MIRACLE CURE by Michael O'Connor

copyright 2000

Kyl Voor - warrior, man above all men and Viking conqueror of many lands sat on a large rock on the shoreline of his native home, staring out across the quiet, moonlit ocean. A dozen huge dragon ships, painted in traditional colors, bobbed in the water, securely anchored until dawn. When the red sun reappeared, Kyl Voor would lead forth his conquering hordes, to plunder as yet uncharted lands.

There would be treasures to pillage and scores of beautiful women to be captured, for the pleasure of he and his men.

Women! Lately, the warrior who feared neither God nor man, recoiled from the thought. Though the yearning burned as strongly as ever, he was no longer capable of using his greatest weapon. An evil alcoholic concoction from some faraway land had rendered his once massive organ limp and useless.

Five times, he had been to the wizard. Five times, the wizard's medicine had failed, leaving Kyl Voor increasingly frustrated and enraged. At all costs, he must have his manhood restored in time for the coming invasions.

Finally, under threat of death, the wizard had parted with the secret root of potency. Once more, Kyl Voor studied the tiny V-shaped brown root he now held in his giant palm. He paused briefly, to consider the trembling sorcerer's ominous warning.

Then, he erupted with a boom of laughter that filled the night. Mere men might suffer, but he was no mere man. He popped the root into his mouth, chewed it to a vile tasting pulp and swallowed. Almost immediately, he grew aware of a creeping euphoria that was not unlike the effect of a barrel of finest mead.

Some time later, he staggered back to the Viking settlement. A powerful erection, as long and thick as the arm of a mere man, jutted proudly from his nude, muscular body. Tonight, he would enjoy the first available maiden. Tomorrow, his hordes would sail forth to find satisfaction in new lands. Kyl Voor's triumphant bellow reverberated from the distant mountains.

***************************

"Don't worry, honey," Brenda said once more, futilely stroking her husband's limpness. "It'll come right again - I just know it."

Neither dared look the other in the eye as she spoke.

It had been three months. Physicians, shrinks and every available potion and lotion had all failed to resurrect Frank Coventry's dead cock. He knew it was only a matter of time before Brenda was tempted to seek a real man. At twenty-eight, she was too young and vigorous to be expected to wilt in a sexless marriage.

The following afternoon, Frank sat facing the small, wizened man who represented his last hope. The healer smiled sympathetically. When he spoke, there was a tremor in his voice.

"I have never given this root to anybody. You must appreciate the dangers."

"I don't give a damn," Frank responded impatiently. "I've already lost thousands on useless cures. I can't live with this any longer, so name your price."

The old man sighed. "I have warned you. This root is a highly potent aphrodisiac. Vikings believed it to possess magical powers."

Frank was in no mood to argue. The tiny V-shaped brown root might indeed be Viking poison, but he wasn't leaving without it.

It seemed impossible such a small thing could possess even a fraction of the potency accredited to it by the old healer. But anything was worth trying. Sitting in his car, Frank popped the root into his mouth and began chewing. He had never tasted anything so vile, but somehow he managed to swallow it. When the urge to gag subsided, he set off for home. Minutes later, a white-hot spear of pain lanced through his body. Beads of perspiration burst out on his brow as a drunken sensation washed over him. Fortunately, he managed to pull over without losing control.

"Heart attack!" he gasped, an instant before he blacked out.

How long passed before his return to consciousness, Frank did not know. He returned to his senses, like a light switched on. Blood pumped like raw electricity through his miraculously revived organ. He shouted with joy. The root had worked.

Brenda was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when he burst through the door, singing at the top of his voice.

"Frank..............., are you drunk?" she cried.

"Better than drunk!" he yelled triumphantly, frenziedly unbuckling his belt.

He lowered his trousers and underwear in one movement and popped most of the buttons in undoing his shirt. Brenda's eyes widened and she uttered a startled exclamation, when she saw the huge erection that jutted between his thighs.

"Uh, dinner..............." she began.

"Fuck dinner," Frank shouted. "Let's fuck."

She offered no resistance as he pushed her roughly back onto the table, bunched her skirt up around her waist and ripped off her white lace panties as easily as if they were made of paper. Her crinkled nether lips puckered invitingly, love honey already dampening the surrounding black bush.

There was no time for foreplay. Grasping her slender hips, Frank dragged her onto his tumescent tube. Brenda cried out in ecstasy as the thick, bulbous head parted her wet pink lips and slid effortlessly into her snug, hungry cavern. When he had penetrated her to the hilt, Frank cupped her ass cheeks with both hands, drew back, then rammed his full length into her again.

The raven-haired woman almost screamed with pleasure as his rapidly pistoning cock sent tremors coursing through her body. Gripping the edge of the table with both hands, she wrapped her dark stockinged legs around his hips, responding in kind to her husband's aggressive passion, urging him even deeper. Just when she had been close to giving up hope, her lover was reborn, bigger and better than she had ever remembered.

Frank fucked her fast and mercilessly, possessed by an animal passion that seared his senses. Within minutes, his cock was spasming deep inside her, sluicing her vulva with waves of hot, thick cum. Brenda climaxed violently as her clenched cunnus muscles milked every last precious drop of his depth charge.

Afterwards, still holding him in her fleshy vice, she lazily unbuttoned her faded denim shirt, revealing heaving breasts squashed into a sweat soaked white lace bra.

"Thank god!" she panted. "I knew everything would be fine again."

Frank grinned wolfishly, his cock remaining ramrod stiff inside her. Raising her up with one hand around her waist, he reached over to unclasp her bra with the other. She slid the straps from her shoulders as his hands squeezed her breasts, the cocoa brown nipples stiffening against his palms.

"Frank, you're...........................! Already!" she gasped, feeling his cock move inside her again.

"Wolfman is back," he laughed, sweeping her up from the table.

He carried her towards the stairs, pausing long enough for her to reach out and switch off the oven. She kicked off her shoes as he carried her upstairs, impaled on his impressive shaft.

When they reached the bedroom, he tossed her onto the bed, then ripped off his remaining clothes. He fell to the sheets and she embraced him with open arms and open legs. Now was not the time to ask any questions about his sudden and dramatic transformation from half-man to supercharged stud.

Their initial lust sated, they made love slowly and sensually. Frank played his cock like a finely tuned instrument, transporting Brenda to undreamed of peaks of pleasure. Though the pre-impotent Frank had been a perfectly satisfying lover, his new prowess was a revelation. Each time he felt himself close to climax, he managed to regain control and prolong the almost unbearable bliss. Brenda was rocked by a series of breathtaking orgasms, before he finally surrendered to the inevitable. As a fresh torrent of cum filled her to overflowing, the juices of yet another orgasm mingled with his and she shuddered in a euphoric daze.

They did not leave the bedroom again that night. Whenever they drifted into a brief slumber, they awakened with rekindled passion and resumed their sexual marathon. In fourteen years of marriage, they had never known such insatiable desire.

By midday on Saturday, hunger forced them to adjourn naked to the kitchen, where they enjoyed a well-earned meal. As soon as they were finished, they returned to the bedroom.

On Sunday morning, Brenda was finally forced to shake her head.

"No more, honey, please! I'm glad you're better, but I feel like I've been turned inside out. How can you still be hard, after nearly forty-eight hours of non-stop sex?"

Frank himself did not know. He lowered disbelieving eyes to the stiff pole between his thighs. He too was red and tenderized. However, unlike his wife, Frank was eager to continue. If anything, the dull pain seemed to stoke his passion.

Throughout the afternoon - try as he might - Frank could not divert his thoughts from his base hunger. Masturbating in the bathroom provided only temporary relief. Eventually, he managed to persuade Brenda back to bed, where she accommodated his raging boner in an already cocksore throat. He knew she was doing it only for him, but didn't give a damn.

She was snoring in a stupor, when he got up to go to work, early next morning. The bedroom reeked of the heady smells of sweat and lust.

Frank masturbated in the shower, but by the time he returned to the bedroom, he found himself gazing longingly at Brenda yet again. Her thighs were caked with dried semen and the creamy mess foamed at her stretched and tender front and rear orifices. It would be so good to take his pleasure with her once more, but he resisted the temptation. Only a few hours earlier, she had passed out beneath him. Reluctantly, he stuffed the unrelenting hardness into his trousers and left for work.

Claire finished the letter he had been dictating and looked up from the pad on her lap. Frank studied her high cheekboned face, sparkling blue eyes and voluptuous, red glossed lips. Her white silk blouse was tight against her pert, firm breasts.

Frank's impotence had put paid to a brief but delicious affair with his petite blonde secretary. Fortunately, there had been no hard feelings. Looking at her now, he wanted her more than he had ever done before. The erection he had brought to work bulged uncomfortably in his trousers.

Claire stood up, tight, short black skirt hugging her slender hips. "I'll type this up, Mr. Coventry."

"Do it later," he told her. "I've got something more important for you."

Standing up, he unzipped his trousers. His cock sprang free, like a snake poised to strike. The young woman gasped in astonishment.

"Take off your skirt and bend over," he directed. "This is a Monday morning special for your hot little cunt."

Claire hesitated momentarily, before putting down her pad and unzipping her skirt. Turning around, she bent over and touched her toes, her small pink silk panties riding up into the cleft of her mouthwatering ass cheeks.

She looked over her shoulder as her boss emerged from behind his desk, trousers around his ankles and a gleaming silver paper knife in his right hand.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, as he reached between her thighs. "I'll buy you some new underwear."

He slit her panties with the sharp tip of the blade, from the crotch backwards. Then, dropping the knife, he parted the slit silk, exposing two juicy pink lips peeking from a neatly trimmed, natural blonde pubic thatch. He stroked her pouting slash with the drooling tip of his cock and felt her shudder. Turning on this sweet little nymphomaniac had never been difficult.

"I've missed you, Mr. Coventry," she purred.

"Sure you have, you horny little slut," he retorted, spreading her dewy petals with two fingers of either hand.

The doubled over secretary squealed as his rod sank smoothly into the warm, wet sheath of her cunnus. She jerked her hips back to meet his thrusts as he stabbed her with rapid-fire cock strokes. She could have been forgiven for thinking this was the first fuck he had enjoyed for months, such was the aggression with which he ravished her.

The slapping of his balls against her belly punctuated her soft moans and the grunts that issued from between his clenched teeth. The heat of her love hole was like white fire around his tender shaft, but it was a pain he had grown to enjoy. With each thrust, it seemed to intensify. By the time he reached his climax, he felt as if he were melting inside her.

Afterwards, he slumped back against his desk, sweat dripping from his brow, the last of his ejaculation dribbling from his cock. Claire turned around and fell to her knees before him.

"That was.................., that was the best ever!" she panted.

Her outstretched tongue lapped a teardrop from his cock eye, then she proceeded to lick him clean. When the hardness had still not flagged, she wrapped her lips around the gleaming crown and slowly swallowed his eight thick inches.

Watching his cock slide back and forth between her lips, Frank felt intoxicated by his newfound sexual prowess. Three days ago, he had been impotent. Now, he was an insatiable sex machine, his manhood the very center of his being. The more he fed his hunger, the more ravenous the monster became.

Shortly afterwards, they retired to Claire's apartment, where they spent the remainder of the day making up for lost time. Though his secretary's voracious appetite for wild and kinky sex had lost none of its edge, Frank still managed to exhaust her, before it was time to go home.

He found Brenda upstairs in bed, draped naked across the sheets.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't think I'll be walking properly for at least a week," she answered. "Apart from that, I'm fine. How was your day?"

"Hard."

To show what he meant, Frank unzipped his trousers. His wife gaped incredulously at his stiff red cock.

"After the weekend we had!" she cried.

"I don't understand it either," he said. "Talk about two extremes!"

His cock felt like it had been roasted and his entire body felt drained, yet he craved another fix of lust. Brenda read the look in his eyes and sighed.

"Come here, lover. Let's see if I can't get the better of that monster."

As her fist closed around his erection and the pain pierced like an arrow, Frank recalled again the old healer's cautionary tale.

***********************************

Twenty-one suns had passed. Beneath the evening shadow of a huge oak, sat the giant form of Kyl Voor. His head throbbed and his body felt sapped from fornication and lack of sleep. Only his powerful erection seemed to possess life and spirit. When he touched it, the pain caused him to curse loudly.

Here he sat - a man above men - weakened by the unnatural power of his regained potency. Since swallowing the root, he had impaled scores of maidens upon his mighty weapon. It was as though uncontrollable lust was driving life itself from his body. Reluctantly, he found himself remembering the words of the wizard.

"There is potency of the gods in this root. It is poison even to the mightiest of men. When it takes possession of you, you will find no rest, while the power of mind and body flows to the mighty weapon of love. Take it - and you are indeed mightier than the gods, if it does not drain you of all life."

women attached to machines that go fuck them into multiple orgasms