Heart of the Oasis
Copyright© 2026 by Snekguy
Chapter 5: Moonlight Oasis
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5: Moonlight Oasis - The priest Meritamun spends his days performing religious duties and maintaining the temple in which he lives, content in a humble life serving the Gods. His routine is turned on its head when he receives a summons from Anput – the living Goddess of death, and the consort of Anubis. He has been chosen to become her personal attendant, but why, he cannot say. His new role will require him to unlearn many of his assumptions about the Gods, and to open himself up to serving his deity in new ways.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Historical Furry Magic Exhibitionism First Massage Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Size Royalty
After a repeat of the boat ride and the palanquin exchanging hands between teams of porters, they arrived back at Anput’s temple. As much as Merit had enjoyed their outing, it was still nice to be treading familiar ground again. Night had fallen, and the stars were out, the light of the moon providing more than enough illumination to see by.
Once the servants had evacuated the courtyard, Anput emerged from her palanquin, stretching her tall body and opening her jaws wide in a yawn.
“A pleasant journey, my Lady?” Merit asked.
“As pleasant as can be expected,” she sighed, rolling her shoulder with a grimace. “It was worth the discomfort to see Taweret again.”
“The hour grows late, my Lady,” Merit continued with a glance to the starry sky above the courtyard. He could see the pyramid on the horizon, stained silver by the moonlight. “Have you further need of me, or would you like me to begin the ritual of sealing the temple?”
“It is a warm, pleasant evening,” she said as she lifted her face to the sky and drank in a breath of the sweet night air. “I must take nefer before the day ends. Will you stay and assist me, if you are not too tired from the journey?”
“Of course, my Lady,” he replied. “I would be delighted. I shall prepare your bath at once.”
“No,” she replied, raising a hand to stay him. “It is such a nice night, and it would be a shame to waste it. We shall take nefer in the oasis.” She gestured to the artificial pool at the center of the courtyard, the flowers and ferns spilling from its bounds, the greenery all but concealing the still water within. “Fetch what we require from the bathhouse and bring it to the courtyard.”
“Without delay, my Lady.”
Merit hurried to Anput’s residence and filled a reed basket with soaps, perfumes, and linens from the bathhouse. When he returned, Anput was missing, and he quickly concluded that she must already be in the oasis. He wasn’t quite sure how to access it, so he began to gently push his way through the flowering bushes and dense ferns, not wanting to risk damaging anything. As he moved through the rustling leaves, the stone of the courtyard giving way to sandy soil beneath his feet, he came upon the water.
Cast in the glow of the full moon, the pool appeared to shine silver, enough light making it through the sparse canopy of palm leaves to pick out the colors of the flowers that ringed its vaguely circular shore. He saw Anput’s clothes first, her pristine, white linens folded neatly on a flat rock at the water’s edge. Her headdress and collars had joined her clothes, the gold and jewels that adorned them glinting. Merit turned his eyes to the water, seeing Anput standing at its center.
She had waded up to her waist, everything below it concealed by the water’s reflections, but he knew that she was wholly unclothed this time. She was facing away from him, her dark fur making her stand out starkly against the silver pool, somehow a deeper black than the shadows that surrounded the oasis. Just like the water, her fur gleamed in the moonlight, picking out the contours of her body as though she were a statue hewn from black marble. Merit was awestruck by the sight of her for a moment, admiring the muscles in her back and shoulders that were visible beneath her thin coat, and the way that her hips flared out before vanishing from view. One of her long ears twitched, swiveling back to face him, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“Good, you have brought the supplies,” she said as she turned around to face him. Just like the last time he had assisted in her bath, the only thing preserving her modesty was a solitary forearm, struggling to hold back the weight of her bosom. As she approached, the water grew shallower, each step revealing a little more of her voluptuous figure. The soft paunch of her belly rose above it, her fur dripping with water, and she gave him no choice but to avert his eyes before she was fully exposed before him. He heard the sound of sloshing water, daring to look only when he heard her speak again. “Come, Merit. Do not be shy, now.”
She was sitting down in the water only a few paces in front of him, or perhaps lounging would be a better term for the way that she was leaning back against the incline. Propping herself up with her elbows, she lay almost on her back, the water rising just high enough to barely cover her lower body in this position. One knee rose above it, breaching the surface, while her other leg was extended. Facing away from him, her breasts were out of view, but they were not submerged or covered in any way.
“Shall we begin?” she asked, turning her long snout and glancing back at him again. Those golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the light of the moon, captivating him just long enough that she seemed to notice, a smile curling her dark lips. “You know what to do by now.”
“My Lady,” he replied, setting down the basket and moving closer. He stepped into the water behind her with soap in hand, finding it cool, but not unpleasantly so. The bottom was silt, much like the great river itself, and he could feel the slope that allowed Anput to lie back in such a way. This position put her head in easy reach, and he realized that he was seeing her without her headdress for the first time. Many mortal women shaved their heads just as the men did, wearing elaborate wigs for the purpose of cleanliness, but that was not the case for Anput. Her long hair seemed to be an extension of her fur, falling about her shoulders in tight braids decorated with colorful beads.
“You may start with my head,” she prompted, leaning back a little more in encouragement.
Merit dipped the chunk of soap into the water and began to create a foamy lather, the pale film floating on the surface and forming spiraling patterns. Once his hands were suitably coated, he brought them to her head, beginning to gently massage the substance into her scalp. He could feel her start to relax, her eyes closing as she reveled in the sensation, her large ears twitching each time his fingers neared them.
“Merit, you are truly a gift,” she said with a long sigh. “Taweret might enjoy being tended to by an army of servants, but there is something to be said for a sole attendant who is willing to become an expert in his mistress’ needs. I would have you learn everything there is to know about me, to guess what I desire before I need ask it, and to know my body as well as your own. By the end of it, I shall be able to command you with naught but a glance.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he replied as he rubbed the soap into her hair. His face burned at her honeyed words, but she could not see. With her chest uncovered, he needed only to lean forward a little further to catch a glimpse, but he resisted the urge. She had placed her trust in him, and he would never betray it. Even thinking of her in such a way seemed blasphemous, but he could not drive the thoughts from his mind, especially after what he had overheard during the feast. Was this also a test – to see if his resolve would break?
“Experienced, practiced hands that know their mistress intimately will always be superior to the fleeting attention of servants, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said as he moved towards her brow. She shivered, enjoying his touch as he slid a finger between her painted eyes and along her snout. “Like any skill, knowledge and practice are surely the keys to mastery.”
“I’m so glad that we see eye to eye,” she cooed. “Are you comfortable here, Merit?” she added as he began to rub her ear. She exhaled happily, leaning into his hand. “I would not impose such duties upon you if I believed that they did not bring you joy.”
“It is my pleasure to serve you.”
“And my nakedness?” she added, her tone turning sly. “It does not trouble you? If we are to take nefer together, and you are to tend to my daily needs, it is something that you must become accustomed to. This is my natural state, after all.”
“There is nothing that I could ever find troubling about you, my Lady. Being unadorned does not tarnish your purity in any way.”
“Pay attention, now,” she began as she reached for her braids. “I shall teach you how to wash and braid my hair.”
He lifted his hands away and watched as she began to unwind the tight braids, removing the weighted, gilded jewelry at their tips that held them so straight. Next, she slid out the colorful beads that adorned them one by one, collecting them in her hand like seeds. She was remarkably adept, but she must have done this a thousand times before, being responsible for her own grooming without Taweret’s legion of servants to perform the task in her stead. Merit was so accustomed to seeing her with neat, uniform braids that the sight of her flowing hair surprised him, spilling over her shoulders like a dark waterfall of silk. It was so black that the strands had a subtle blue shimmer to them when they reflected the moonlight, shining as she shook out her mane.
“First, fetch the blue jar,” she began, waiting for him to return before continuing. “Spread it on your hands.” He upended the jar and poured the creamy, golden substance within into his palm, the scent of honey rising to his nose as he coated his skin. “This solution is made with honey, beeswax, castor oil, and some nourishing herbs. Work it into my hair and untangle it.”
Merit did as she asked, plunging his fingers into her bountiful hair, finding it just as soft and silky as it had looked. He alternated between collecting the strands like bushels of wheat and running his hands down their length, spreading the substance, and using his fingers to untangle the curls left by the tight braids. Anput seemed to enjoy the sensation, leaning back into him, her breathing growing slow and heavy. Though the solution was thick and creamy, it seemed to nourish and moisturize her hair, making it easier and easier to separate the strands. After a little work, her hair was as straight as the fronds of a papyrus reed, even smoother and shinier than it had started out.
“Now fetch the gray jar,” she explained. “It is a clay wash, and you shall use it to rinse my hair.”
Another trip to retrieve the right jar, and he was using its contents to rinse away the golden substance, the clay taking on the color and consistency of muddy water. It worked remarkably well to remove any oils and residue, and she lowered herself deeper into the water, letting her long hair spread out to float on its surface.
That wasn’t the only thing that was floating on the surface. Her uncovered breasts were in full view in this position, their dark fur breaching the silver water, rising and falling softly in time with her breathing. With Anput’s eyes closed, Merit couldn’t help but take a glance, his gaze drawn to them with a magnetic power. Their size and weight had been no mystery to him – he had seen them shifting in her grasp and fighting against the bounds of her linen sling, but he had never seen them wholly bare before.
Anput was a Goddess, her form a vision of inhuman perfection, and no part of her body was an exception to that rule. Her bosom was full and bountiful, bringing to mind the same agonizing fertility of her broad hips and the soft paunch of her belly. They would have been absurd on a mortal, but they were well-suited to her enormous stature, maintaining their flawless teardrop shape despite being more voluminous than his head. The water helped to support them, preventing them from spilling over her sides in gravity’s hold. Nestled in her dark fur were her nipples, the skin taking on a black, shiny hue.
Tearing his eyes away from the captivating sight, he returned to his work, running his fingers through her floating hair diligently. The blend of substances had done a remarkable job of loosening and nurturing it, keeping it shiny and smooth, the last of the gray residue washing away. He kept it up a little longer, sensing that Anput was enjoying it, her eyes still closed as she relaxed in the cool water.
After a few minutes, Merit feared that she had fallen asleep, but she rose from the pool and sat up straighter. Her wet hair fell down her back in a smooth sheet, behaving more like wet linen now.
“The Kyphi next,” she sighed, reaching back to admire his work. “And a comb.”
Merit was soon spreading the fragrant oil across her hair, working out a few more lingering tangles with his fingers as he went, its familiar scent filling his head with a pleasant haze. Even if he never saw Anput again for some terrible reason, its smell would always bring him right back to her bathhouse, imprinted in his memory like a brand. Once the oil had been thoroughly applied, he brought out the silver comb, gently sliding it through the fine strands.
“That feels so nice,” she cooed, shivering contentedly as he gently raked the teeth across her scalp. “It seems like an age since I was touched in this way – since someone showed me such care and tenderness.”
“My aim is merely to serve you, my Lady.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a comely sigh. “But that does not mean you cannot take pleasure in it. I want you to enjoy this, Merit. I want you to enjoy me.”
“I do, my Lady.”
“You have much yet to learn,” she chuckled.
Once her silky hair had been perfumed, she reached back behind her head, Merit withdrawing his comb.
“Watch,” she said, her clawed fingers beginning to move. “I shall show you how to braid it.”
With practiced skill, she began to weave the strands of her hair together, sliding on the colorful beads to help hold them in place. Merit watched attentively, memorizing the way that she formed the strands, threading them around one another like someone making rope.
“Now you,” she said, opening her hand so that he could take some of the beads. They were surprisingly heavy, each one decorated with colorful enamels and jewels. With all the care that he might handle a precious relic, he copied her movements, braiding her hair together and sliding on the beads at intervals. When that was done, she showed him how to combine several braided strands, forming thicker ropes, each one culminating in a piece of weighted jewelry that held them together and kept them taut. It took a considerable amount of time, but by the end of it, her hair had been washed, perfumed, and restored to its original style.
“Very good, Merit,” she purred as she admired his work in her bronze mirror. “Admirable work for your first attempt, and you shall only grow more adept with experience.”
“As always, it is an honor to assist in your ritual cleansing, my Lady. I am amazed that you are able to accomplish this on your own each day without servants to assist you.”
“There is more yet to do,” she replied, giving him a sly look over her shoulder. “Bring the soap, Merit.”
She rose to her feet, causing a little wave as she displaced the water, her head rising far beyond his reach. Her ample rear was above the surface, her round cheeks rolling with the sway of her hips as she began to wade deeper, slowly sinking from view. After she beckoned to him with a curled finger, he snapped out of his stupor, fetching the soap and following behind her. His mistress had stopped in the deeper water, where it rose just below her hips, and he quickly joined her there. He was submerged to his belly, his schenti sinking as it became waterlogged.
Already knowing what was expected of him, he lathered up his hands and began to wash what he could reach, feeling Anput’s body respond to his touch as he massaged the soap into her fur. He traced every muscle with his fingertips, feeling the velvet texture of her coat, made slick with the pale suds. It was hard not to fall into a kind of trance, so enraptured was he by her proximity, the scent of her perfume filling his head.
When her back was done, Anput turned, making Merit lean away as her pendulous bosom swung into full view. Gone was any pretense of modesty now, with no concealing forearms, and no scant glances. She left him no choice but to stare her breasts down as they wobbled softly, taking a few tormenting moments to settle after the motion. Out of the water and without the support of her sling, they hung low and heavy, large enough that he would have trouble cupping one in both hands. She looked down her long snout at him with her golden eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint smile at the sight of his flushed face.
“You need not shy away, Merit,” she said in a voice that could have calmed a charging hippo. “Did I not tell you that I wished for you to know my body as well as your own? You would not leave any part of me impure and unsanctified, would you?”
“No, my Lady,” he conceded. His gaze kept moving from her eyes to her chest and back again, unsure of where he should be looking. “Leaving you incomplete in your nefer would be...”
She reached out and took his soapy hand, guiding it to her chest, Merit swallowing the lump in his throat as he felt it sink. Silken fur and flesh as soft as wet clay swallowed his fingers, Anput pressing them deeper, her pliable fat seeming to form a mold around his hand. It was as soft as the goose feather pillows in her bed chamber, yet heavy and dense, the weight of it bearing down on him in a way that he could not resist. He dared to squeeze gently, feeling that inviting fat bulge into his palm, his mistress letting out a pleased sigh.
Now that he was beyond the threshold, he felt a fresh surge of resolve swell up within him, and he brought his second hand into play. Anput slowly let her arms move to her sides as she watched him, her golden eyes following his hands on their journey, roaming across her fur and spreading the soapy suds. There was a lot of ground to cover, and he massaged the soap into her bosom just as he would her back and shoulders, but his digits would sink down to the knuckle when he pressed deeper. Already wet, her fur was made slippery by the soap, her weighty flesh slipping from his grasp and escaping his hands. Every light touch and each subtle shift of her body made them quiver and sway, ripples passing through them, the Goddess tensing when he brushed her firm nipples.
That fluttering feeling in his belly had returned with a vengeance, his cheeks burning hot as he coated her supple breasts in suds, his heart pounding in his ears. He could scarcely think about anything other than Anput, her body filling his field of view, and her perfume invading his every breath.
Merit had never been with a woman before. He had never seen a woman in this way – never touched someone in this way. As much as he tried to remind himself that this was merely nefer, and that it was blasphemous to covet his mistress in such a way, some part of him rejected that notion. It was the way that Anput looked at him, the softness of her voice, and what he had overheard during the discussion at dinner. He was no fool – he knew now that the Gods welcomed mortals into their bed chambers on occasion. Surely this was not simply ritual. Surely these swells of desire were not born of some grand misunderstanding – some foolish misinterpretation of her advances.
Taking his hands in hers again, she guided them lower, moving them down her torso and across her soft belly. Merit could really indulge this time, no longer worried about maintaining a facade of reverence, sinking his fingers deep into the plush fat. Lower still, she moved his hands beneath the silver water, bringing them to her stout thighs. Just like her belly, they were wreathed in a layer of cushiony flesh, yielding beneath his fingertips as he spread the soap across her wet fur. Beneath it, he could feel the firm, springy muscle that allowed her to carry her massive frame around with such grace, creating a wonderful contrast.
He couldn’t reach any deeper without submerging his head beneath the water, but it seemed that it was his turn now. Anput gently pried the chunk of soap from his hand and began to spread the lather across his chest, her silken, damp fur gliding across his skin. She moved to his shoulders, then along his arms as she had before, wonderful shivers rolling through him as she stroked his sensitive wrists and palms. Every movement made her breasts sway only inches from his face, each motion of her arm bumping into them.
She eased him around, then began to work on his back, the feeling of those sharp claws trailing down his spine dizzying him. He leaned into her as she massaged his neck, inadvertently backing into her bosom. He felt that wet, soapy fur brush against him, and he sank into her inviting flesh for just a moment. He lurched, meaning to pull away, but a firm hand on his shoulder prevented it.
“You need not fear being close to me,” Anput said, her soft hands creeping around to his chest. She drew him nearer, pulling him into her, letting the weight of her breasts come to rest on him. Velvet fat clad in her soapy fur spilled over his shoulders, their tangible heft weighing him down, like someone had just piled two full sacks of grain upon his back. In the same way that they had swallowed his hands, they engulfed his neck, her fragrant coat sliding against his red cheeks. When he allowed himself to relax into her embrace, he sank a couple of warm, yielding inches deeper. The slick fur of her torso pressed against his back, her arms crossed over his chest, so much of her body in contact with his own.
“Is this still nefer, my Lady?” he gasped as she drew a circle on his belly with her claw beneath the water. The cool temperature of the oasis made her feel so much warmer in comparison, the texture of her fur and her flesh enrapturing him. It was no less opulent than the goose feather pillows in her bed chamber, the silken cushions on her luxuriant seats, or the Kyphi that perfumed her hair. Her form itself was like a walking embodiment of the extravagance in which she lived, no less abundant and decadent than the spread of delicacies on Taweret’s table.
“Perhaps we shall try a new ritual,” she purred, making him wriggle in her arms as she coated his torso in slippery soap beneath the surface. Her touch was as light as a feather, her claws gently trailing across his skin, her fur softer than he had words to describe. It was maddening, but if he tried to pull back, her breasts were there waiting to envelop him further. Her scent was no less intoxicating than the sweet wine she made in her vineyards, creeping into his mind to leave him fuzzy and susceptible.
Her wandering hands were slowly trailing lower, and she brought her head down close, peeking over his shoulder. His head emerged from her cleavage, and she brought her lips close to his ear, whispering to him softly.
“Does this please you, sweet Merit? Do you enjoy being close to me like this?”
“I ... I do,” he sighed, flinching as a stray claw trailed across his hip just above his schenti.
“And will you bare yourself before me, as I have bared myself before you?”
There was no ambiguity about her meaning, and he reached down a hand, starting to slide away his schenti. The linens unraveled, the waterlogged fabric sinking into the water, revealing his manhood standing as prominent as an obelisk. Her golden eyes narrowed, her expression sly, and she let her hand roam lower.
“Even here, where none can see, you do not neglect your purity,” she cooed as she trailed her fingers just above the base of his member. Her proximity alone was enough to make him flinch. No different from the rest of his body, he maintained impeccably clean skin, shaving away every stray hair as ritual purity demanded. “So dutiful in your daily nefer,” she said, her lurid whispering filling his head. She let her dark lips brush his ear, giving it the gentlest of bites, the sensation of her sharp teeth pricking him almost making his legs give out. “I like it this way. It’s smooth – clean.”
“My Lady,” he stammered, stifling a gasp as she brushed her furry fingers against his pulsing shaft. “What do you intend?”
“What do you think I intend?” she chuckled, nibbling on his ear again.
“I have not been able to silence the thoughts of what Lady Taweret said at dinner,” he replied, struggling to keep his mind focused under Anput’s wonderful assault.
“Oh?” she cooed, smiling as she admired his newly uncovered anatomy through the water. “And what was that?”
“That the Gods lie with mortals. That you, on occasion, may have once done the same.”
“Did that shock you?” Anput asked, her tone low and comely. “Did the idea of me sharing my bed chamber with a mortal fill your mind with possibilities, or with doubts about my purity?”
“I would never doubt your purity, my Lady,” he insisted as she crawled her fingers down his inner thigh. “If you undertake an action, then by definition, it must be pure.”
“Then it is the possibilities that have tormented you all evening,” she snickered. “My poor, sweet little attendant, his mind filled with sordid blasphemies.”
“Never, my Lady,” he protested. His voice wavered, a grunt escaping him as she touched a finger against his shaft, her smile widening to show more sharp teeth.
“I jest,” she added apologetically, nuzzling her snout against his cheek with a palpable affection that made his heart leap. “It is not blasphemy to desire me, Merit. Not when I have cultivated that desire – stoked it and encouraged it to grow from an ember into a roaring fire. I want you to need me so badly that it aches – that you cannot sleep because I invade your dreams each time you close your eyes.”
“But why, my Lady?” he gasped as she let his member rest in her palm. It was maddening, her teasing stoking his need until it became nigh unbearable. “What can a mere Hem-Netjer give you that greater men or your fellow Gods cannot?”
“Your naivety,” she replied with an amorous chuckle. “Your inexperience, your purity, and your honesty. Taweret said something else at dinner, do you recall? She called you young, fresh, and sheltered. You have not known a fraction of what pleasures life has to offer, and everything that I grew bored of generations ago is still new to you – still special and exciting. You cannot lie to me, and you have no ulterior motives. There is no betrayal in you. Your love and admiration for me is as pure as your spirit.”
“I fear that I may disappoint you,” he admitted, writhing in her embrace as she slid a wet finger along his length. “I have never ... I am not knowledgeable in these things. A priest has no skill in courtship.”
“But that is what I covet,” she insisted, her voice a conspiratorial hiss now. “I mean to spoil you, Merit. I want to show you every pleasure that life has to offer, have you taste every ambrosia, and be a part of every new experience. Through you, everything feels new again.”
“That does not seem like a priestly duty,” he mumbled, his eyes closing of their own accord as she gently closed her fist around his shaft.
“Serving me is the highest duty to which you can aspire – was that not what you said? You have to want this, Merit,” she insisted. “You have to want me. I wish to cultivate in you an obsession that I shall drink from like a pitcher of wine, and any doubt will taint it – make it bitter. A simple no, and I will leave you be. You can return to your temple duties, and I shall trouble you no longer.”
Was this not everything that he had wanted – everything that he had dreamed of? Did her words not validate every lingering glance, every intrusive thought, and every surge of desire that he had felt for her? He no longer had to fear her scorn or hide feelings that she might have deemed blasphemous. She was offering him a life of pleasure and luxury, but more than that, she was offering him a place by her side. If this was a test of his resolve, then he would revel in his failure.
“I have desired you from the moment I first set foot in your quarters and glimpsed your silhouette through the bed curtains,” he admitted, Anput watching him intently with her molten eyes. “How could I not? How could a mere mortal resist your charms and your beauty?”
“You need no longer resist,” she purred, giving him a maddening squeeze. A jolt of pleasure shot through him, and his hips moved reflexively, pushing into her waiting hand. “I shall see to it that your every desire is properly indulged.”
She began to stroke beneath the water, moving her fist along his length with a lazy, torturous pace. Her fur felt even softer and smoother as it glided along his sensitive anatomy, as though gloved in the finest of silks, the oily soap that still coated it letting her slide without friction. Her grip was loose enough to be frustrating, his body commanding him to move with her, desperate for more stimulation. His mistress wrapped an arm around his chest more tightly, her heavy breasts wobbling as she drew him close, keeping him where she wanted him.
“I can feel your eagerness,” she murmured, her delight palpable. “You have never felt the touch of another?”
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