The gates of Eldoria swung wide under the golden afternoon sun, and Ethan Sinclair rode through to a thunderous roar that shook the stone walls. No grand trumpets blared or petals rained from balconies—this was Eldoria, the rugged border city he had called home for years, scarred by battles and alive with grit. But the welcome was no less fervent. Citizens packed the central avenue, waving faded banners of blue and gold, cheering wildly for the man who had ventured deep into Nubia and returned triumphant with the Artifact of Amon-Ra.
At his right rode Vaeloria, her obsidian-scale armor gleaming darkly, spear raised in silent salute. At his left was Liraya, crimson robes fluttering like flames in the wind, her smile wicked and bright. Behind them, camels bore the silk-wrapped artifact under heavy guard by loyal lancers Ethan had gathered on the long road home. Whispers rippled through the crowd: the Breeder had returned, the savior from the sands of Nubia, his seed and sword securing the relic that could turn back the shadowy hordes.
Ethan absorbed it all, the familiar weight of the city wrapping around him like a lover's arms. He had left as an adventurer; he returned as legend. The loose council of elders and guild masters had proclaimed him honored guardian for a full moon's cycle—no empty throne here, just the people's will making him king in deed.
In the central square, the High Elder—a weathered woman with iron-gray hair—stepped forward and placed a crown of woven vines and gold leaves upon his brow. "Ethan Sinclair, Breeder of Legends, Conqueror of Nubia, Bearer of the Artifact," she declared, voice carrying over the hush. "For one cycle of the moon, the city is yours to command. Revel in our gratitude."
The cheers erupted like thunder, shaking dust from the ancient stones.
That night, the Guildhouse hall hosted a feast of raw vitality: roasted boar, spiced fowl, rivers of ale and mead, exotic fruits bartered from Nubian caravans. Musicians pounded drums and strummed lutes; dancers swirled in revealing silks; storytellers recounted Ethan's deeds in the desert kingdoms. He sat at the high table, Vaeloria and Liraya flanking him like twin flames of war and passion. Admirers pressed close—warriors toasting his name, merchants piling gifts, beautiful women and men brushing against him with bold invitations.
But the true celebration unfolded over the coming month, a golden haze of triumph and unrestrained desire.
Ethan moved through Eldoria like its unchallenged ruler. Crowds parted for him; tavern keepers refused his coin; children shouted "Breeder!" as he rode by. He wore rich, simple garb: deep blue tunics threaded with gold, a midnight cloak clasped by the vine crown's pin, the jeweled Nubian dagger at his belt. Vaeloria and Liraya were his constant shadows, their presence quelling any doubt.
Mornings brought council meetings: securing the artifact in temple vaults, bolstering defenses, forging pacts. Afternoons he inspected markets, yards, and walls. Evenings dissolved into pleasure—taverns, baths, willing beds.
It was in the smoky private chamber of the Crimson Dagger inn that the spark ignited.
Ethan reclined on piled furs, surrounded by the city's boldest: athletes, dancers, courtesans, adventurers—all naked or near it, bodies oiled and gleaming in firelight. Vaeloria lounged at his left, hand tracing lazy patterns on his thigh. Liraya reclined at his right, her fingers conjuring tiny harmless flames that danced over skin, teasing nipples and inner thighs.
Talk turned to feats of the body—strength, speed, endurance, pleasure. A lithe runner boasted of sprints; a wrestler flexed; a courtesan described arts of ecstasy.
"Why not celebrate it all?" Liraya purred, eyes glowing. "Games like the ancients—naked, bodies bared to the sun and crowd. Races, throws, jumps, wrestles—all in glorious nudity."
Vaeloria's smile was sharp. "The Naked Olympics," she named it. "A month of spectacle, honoring the Breeder's return from Nubia."
The room exploded in eager agreement. The idea spread like wildfire through the city.
Planning began the next day in a sun-warmed chamber overlooking the guild gardens. Scrolls and sketches covered the table: arena layouts, event lists, prize ideas. Ethan sat at the head, Vaeloria and Liraya poring over details with him.
As they debated race lengths and wrestling rules, Vaeloria's violet eyes fixed on Ethan with hunger. Without a word, she slid under the table, knees hitting the rug. Her strong hands parted his legs, unlacing his trousers with warrior efficiency.
"Vaeloria—" he began, but her fingers wrapped around his thickening cock, freeing it to the warm air.
She looked up from beneath the table, lips brushing the head. "We plan glory for your city, my Breeder. Let me worship the source."
Her mouth descended—hot, wet, enveloping him in one slow glide. Tongue swirled around the crown; cheeks hollowed as she sucked deep. Ethan exhaled sharply, hand dropping to thread her dark hair.
Liraya continued sketching as if nothing happened, though her smile was knowing. "The oiled wrestling should allow... creative holds."
Vaeloria bobbed slowly, taking him to the root, throat relaxing effortlessly. She hummed, vibration shooting through him. Pulling back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening shaft, she murmured, "mmmmh I love sucking this big dick."
Then she dove again, faster—head moving in rhythmic strokes, hand twisting the base. The sounds were shameless: slurps, soft gags, her contented moans. Ethan gripped the table, discussing jump pits while pleasure coiled tight.
She sensed his edge, sucking harder, tongue pressing the underside. "mmmmh I love sucking this big dick," she repeated, voice muffled around him before swallowing deep.
He came with a stifled groan, pulsing down her throat. She swallowed greedily, milking every drop, then licked him clean before emerging, wiping her lips with a smirk.
"Now," she said huskily, "the marathon relay—partners passing... batons."
Ethan laughed breathlessly, pulling her up for a fierce kiss. "Approved."
The month ignited in carnal fire.
Week one: preparations. Ethan oversaw the old coliseum's transformation—silk shades, private tents, victory dais. Artisans crafted prizes: golden wreaths, jeweled oils, silver tokens shaped like entwined bodies. He judged trials in courtyards—naked athletes sprinting, leaping, grappling under his gaze.
Nights blurred into ecstasy. In steaming baths, Vaeloria and Liraya took turns riding him—Vaeloria's strong thighs clamping as she bounced; Liraya grinding slow, magic warming her depths. They shared him fluidly: one on his cock, one on his face, mouths meeting around his shaft in wet duels.
Week two: opening ceremonies. Thousands packed the stands. Ethan entered bare-chested in a silk loincloth, crown gleaming, flanked by his women. He declared the Naked Olympics open; the crowd roared as the dash began—runners exploding nude, muscles rippling, arousals swaying freely.
Victors claimed rewards publicly: a sprinter kneeling to suck Ethan on the dais; a jumper spreading for Liraya's tongue while Vaeloria watched.
Week three: variety exploded. Discus throws—spins baring everything; long jumps into sand, bodies tumbling erotically. Oiled wrestling stole breaths—skin sliding, holds turning to thrusts, erections and slick folds on display as grapples ended in shuddering climaxes.
Vaeloria dominated archery: nude, arrows flying true amid teasing touches from attendants. Her prize: riding Ethan in a tent, nails raking his back as she came screaming.
Liraya's flame relay—naked runners passing torches through obstacles, heat heightening sensation. One night, she bound Ethan lightly, edging him with mouth and magic until he begged, then riding until both collapsed.
Between events, Ethan roamed as legend. He accepted intimate gifts: a beautiful maiden, bent over flour-dusted tables; twin acrobats in a hayloft, flexible and insatiable. Vaeloria and Liraya often joined—threesomes in alleys, Liraya's fire warming oils as Vaeloria pinned lovers for Ethan's thrust.
The final week: the Grand Pentathlon—run, jump, throw, wrestle, swim—all nude. Cheers peaked as champions pushed limits, bodies glistening.
Closing feast turned orgiastic: sands filled with coupling, Ethan moving among victors—thrusting into a wrestler while Vaeloria ate her; Liraya riding a jumper's face as Ethan took her from behind.
In the private tent, the three entwined endlessly: Ethan fucking Vaeloria doggy while she devoured Liraya; switching to Liraya's ass as Vaeloria straddled his face; positions blurring in sweat and cries until exhaustion.
Dawn ended the month. Ethan returned the crown; the city awoke renewed.
On the walls, gazing east, Vaeloria and Liraya at his sides.
"The people are ready," Vaeloria said.
"For war and joy," Liraya added.
Ethan nodded. Nubia's triumph was past; greater shadows loomed. But for one month, he had gifted Eldoria legends of flesh and fire. During this time Ethan got another 10 women Pregnant. 50 women are now pregnant in the new cycle