Once upon a time in a far-off kingdom there lived a beautiful princess, Jussui. She was in love with Timbold, a lad from one of the villages, but the king and all his court found this match completely unsuitable. “Not only is he not royalty,” the king pronounced to his darling daughter, “but he is a small man, befitting not at all someone so shapely and fair and well-proportioned as yourself.” Jussui knew Timbold was slight, but she also knew that Timbold was big where it counted, in heart and soul. “Timbold is the man I love,” she insisted.

“Very well,” the father allowed, “if Timbold proves himself worthy. We’ll have a competition. Timbold and two of my knights. Whoever wins the competition shall have your hand.”

“What sort of competition, Father?” Jussui asked. “Timbold is a brave boy, but he’s not a swordsman. Your knights are experts.”

“Very well,” the king agreed. “Whoever can ride Montagne will be your bride.”

“Oh, Papa!” Jussui moaned, for Montagne, the king’s silver stallion, had never been broken. No man had ever stayed more than a moment upon his back. One powerful buck would send tiny Timbold flying to the stars.

The king selected two of his strongest knights to take part in the competition. With court and kingdom looking on, Bascombe mounted Montagne. He lasted less than a second. The mighty horse reared up, then plunged forward, and Bascombe rocketed into the castle moat. It took two men to drag Bascombe’s body out, and by then he was drowned. The steed Montagne munched quietly on some grass.

With trepidation, Arsenault, the second of the king’s knights, eased himself upon Montagne’s broad back. The silver horse whirled left, then right, spinning Arsenault into the air seemingly in two directions at once. The knight’s spine snapped even before he thudded head first into the castle wall. Montagne snorted once then went back to his midday meal.

“Oh, Timbold!” Princess Jussui cried. She closed her eyes.

“Fear not,” Timbold answered. He stroked Montagne’s flank. The horse twitched, but continued to munch the tender green shoots. Lightly as he could, Timbold lifted himself onto Montagne. The horse’s ears prickled but then settled back. Timbold, compared to the two knights, weighed practically nothing. The slim lad was light as a shadow on the silver horse’s back. Timbold dared to caress Timbold’s mane, and the horse, thinking it was a gentle breeze, whinnied a contented sigh. For some minutes Timbold sat astride Montagne, and then he dismounted, to the cheers of the kingdom. The wedding could commence immediately.

Following the ceremony and the feast, Timbold and Jussui, both flushed with happiness, hurried to the bridal chamber to consummate their union. “My love, my love,” Jussui sang, as she undressed her husband. “Oh, my love!” she mouthed, for Timbold, a small man, was indeed large where it counted, not just in heart and soul, but in cock. Having mouthed the words, Jussui now mouthed the object, and it grew even larger, so that she could fit only the head between her eager lips. “Ride me now!” she implored Timbold. “Ride me hard and long, for compared to Montagne, I am just a kitten.”

Timbold did as he was told. He rode Jussui hard and long, and though she bucked and bounced, Timbold was anchored deep in the grip of Jussui’s snuggly clenching cunt, and Timbold brought his bride to ecstasy after ecstasy. After the last of Jussui’s orgasms, Timbold allowed himself to climax. For a small fellow, he had a lot of stuff. Jussui’s womb overflowed with Timbold’s silvery seed.

Spent, Timbold slipped out, and in the retreat, his penis rubbed Jussui’s clitoris in just the right way, setting her off again. “Oh, honey,” she crooned, “You rode me so well, now it’s my turn to mount you.” Jussui straddled Timbold, sliding up until his head was between her strong thighs, his chin pressing her bottom, his mouth breathing her sex, his nose buried in her muff, and deliriously, ferociously, she fucked his face. She fucked him hard and long, galloping from orgasm to orgasm as the night wore on. By morning poor Timbold was done for, suffocated, drowned, and with a broken neck.

By noon Timbold was buried. Jussui mourned until evening. And then she took Montagne for a night ride. The harder Montagne bucked and the more he bounced, the harder Jussui hung on. Her thighs clamped tight about the indefatigable steed, Jussui rode him to the stars.