Ménage à Troll

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

By the Numbers

My p***s stood up like a pink granite monolith, as seen from space. This is it—the moment I’ve been waiting for as long as I have been on planet Earth. Since meeting Vivian a year ago, I’ve dreamt of being together with her like this, in a room, about to engage in s****l intercourse.

And now, here we are.

Naked. Kissing.

Ready to Make Love.

“I want you to go down on your knees, Darwin dear,” Vivian said. “For my favorite caress.”

Vivian was sitting in the low slung armchair beside the sliding glass doors of our honeymoon suite. Outside there was a balcony, affording us radiant evening light coupled with maximum privacy. I’d shoved the armchair’s ottoman aside previously at Vivian’s gestured order.

At present she occupied the armchair, spreading her long, slim, lovely legs. Reverently, I got down on my knees before her, “assuming the position” for giving c*********s to my Beloved Wife.

My knees were cushioned by a special pillow labeled “Darwin,” the word in red and black needlepoint in a heart and flowers motif. The pillow was an early wedding gift from Jody Van Alst, Vivian’s devoted personal assistant, and a noted bon vivant.

Reverently, I gazed at Vivian’s p***y, an exquisite vault of alluring flesh, neatly trimmed blond hair, and a tart, enticing fragrance. It was no exaggeration to say that I was literally mesmerized by Vivian’s exquisite s*x, never more so than right now, this minute, mere seconds before I was to bestow upon it my most intimate attentions.

The Love Kiss.

Vivian smiled, a white-toothed, seductive, and knowing smile. My heart felt as full as it could be, as I was happy. So happy, in fact, tears flooded my eyes.

Vivian saw my tears and spoke softy, “This is a special night, Darwin dear, because tonight you will give me the pleasure you have long dreamed of giving me, the pleasure that circumstances have until now denied us.”

“Oh yes, Vivian,” I said, my face drawing closer to her juicy, succulent center. My nose was within an inch of her p***y, my nostrils flaring at her intoxicating scent.

I gazed adoringly, admiring the downy pubic hair on either side of her sweet, inviting dell. Vivian’s legs opened wider, the saddle of her hips and thighs a piquant picture of fascinating femininity.

“It’s a funny thing,” Vivian added, her blue eyes aglow with passion, her breath coming in little bursts, “that there is such a thing as a Troll, and that a Troll can fall in love, as you have with me, Darwin dear.”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” I answered, “except to say that I am very, very happy.”

Above the enchanting indent of Vivian’s narrow waist, her torso gave way to the twin pink prominences of her fulsome breasts. During the time of our engagement, she had indulgently allowed me to kiss and suck the cherry points of her n*****s, a privilege that before our engagement she had prohibited.

But before our Goddess-blessed wedding, Vivian had kindly relented, allowing me to suckle and nibble her pert, pouting n*****s from time to time, for the exceptional thrills it mutually provided. Indeed, before consenting to marry me, I had been thoroughly trained by Vivian in every mode of intimate s****l caress, oral and otherwise, intended to satisfy a mature, vivacious, sophisticated woman.

Likewise, with Vivian guiding and instructing me, I had supplied oral pleasure to more than three dozen Women over the past year, usually although not always as a prelude to s****l intercourse. Vivian had also allowed about half as many Women to suck me, each one imbibing my glutinous discharges of c*m with avid enthusiasm.

You probably wonder: What? How had this peculiar set of circumsatnces come to pass? And why?

Those are fair questions.

And another question is precisely by what sequence of events had I, a Troll, become Vivian’s lover and obedient servant, the vehicle through which my Beloved propels us to worldly success?

How did that happen? Of course there’s a story behind it, an inspiring story of staggering prurience, ordinary and extraordinary simultaneously.

And yet—as compelling as my story may be, I didn’t care to think about it. Not right now, anyhow.

It would be for another time, because at this moment, there was something else that held my attention. Demanded my attention, in fact—Vivian’s p***y.

In my opinion, nothing could compare with the beauty of her petal-like vaginal lips, nor to the engorged c******s at the crown of her dainty cleft. Oh Mother Cybele in heaven, what a tantalizing spectacle my True Love presented!

What a juicy and adorable treasure! Just like a stag in rut, dashing through the trackless forest, I was irresistibly drawn to the Woman between whose legs my face was.

My enthusiasm was abundantly evident, as my hugely engorged p***s reared from my loins like a medieval seige engine.

“Mmmm... nice,” Vivian said, caressing the hard flesh with her slender right hand. “The veins of your p***s show through, Darwin, like blue highways.”

“Odd, isn’t it?” I said.

“Maybe, maybe not. What I like best, Darwin, is yopur penile size and shape. I like it very much. However, enough dithering,” Vivian said. “Now begin licking!”

Grasping the back of my head with both hands, Vivian pulled my face forward and in. It pressed into her with a wet plop. That’s how it sounded, anyhow, at the moment of contact.

Twenty minutes later, after I had provided Vivian with what seemed like an endless series of searing climaxes, she said it was time to move to the ultimate step in the evolution of our loving connection.

“Darwin, dear, we shall do what we have never before done: We shall engage in s****l intercourse. It is time you went up inside me, a privilege I have never before allowed you. Until now. Are you ready?”

I gulped. “Oh yes, Vivian. I’m so ready!” I said. “I’ll try not to get the vapors, I swear.”

Vivian met my gaze, her clear blue eyes penetrating to the dark center of my soul, casting aside the shameful Troll flotsam and jetsam she doubtless saw there.

“Darwin dear,” Vivian said, “in the next few minutes I am going to make you mine once and for all. Afterwards, you will be my property forever. You wouldn’t want it any other way, would you?”

“Oh no, my darling, never!”

Looking down, I saw my erection poised at the entrance to Vivian’s v****a, her pouting nether lips on either side seeming to demand penetration.

By micro-millimeters, the purple, swollen, meaty head drew ever closer.

“Slowly,” Vivian cautioned. “Slowly. Control, Darwin dear, control.”

At last, in I went.

***

They found me wandering along the side of the road, a toddler, buck naked. Whoever brought me to the roadside to be found by the Grendels, riding in their Buick with the white sidewalls, I hope did it from concern for my welfare.

Mine was your basic lousy childhood. George and Ellie Mae Grendel had no special or notable family history I am aware of. As a child, I dealt with the woman mainly, who was a complete nut job but not as cruel as her husband.

George I avoided like the plague, because he liked to belittle me and ridicule me whenever the spirit moved him.

In short, a jerk.

Shorter than his wife by an inch, George had the little man complex, but was nevertheless wiry and quite strong. He had reddish brown hair and droopy eyes and a hangdog look which made him resemble nothing so much as well, a beagle dog.

But George was no warm and fuzzy Snoopy, not by a long shot. George wasn’t even as warm and fuzzy as Snoop Dogg. To summarize, George was a nasty little schnauser and he liked making my life hell..

That about covers my foster parents.

It was Ellie Mae who first saw me and coaxed me into their auto. Thereafter they brought me to the authorities to see if anyone was looking for me.

Naturally, the authorities could find parents nowhere for me. The child welfare agency handling my case told Ellie Mae it was like I came from outer space.

“No birth record, no file anywhere, and no family,” she said, “the child just appeared, like from somewhere beyond the star, like not of this Earth.”

“How could that be?” Ellie Mae demanded.

“Such a thing ain’t possible!” George chimed in.

“Impossible or not, it seems to have occurred,” said the welfare lady, a full-time county employee, with pension.

Because of the peculiar circumstances in which I was found, it took a year before Ellie Mae and George were allowed to adopt me. In the meantime, I was placed in the care of the Society of Truth Sisters, an order known for the strict training of orphan youth.

The Society of Truth is part of still another organization that I will henceforth refer to simply as “The Church.” Ellie Mae and George were enthusiastic members of The Church, devoting much of their spare time and energy to it.

In retrospect, I have to concede that the Society Sisters treated me decent for the most part. The beatings I received were not life-threatening and were intended mainly for the correction of bad attitude. Moreover, the beatings did not occur more than once or twice per day. The Sisterhood prided itself on inculcating us in the liturgy of their peculiar faith, which made us accept punishment without complaint.

Once the Grendels adopted me, arrangements were soon made for me to attend a Sisterhood grammar school, and from there a public high school. My education concluded with a two year stint at Gresham State, a community college in the suburbs of Slateville. My less than stellar capabilities as a student did not keep me from obtaining a high school diploma or an associate degree. After my experience with Society of Truth in grade school, I found the less churchy public school atmosphere more congenial. Plus, there were lots of cute girls in public school.

Not knowing yet that I was a Troll, I must confess that I have always liked human females. But not all girls are nice, I learned to my dismay.

On account of my exceptionally attractive physique, handsome face, thick brown hair, and aura of niceness, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been catnip to many girls, some which many were blatant about their carnal intentions. The only drawback to my good looks is that I am a trifle short in stature, not unlike George.

Despite their overtures, or possibly because of them, I adopted an aloof attitude that insulated me from the worst squalid overtures the girls made.

After completing community college, I encountered the issue of how to earn a living. Ellie Mae and George made it clear that I could not “sponge” off them indefinitely.

It became apparent that I needed earn a living to support myself. In the meantime, I was allowed to remain with my foster parents, as long as I attended The Church regularly and worked at menial jobs to pay my room and board. I was in nturn chafing at the bit to be on my own, to have my own place, away from them.

To call my own shots.

Deep down, I knew I was special, knew I had something that other boys didn’t. I felt, without knowing the mystery of my origins, that I had been born with a purpose, and that I had a mother who had loved and cared for me. More than George and Ellie Mae did, anyway.

While in community college, I found work as a busboy. A series of busboy jobs, to be exact. I shuffled from one to another, avoiding s*x-starved waitresses, gay waiters, and customers who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

My last employer was Applewood’s, part of a restaurant chain. Along the way, I saved my money as I could, finally socking away enough to dream about getting an apartment of my own near downtown Slateville.