Chapter 6 Nala's Reflections

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As Simba and Kiara are busy in each other's embrace, Nala reflects on her husband and some of their own passionate memories.


Chapter 6 Nala's Reflections

It was getting late. The sun drawing closer to the horizon as the inhabitants of the Pride Lands scrambled to make the most of the evening before retreating to their respective dens and burrows to allow the night life to have their time. The king and his daughter continued cavorting around in the Willows, while for the lionesses of pride rock, it ment it was time to terminate any hunting groups, if a kill could not be made quickly. For those that were successful in their hunts, they would drag their kills to the base of pride rock for the whole pride to share. In groups of threes and fours they began to make their way to the formation.

Within the formation, those that were pregnant, nursing cubs, and the old or sick were busy tending to their seperate charges and responsabilities. Watching over them and directing them was the Queen. She had refrained from her other duties when she began to show visual signs of her pregnancy. Even in the bustle of activity she took care not to over exert or stress herself too much, for it would not do to do damage to the cub or cubs she was bearing. She was not as young as she use to be after all. She had already lost her first born when a rogue male had attacked and did not wish to go through the experience of another loss ever again.

And yet, she could not help to reflect on how time flew. Just as this day was ending, she knew her time as a mother and queen would end eventually. If she was lucky, she'd be able to bare a few more litters before age stole her heats from her. Sarabi had recently passed that threshold though as she stated, she was content with the change. When her son had returned to challenge his uncle to the throne, virtually all the lionesses rallied behind him. The truth was the pride had not expanded in the years in between the dark years of Scar's rule. Although they submitted to him, it became apparent that their King was sterile and could not continue to renew the pride. And since he refused to allow any other males within the pride lands, using his hyenas as his deputies, the pride was doomed to extinction. In the last desperate hope for the pride, Nala chose to run away at the first sign of her heat in hopes to entice a worthy male to return with her and claim the throne. She had got her wish in Simba whom she thought killed in the Stampede that took the King's life. She had returned with a king worthy of the pride lands.

She reflected on how Simba had risen to the responsabilities and duties to the best of his abilities. He had been rough and heavily leaned on her and his mother's support in the beginning, but he learned quickly and won the loyalty of the rest of the pride. She had stood next to him as he learned and advanced. The other lionesses had wanted to jump on his loins as soon as possible as well. While she was thrilled at the thought of him sireing the next generation, she had asked the others to give him a little space at first. Truth be told, she wanted him focused on her for the rest of her raging heat. While they had eloped in the jungle twice, she had been eager to find herself under him again. She had lost some time in traveling and the battle, but was quick to resume their love making in earnest. After all, her heat would not last more than a few more days and she was no doubt in the beginning stages of pregnancy already.

Another problem was that Simba was inexperienced. Woefully so. After all she had done to bring back a capable male, she felt it was a reflection of her as well if he embarrassed himself by not being able to please the other lionesses. So she took him under her wing to show him how to properly love and seed a lioness.

The very evening after the battle for Pride Rock, as everyone sat nursing injuries and gorging themselves on the killed hyenas, she had approached the new king whom was lying down on the dais licking his wounds and gently gave his orbs a slow pull with her raspy tongue. This had cause him to jump and wince as the injuries of the day made themselves known. Still, after seeing who it was and why, the young male smiled at his new queen. He may be injured, but he was eager to make love to her again. He was still sexually pent up and frustrated from spending his adolescence in the jungle with no release. Now that the opportunity was there, he would not squander it. After sharing a quick nuzzle, she flicked his head with the tip of her tail, pushed her mound against his mouth and gave the new king a look that quite clearly said "follow me for some fun".

They had left the mouth of pride rock in full view of everyone, her leading, him following. From there they curved around behind the formation, where a measure of privacy could be observed. The others would still hear them, but that thought only turned her on even more as the fire in her belly stoked itself into unbridled love and lust. She had to have him. It was only fair that she would be the first to have the new king. She stopped suddenly and deliberately. The handsome male walked right into her mound as she had planned. Just the action of his snout bumping into her puffy lips sent a jolt of pleasure through her frame. Arching her back, she let out a groan as she pushed back into his muzzle, begging him to put that tongue to work. And he did. With inexperienced eagerness, he sat on his haunches, used his two front paws to spread her lips apart and pushed his tongue as deep into her as he could get. She let out a cry as she pushed against him even harder. He was enthusiastic, but his rythem became stale as he deep licked her in the same spot again and again leaving the rest of her lips needy for attention. She corrected him by shifting her hips so that his tongue shifted around and he took the non verbal cue to change up his technique.

Desperate, so desperate she was for this handsome, virile, male. He had grown so much. From the cocky prince cub, to the romantic jungle fool, to now a king, full of testosterone and lust. He was perfect. She could not stand it. Like a flood of emotion, her body shook from his touch, her heat begging to be cooled by his semen. It had been more than 24 hours since the jungle and she would wait not a second more. Breaking free from his tongue, she dropped down into a crouch. Looking back and up into his face, she raised her rear end, spread her feet apart and raised her tail. This was an invitation even an inexperienced male could pick up on.

He paused then. Studying this exotic sight before him. Here was his queen, her black spade moist and puckered. She was waiting for him to show her the depth of his affection for her. He could get use to this sight. He didn't leave her waiting. With a long lick that went from the base of her tail to her neck, he mounted her. The mechanism in his member responded to the motion by unsheathing from its protective resting spot, blood forcing it to stiffen and curve in between his legs rather than its usual direction facing away from him. Every throb he felt, his orbs hanging loose in their pouch. Weighed by its contense, they swung with weight.

Impatient he ran his tongue across the nape of her neck. Then, gently biting down to keep her squirming form still. She had her mound pressed up against his member, with her feet doing a shuffling motion. It tickled the tip, and he needed her to stay still. Improvising, he growled at her and pushed her head down to the ground while feeling for the supple opening of her heated mound. This seem to work well for she gave a delighted purr and seem to surrender control to the male on top of her. With haste he began to prod for her opening, eager to glove his member in the wet tight fold. With the little bit of experience he had already gained, it did not take long to find his mark and he pushed in with a firm thrust. A yowl tore from her throat as she shook under neath him. What a rush! Oh, how her warm insides caressed his rod, pressing against him. He couldn't help it, he began to thrust his hips back and forth while his queen screamed out underneath him. She called out to him, begging him to continue. "My king!" she called out. As he built up some speed, she called out for his seed. She cried out that she wanted cubs from him. She swore she would never have tolerated Scar being on top of her. Scar was nothing compared to him. She was writhing, pushing back on him. It was amazing!

The now familiar sensation of tingling pressure began to build. Starting at the tip of his member ending in the swinging of his orbs, he could feel his climax building. Like a current running through him, all he could do was let it build. Focusing on deep full stroke with his sack slapping her lower rump he rode the buildup. She was screaming out her pleasure, he was growling his responses into her neck. And then he hit his peak. In one more thrust he pushed into her, spilling ropes of pearly white emissions. With every twitch of his shaft and orbs, more semen was transferred into his awaiting lioness. He groaned into her neck as he released the stress of the entire day into the love of his life. She was no idle partner in the moment either. When his legs gave out and his weight landed on her sholders, she held them both up as the flow of warmth in her core seemed to give her strength and relief. Supporting her spent lover, she gently lowered herself onto the floor with him still trickling into her. He had let go of her neck and drooped into her tender touch. For once, showing vulnerability in a job well done. She allowed him to spill sideways off her back as his member slid out of her. There they both lay. Panting and purring.

Two things occurred to her then. One, they had been loud. Very loud. The whole pride was probably speculatively gossiping on what had transpired out of their sight. And two, she had not considered the heavy toll that mornings fighting had taken on Simba. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to go so rough because some of his cuts and gashes had started bleeding again. Splotches of red began to stain his magnificent coat. Tired as she herself was, she got up and began to nurse his wounds. Her tongue cleaning the dirt and sweat out of the cuts. This was her king and partner. She knew it was her duty to care for him after all he had done for the pride.

Even years later, Nala cherished the memories she had shared with him. He was everything to her. And now she had to share that with their daughter. Zazu had gone on a round to check up on the king and report back to her in case he needed reinforcements or assistance. However, the horn bill had reported that he had not spoken with him because it was not his policy of interrupting the king when he was with one of the lionesses. Surprised Nala asked which lioness had gone into heat, only for the hornbill to awkwardly report that it had been Kiara. She had been expecting her daughter to go into heat soon, but she did not expect her decision of having her father, as the one to satisfy her desires. In their previous talks, Kiara had said she would probably leave the pride lands to pursue her own Pride. It seemed apparent that she had changed her mind.

Nala knew all too well how the burning heat could affect decision making, but Simba had indulged her and was even now, filling her belly with their cubs. Well she knew Kiara's judgment might not be sound, she did trust Simba's judgment. The only reason he was proceeding is if he felt Kiara had made her decision from a mature mind set. He now saw her as a mature lioness and was treating her as one. Nala would have to accept their decisions. It's not like she could do anything about it anyway. Still, she lamented the progression of time for it seemed her youth was lost and it was now her daughter's time. Still she had new life growing in her that could be the next heir to the throne. Her daughter was not the only one who put the King's orbs to good use. She would continue to bare Simba's cubs. As long as she could, she would make sure her heats were spent in the full body embrace of the one who rescued her from the fate of a dying pride. He would always be hers.