This was a story i tweeted ‘on-the-go’ last year, for the only Pie Poet i know, @pieinstomach. It probably makes no sense and it is long and a little sexual so if you are having second thoughts now, this post isn’t for you.
For the curious who wish to continue reading, welcome. Hope you enjoy!


He was the best of them all, the créme of the society. His services as a Poet were being sought after. Nobles enlisted his help as entertainment on their feast days. Oh how he mocked them with words and how the laughed at themselves.  As every mortal is wont to be, the Pie poet got bored of his station. He got fed up of pandering to his patrons’ whims.

Twas brillig but no slithy toves gyred and gimbled. No. Just one poet, leaving town in the wee hours of the morn without warning. You see, he had come to possess a papyrus which had been left purposely for his perusal. It promised great things! Frabjous!
‘Seek for Her and Her riches where the Gazelle meets the Tiger. The Hunter would show you the way’ read the papyrus.  He had no idea who ‘Her’ referred to. He wasn’t overly awed by riches. He didn’t lack money. What he lacked was adventure. He went. Where the Gazelle met the Tiger could only be the drylands outside the city that was called the Gazelle. Tiger, a small river. He had no idea who or what the Hunter was but he was prepared to find out. With ample supplies of food and water, he set off on foot, turban hiding his face.

The food was almost running out. The water, lukewarm and tepid. He was at the meeting point. Where was the hunter? It had been three days already! On the fourth evening, hunger pangs crippling him, he wondered if he should give up on his so-called adventure and go home.
What was waiting for him at home anyway? Nothing. He decided it was better to die than go back to the Great City. He laid down, exhausted. He watched the skies turn from the dark orange of dusk, to a deep indigo of twilight.
That was when he saw it.
With his back on the ground, stones poking through layers of clothing, he saw the Hunter.
In the sky.
The stars.
Of course! With renewed energy he arose, and walked doggedly in the direction the Hunter’s arrow pointed. Surely he had passed the drylands. Shrubs began to crop up. Where there were shrubs, there would be animals. He became afraid but trodden on under the stars’ gaze. Shrubs became trees. And soon, his view of the skies was obstructed by them. He had never known any land like this existed! He walked on blindly, tensing at every sound he heard. He stumbled out quite abruptly into a clearing.

A magnificent castle. He paused,eyes wide in wonder at the building illuminated by the starry night. He walked to the giant double doors. He held the knocker. “Come in” a sultry voice said from inside the Castle before he knocked. The doors swung open. He stepped in warily. Had he found her?  Unlit lamps suddenly sprung to life, lighting his way. One door lay ahead, with soft light streaming from its hinges. He approached it. Again, before he pushed open the voice again commanded “Come in”. The door opened of its own accord. He gawked in disbelief. He could not believe his eyes. Everything was golden. From the chairs, to the tables…to the woman who sat, staring at him, smiling.

“The Pie Poet” she whispered, her voice like liquid gold to his ears. He shivered in awe. “Be welcome” She motioned him in.  He walked in, unable to speak, suddenly feeling like a speck of dirt in the presence of this opulent being. She rose and walked to him. He tensed as she stood in front of him. He wanted to shield his eyes. She was beautiful. Long golden hair, intense yellow pupils, Full yellow hued lips. He took in her attire, sheer transparent silk, barely covering up her body. He could see…everything. She was naked. He averted his eyes, staring at his reflection on the golden floor. He felt his intense arousal, his loose trousers suddenly tight. His eyes snapped up as he felt her touch on his chin. Her hand was surprisingly warm…for a golden woman.
“Be at ease” she whispered. He suddenly became drowsy, eyes dimming, drinking in the look of amusement in her yellow eyes before they closed. He felt weightless.

He awoke. His eyes widened in surprise. He was laying on a golden bed. His clothes were already taken off.
“Awake?” He turned around. There she was, sitting on the bed, staring intently at him. He quickly pulled the shimmering sheets over himself.
“Can’t you speak?”
He cleared his throat. “Of course I can”. His throat felt sore. She rose and walked to him, a cup suddenly in her hand. “Drink”.  He stared at the golden viscous liquid in the cup. He sniffed. Faint smell of citrus and honey. He drank and his eyes widened in wonder.
“Like?” She asked smiling. He nodded. She shook her head. “Speak”.
“Yes. Lovely.” She grinned widely and suddenly laughed. He watched her, confused. The heaving of her chest as she laughed shifted her silk gown slightly. A golden nipple peeked shyly at him. He could not stop his eyes from roving, imagining just what she looked like without the gown. His member rose in awe and he shifted uncomfortably to shield his embarrassing body.
She stopped laughing “You’re interesting”.
He picked up courage.
“And you’re golden. And this room. Gold. How?”
She wagged her index finger at him. “Food. Eat first.” He nodded.
She left him and came back with a golden platter filled with different fruits..golden fruits. He bit into one and exclaimed in delight.
“Frabjous! Heavens! Glory! This is pie!” He devoured everything as she watched him, giggling. After eating, she took his platter away. She came back with more of the golden liquid which he drank greedily.
“So, who are you?”
She slithered into bed with him. She took his head and cradled on her bosom.
“Well. I’m Her. The Eternal Riches. The queen of Glory. I chose you Pie poet. I chose you because in you, I saw a man thirsty for adventure. A man fit for godhood. A virile man”
“The queen? Glory? Me?” He muttered. “Yes, my poet. The queen. And yes, you. I’ve heard of your oratory prowess. Would you weave me a poem? I’d like that.”
“Anything for you!” he said, rising. He got out of bed, temporarily forgetting his nakedness and threw a mock bow to her. “My lady of flames. No words should describe your fame..”.  She stopped him. “No. No poems. Come back to bed. Tell me about yourself.”
He slid back into her embrace willingly. “Yes, My goddess”.
As he opened his mouth to speak,
“No. Don’t tell me. let me show you something! Here! Lick my finger!” She prodded him with her pinkie. He did and his eyes widened.
“The golden liquid!” He exclaimed, getting up to stare at her. “How?”
“Every part of me secretes it”.
“Every part?” She nodded, grinning. He bent close to her neck and licked. Faint taste. He sucked on her skin and drew the liquid out.
“Wow”. Her eyes were glazed over.
“Do that again!” She commanded, holding his head to her neck. He obeyed, her cooing of pleasure, susurration.
Oh the heady feeling! Better than fine wine! Inhibitions forgotten, he traced whorly patterns on her neck with his tongue. She sighed in delight as she parted her silk garment.
He stopped and gazed in wonder. With shaking hands, he took the garment off. With reverence, he took one perfectly shaped golden nipple between his thumb and pulled, watching her yellow eyes dim as she sucked in a breath. He took the nob into his mouth and sighed as his eyes watered at her wondrous taste. He tugged with his teeth, glorying in her sighs of pleasure and the feel of her hands caressing his scalp. He stopped and before her groan of protest was formulated, he transferred his oral ministration to her other mammary peak. He squeezed gently, lapping up her liquid. Greedy for more, he was. He drew lazy lines with his tongue across her chest as his fingers tweaked and thumbed her nipple.

He wanted more.
By the gods!
She sensed his thoughts and stopped him.
“You. You have to promise one thing. Before you can drink of my well.” She said huskily, panting.
“Anything!” He cried.
He didn’t think.
He couldn’t think.
He was going mad.
He had to taste more. She released his head and his mouth mapped a hasty path down her navel. Pooled between the cleft of two golden thighs, was the golden liquid, dripping. Holding firmly to her thighs, he sank his mouth into the well and drank. Manners forgotten, he lapped up, slurped and sucked, determined to get every drop of her liquid fire into his system. She held on to his head, mashing his face into her sanctuary. He pried his tongue into her, determined to lick her dry. His fingers soon replaces his tongue as he moved for further exploration, to the round nub of flesh at the entrance to her mound. He heard her gasp as he teased the swollen, throbbing flesh. He felt her spasms as her well contracted against his mouth. With a feral scream, she dragged him up, grasped his aching shaft and pushed it into herself. He rode her cosmic wave, senseless to everything else but the endless sea of sensations he was being sucked into. He wanted to drown in her. With a cry, he released, shuddering as he flopped on her chest. The sound of their panting was all the music they needed. He felt her fingers on his hair. “Welcome” she said softly.

“Welcome?” . She smiled at him, golden eyes glimmering.
“Yes welcome.” His eyes clouded in confusion so she deftly drew a strand of hair from his head and showed him. Golden.
He jumped off her and gazed at himself in horror. He was shining like burnished gold. He looked at her in surprise. “Wha…?”.
She smiled serenely at him.
“You did promise before you drank of the well.” He stuttered
“B..but this?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“I…I must leave.”
Golden eyebrows furrowed.
“Leave? You cannot leave. You belong to this house now.”
He didn’t listen. He picked up a golden shirt he saw on one of the chairs, donning it as he walked out of the room. He pushed the double doors open.
His eyes widened in horror.
Why was he staring at the crater of bubbling volcanic mountain?
Where was he?
Where was land?
He ran back.
“Where is this! Where am I!” He screamed in horror at her reclining form. She opened her eyes.

“Ah. You’ve noticed.”
She got up. She walked up to him, and dragged him by the phallus, back to bed. “Lie down Pie Poet. There’s no leaving here. You promised.”
She stared into his eyes.
“I’m here. Am I not a better option? Would you rather die than lay with me? Let me drink from you” .
Without waiting for his reply, she pushed him on the bed and settling snugly between his legs, she took him in her mouth.
He sighed in confusion mixed with desire as his hands instinctively tightened her golden hair, thrusting his hips into her gloriously warm mouth.
Well, he wanted adventure didn’t he. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

How was that for a Saturday night fever?