The Centaurs and the False Maiden (Monster MMMF Menage) (The Erotic Adventures of Heraklea Book 4) by Roxie Noir Page B

distracted by a scroll. He began writing something, then looked up. “You can go,” he said.
    Klea walked for the door.
    “Oh,” he said, just as she touched the knob. He didn’t look up from what he was writing. “You know about centaurs, don’t you?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “They only like virgins.” Klea watched him until he lifted his eyes from the paper he was reading and they stared at each other for seconds on end. Finally, he smiled at her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure you’re an excellent actress.”

    Just for the hell of it, she took her sword and bow when she set off for the centaurs’ cave the next morning. Maybe she’d come across a bear or something. It took her hours by horseback, but she wasn’t exactly in a hurry. She’d get the damn boar when she got the boar, and if the king was too big of a pussy to capture himself, he could wait. When she reached the river, she fed and watered her horse and tied it to a tree, then slipped down to the riverbanks in search of the caves where the centaurs lived.
    Upon reflection, she realized she’d heard before that they only like virgins. It made them hypocritical bastards, of course, since they fucked far and wide, but getting the boar was getting the boar and she didn’t particularly care what a savage group of horse-men thought of her. She probably needed to act meek, though. Act shy, act like you’re horrified by the thought of a constantly horny half-beast known for his sexual prowess. Klea felt her pussy swell, juices beginning to flow. This “virgin” thing might prove a trifle difficult, she thought. She ignored the throb and gave herself a pep talk: you’re shy, you’re demure, you’ve never seen a man in the nude before, you’ve heard rumors about what sex is but you’re not really sure yourself.
    It wasn’t too long before she found the entrance to the cave, leading up away from the riverbank. How come everything was in caves? The lion had been in a cave, the hydra had been in a cave, and she was starting to wish the monster of Greece would find somewhere else to live. She entered anyway, letting her eyes adjust to the cool dark space, and walked forward. This cave was much nicer than the others, at least: the floor was sandy, the passage was wide enough and tall enough for a full-grown centaur and certainly large enough for a woman to walk comfortably through. About twenty feet in she came across a curtain, firelight flickering behind it.
    Remember, she thought. Innocent. Demure. Just some sweet young thing.
    “Hello?” she called.
    “Who goes there?” a voice rumbled.
    “Heraklea of Thebes,” she said. “I come seeking advice.”
    The curtain swished back and suddenly, she was face-to-face with the centaur: a man’s torso mounted on a horse’s body. Both parts were heavily muscled and backlit by the firelight inside, the man’s hair dark brown matching the horse’s fur.
    “What kind of advice?” he said.
    Demure, she thought. She lowered her eyes from his face to the floor. “I’ve been tasked with capturing the Erymanthian Boar,” she said.
    The centaur said nothing but continued staring at her. She didn’t look up.
    “Who is it?” asked another male voice from behind the curtain.
    “A girl who wants to know about the boar,” said the first centaur. He reached down and grasped her chin, gently, brought it up so she faced him. “I think we can help her.”
    “Doesn’t she want some wine?” asked the voice.
    Klea lowered her eyes again to the centaur’s stomach, tight and toned, the muscles seeming to shift on their own in the flickering light. He had a trail of dense fur running downward from his bellybutton. Klea wanted to lick it, run her tongue along his hipbones, feel that fur beneath her hands. She clenched her jaw and thought, Innocent, dammit .
    “I’m not really permitted to drink,” she said quietly.
    The centaur grinned. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said.