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and let them fall through the bank of clouds to the earth below. Then she raised herself on her strong arms until she was hovering over the stalk’s pointed tip. She spread her legs as wide as they would go. Her slit was also spread open wider than it had ever been, though it seemed a minute incision next to the mammoth stalk. Her stretched and drawn labia glistened with passion’s dew, and she prayed this slickness would ease the way for the lance upon which she was about to be impaled. Then carefully, deliberately, she lowered herself onto the rod.
    At first there was no entry and she merely perched in a tottering sort of balance with her sticky nether lips spread flat against the top of the bulbous plant. It was as if she was sitting spread-eagle across a majestic redwood, so large was the pole she straddled and so small the opening she hoped to bury it in. But soon she began to rock back and forth, back and forth, rubbing her wet, open gash against the thing like she was oiling a leather saddle. And this polishing of the giant knob beneath her must have worked the magic that was contained in the beanstalk, for against all logic, the thing’s enormous head somehow worked its way a few inches into her diminutive cleft.
    Oh, the rapture she felt when it was lodged within! She squirmed and squealed and pushed herself down, down, down upon the perpendicular stalk and as she did her insides swelled and deepened and expanded until the whole shaft was submerged in her supple folds. In addition to filling her dark, inner space this voluptuous invasion also caused a tug and pull on the sensitive outer structures of her orchid-shaped organ, so that now her clit and labia were stretched and twisted into a state of unyielding arousal.
    Her father may have despaired his daughter’s fate when she traded the prolific heifer for those seemingly worthless beans, but he could not have known how much power their magic would ultimately have to please and satisfy his precious baby girl. If she had found her way to the market and sold the cow as he’d instructed she might have met a mild-mannered husband to share her bed. But how could the ordinary penis of some simpleton from the village ever compare to the magnificent vine that was slipping and sliding, bucking and braying inside Jackie now?
    Up and down, in and out, the transformed maiden writhed until all at once the earth moved. Literally. For just as she reached the most explosive climax of her life, a stentorian voice rang out from somewhere below the clouds, crying, “Fee-ee-ee…fi-i-i...fo-o-o…fu-u-m!” And the miraculous beanstalk moved from its vertical orientation to a horizontal one. Jackie looked up from her precarious mount and saw that she was skewered upon the penis of an other-worldly giant, as handsome as he was enormous, who had just bolted to an upright position, tensed and braced for his imminent release.
    â€œI smell the blood of an English—” he murmured in the last few seconds that felt like forever. Finally, Jackie burst into a second streaming orgasm off the excitement of watching the giant’s tortured pleasure begin to erupt, and in concert they both finished his song.
    â€œâ€¦CU-U-U-M!” they hollered, and the giant’s wand exploded, blowing Jackie into the air by the force of a magnificent geyser and depositing her in a sticky pool of liquid on the other side of the clouds. Slowly she floated back to earth.

…she stepped through the door, and in so doing trampled my heart until it was nothing more than a quaking thing beating like a wounded hawk in my breast. Most people assumed it was her striking beauty—golden hair, cat eyes, cheekbones as sharp as street knives, lips swollen with the juice of pomegranates and plums—that had me vowing to make her my lover and my wife. I did appreciate the lady’s fine-boned countenance, riding high and proud above cream-colored shoulders and an