Authors: Uther Pendragon
"Um," Prof said. "Technically, Julie got carried away. I overreacted."
"Gus managed his scene, then?" His voice drew her one tentative step towards him. What if *he* didn't remember? What if he remembered and didn't care? "Susan!" he said. Her castle lover did remember and, from the tone of his voice, did care. "Love," he spoke over her shoulder, prompting a pang of jealousy, "
could you excuse me for a while longer?"
"Enjoy yourselves," called the woman. Then she murmured something to the two children. *There* was a woman without a grain of possessiveness. Susan was ashamed of her own jealousy, but that feeling washed away when his hand touched hers. She remembered his touch, a particularly knowing touch.
"I don't want the twins to see," he said.
"I don't want anybody to see." This surprised her as much as the jealousy. It was true, though, and she wanted to speak truth to him.
"The barn?" he asked. She pulled her eyes off his face and followed his gesture. Across a stream was a large wooden structure. It looked awfully far away just now. She would follow him anywhere, however, especially away from this audience. He was already pulling her onward.
She hurried to catch up, wanting to see his face. Instead of looking at her, he was watching their footing. While she would have rather had his attention, their footing was in danger. They were just going past a dense patch of shrubbery which seemed to be hiding a man dancing an odd jig by himself, when the dancing man stumbled forwards. The hand on her arm jerked her sideways, making her look down to catch her balance. The man fell onto the path ahead of them, impaled in a woman who had been hidden by the shrubbery until then. Neither of them wore a stitch below the waist. The woman shrieked, but another glance suggested that she had not been badly hurt. She continued to shriek and moan, but she never stopped thrusting her hips back at the man lying on her.
They managed to reach the stream without another interruption. Her castle lover swept her up in his arms and carried her across. She was wearing sandals and a skirt that would not have touched the water; he was wearing slacks and shoes. Still, this way, she was in his arms. She spared one glance for the barn,
then returned her gaze to his face as he strode towards it.
The barn seemed designed for horses, but none were in sight. He set her down at the bottom of a ladder. She climbed into the loft conscious that he could see her thighs. Her only regret was that she had a breech clout between them. Well, removing that right now would delay more important matters. Once at the top, she saw hay bales in wall-like stacks with piles of loose hay scattered between them. When he reached the top, he stopped for only one brief kiss before leading her towards one of the closest piles of hay.
His sudden lurch towards a more distant one distracted her. A woman rose out of the pile of hay, looking through them rather than towards them. Her intent scowl turned into a rictus. Susan would have found that evidence of another's orgasm arousing in almost any other situation, but now she was aroused already; she was mostly annoyed that those people (the man was invisible except for his hands on the woman's breasts) were occupying *her* hay pile.
They finally reached an unoccupied hay pile, however; and she forgot everyone else. "You get your shirt," she said as she struggled to untie his wet shoelaces. He did, stepping out of his shoes at her direction. They reached his belt at the same time.
"Your dress?" he asked.
"Simple. Let me take care of this." She undid belt, snap, and zipper. Her cloak and then her dress fell around their feet when he undid the clasps. The clout between her legs and his watch and shorts were all that they were wearing. He removed the shorts and stepped out of the trousers pooled around his ankles. Then they took a minute to spread these clothes over the hay. She wanted to enclose him immediately, but he stopped to kiss her. His tongue was sweet in her mouth, but her breasts and groin were calling out for his attention. When she let herself relax in the kiss, he lowered her to the makeshift bed. They could hear rustlings about them but were all alone enclosed in their walls of hay.
Then his mouth was on one breast while a hand was on another. He stroked her all over. Finally, he untied the cord binding the clout. "Please," she said, and lifted her hips. He pulled the cord off and tossed the top part of the cloth down between her knees. His hand stroked between her thighs while she spread them for him. She wanted *him* rather than any teasing.
Before she could reach for him, however, his hand found her center. The touch was enough to ignite her, and she soared while he kissed above and stroked below. How long that lasted, she couldn't know. It felt like an instant, it felt like forever.
Her spirit returned to the barn to find him gently kissing her brow. When she tugged at his arm, he moved between her raised knees. Once there, he dawdled again. The kisses on her breasts were delightfully arousing, but she had had enough arousal. "Please," she said again; but when his mouth left her breasts, it traveled downward. When it reached her center, she buried her fingers into his hair to pull him upwards.
But her arousal was too great. His lips and tongue overcame her, and she pressed his head into her as she tensed again. Then she exploded. As she writhed in the delightful agony of her orgasm, he continued to suck.
Finally, he withdrew his mouth; and they both gasped for breath. But she, with better access to the air, recovered first. When he began to nibble at her thigh, she drew him upwards by his hair. He continued to scatter kisses across her body as he moved forward fast enough to retain his scalp. She did allow him a long pause at her breasts. He licked the sensitive nipples on both breasts and eased one with a gentle suck. When he started back towards the other, however, she tugged his hair again.
"I want you *inside*," she said. He came up then and kissed her mouth. Tongue played with tongue as his phallus eased between her labia. The feel of him rubbing along her groove was exciting, but she
needed more. She reached down, placed him in the exact spot, and started to raise her hips.
"Slow, darling," he said. "Let me be slow." That, she would allow. She guided him inward long after he needed that touch. Her fingers held a shaft of ordinary size and temperature, pleasant to the touch but not especially slippery. Her inner lips reported an incredibly smooth bolt of heat which stretched her as it entered her a millimeter at a time. An eternity later, she had to let go as his base pressed against her entrance. She was filled and, at last, held her castle lover again. She dropped her torso flat, no longer needing to twist to reach him. She curled her legs around him as he kissed her deeply. The play of their tongues was as rapid as his entry had been slow.
Straightening until his chest was just brushing over her hard nipples, he began to rock his hips from side to side. He was moving neither in nor out, but all of her sensitive center felt the motions.
He shifted until his hands were on her breasts. Now, his thumbs grazed her nipples; and his motion was slower and stronger. He looked into her eyes. "Susan," he said. She remembered that she had never learned his name, but this seemed one hell of a time to ask. They stared at each other while her tension grew. She tried to work against his motion, but her hips would only go back and forth. Her vision fogged. "Yes, Susan," he said. "Let me feel you around me. Come around me, Susan."
And then she did, clutching his hips with her hands and his lovely cock with her cunt.
When her vision cleared, he was driving into her with deep, strong, slow, strokes. Given no time to come down from her last orgasm, she soared away again. Then he was grinding against her and pulsing within her. Her last spasms forced him out. He tried to roll away, but she held on tight. They lay like that, gasping, and then hugging. He moved down enough to kiss her lips. They hadn't quite caught their breath, however, and had to break the kiss.
"Never," she told him, "never has it been like that."
"It was wonderful for me, too."
"Stay here."
"For a while." They lay there. About when his weight was causing as much discomfort as pleasure, he moved to her side. He kissed her face, then kissed her deeply. She could feel the goodbye in this kiss.
"Hug," she said and clasped him tightly, desperately. He hugged her back for minutes. Then he disengaged slowly.
"I did leave Pat with the twins," he told her. He kissed her deeply, but briefly, scattered kisses over her face, and then pulled back. She had to roll aside so that he could pull his shirt and pants from the bottom of their improvised bedclothes.
She never says, "I love you," and she didn't this time. It was true, though.
"Will I see you again?" she asked.
"The next one of these meetings which the newsgroup holds.
I'm just afraid that they are getting less frequent." She watched him carry his clothes to the ladder. He dressed there except for shoes and socks. He was still carrying those when he climbed down taking him out of her sight. She lay there for a few minutes reliving their times together.
She had first seen him at some castle in the North Sea. Prof had taken her there with him. Prof claimed that actual sexual relations with a recent student would violate his ethics, but that he could take her to a party where hedonism was in style. And hedonism had definitely been in style there.
She had been on her third man, Richard by name, trying to keep connected without either of them going over. They had stopped all of their motion to watch one woman eat out another. Then the active woman had received a phone call. "Damn," she had said. "Dear, do you think you could finish this for me?" And then to the woman, "He's really quite good."
Whatever objections of the woman lying on the sofa had, and she had seemed to have some, they had disappeared as the man's ministrations took effect. Richard had stirred within her as the woman began to vocalize her arousal. He hadn't been able to resist stroking to the time of the moans coming from across the room. By the time these had arisen to shrieks, Richard's had echoed them. Then Susan had voiced her own orgasm. The woman on the couch, by far the earliest to start, had been the last to finish. Only when her moans had turned to sobs had her companion relented.
Susan and Richard had resumed watching while the others caught their breaths. Saying something like "You were very good," true as it might have been, had seemed out of place in the company of what had clearly been better.
The man had been kneeling beside the couch holding the woman when she spoke. "I really should. Pat shouldn't have asked you. That was wonderful and I...."
"Let me guess, you don't do men."
"Yes. I mean no. Pat knows that. But you were so good."
"Don't worry. I understand completely. As a matter of fact, I don't do men either. You aren't leaving me on a desert island, you know. I would guess that it will be physical ability rather than lack of companionship that limits me tonight. Anyway, you don't owe me anything. Pat called on me, and she knows that she always can."
"I beg
in to see why she married you."
"Ah, but she didn't. Anyway, ask..." he gestured to Richard, who identified himself, "ask Richard whether he enjoyed being in the same room with you then."
"Very much," said Richard.
"And I had the better seat for the show. Now go straighten yourself out. I'll never tell your friends that you enjoy men."
All four of them had needed more than a little straightening out, in fact. But Susan had caught up with the man somewhat later and drawn him into a reasonably private nook. After a long, deliriously pleasant period (his mouth had been every bit as exciting her as she had guessed it would be) she had bent over a divan and drawn him into another nook which -- if hard to describe as private -- she had cleaned out for his occupation just before. By that time, however, the purity from the previous douche had been overcome by the flowing of her juices. He hadn't complained, and he had no fair complaint to make; he had evoked the entire flow himself, some of it by his mere presence and personality, but much of it deliberately.
Any curiosity she had ever had about size had been satisfied in the autumn of her
fifteenth year. Her parents, ignorant of the activities of her previous summer, had thought that any dates she had should be well chaperoned. They had been pleased when she had reduced her interest in boys and taken up a new hobby of candle dipping in the basement. She had even sold enough candles to exceed the cost of her materials, if not match their weight. She had found that size did only so much for her.