Privilege came at a price for the voluptuous Princess Evianna. Life as a royal was a lonely existence for the girl who grew up forbidden to interact with villagers. Relief from solitude and sexual frustration came in the form of fantasies she’d spun about an unknown prince who would rescue her from a daily requirement of AA batteries and her erotic imagination.
Cursed by a spiteful witch to remain in the form of a frog, Tad spent the past fifty-five years banished to a brook and dodging hungry predators. Resigned to live out the remainder of his amphibious life in a cold-blooded existence, he’s surprised when the visiting princess understands his croaked words.
Evianna needs the frog and his sexy voice to fulfill her sexual desires. The frog needs the princess to break the evil curse.
What could possibly go wrong?
Poetry in erotic motion
This short story will turn on the imagination and get the heart rate pumping. Excellent twist on a timeless tale.
– Ashley C Gillis
Definitely not your ordinary The Frog Prince tale
This definitely not your ordinary The Frog Prince tale. Sheri has penned a wonderfully humorous story with such erotic twists they’ll have you needing a couple of cold showers. She places you right into her fantastical world right from the start. At the introduction of Princess Evianna, you immediately begin to feel for her and her loneliness. Believe me, being a princess isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. If you’re looking for a quick, funny, well written erotic fairy-tale, look no further. You will not be disappointed. This is a writer you don’t want to pass by.
– Dawné Dominique
Fun and sexy twisted fairy tale
What a fun tale! Fairy tale, that is. Definitely twisted, but in a nice fun way. Loved the voice of the frog. Giving my heat warning here: this is exceptionally HOT! Men: if you are wondering what a woman is feeling (physically) during sex, read this. I found it really accurate. ‘Nuf said. Hot. Use oven mitts.
– Loves to laugh
Once upon a time, in the days when wishes still came true, there lived a beautiful, voluptuous princess. So lovely and well-endowed in fact, the King said on many occasions, “Though the sun has bore witness to many wondrous, beauteous sights, even it is astonished whenever it shines upon your face.”
And here is where our story begins…
Evianna’s flirty blue summer dress hung limp as a flaccid phallic and stuck to the tops of her thighs. Every step her leaden feet took down the winding staircase reflected the wilted way in which she felt. Perspiration gathered in an array of sprinkles across her chest, itching its way lower in slow moving rivulets. The beads of moisture split into two and converged in uncomfortable damp patches beneath each breast.
Humidity of early summer hung as a thick shroud throughout her father’s castle. To catch the slightest whiffet of air, she lifted the silky rope of loosely plaited hair off her damp neck.
Effort to find relief seemed futile. Even the lukewarm stone floor, hand carved centuries ago from the rocks in the mountains that surrounded them, usually stayed cool. In any manner, there would be no deliverance from the sweltering heat of the day.
However, she was well acquainted with a place that would offer this overheated princess a cool sanctuary.
“Stu,” she called. “I’m heading out.”
A quick hand pat at her hip confirmed the flask of blackberry brandy remained safely tucked in the deep pocket of her dress. The castle steward would no doubt be near, though she didn’t see the thin man as she crossed the grand entry and continued down the narrow hall to the informal receiving room.
Ancient as the castle’s rock walls, she knew the old man’s sharp eyes and ears saw and heard all. Little wonder why her father the king considered the man his closest confidante.
“Be back in a few hours,” she announced in a loud tone, her voice echoing down the long empty hall.
Velvet drapes, the color of a cool mountain stream, hung on either side of the massive picture window. As the focal point of her father’s favorite room, the floor to ceiling panorama looked out over the mysterious dark woodland beyond, which filled the scenic frame’s lower half. To the left of the forest landscape, sharp craggy mountains rose higher than the windowpane’s field of vision allowed. Above the rough-hewn frame, a hanging blue swag nearly blended with the hue of the sky, only to be broken from its camouflage by the fluffy clouds drifting idly by.
While Evianna drew closer to the thick-paned window and, thusly, the door which led outside, conical thatched roofs in the valley north of the castle came into view. Each tapered spire of the many village homes stood as a pointed reminder of how boring living in the royal castle could be.
In her youth, there had been no village children to play patty-cake with. No village boys to steal a kiss in her adolescence. No volunteers to help spin those bottles.
Now, since she’d turned twenty-one, palace retainers and guards were all that spared her from the mind-numbing solitude of her bleak existence. She’d be an old maid before her father threw a royal party or dignitaries stopped by for a visit.
The universal and reoccurring theme between years past and present day became an utter state of unwelcome loneliness.
Commoners remained downhill, royalty above. It’s the way it had always been. Just who made up the rotten rules, she had no idea.
If her raging hormones had any say, every eligible bachelor in her father’s kingdom would be lined up, stripped down, and have their personal assets personally inspected.
By Princess Evianna.
Behind her, the quaint room remained empty, ensuring no meddlesome servant milled about. Like old-fashioned paparazzi of days gone by, the gossips loved nothing better than to stumble onto an innocent situation, then kick heels-to-ass for the village center to stand as town crier and spread the embellished news.
No fucking thank you.
Polished wood gleamed from every corner. Scents of sweet beeswax coated on the receiving room’s wood floors filled her nose. Outside the chamber beyond her sight, shoe heels beat the fast-paced rhythm of someone with somewhere to go.
Maybe they’re headed to the village.
Sighing, she gave a shrug.
The ancient oak door opened silently on well-oiled hinges. Evianna stepped outside but remained within the cooler shadow created by the castle turrets, and closed her eyes. The fresh air was a welcomed respite. Heady scents of a thousand wild flowers assailed her senses and she breathed deeply of the hypnotic air.
Any sign of the breeze she longed for didn’t exist, but that didn’t sway her determination. After opening her eyes and taking a wishful glimpse down at the village, and the well-maintained merchant road to her right, she turned left and set out on the lightly worn foot trail.
Spanish moss draped lazily from the forest trees in eerie sheets of fairytale splendor. Humidity continued to hang in the air, though not nearly as oppressive as it had been behind the castle’s stone walls. The melancholy of earlier shed its disparaging hold with each step she took toward the dark thickets, lifting her heart and refreshing her mood.
After keeping to a steady pace for several minutes and dodging spiny fronds of giant ferns, the footpath rounded a rock strewn curve.
And there it was… the breathtaking hinge on a special moment in time. Where the humid world of her father’s kingdom faded away and kinship of the woods beckoned beyond.
In that unique perimeter where uninhibited sunlight drew a line in the dirt, daring a person to cross into where the shadowy ground began, a flutter of excitement streaked through and tickled her fancy. The same butterflies-in-the-stomach thrill that started when she was but a little girl escaping the pressures of royal life to seek fairytale adventures and a handsome Prince Charming.
As she passed from the muggy realm of sunshine and duty into the sanctuary of serenity and shade, Princess Evianna uttered the single word she’d named for this special moment in time.
Evianna loved the dark forest with its cool, moist soil beneath her bare feet. She lifted her face to the thick network of gnarled branches that hung overhead. Here, she wasn’t known as Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Orcutta. The woodland animals didn’t care who she was. Neither did the plants and trees. Within the boundary of the forest, she could let down the walls of restriction, be free and even run naked if she chose.
After she’d escaped the stifling heat of the castle, stripping down to her panties was the first order of business—and exactly what she planned to do.
Faint but not undetected, at least not to her experienced eyes, the trail meandered between towering oaks and around lichen covered boulders the size of Ogreville giants. If it had been the middle of a moonless night, she’d still have known the way. What the path didn’t show, her ears and nose told.
Deeper into the woods, birds in all shades of the rainbow sang louder as they accompanied her along the way. The overpowering scents of the castle’s manure pile, cook fires, or perfume drenched bodies fell away, replaced by fresh pine and earthy aromas.
With the pleasant changes that brought a smile to her lips came the sound of a musical brook.
Through a copse of evergreens, and past the low branches of a century-old lime tree, stood a water-driven fountain made of white and grey marble. Where it came from, Evianna didn’t know and she dared not ask anyone in the castle, lest they come to investigate her secret place.
Sunlight poked through the treetop canopy creating checkerboard squares on the leaf-littered ground. Hidden by tall, puffy-tipped reeds, a frog croaked a steady tune.
As she came upon her favorite sunbathing rock which sat next to the delightful brook, she removed the flask of liquor from her pocket. She’d found the bottle a few months back while nosing through some old chests. It had long been forgotten, packed in with her mother’s things and stored in the tower’s dusty attic.
Now, there was a queen she wished she could have known, except her mother had died when Evianna was still very young.
“Thanks, Mom,” she quipped as she uncorked the lid. “I didn’t know you, although I think we were very much alike.”
After taking a long sip and enjoying the burn of the brandy as it slid down her throat, Evianna grasped her hem and drew the cottony material over her head. Immediately cooler, she left the dress on the rock and strolled in her barely-there panties to sit on the fountain’s smooth, round base situated near the brook’s edge.
Cool water lapped at her fingers as she trailed them through popping bubbles created by the fountain’s splash. Tilting her head back, she took another sip and eyed the odd statue mounted as the centerpiece; head and body of a toad, strong legs of a man.
Maybe someone carved it while chewing a stalk of fantasy weed.
Evianna inched her toes toward the sparkling creek, unable to resist the temptation of its cool salvation. Warmth of the toasty sun swept her shoulders and kissed her bare breasts, the way lips of a lover would. Each gurgle of the creek as it moved over smooth rocks called her name, begging their invitation for her to join them in the soothing stream.
She tipped the flask to her mouth and after a swallow, plunged the cork back into place before slipping off the marble edge to wade into pure chilly delight.
Straight out from the fountain, toward the middle of the creek, the water moved slowly. Years ago, when she’d snuck off to her enchanted kingdom as a young girl, she’d avoided the deep spot.
Since she’d grown up and become taller, the thought of chilled submersion sent tingles to race up her overheated spine.
She held the flask above the water while moving farther into the gentle current, feeling the irregular shaped rocks with her feet. Ripples lapped below her floating breasts and she glanced into the clear creek to see little minnows zip about her ankles. Above the waterline, goose bumps rose and her pink nipples beaded in hard driving nubs.
The sight of the tightened buds made her feel deliciously naughty.
Horny as hell.
Her breasts tingled like the ringing of a bell, but not because cold water sprayed over them. Deep inside and underwater, her core pulsed a needy request.
Unable to ignore what her desperate body cried out for, Evianna moaned as she squeezed a tender nipple.
She gave her breast another stroke. Masturbation was wicked, or so she’d been taught by her nanny. The woman had been positively ancient by the time Evianna turned thirteen. Thankfully, her father retired the old prune and her notions of prehistoric sexuality.
Cooler externally, but hot as lava inside, she picked her way to the sandy bank where she’d left the dress on the oval rock. Large enough to stretch out and sunbathe on, the flat boulder seemed the perfect spot for an afternoon nap. Rather than risk wrinkling the material, she tossed the dress over a nearby bush to keep the fabric dry and then lay on her back, dangling her legs over the granite’s edge.
Of its own accord, and because she had no intention of stopping, her hand drifted between her legs.