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This story was written for JEM as part of their top tier Patreon reward for April 2018. It contains M/F sex between consenting adults, and incest set in the world of the Lion King. :3

Once a Queen, Always a Queen

The roar of a lioness as she was lost to orgasm had become one of Simba's favourite sounds.

In the months since he had taken on the full duties that fell to him as King of Pride Rock, he had come to take them very seriously indeed. The lionesses hunted. The lionesses patrolled. He helped of course, but their sheer numbers meant that they always did the lion's share... quite literally... of the work. In return, all he could offer them was his leadership, his time, and his body whenever they needed it. If a lioness was in heat, he would be there for her until she collapsed, toes and tail twitching happily, into an exhausted slumber. If a lioness was simply feeling a little needy and insecure, he would be their to lavish her with praise and pleasure until she herself felt like a goddess upon the earth again. If any single member of his pride needed his care and attention, he would go to her, and stay with her for as long as it took. Talking, cuddling, making love until she licked him across the snout and smiled at him with true, undeniable contentment.

Even when he found himself making love to the lionesses of the pride however, they still had gifts for him. Things to teach him, ways beyond the clutching pleasures of their bodies and their loving affections to make him oh so happy and eager to be with each and every one of them. When they were done with sex, or sometimes even during the act itself, they would tell Simba stories. Stories from their past, when he was just a cub and his father had been King, but many of them had themselves already been as old or older than Simba was now. Though Mufasa had taught Simba a great deal during his childhood, Simba knew that there was a great deal of knowledge and wisdom he had lost out on due to his father's death and his subsequent exile. For that reason he relished every opportunity to hear stories of his father's wisdom, and his father's failures, and the pride's past in general. He learned so much from the lionesses with whom he lay down each day and night, and grew closer to each and every one of them as a result.

If Simba had been perfectly honest, he hadn't felt like much of a King at all when he was first returned to Pride Rock. Sure, he had defeated Scar and yes, he had used his strength and the survival skills he had picked up from the jungle to help him and the rest of the pride through the lean times as the Pridelands began to regenerate and restore themselves from the wasteland that Scar had created. But even though he had returned fully grown, the lionesses of the pride had still seemed like the same all knowing, distant grown-ups that they had been when he left. Only now, having spent quality time with each and every one of them to learn not only their carnal desires but their personalities, their histories and their individual feelings on all that they as a part of the pride had experienced, was that beginning to change.

Well... almost each and every one of them, anyway.

He was approaching the river, in need of a drink after a particularly vigorous mating session with no fewer than three lionesses one after the other. The heat of the afternoon had passed, and the sunset was casting golden light all across the savannah. On the air however, as he grew closer to the water, Simba caught a scent. A scent that was both immediately recognisable, and yet not one that he knew personally. It was definitely the scent of a lioness' arousal, there was no denying that. But... Simba had made love to each and every lioness enough times by this point to know their individual scents. To be able to tell who needed his attention even with his eyes closed thanks to their uniquely aromatic arousal. Yet somehow, this scent was simultaneously foreign to him while still being in some way familiar.

Quietly, not stalking but trying not to make any sudden or aggressive movements just in case this was a lioness who was new to the territory, Simba approached the river's edge through the long grass, following the scent as it grew stronger and stronger. Soon he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a lioness. The sound of a tongue feverishly lapping, and of moans, grunts and growls. This lioness, whoever she was, was masturbating. Tending to herself rather than allowing Simba or another lioness to share that opportunity for intimate bonding with them. He paused for a moment or two and listened, frowning slightly as he heard growls and snarls not just of pleasure in the midst of her self-applied tongue lashing, but frustration too. Whatever she was doing to herself, it wasn't satisfactory. Simba shook his head slightly, his lush mane rippling in the fading light. If this lioness was a stranger, a newcomer to these lands, maybe this was his chance to make a good first impression. To grant her relief, no strings attached, but to offer her at least a night of respite with the rest of the pride once she was satisfied and able to relax. And if she wasn't a stranger, if somehow Simba's nose had failed him or his memory had let slip the identity of this lioness' scent, he would hopefully be able to find out why she had crept away from the rest of the pride in her time of need, rather than seeking him out as every lioness in the pride knew they could without shame or embarrassment, no matter the time or the cause.

He crept through the grass, closer and closer to the river's edge and the mystery lioness masturbating upon it, and finally emerged out onto the bank. There, one leg raised and with her face between her hindquarters, lapping feverishly at one of the most flushed and swollen, obviously needy pussies that Simba had seen in his entirely life, was a lioness. Her eyes were closed, and she was so focused on what she was doing that Simba could probably have sat there in silence and watched her for minutes before she would have noticed. The king of Pride Rock could not remain silent though, not once he saw who the lioness was. Not once he realised why her scent had been so familiar, yet not too familiar. Not having considered how despite having made love with each and every one of the lioness in his pride, there was in fact still one lioness that he had not been with.

"M-mother!"

Sarabi's eyes sprang wide open, her tongue hanging out with juices dripping off of it, and she let slip a strained, embarrassed mewling. She didn't react with anger, with rage at being interrupted and disturbed by her son of all people. She simply wiped her muzzle off on the back of one foreleg, dragged herself up into a sitting position, and planted her rump against the cool grass of the river's edge, trembling as her no doubt hyper-sensitive and needy pussy was suddenly denied what pleasure she had been able to provide it in her solitary motions.

"Oh. Oh, Simba... I... I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone would be walking to this part of the river. I should have been more careful. Please, my son. Don't be embarrassed, don't be concerned. All is well. S-so... how has your day been?"

Simba blinked. He stared at his mother, raising an eyebrow as in the space of less than half a minute she went from tonguing her own pussy and growling in pleasure to casual small talk. Her chin was still glistening, still slightly matted with the residue of her juices, and her hips were still trembling, tail twitching rapidly from side to side in a manner that betrayed the calm smile upon her face. All of a sudden, the King realised what an idiot he had been. What a phenomenal moron he had been, to think that just because this lioness was his mother, she was somehow exempt from feelings of desire and sexuality. She had brought him into this world only after Mufasa had mated with her. It was the same acts of pleasure and sensual intimacy that he shared with the pride's lionesses each and every day that had resulted in him being here, so how the hell was he surprised that his mother had, and indeed still possessed sexual longings?

"Mother, I..."

His voice trailed off, hearing those words and hearing how his voice got higher when he spoke to her. He thought back over the months since his return. How she had pampered and mothered him after his victory over Scar. How she had mentored him in the very basics of ruling over the pride, the hierarchies and duties that the various groups of lionesses performed. She had been such a mother to him, making up as best they could for the time they had lost. And yet... since then, their relationship had changed, and not entirely for the better. He tried to think of the amount of time he had spent with her, not just with other members of the pride while his mother was also there, but just the two of them. The same sort of one on one time that had allowed him to forge such close, personal relationships with all the other lionesses. Those occasions had been few and far between, and when he had found the time, it had always seemed as though one or the other of them were called away to perform other duties before too long.

He was a grown lion now.

A King.

And... a King simply didn't have the time to spend in the soothing company of his mother.

But, a King always made time for the lionesses he served.

Always.

"Sarabi."

Simba's voice escaped him in a deep rumble. Deeper than normal in fact, in a tone that sounded almost like... him. Mufasa. They both noticed it, Sarabi looking up sharply with wide eyes, and Simba tensing up, shocked by the authority and the power that had escaped him in that moment.

"I am the King of these lands, and as that King... I serve to protect and care for all the creatures within it. Every last lioness, gazelle, hyena, even the bugs. We are all part of the same circle of life. A circle that leads from birth to death and back again. Do you think there are exceptions to the circle of life? Did Mufasa ever teach me that there are times when the rules of this land simply do not apply?"

The lioness shivered, and shook her head.

"N-no, Sim... no, my King. The circle of life is always present. It lives, it dies, it moves like the seasons in all of us."

Simba nodded.

"Then... tell me, Sarabi, why are we fighting the circle? You and I?"

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, then her already wide eyes bulged in realisation. She shuddered from head to toe, and bowed her head in a nervous, desperate mewl.

"I... I d-don't know what you mean, Simba. My... my son."

Simba growled, and rushed forward at his mother. Sarabi yowled in shock as he barrelled into her, knocking her back and pinning her down to the ground just like when he and Nala wrestled and played. Yes, his mother was older than he or Nala, but she was still strong and capable. More than strong enough to fight back, if she wished. He loomed over her, teeth bared, eyes wide, mane flowing like fire in the deep red sunset.

"I am your son, yes. But I am the King, too. One does not erase the other, and neither fact will hold back the circle of life. We live, we breath, we feel. We have desires. Needs as living creatures. And as King of this pride, it is my duty... my privilege to tend to those needs in all my lionesses. All of them, if they want me. If you cannot bring yourself to be with me just because you brought me into this world, Sarabi... I accept that, and I will do anything else I can to make you feel more comfortable, to help find others who can perhaps relieve your desires. But, I cannot allow a member of my pride to feel shame in her longings. To feel that she must creep away from the rest of the pride to do what all of us would share freely, knowing that it is natural and right."

He stared down at his trembling, red faced mother, and his gaze softened. He leaned in closer to her, and nuzzled against one of Sarabi's soft cheeks. She trembled, and a deep, rumbling purr of satisfaction escaped her at that tender contact. Simba drew back, and smiled at her. He spoke more softly now, more gently and reassuringly.

"I would never ask you to do anything you did not want, anything that would make you anything other than happy. But... know this, Sarabi. If you came to me and asked me to please you, to satisfy you like any other lioness? I would tell you that I cannot."

Sarabi's face went from hopefully to crestfallen, but Simba kept on smiling.

"I cannot pleasure you, I cannot make love to you like any other lioness... because every lioness I am intimate with is unique. Special and wonderful in their own way. If I mate with you, if I breed with you and make you scream in pleasure... it will be because you are your own beautiful, incredible woman. Because you are Sarabi of Pride Rock, and I love you. As my mentor. As my friend. As my general. And... as my mother, I love you, and I will do anything to make you happy."

Before Sarabi could respond, Simba's tongue was lashing across her beautiful, overwhelmed and utterly overjoyed face. Then she was licking him too, and they were growling, and purring, and laughing as they lick-kissed one another not as mother and son, but in the same way that the King had lavished affection upon so many incredible lionesses, and in the same way that Mufasa had always tenderly kissed his Queen. Their faces were glistening, Simba's mane slightly matted and a few complete strands of drool glistening across the breadth of Sarabi's cheeks by the time the male lion pulled his head back. His affection didn't cease however, not for a single moment. It was simply redirected, with Simba's tongue lapping its way slowly but surely down Sarabi's body. She growled and whimpered, she writhed and moaned as her body begged for it.

For months she had been waiting, fantasising and making do with solitary masturbation and the occasional affections of another lioness to keep her going. She had fought so hard during Scar's reign of terror to keep his paws off her, they almost all had, accounting for the vastly reduced number of cubs currently making up the pride's younger generation. Between that and Simba returning, Simba, the one leader of the pride she had dared not ask to do his duty, it had been so long. So long since her last time with Mufasa. So long since the last time she had been truly satisfied. But now... oh, god. Now?

"You're beautiful, Sarabi."

Simba lapped at the lush fur of her chest, turning his head and nipping tenderly, adoringly at her muscular forelegs.

"So strong. A credit to your pride. To yourself. To your King."

His voice was that deep rumble again, so much like his father. It turned Sarabi's blood to liquid fire, and reduced other portions of her anatomy to a similarly white hot, burning state too.

"But right now, you don't have to be strong. You don't have to be brave. Sarabi. Mother. Let me look after you as I should have from the very day I returned."

His licking was getting lower and lower. The rasping strokes of his rough tongue tantalised her nipples, but soon passed over them as he continued to shuffle back along her quivering body. She panted and huffed as she stared down at him, watching his progress, and she let loose a desperate snarl as he glanced up at her, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and pure joy over what he knew he was about to do to the lioness who had brought him into this world.

"Simba. My King. It's been so long. Too long. Please. Please!"

Her tail thumped against the soft earth by the river's bank. Her toes curled, claws retracting and extending over and over again in a frantic, urgent rhythm still too slow to be the beating of her heart, but perhaps perfectly timed with the fluttering of a different portion of her anatomy. She felt his hot breath was over the base of her stomach, and one last stroke of his tongue against her fur, then the heat was upon her loins. Washing out across her nether regions in a manner that alone was enough to make her eyes roll in their sockets.

"Simba!"

Sarabi practically sobbed as she looked down just in time to see her son and her King's muzzle opening wide, clamping itself down around her crotch as his forelegs pinned her hindquarters to the grassy earth below, spreading her strong thighs wide apart and exposing herself to his rough, hot, saliva dripping tongue. Then it was upon her. It was in her. So rough, so thick and able to probe so deep. Capable of striking at spots that her own tongue could never even come close to reaching, and working with the practised skill of a King who had spent months being taught by every other lioness in the pride how to hone his ability in that precise regard.

The lioness roared. Not a brief gasp or a short exclamation of pleasure, but a full throated and echoing roar of pure, unbridled passion. She tried to thrash, but snarled louder and more frenzied still as Simba dug his clawed paws into her thighs to pin her down, to ensure that she couldn't escape the savage attack of his tongue as it honed in upon and mercilessly ravaged her g-spot. She wanted to scream. Wanted to roar her lover's name to the heavens, to thank the whole world for bringing him back to her. Her King. Her beloved. Her sweet, wonderful Mufasa, the only man who could make her feel this way. Her head span as that thought crossed her mind one moment, only to be picked up for the error that it was a second later. She couldn't stop it though. Even knowing the mistake, even knowing that her heart and her mind were playing tricks on her, it was all she could feel. Simba was so much like his father. Brave, loyal, compassionate, and... oh god, could they both eat pussy like it was the tenderest spring antelope.

Again she roared to the heavens, and again, her whole body afire even as she heard cries in the distance and voices responding to her savage outbursts. She tried to stifle herself, to press her paws over her muzzle, but it did no good. Barely thirty seconds later as Simba ruthlessly refused to stop even when Sarabi could see his ears twitching in recognition of the approaching voices, a trio of lionesses on patrol burst from the bushes with claws drawn, ready to assault whatever was leaving one of their pride in such violent and potent distress. They saw Sarabi. They saw Simba with his muzzle buried between her legs, eyes peering over his mother's trembling body at the three of them with a mixture of warmth and warning. He didn't mind that they had seen, but if they tried to intervene... if they tried to query what was happening, or to selfishly ask if they could be involved in what was clearly a familial matter, he would have words for them. Words, that is, when his muzzle wasn't otherwise occupied.

Giggling, blushing, bowing as they backed away through the grass, the lioness' left Sarabi and her son alone together once more. As they turned and began to trot away, Sarabi could just hear one of them murmuring to their companions over the sounds of her own ragged moans.

"So, girls... either of you want me to see if I can make you roar like that tonight? I know I'm not Simba, but somehow I think the King is gonna be busy... and if you're anything like me, after seeing something like that I'm going to need someone to tend to me."

A few seconds later however and they were gone, out of sight and out of mind as Sarabi's brain fully re-engaged with the pleasure being lavished upon her and she roared anew as it occurred to her just how close she was to being driven to orgasm. Simba's tongue dragged its rough surface over her g-spot, and even as a gush of juices sprayed out over his muzzle he pulled his tongue out and lashed it with whip-like force and precision across her clitoris. Another moment later and she could feel that eager muscle pushing itself back into her, and a split-second after that her g-spot was on fire all over again.

"Simba..."

She moaned her son's name even though all she could picture in that moment were the countless times that Mufasa had done this to her, and the countless occasions she had seen him lift his grinning face up from her loins in the wake of the orgasms he had provoked, chin dripping and mane glistening with the results of her hot, soaking wet eruptions.

"Simba!"

She wailed his name because she knew if she didn't, she might cry out her King's name.

"Oh! Oh Simba, I... I'm going to..."

At the last moment though, as her head span and her whole body quaked in frenzied anticipation of the release that now felt inevitable, simply building to greater and greater extremes with each passing moment, Sarabi realised something. Simba was her King now. He held Mufasa's blood inside of him. He held Mufasa's spirit, and Mufasa's wisdom, and Mufasa's kindness. Within Simba burned all the greatest qualities of her King, reforged in the circle of life.

Simba was his own man, his own King. And yet, he was her King too. He was his father's son. And that meant... oh god. Oh god. That meant that right now, though she thought it would never again happen, she truly was being driven to climax by a part of the very lion that she had loved with all her heart, body, mind and soul. The lion she had loved so dearly, she had become his Queen, and had borne him a son.

"Simba!"

Sarabi shrieked in pure ecstasy as her juices began to gush, to flood out and spray across Simba's face even as she heard him gurgle, gasp, and felt him begin to try and lap up every drop while continuing to stimulate her throbbing clit, just like his father.

"My Simba! M-my King! I need you. I... yes, I n-need you to... oh! Oohhhhhyessss, it's been so long. So long! I need more than your tongue. More than to be teased. My King, I...a-aaaahhhh, I ask, I beg you. Breed me! Fill me! And please, my sweet Simba... d-don't ever stop!"

Not once, but twice Sarabi climaxed as she screamed and roared and begged to her son for more, and not once during those two orgasms did Simba relent in the feverish action of his tongue and muzzle against her spasming, clutching depths. By the time he realised there were no more juices to lap up, his face and Sarabi's whole lower body soaked with a richly scented mix of saliva, perspiration and ejaculate, Sarabi had stopped her more vocal and outright pleading. It was obvious to him that she was far from spent though, still purring and moaning as he licked her swollen, trembling clit even after two back to back orgasms. He lifted his head from her loins, and as his chin dripped her juices back down onto the already matted fur of Sarabi's crotch their eyes met.

They shared a look. A silent expression of the most intense and joyous longing, of love, of gratitude, and of pure sexual hunger.

Sarabi rolled over onto her belly. She pressed her forequarters to the soft, cool grass, the sun now almost entirely set and stars beginning to twinkle high above, and raised her back half, tail flagged high. She planned on looking back behind herself, hoping to see Simba rise up, hoping to see his manhood in all its glory. She'd heard rumours. Whispers from other lionesses who didn't realise she was close at hand as they compared notes. He sounded impressive. She wasn't sure if she believed what the others said, that he was a little larger than Mufasa. Sarabi had felt Mufasa many a time, and the idea that there could be bigger... it had never really occurred to her until those whispered words had implanted that fantasy in her mind.

She never got the chance to see for sure though. Not that first time, at least. She never had the chance, for while Sarabi had already climaxed twice, Simba was now even more desperate and eager than he had been when he first ventured out to see if he could offer the then unknown lioness he could hear moaning in desire some relief. Thus no sooner had she presented herself so welcomingly, so sincerely to her son's waiting body, he pounced. He mounted her, he buried his teeth firmly in the scruff of her neck with a deep and rumbling snarl, and with just a few strokes of his already rampant erection, Simba found his mark and plunged hungrily, unabashedly into his mother's pussy.

"Sarabi..."

With a muzzleful of her neck, Simba's lustful snarl sounded even more like that of his father. When he began to thrust into her though, using a technique he had been taught by many of the older lionesses that never failed to drive them wild in the angle and pacing of his thrusts, that was when his mother realised what trouble she was in. She knew that technique. Only one lion had ever fucked her with that technique, and even after realising what was going to happen here tonight with her son, she had made her peace with the fact that she would never feel pleasure like that again. Never feel the kind of stimulation, the kind of world-shattering pleasure that she had only ever known when Mufasa slipped into her, bit down on the scruff of her neck, and made her sing so that the whole of the pridelands rang with the echoing roars of a lioness's triumphant euphoria.

She pressed her muzzle to the ground and buried her face in her hands, pressing her forepaws down over her maw as even with the first few thrusts she was driven to a fresh frenzy, only constant, wilful effort preventing her from screaming Mufasa's name. She felt her pussy clench and convulse, and after barely half a minute of being fucked by Simba, she shuddered as a devastating orgasm crashed through her. Suddenly her paws were clawing at the ground, tearing out clumps of grass as she roared mindlessly, wordlessly in ecstasy. She heard her juices drumming against the floor between her legs, and wailed in delight as she heard Mufasa's potent thrusts... no, no, Simba's thrusts growing louder, lewd and sloppy as her extra fluids allowed him to pick up his pace all the more, just as his father always had.

"I won't stop, Sarabi."

His cock plunged into her again as his voice growled from around the muzzleful of her flesh.

"I'll stay with you until you are spent. Until I've made up for all the time we missed."

She came again, harder, sobbing and howling to the heavens as her eyes rolled and she saw her mate. She saw Mufasa looming over her whispering those words. He had been gone, he had been taken from her. But now, in all the ways that mattered... in her love for him, his for her, and how they made one another feel when they were together, now he was back.

"I love hearing you so happy. I love hearing you roar for me. I love you... Queen Sarabi."

Another orgasm, shuddering, gushing, roaring to the heavens and for all the Pridelands to hear. From the direction of Pride Rock itself, she heard other roars answering her. The whole pride joining together to signal their supremacy and their comraderie, just as they had back in the day when they heard Queen Sarabi roaring as King Mufasa bred her to peak after wild, unrestrained peak.

"Again, Sarabi. For me. F-for your King. I'm... ah. I'm close. Please... cum for me again."

Sarabi wailed as without even thinking she gave Simba exactly what he asked for. How could he know that Mufasa had teased her like that, used his rank so playfully in a way he never would have dared to even joke about with any other lioness, all because he knew how hot it made her. She felt the lion picking up his pace. His hips a blur as they slapped roughly against hers, his barbed member stimulating her inner workings to absolute perfection as she roared till she was hoarse and breathless, yet still failed to stop or even muffle her ongoing ecstasy.

"My Queen."

Simba grunted as she felt his cock strain and his hips drive harder still against hers, shuddering and failing to draw back as he throbbed, as he ground against her.

"M-my lioness..."

He gasped, biting down harder as his member twitched and the first jet of hot cum lashed Sarabi's inner walls, ever bit as hot and every bit as deliciously, uncontrollably erotic as when Mufasa had poured himself into her.

"Mmnnhhh... mm-mhaaahhh..."

Simba moaned, he huffed and he shuddered against Sarabi as he poured ribbon after ribbon of thick and virile seed deep into her. All this time he had been fighting to hold back one cry, keeping himself from screaming one word to the beautiful and bountifully orgasmic lioness beneath him. Now though, there was nothing he could do. Nothing left that he could roar but the one word that was all he could think, all he could feel as he gave everything he was and had ever been up to the quivering, cumming Queen between his haunches.

" Mother!"

He roared his acknowledgement of this incredible lioness and what she meant to him. A hunter, yes. A beautiful woman, yes. A reverent Queen of the Pridelands, yes. But first and foremost, more than anything else even now as he poured hot cum into her and felt her own orgasmic juices rushing out to meet and mingle with his, Simba's beloved mother.

And as he roared that unabashed, joyous cry of his love and giddy release to her, all thought of Sarabi screaming Mufasa's name was eradicated in an instant. She adored her mate, her King, and she always would. But... he was gone, now. He was gone. But his son, their son, was still here. It was him, her beloved son, who was making her feel this way. Making her heart race, her body thrash, and her nether regions erupt like she thought they never would again.

Thus, it was his name that suddenly found itself upon her lips, and it was his name that she answered with a mere instant later, no longer holding back in the slightest.

"My son! My sweet Simba... I... ooohhhyesss, cum in me! Breed me, l-love me! Fuck me and... a-aahhhh, and fill me, like the King you are. My King! Yes!"

By Jeeves

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