king, driving him into a slight frenzy. With her teeth, the Ivy Queen pulled loose the button on his fly, releasing his manhood. She kissed its tip and looked up at her man.
“I want you on the bed.”
“And who are you to tell me what to do, Queen? Didn’t we settle this dominance issue outside in the snow when you first arrived?” The King tried to sound stern like his brother, but it was hard for him to suppress his mirth.
“Do as I say or I’ll tie YOU up with ivy!” the Queen retorted, smiling. Her hand was still sore and a little swollen from pounding on the door earlier.
The Holly King acquiesced and leaned back. His consort straddled him backwards, settling her ample hips and buttocks onto his broad chest. He couldn’t resist giving her creamy cheeks a pinch.
“Hey! Not fair!” The Ivy Queen protested. Her king just laughed.
She placed her ivy crown over his growing erection in an imitation of a decorated maypole waiting for dancers. She loosened her locks and tendrils from her vine snood and flipped her hair over onto the king’s body. He had the prickles, but she had the tickles. More slowly than a snail, the Ivy Queen pulled her hair along his skin, gently scooting her ass back towards his face with every wiggle. The sensation of her hair was both soothing and sexually exciting for the king. Soon her vagina was right where she wanted it, with in licking distance of the king’s tongue. She was going to hold him to the promise of devouring every luscious ounce of her. She lifted her hips and lowered herself on to his parted lips. His tongue started lapping as she stretched her body to reach the wide expanse between the king’s mouth and cock. She flicked her tongue up and down his penis in quick, teasing moves, bringing him to full erection before sliding him into her ruby lipped mouth.
They worked as a matched pair, always in perfect timed rhythm. They both went slowly at first, the Holly King entertaining the queen with long deep strokes of his tongue into her wanting wetness. She moaned continuously over him as she slowly moved her mouth up and down his cock, like a child savoring a lollipop. The more she moaned, the bigger the king grew and the deeper he dove to savor her earthy goodness that was tinged with a slight bitter aftertaste. The Holly King never faulted the love the that he shared with his brother for her bitterness; for after all, her life was nothing but a bittersweet romance set on a continuous loop.
He felt his companion’s thighs tighten and tense around his ears, and he knew she was close. He pinched one of her cherubic thighs to get her attention. She knew what that meant. It was no longer fun and games, but time to enjoy each other one last time. With a loud pop she let his penis slip from the suction of her lips. She inched forward on hands and knees over his chest, swinging her luscious hips as she went. Those hips would be lean and almost gaunt by the time this king returned–if he returned. She pushed that fear away as she turned to face him, their eyes locked together as she slid her gushing wetness onto him for their ancient dance.
While their oral ministrations had become rather vigorous, the couple chose a slow minuet to start off their coital finale. The Ivy Queen once again flipped her hair forward, letting it swish across the king’s broad chest. She could feel what she thought was the tickle of her ivy crown on her mossy mons Venus, but when she pressed down harder to bring her lover more fully into her depths, she gasped.
“That’s very cruel!” she hissed as she stilled moved her body in their tango. ”That’s not fair! How did you switch your crown for mine?”
“The nature of sacrifice is cruel and unfair, my love. But you anointing my crown makes it all worthwhile and meaningful.”
Their tango became a painful flash dance as both moved more quickly toward their last orgasm. They screamed in wild abandon, clawing and clinging to each other as the realization that things may not go as they always have gone loomed between them. With a growl, the Holly King came so hard that the Ivy Queen felt a violent jolt in her loins. As she slowly lifted herself off of him, blood dotted her skin from the crown, like red holly berries. The King leaned up and licked some of the blood berries from her skin. ”A holly doesn’t bloom and bear fruit if it’s not pollinated.” He whispered.
For the rest of the evening the couple snuggled in furs, dining on paper thin slices of raw stag and roasted whole wrens on skewers. They both drank deeply from the wine goblet, joking and laughing about devouring the Horned God, debating whether he tasted better raw or roasted. Inevitable though, the knock was heard on the Holly King’s door, announcing that the midnight hour was drawing near. Abruptly the revelry ceased, and the lovers prepared for their fates.
“All hail the Oak King! Our victor!” The marshal announced to the stunned onlookers. Even though all in attendance knew the expected outcome, when the Holly King’s blood is spilled upon the snow they are always shocked into silence. For a moment, there was nothing, but then a wild roar of applause and cheers erupted, shattering the winter evening like an icicle.
The Ivy Queen looked torn between her two kings: the one covered in blood on the frozen ground, already turning to a mystical ash that was being blown away by the North wind, the other standing triumphant with his sword aloft, covered in his twin’s gore. The triumphant king came to her then, and took her hand.
“It appears that you’ve been living high on the hog, my lady.”
She barely nodded.
“Well, that’ll change soon. We’ll get you back on a schedule. By the way, who killed Cock Robin?”
She smiled. Things would be different and less jolly, but fine nonetheless. ”The Sparrow did, my king.” He bowed then, formally kissing her hand. Different she thought, but the same.
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