"Igrayne" {Pendragon} (MF mc myth)
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This material is Copyright, 1996, 1997, Uther Pendragon.
All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of
downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal
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All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.
# # # #
IGRAYNE
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net.
First Part:
The Duke of Tyntigayll was dead to begin with.
Well -- actually -- to begin with, the world was created, Adam
sinned and his descendants likewise. The Duke was born, and I,
and Igrayne, I became High King and Igrayne wed the Duke. The
Duke was inimical but came to visit me to patch things over. He
and his lovely Duchess decided that I had asked them to court to
court her. This was true, but not proven, and their departure
was abrupt enough to pass for casus belli. The Duchess held one
castle, Tyntigayll and the Duke the other, Terrabyl. We besieged
his, I left the camp, he sallied and died. But one must begin
somewhere.
So we did not yet know that the Duke was dead when Merlyn, Sir
Ulfius, and I rode up to Castle Tyntigayll in disguise. Neither
did the castle occupants. Indeed, ensorcelled by Merlyn, they
took me to be the whoreson Duke, Merlyn to be Sir Jordanus, and
Sir Ulfius to be Sir Brastias. When I pled illness and went
early to bed, the only doubts in their minds were whether the
illness were real or an excuse to get alone with Igrayne the
sooner. As hostess, of course, she could not leave the table
immediately. However, when the food was gone and the ale was
passing, she was de trop. She came up to the chamber carrying a
lamp.
"Milord, art thou seriously ill? Is there a medicine which I can
fetch thee."
"Thyself is all the balm that I need."
She laughed at that, and blew out the lamp. This was to my
displeasure, but once done, relighting would cause an unwanted
delay. Besides, however glamoured she was to see me as the Duke,
unwonted behavior must disturb her. If the Duke was ass enough
to have her undress in the dark, I must lose that sight as well.
Here was where the chance of discovery resided. Merlyn was mage
indeed, but I was only an inch under six feet, one of the tallest
men in my kingdom. The Duke was five inches shorter, and Igrayne
a magnificent five foot four. When a is stretched out above
a woman, it is hard for her to avoid noticing that his beard
reaches where she is used to finding his eyebrows.
Soon she came to bed. I was in the center, and she slipped under
the covers to my left. I reached over with my right hand. There
was neither surprise nor reluctance in her response.
I held her face until I could bring our mouths together. Then I
stroked down her side to her magnificent flank and then up her
soft belly to her breast. There I found, even while she was
lying on her back, a firm, smooth hillock. I smoothed my hand
upward to find a nipple which firmed to a height of two
fingerbreadths. I brushed this with my fingers as gently as
calluses from sword and lance can brush.
Meanwhile, we kissed. She met my lips with closed lips, as
befits a modest woman. She opened them to my tongue as befits an
obedient wife. Beyond those chaste lips, however, there awaited a
hot and hungry welcome. Her tongue met mine immediately. I slid
mine under hers and tasted a sweetness to exceed honey. She
withdrew hers to just touch mine tip-to-tip, and then flicked
hers back and forth. I was unaware that tongues could be
tickled. She brought hers to a stop and touched mine gently,
then withdrew a bit. I extended mine to touch it again and she
repeated. When I was pressing her lips against her teeth and
extending as far as possible, she closed her lips over my tongue
and it. My blood, which by all logic should have followed
the suction, instead rushed to my lance which was already full.
When she relented from her suction, I withdrew my tongue. Hers
followed mine, licked its underside, then explored the insides of
my lips.
I had to enter somewhere, and I intended this tryst to last.
Without breaking the kiss, I turned so my head was above hers. I
hardened my tongue and stabbed as far forward as I could. While I
explored the roof of her mouth, she lapped at the underside of my
tongue. I chased hers and trapped it against the top of her
mouth. Again, it was flowing with sweetness. The extension was
tiring and I retreated. She followed all the way into my mouth
and played tag there. I her tongue more gently than she
had mine. She waggled it yet trying to reach mine and I
touched it and withdrew in a game. She pulled back slowly and I
followed continuing the tag of touches. She made it feel more
like she was licking my lips than that she was escaping their
clutches. When, for the first time since my tongue broached her
lips, both tongues were behind their own teeth, she moved her
face so that her lips were slightly upward from mine. She
gripped the hairless part of my upper lip between her two and
sucked on it. She began to lick it and I, new to this play, saw
a possibility. With only a little effort, I was able to suck on
her lower lip in turn. This stood in stead for the that I
was feeling with my hand. The firmness of the nipple there
called to my mouth. I was torn, but with reluctance broke the
kiss.
Twins have been born of futterings less sensuous than that kiss.
Before I could proceed downward, she caught my beard and used it
as a handle to move my face around as she sprinkled kisses
wherever she could reach. Quite forgetting that she kissed
another, I forbore my lust for the sake of her love. When she
went higher on my face, however, I kissed lower on hers. My
first kiss landed on her cheek, my second on her chin. She
forwent kissing to be kissed and I trailed a string along her jaw
line to her ear. There were folds and tastes there to keep me
and giggles and wiggles and thrashing to push me off. It was,
however, resistance to the kiss and not the lover. I captured
her lobe and it was again reminded of the waiting nipple.
The path down her throat, delectable in itself, now seemed an
unbearable delay.
I was holding the left in my hand, and I simply moved my
mouth to where the right one must be. I met smooth skin and
kissed it, then trailed upward to pebbly skin, and thence to
upstanding smoothness. One suck and this nipple stood up. It
felt as though I had a twig in my mouth, but a blunt twig with
infinitely smooth bark. I was beyond teasing her. I merely
clung there and suckled like a lusty babe. Nothing came out, of
course, but there was still a taste of sweetness. I slowly grew
up and changed my suckling to licking and playing with lips and
tongue.
I had been hard since my entrance to the room, much less hers.
Deeply desiring this tryst to last forever, I came to want its
inevitable conclusion more. As I love a wet ride, I moved my
hand down her breast, across her belly to the nest at the top of
her thighs. She parted her legs for my hand and my scarred and
callused fingers parted her soft smooth lips where I intended to
play until she was flowing and stretched to receive my thrust. I
found her drenched, which was luck indeed. She misconstrued my
gesture out of the private conventions of her marriage. She
reached for me as soon as I had touched her center.
I am thought a strong-willed man, but there are temptations St.
Lawrence could not resist. I followed her touch perforce and
struggled to restrain from spending. Led by the reins, I
scrambled between her legs. I managed to bring the magnificent
breast back to my mouth while she lifted her legs and rested her
feet on my calves. Her soft hand slid my blunt sword home as if
into a sheath formed for it alone.
The sheathing of a sword, however, betokens the end of a
struggle, and this began one. No sooner had her hand acted my
squire, seeing me well mounted and my lance firmly couched, than
her hips and lower belly acted my opponent in the lists. They
thrust at me with enough force to unseat a rider less surely
placed. I thrust back, perforce, although there wasn't much
motion that I could make in that direction, being already firmly
seated. As she fell back, I withdrew until I was caught at the
tighter ring of her portal, then was first in the lists for the
next passage. Nor was this the last of her divided councils.
While her hips thrust against me as if to unseat me, the inner
flesh clung to me so as to hold me the firmer.
A realm so divided must certainly lose, but this combat ended
otherwise. I thrust, and she bucked. We met with an audible
smacking of flesh. My lance pierced her without doing her
injury, being instead set afire by the rubbing. All her wetness
could not extinguish the fire, but barely eased the feeling of
sweet friction. I made many passages in those lists, before
being overcome by the ache rising through me that betokened that
I must:
SPEND!
SPEND!
Spend!
Spend.
Spend...
Spent, I fell on her glorious flesh. I treated those as
pillows and that destrier mare as a mere palfrey. She bore the
treatment with equanimity and me with her softness and slowing
breath. Indeed, I awoke minutes -- I hope -- later to her soft
caresses down my back. I was wilted and without, but her hands
passed from my back to my haunches and I stirred already.
I moved off her to a mattress more seemly, if less soft. Our
activities had moved us perilously close to the edge, so I moved
far away. I heard a sniff.
"Come," I said, "I came all this distance to join thee. Thou
canst move over a foot to meet me."
And move she did handsomely, measuring herself against my side in
a way that awoke both desire and fear that she must surely notice
my height. She was on her side with her front pressed against my
side. A magnificent front it was, too. But my arm was not what
I wanted there.
"Stay right here," I directed.
I moved an inch away and a cubit toward the foot of the bed.
That put both her magnificent teats within range of my mouth. I
began to kiss the sides of the nearer and circled it slowly
towards the peak. Occasionally, my beard brushed over my target
as I circled. She wiggled but did not seem displeased. When I
reached the peak, I licked the nipple all over before taking it
between my lips. I dropped back a little to the bed and pulled
at her shoulder. She got the idea and turned so that I could lie
in comfort and suck. I stroked her side with my hand running
from the very outside of her left to a point a little
above her knee. Occasionally, I paused at the top to stroke her
arm.
She began to move under that caress, not the undulations of deep
heat, but the acquiescent moving against the stroke that means
that it is appreciated. I changed and tilted her a
little more to accommodate. The nipple was firm and smooth in my
mouth when I first drew it in. I stroked up from her hip in a
new direction, ending with my hand cupping the base of that
breast. Such was the generous size that my thumb touched naught
of my face but my beard when it extended along that length.
I fondled there for the nonce, and then stroked back down over
her belly rather than her side. This was soft, and smooth and
gently rounded. The navel was deep and my index finger could just
fit within. That brought on a fit of shaking there which even
reached her breast. The nipple barely moved in my mouth, but
that slight motion was a great pleasure. My finger left its
private lodging and rejoined the rest of the hand as it stroked a
circle around that navel. All was smooth, soft, and still
shaking. The second circle went wider and found a feathery
fluffery at the furthest reaches. I broke off the circle and
rested my hand against her there.
The pad where my thumb met my wrist was just below her navel and
the third and fourth fingers were displacing curls. Her flesh
warmed my hand, and I hope that it warmed her as well. As the
heel of my hand moved down, I left my finger tips where they were
until they were curled under and the backs of the fingers were
pressed into her curls. I brought my fingers together catching
some hairs between each pair. I lifted them enough to pull the
sweet pad, but not enough to cause pain. Then I parted the
fingers and slowly, carefully, extended them again. Doing so
combed her hair and gauged the soft, firm targe which guarded
both bone and softest flesh. The hair extended downward to cover
a softer pout and then followed the lips back further than I was
going on this survey. I patted the tiniest forward perimeter of
those lips, and reluctantly left to visit her thighs.
There was no need for reluctance, the inner thighs were silken
warmth and responded to my foray by parting slightly more and
turning out. I stopped at the limit of my comfortable reach and
started back up. Their were very fine hairs, undetectable to my
touch going in their direction, that I felt when going against
them. I tried to keep my fingers as light as possible in this
direction and to let the these hairs provide the contact. At a
point I judged half way to my ultimate goal, I reversed direction
and brushed down again. I repeated the process coming up a
fingerbreadth further on one leg and then going back down. Then
I switched legs and did it again. She stirred under these
caresses, and I was well content to be both surveying and
exciting my bedmate. Finally, my fingers brushed thicker hairs
at the top of her thigh.
Meanwhile, having laved and lipped her left nipple, I was afraid
of overstaying my welcome. She had evinced no pain, nor any
response but pleasure. The first wince, however, is not a sign
to leave off, but a sign that you have stayed far too long. So I
reluctantly loosed my lips and let the nipple slip. Then I moved
from mount to vale. I licked and kissed her pebbly flesh beside
the nipple and thence to the smooth skin further away. I kissed
downward towards the base, feeling -- all the while -- the
smoothness of the other brush the left side of my face.
In the valley, conscious that this was less tender flesh though
delicate and smooth to the touch, I kissed her more forcefully,
the narrowest line of lip protecting her flesh from my teeth. I
sucked wildly here, as well. A little adjustment allowed each
ear to rub a while I kissed the center of the valley
between.
While exploring one valley, I had reached another, as you might
remember. Just outside, my fingers toyed with locks trapped
between her smooth thighs. I played there a minute, without
touching skin. Then her own movement brought her lips within
range of my finger. I stroked a finger between the thigh and the
far edges of each lip. She parted her legs a bit more to
accommodate this, but I thought her position probably difficult.
I nuzzled my way upward and then pressed her back with my mouth,
using my arm as a lever at the same time. When she took the
idea, she rolled on her back and I was able to pull her right leg
toward me.
With this improved entree, I gently pressed the two lips and slid
them slowly against each other. I was no longer worried about
the dryness of my road, my own contribution being more than was
needed to ease any passage. I wanted to play there, however,
before any serious resumption of action. She, however, reached
for me again. I stiffened completely in her fingers, but my
mouth, at least, was able to resist this time.
"Nay, my lady, givest me a few more minutes."
"I was but inquisitive, my lord, I don't believe that I have ever
felt thee so thick."
"I have stored up a long absence. Let me, however, remind myself
of the territory before I possess it again."
She dropped back, but replied, "I had not thought that thou
wouldst ever forget that territory."
"I said not 'forget,' but 'remind.' I have thought too much
about it this whole siege through." And that, in this whole
feigned trip, was God's own truth.
Her legs were more spread now, and I divided the thicket to find
the meadow within. Her inner lips were lush and thick, even if
they stayed within her bounteous outer ones. They were together
and I first kept them that way, holding them between thumb and
first finger and rubbing them back and forth as gently as
possible. I pulled them out slightly and let them go to feel the
hairbreadth return through my fingers. I traced the minute ridge
of their meeting, glad to find it splendidly slippery. I parted
them with my fingers and felt one between finger and thumb. The
position was not best for kissing her breasts, so I bent a little
and rested my head on her belly. I dipped a finger into her
nursery to test the size. It seemed dubious that my member had
fit, let alone having room for a son.
My fingers were damp enough to fare anywhere without hurting her,
and I brought them forward to the peak of her furrow. There,
well above the nursery, I found the tiny nurse standing watch. I
spread it with the juice that I carried with me and then returned
for more. When the nurse was well wetted, Igrayne had begun to
breathe more quickly. Thankful that the nurse had carried the
message, I stroked her more and Igrayne rolled her up to me with
a rolling of her sweet hips. I again checked the nursery, this
time with two fingers. It was as tight as before, but accepted
two as easily as one. I returned with more of the liquid, and
damped down the nurse again. Igrayne began to gasp. I abandoned
all pretense of covering the entire furrow, and stayed there
playing with the nurse and plying the immediate area with the
moisture.
In ingratitude, the nurse abandoned her post. But a knight once
sworn returns not indifference to indifference. I walked my post
and hers. Meanwhile Igrayne was holding my hair in one hand and
my shoulder in the other. She was panting as from a race. My
fingers continued to pace their beats while the soft belly under
me firmed. There was still sweet padding, but it felt like it
covered not flesh but iron. Then she started. Her hips swung
sweetly into my hand. One hand pulled my hair and the other
clawed my shoulder. She tightened still more under me and
brought her head and her shoulders off the mattress. Then she
fell back and waves passed down her body. The flesh under my
face quivered like a very slow bow string. Then she shuddered
and closed her legs with a snap like a portcullis falling. Her
hips rose and fell once more and then she was still and softer
than ever under my head. Her thighs, too, relaxed. I moved my
hand to clasp her delicate curls without trespassing into more
sensitive areas.
She broke out in a sweat, and I found the blanket to cover her.
When I again lay down it was beside her with my arm just above
her and my mouth inches from her ear.
"Igrayne, Igrayne," I whispered. "Lovely, Lady Igrayne. Loved
by my heart, laved by my tongue, lady of strength and grace.
Beauty and boldness, brightness beloved. Igrayne, Igrayne,
Igrayne."
Skald, I am not. Those lines will testify to that. But my
observation is that women occasionally prefer poor chants that
they are loved to wondrous renditions of the love of Leander for
Hero. This seemed such an occasion.
"Oh my lord." She answered. I presume she meant the Duke, she
may have meant Our Lord. The High King, she did not mean.
"Hush. Lie here and be hugged."
So she did, and a marvelous armful I had. Now, I love spending,
but there are things that you don't notice in the midst of your
own passion. Holding a lovely woman in your arms while she visits
her passion is a blessing of its own. Igrayne had been on that
journey and she returned slowly. While she did, I left off
clipping and played with her hair. It was held in some formal
winding by a hair clasp. I undid the clasp and pulled the
strands out into a lush curtain. It was enough to cover her
breasts, or cover my chest, or to spread over the head of the
bed. And I did all these things with it.
When her breathing eased, I essayed a kiss. Her tongue met mine
with all the passion of our first kiss. After some time dealing
with only that delight, I began to explore her whole mouth. The
roof of her mouth had its own taste, which I can't describe
except as a slightly sweet spice. Meanwhile, her tongue --
finding itself no longer the main interest of mine -- responded
like an ignored puppy. It lay in wait and then jumped up when my
attention was elsewhere. I must admit that I found these licks
much more pleasant. I pinned her down to the floor of her mouth
and she wagged her tongue so as to tickle me. I withdrew to my
own mouth and she chased me. Trapping her, I as she had
sucked me. Rather than fighting it, she pressed her mouth to
mine and held my hair.
My ardor, bred up over those months of wanting, had been but
partially quenched by our first encounter. The long rest and the
clipping had quite restored it. Her ardor, once the short rest
was over, was whetted -- not abated -- by her recent solitary
vigil. I was stroking her body from neck to thigh, but the
breasts received more than their share of attention. It was time
to reenter the lists. Thinking of tilting gave me the idea that
a bolster under her hips canting them up might sweeten the angle
between her softness and my hardness. I broke the kiss to speak.
"Milady, can we have the bolster below," I asked.
"I have not sewn it to the mattress during the last months," she
replied. There was playfulness in her tone and alacrity in her
action.
She pushed the blanket aside and swung the bolster down to our
waist level. Then she raised herself up, slid the bolster under
her, and swung herself down on it kneeling and facing the head of
the bed. I had been trapped again into a marital habit. She
reached over and took me. (I was beginning to know why we call
them "reins.") I clambered into position over her legs. Her
hand clasped it tight, once, and then placed me against her.
"It *is* larger than I had remembered."
I smiled but replied not. I was investing the castle this time,
not storming it. I paused just at the foregate while I passed my
hands around those marvelous haunches onto her narrow girdle and
upward to rest on her ribs with fingers just touching the sides
of her breasts. My thumbs touched her shoulder blades and I held
her absolutely still as I parted the leaves of the gate and
entered the outer bailey. I brushed my hands down her plenteous,
now pendulous, until I reached the borders of the
areolae. Then I paced the outer bailey, back and forth as there
was no room to go side to side, gathering the wealth that had
been stored there as precious mead. I rolled the tips of her
breasts on my fingers as you might drum your fingers on the table
when the benediction is too long, but at a third of the speed.
She stirred at that, and backed a fingerbreadth toward me. With
the placement of my member, that removed me from the gatehouse
rather than driving me within.
I moved my hips back until I was properly situated, and stopped
there just at the gatehouse. I bent forward slightly and passed
my hands downward until the tips of my middle fingers met the
sides of her two nipples. These I stroked up and down. She was
still, as if concentrating on her mammary sensations. I moved my
hips forward and just nudged into the gatehouse. I stretched no
gate, merely taking what space was there. I judged that the
entry I was using would pass only my least digit, and that merely
to the first knuckle. I spread my hands lower until I could
press upward on the tips of the hanging nipples. She pulled
herself upward, which moved her castle away, but I moved with
her, neither displaced nor advancing.
Then I did advance, pressing inward in the gatehouse, widening
the entrance until it would admit most of my force, only the
breadth of the van barring my passage. Here, I was feeling her
warmth and grasp for the first time and restraint was becoming a
task. A true knight, I held my post. I paused there and moved
my left hand to her downthrust belly. There I delved in her
navel with my last finger. She lifted away, the gatehouse
retreated, and I moved in perfect pace with it. The most perfect
pace, however, can not overcome a change of angle. The top
entered more, the bottom retreated, and the very slow friction of
each was sensuous torture. I held my finger there, and her belly
raised perforce, while my right hand played with her nipple. I
moved that hand up the to her back.
My left hand stroked across her belly to her left breast. She
eased down a bit, and again there was the exquisite sensation of
shifting within sans any forward movement. I flexed the fingers
of my right hand into claws and directed the knuckles toward me.
Then scratching with the backs of my nails I stroked her back
from right shoulder blade to left buttock. She, predictably,
dropped her belly to escape the tickle -- for I was careful that
there was no actual pain -- and drove herself back toward me. I
rode partly with this swing of hers, but still ended completely
in the gatehouse. Enveloped rather than invading, I felt the
sweet friction of her clasping flesh as my vanguard was admitted
-- or captured. She was holding herself up on her raised arms
and I dropped my left hand to the bolster to do likewise.
This allowed me to bend over far enough to kiss her on her upper
back. She wiggled at this and her rump shifted sideways and my
half-inserted self was shifted reciprocally to this. I felt
every tug and slide of the sideways shifts, but was not conscious
until later that the net result was inward. Meanwhile, I kissed
her back from left shoulder to right, licking every spot that I
had sucked, and again to make sure.
I had but one hand for breasts, so I stroked them alternatively,
sometimes gliding my hand over the smooth skin, sometimes
tickling the nipples with my fingers. Meanwhile, she dodged
either kiss or tickle, her hips swayed, my member was the swivel
on which our connection turned, and I felt the always-varying
motions there as one tease. I was easing through her
gatehouse in a sort of dance, back a little forth a little,
round, round, round. The travel back was less than the travel
forth, however. I suddenly sensed that the friction was on the
widest part, not on the tip. At that, I stopped peppering her
with kisses and rose back to kneeling erect. That, in itself,
provided forward impulse. With an exquisite slip through the
gate, I was in the inner bailey.
My body pulled back a bit, but it scarcely moved my invading
force. The gatehouse kept tight around the main force and the
van was held within the bailey by the width of the vanguard more
effectively than it had been kept out. I was pulling back the
merest bit while I returned to the soft teasing scratching that I
had done earlier. I used both hands this time, being careful
that the nails were always turned in and going away from their
points. I covered her lower back with these teases and then the
backs of her thighs.
I then gripped both hips and eased myself forward again. The van
now started to occupy the inner bailey, widening it as it
advanced. The defenses were only soft, frictional resistance.
Meanwhile, the gatehouse held tight to the main force of the
invaders, yielding them passage but only under resistance. I
pressed forward until the van was deeply into the castle and only
the last inch of the invasion was completely outside. The
resistance, incapable of stopping the invasion was now a threat
to the cohesion of the invader. The force, which could not be
stopped as it was, faced the possibility of firing its missiles
futilely and collapsing while still in possession.
I stopped the advance for a moment, then, and explored the
neighborhood of the castle with my hand. One finger found that,
though the castle was invested, one watchtower below it was still
manned. The hider had returned from hiding. Dipping my finger
in the honey of the outer bailey, I stroked the watchman until a
gasp from the mistress of the castle told me that the message was
received. In its pause, the invasion force had recovered, for the
nonce, from its danger.
I whispered "elbows." Igrayne dropped herself onto hers. I
pulled myself fully forward and the entire force had entered the
castle. As well, the entire inner bailey was occupied, and the
tip of the van tenderly touched the innermost keep.
Here, my metaphor, as well as my entry, was ended. The keep,
soon to be Arthur's keep, was not to be entered by the invading
force, but only by its missiles. And those would be fired
somewhat later.
She knelt with her knees on the bolster, very wide apart. My
knees were on the mattress proper, between her legs, and almost
together. Her ankles rested on my calves, with her feet touching
each other. I was, from knees to crown, rigidly erect and bent
slightly backward. Her elbows were resting on the mattress, and
-- I presume -- her head as well. Her back was arched downward,
so that our loins were pressed against each other's as firmly as
possible. My hands, at that time, were pulling her hips into me
and, by the same token, pulling myself into her.
I bowed over her back while smoothing my hands forward over her
belly to her breasts. She responded to the caress by
straightening her back. We both moved slowly and the two motions
eased me slowly out of her. I could feel the close clasp of the
gateway pass over my shaft, and the subtler, silkier, friction of
her inner bailey slide over the more sensitive head of my organ.
For the last half of the motion, the lower lips gave a fleeting
caress to the base of my shaft. Once over her, I kissed her
spine. Then I drew both my hands down her hanging to the
sensitive tips. There they toyed awhile. Her breath was ragged,
but I could not tell if it were the position or the sensation.
An easing of the position seemed the best assay of which, so I
gently grasped her right shoulder and straightened myself
somewhat. She got the message and raised herself on her arms.
Each motion withdrew me slightly, and each hairbreadth withdrawal
was a sensual delight. I put both hands on her shoulders and
stroked back evenly along her sides. Where her waist flared out
from its narrowest part, I put on gentle pressure.
Simultaneously, I straightened slightly at waist and knees. My
motion within her was reversed, but the sensations remained as
delightful. I pulled her tightly to me and then bent over again.
The withdrawal was less and even slower. The pleasure, if
anything greater.
I took her in my two hands and pulled back very gently.
She followed the lead and pressed into me as I pressed forward.
A minor motion forward on the moved her as easily and I
backed out. She needed merely to get the message for her to
cooperate. Soon we were moving against one another at moderate
rate and the motion tightened my loins and threatened my
culmination. She, also, was panting more in the easier position.
Then she began to move more vigorously. This drove my pleasure
to the peak with my tension following amain. The bridle that I
was using was too delicate for this new ride, so I abandoned her
breasts. My left hand caught her shoulder to guide and restrain
her, my right sought below her belly to find her center.
There was no need in this position to spread the nectar which
flowed down between her lips. I merely pressed the meeting of
those lips rhythmically with her motions. At this, her motions
sped, as did mine. I backed when she went forward, using my hand
on her shoulder only to see that our partings excluded the
primary juncture. I advanced when she returned, thrusting hard
and joying in the rapid friction. I could hear her breathing two
notes above my own and could feel the shoulder muscles tense in
my hand and her thighs tense against my arm. Our pace kept
increasing until, suddenly, her knees slipped from their lodging.
I couldn't let this interfere at that point. I grabbed her left
hipbone with my right hand and held her against me. I dropped
her shoulder and supported myself on my left arm. I had to pull
back for this position to balance, but I took her with me. She
spread her legs wide and I pulled her over me until I was buried
deep. When I moved forward, she was ready to push back with her
hands. She straightened. Every muscle I could feel tightened.
Her belly rested on my arm bone and I could not have told which
was harder. I withdrew, she pulled herself forward. I pressed
forward, she pushed back and I drew her to me with my supporting
arm. In violation of all the logic of sieges, the castle
assaulted the invading force. The walls of the gatehouse
constricted rhythmically on the main body, and then the inner
bailey itself was squeezing the vanguard and the furthest
advanced forces. My invading force firmed to its uttermost, and
fired flight after flight of shafts toward the keep. I held her
up and pressed her against me. My hips were moving in thrusting
motions but her purchase on the mattress was not enough to press
back. Most of my motions brought her with me. Nevertheless, the
castle attacked the invaders, and the invaders fired on the
donjon.
Both actions stopped together. My muscles, which could have
pulled us both to the ceiling a moment earlier given a purchase,
were now hard pressed to hold myself up. Igrayne would have
overstrained my arm if she had not, herself, collapsed so that
legs on one end and head and torso on the other were on the
mattress. I had only the center to support. This I did an
instant longer as I felt her last pulses around me and the
invading force, having lost all firmness, dropped -- rather than
fired -- its last volley. I batted the bolster out of the way
and eased Igrayne, slick with perspiration, down to the bed. My
last effort was to tumble to the side so that I did not fall on
her.
Igrayne and I had striven mightily. Sleep was the victor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
GLOSSARY
A note on spelling: This is a modern preoccupation. The
generation which thinks that the opposite of "win" is "loose" may
end this pedantry. Was the castle spelled "Tyntagil" or
"Tyntigayll"? In truth it was spelled "whatever." At the time,
only Latin words had spellings, and no one was careful about
those. I have chosen *one* spelling used by Malory, but he used
others.
The words here are those not recognized by my spell checker.
Minus a few, "fluffery," e.g., whose meaning you know without the
word having entered English. Also minus the second person
singular forms. Plus a few, "tilt," e.g., which may be
recognized by the spell checker for a different meaning.
Amain: Vigorously.
Areolae: (pl) The darker-colored flesh on the around the
nipples.
Arrow Slit: Castle keeps have *THICK* walls. If you cut a window
straight through them, might be able to enter, but sunlight
from a different angle could not. What we did was cut a tall,
very narrow, slit on the outside. Then we widened it out at an
angle, called the EMBRASURE, towards the inside. It let a
certain amount of light in, and kept most missiles out. An
archer could also stand in the embrasure and shoot out.
Bailey: see Castle.
Brastias: A knight serving the Duke of Tyntigayll. Sir Ulfius
was disguised as Sir Brastias.
Butt: A target, especially for archery.
Castle: Technically, any fortified point. The castles under
discussion here were the full versions. They consisted of a KEEP
or DONJON, the inner, hardened, multi-story, central
fortification. People lived there at all times. The INNER
BAILEY was surrounded by a tall curtain wall. The donjon was on
one side and various stables, storehouses, etc. were set around
the central area. Anything portable of military importance was
permanently housed in the inner bailey. If the enemy was in your
inner bailey you were in trouble. The OUTER BAILEY, was on the
natural approach to the inner bailey and the only way to enter
it. (It could totally surround the inner bailey, but this was
not usual.) Much economically and agriculturally important
activity occurred in the outer bailey. The surrounding curtain
walls were high enough to resist a raid and require a siege to
take them. The entrance to either bailey was through a GATEHOUSE
which contained the gate and was a tower built above the level of
the wall so as to be held independent of it. The gate, proper,
was on the inside so that people chopping at it could be
entertained by 20lb rocks, arrows, the contents of chamber pots,
boiling water, and other mementos dropped on them. See also
"Portcullis."
Casus belli: (A sure sign of a limited spellchecker.) The
occasion or opportunity for the war. Sometimes given as "cause
of war," it is a false cognate. The cause of the war might be
"If the Allies don't win soon, our Allied bonds will be
wallpaper," or "Our King wants to bed the woman that this Duke
has inconveniently wed." The casus belli would be something more
fitting. Perhaps "The vicious Huns have sunk a liner," or "The
Duke's departure was an insult to our amour propre that can only
be cleansed by blood."
Clip: To hug.
De trop: Superfluous.
Destrier: Imagine that you are a quadruped. They array you with
heavy gear and then hoist a twice his natural weight in armor
on your back. Then they point you at a large group of equally
burdened quadrupeds with screaming riders trotting toward you
fronted by very sharp lance points. Do you go:
1) directly forward at a trot as steady as the ground allows
or
2) elsewhere?
The second option occurs even to horses. So we train them for
war and call the trained results "destriers." We don't want to
waste them, and their single pace is neither efficient nor
restful on a journey. We ride PALFREYS for travel and mount the
destriers only for battle.
Donjon: see Castle.
Duchy: A dukedom.
Ector: Sir Ector fostered Arthur. His was Arthur's wet
nurse.
Embrasure: see Arrow Slit.
Ensorcelled: Affected by magic, glamoured.
Ere: Before.
Fingerbreadth: The width of a finger.
Foregate: The area just outside the gate.
Forwent: Abstained.
Futterings: Activities on topic in this archive.
Garde-robe: We deterred moths from laying eggs in our (woolen)
clothes by hanging said clothes in our latrine rooms. Of course,
some dull historians claim that small rooms in our walls used as
clothes closets were properly garde-robes, and that latrine rooms
were called that as mere euphemisms.
Gatehouse: see Castle.
Gladsome: Causing joy.
Glamoured: Fooled by magic.
Haft: Handle or hilt.
Igrayne: Duchess of Tyntigayll. Later Queen of Britain.
Jordanus: Knight of the Duke of Tyntigayll. Merlyn's disguise.
Joust: See Tilt. (The 'o' is silent.)
Keep: see Castle
Laved: Washed.
List: see Tilt.
Mage: Seer, Magician, Adept.
Mead: Drink, brewed from honey. Think beer.
Merlyn: Mage who brought me into Igrayne's bed at Castle
Tyntigayll. In return he received control of Arthur's fostering
and education. The latter got him a nice sinecure much later.
Milady & Milord: Yes we spoke that way. A baron could whip his
wife with a horsewhip, and some did. No baron addressed his
tutoyant.
Nonce: Short while
Palfrey: for riding when not in combat. See Destrier.
Passage: see Tilt
Portcullis: A grillwork (usually) that could be raised and
lowered at the front (or outer) end of the gatehouse. Lowered on
its rope, it provided another obstacle to overcome in capturing a
route into the castle. If the rope were *cut* the portcullis
crashed down. This discommoded those in its way and could be
used to trap a small party inside the gatehouse where they could
be attacked from above. see Castle.
Quim: The female pudenda.
Recurved: A good longbow is made from wood that curves one way
and then is strung to curve the other. Cut the string, or even
unstring the bow, and the arc reverses.
Sally: While the besieging army is busy digging ditches, serving
the siege engines, raiding the surrounding country for supplies,
etc., the besieged army quietly gathers a force of armored,
armed, (preferably mounted) knights and at arms. Then they
sneak out a side door (a "sally port") and fall on a portion of
besiegers. If they have the self-discipline to stop while they
are ahead, they can almost always score a minor victory. "Sally"
is both a noun and a verb.
Skald: A Scandinavian bard. One of rare training and precision.
(Skald/bard is equivalent to chef/cook.)
Straitly: Tightly, closely.
Swiving: Activity on topic in this archive.
Targe: A shield, usually a small one.
Terrabyl: The second castle of the Duchy of Tyntigayll. The
Duke holed up there, and we besieged it.
Tilt: Joust. Two men, who usually don't have any quarrel with
each other, get on expensive horses wearing very expensive armor
and ride towards each other along opposite sides of a rail fence
pointing sharp lances at one another. They do this until one is
knocked off his or both and rider are knocked down.
After a certain age, it gets hard to remember why. The place
where this takes place is called the LISTS. One ride at each
other is called a PASSAGE.
Tyntigayll: A castle, well made. A Duke, ill bred. A duchy.
Ulfius: Sir Ulfius was a faithful and intelligent retainer of
mine.
- = -
Second Part:
The dawn wind woke me because I had set a sort of mental sentry
for that purpose. The room was against the east wall of the keep
and each arrow slit showed sky a lighter gray than the room's
blackness. Inside, I could distinguish nothing. Touch, however,
was still available, and quite enjoyable. Igrayne's back was
pressed against my front, and I held one in my hand. I
enjoyed these sensations as I woke, and then ran my fingers as
far over her skin as I could reach without disturbing her fit to
my body. She half woke but then snuggled against me more firmly.
The pleasure of external pressure was soon overmatched by the
discomfort of internal pressure. I visited the garde-robe. No
sight was needed to find that. On exiting, I followed the wall
until I came to the door. I placed the beam across it to lock it
fully and delved into a purse that I'd left with my clothes.
Merlyn had offered me an herb which had an enchantment against
morning breath. I chewed some and spat it out into the rushes.
I continued until the bed was dimly outlined against an arrow-
slit. I then returned to bed by keeping toward that slit.
My motions had nearly wakened Igrayne, and my return --
rustling through the rushes -- finished that task. What my
hands had explored, I wanted my mouth to taste, and I started at
her forehead and worked down. Her brows were fine, prickly on
the lips when swept inward, but smooth when slicked out. Her
temples were touched by hairs so fine my lips could not detect
them but my tongue could. Her ears were convoluted, tasty and
quite ticklish. Here she stopped me.
"My Lord, I must rise."
"Is the kitchen so laggard that they need their mistress'
supervision to serve a simple meal?" I asked.
"I doubt that any in the kitchen expect to see me ere you ride
away," she answered. "But there is a crisis threatening our
woolens and I must protect them from moths."
She left me laughing there and went to the garde-robe. I noticed
that she passed in front of all but the leftmost arrow slit to do
so. She was outlined against the gray for a moment, suspicion of
sweet breast, blockage of almost all, brief outline of hip, then
repeated. This gave me an idea. When, after what seemed a long
time, Igrayne came back out to the larger room, I asked her to
look out and report the weather.
She entered the embrasure to look in all directions and reported
that it was much lightened in the east, clouds to the south, etc.
I hardly listened. Instead I looked at what the light revealed
of her when she was so near it.
The silhouette was still the most revealing. While she tried to
describe the southern sky, her right was outlined. It was
large and jutting, with only the sweet sag that bespoke a woman
rather than a statue. She raised her arm to brace herself and the
breast raised slightly in response. The nipple pointed pertly in
the chill, if not so far as had met my warm mouth in the night.
She was turned slightly away and her belly made only a slight
bulge. Her hip, however, was canted out by her stance and her
flank made a sweet arc against the light. She turned so that her
head was in what light there was. It was faint enough so that
her golden hair and cream skin were the same shade of lightness.
As she walked back, there came a moment when I could see the
light framed by her thighs. These spread broad and were topped
by a tangle that was only hinted by the silhouette. Then she was
back and cool and ready to be warmed.
I was right glad to clip her in my warm arms. The morning kiss
was sweet and her tongue entered my mouth greedily. I licked the
invader and gently on it. She licked the inside of my
lips once more, then broke to kiss me on the nose. I kissed her
chin and then along her jaw. My kisses were becoming wetter and I
licked, rather than really kissing, the space behind her ear from
bottom to top. This was salt and had a special taste which was
just Igrayne. I lipped the top of this ear and then licked the
inside while she wiggled. I traveled down the side of her neck
with little lip-nips and short licks. I found one spot where her
motions underwent a subtle change. Here there was no longer a
girl trying to escape a tickle, but a woman whose body responded
to a sexual thrill -- however minor.
While my mouth explored that spot and the immediate surroundings,
I stroked down her side and back and flank. All was smooth.
There was soft padding over all, but one could feel muscles move
underneath. Finally, I reached her haunch. Here was fullness,
here was softness, here was firmness when she flexed in response
to my squeezing hand. My lips left their vantage, pleasant as it
was, and kissed down her neck to her shoulder. Thence, I made a
brief expedition down her arm to her elbow and back up. I
intended nothing serious, but wanted to acknowledge that portion
of her body. From her shoulder I kissed diagonally to the edge
of her and then around that base. I continued down with
lip-nips and licks and real kisses, as well. As I crossed her
belly, I think she found my beard as ticklish as the kisses. I
passed about an inch to the side of her navel. Then I changed
course.
Before she could react, I was kissing her navel and searching it
with my tongue. I let go of her haunch and pushed on the front
of her thigh. She fell onto her back when she sensed my intent.
I clasped a in my left hand and a thigh in my right. But
I was giving the lovely, firm, belly my primary attention. I
circled the navel with licks and kisses before returning to that
center and plundering it again. I stayed until the squirming
became real dislike. She pushed me away and downward. This
direction did I take and she pulled me back immediately. From
this I guessed that the fool of a Duke had kissed only two of her
lips. I was less concerned about the disguise every moment, but
more concerned about the hour. I decided that this delight must
be delayed. I did kiss her mons, however, and pretended to pluck
its hairs with my lips. Then I reversed my course and licked and
nibbled my way up her belly toward her breasts. What my mouth was
cheated of, however, would not be denied my hand. I covered her
delta with my palm and smoothed those curls downward.
When my mouth reached her breast, I kissed a circle around its
base and then a spiral up to the top. There, I licked around the
nipple until it stood up tall and rigid. Then I blew on it until
she shivered. Only then did I take its sweetness into my mouth.
I it between firm lips and then opened my mouth as wide as
I could and the whole top of her within. I eased
all but the nipple out and rubbed my lips across that smooth
twig. Then I went to simple, gentle sucking.
Meanwhile I was fingering her lower lips. I pressed them gently
and stroked the hair on the outer ones. Then I parted those with
two fingers and slipped the middle finger between them. Her
inner lips were tight together and moistly slick. These I
stroked slowly and as gently as possible. I was at her at
the same time, so I had a little difficulty distinguishing her
responses to one action from her responses to the other.
Nonetheless, I took a slight easing of her thighs and rolling of
her legs as an invitation to further search below. I brought the
finger between and outer lip and the inner ones. Still with
gentle pressure, I moved that inner one against its twin. The
motion was less than half a fingerbreadth in its greatest extent.
The friction, never great, decreased as I continued. I added my
index finger to the friction and then it held the greatest
extension while the middle finger crept to the juncture.
There it parted the inner lips easily and stroked between. Here
was honey enough, generated that morning, to ease its passage to
the center. Thence I stroked in all directions, first for small
distances then, gradually, for larger ones.
Caressed at and groin, Igrayne was content for a bit to
lie there and react. The reaction was mostly in small motions of
her body and in quickening breath. My strokes lengthened until I
reached the fold where her inner lips met. There I met the
hider, again unhidden. I dipped below to gather more mead and
returned to stroke the hider. I dipped more mead and spread it
around the general neighborhood, dipped more and re-annointed the
hider. Igrayne's breath was coming quick indeed and I kissed
over to the other while continuing that pattern below.
Then, on my next trip to gather honey, I stuck my finger deep
into the hive. Igrayne gasped. I returned to the hider, but the
journey was no longer uneventful. The path was moving up and down
faster than my finger was traveling.
Then Igrayne's sweet hand moved to my chest and then downward.
The light was good enough now that I could see a pale shape that
must be Igrayne's face above me. I am sure, however, that she
could see nothing of her hand's progress between our two shapes.
"Milady," I said, "I rode yestereve, and I must ride this day."
Her hand stopped but she made no response. "And I rode twice
last night, as well."
"My lord, I am sorry."
"Art thou? Thou seemed glad enough last night. Almost as glad
as I was." Women apologize first and think next, but she was
thinking now. "Be thou the rider this dawning."
"Pfft! Right gladly, my lord." This was not a giggler, except
when tickled. This lady had a deep chuckle.
We abandoned our caresses for a moment to arrange ourselves. It
is not a position into which one falls by accident. I took a
diagonal which put my feet well to the west of my head, so that
she was facing what light there was. She moved the bolster to
the head and the blanket to the foot. Then she knelt above me and
bent forward. I stole a kiss on each nipple and then gestured
for her to proceed. She took me in her hand and then sat back.
The position had been proof against spending for my life up until
then, and I had a vigorous night behind me. The touch of that
hand, however, made me fear an exception. In any event, there
was stiffness enough for our purposes and more. She parted
herself with one hand, placed me with the other, and then stroked
the head of my member once from the back of her honeyed vale to
the front. Then she returned it to the critical location and
settled herself further.
The tip of my member was within the precincts, but she stopped.
She shifted her weight to one leg and inched the other one back
and then repeated the process. The motions, which clearly had no
erotic intent, swirled my tip within her vestibule. She was
better satisfied with this position and settled back. Her wet
warmth engulfed almost all the head of my member. She slowly
straightened and the rest of the head was within her. As she
lowered herself from there I could feel the head pass through the
entrance strictures and then that band tighten on the flesh --
even more sensitive -- just behind the head. At this point,
she moved slightly from side to side -- apparently to be sure
of the direction. This twist and turn on the closely clasped,
supersensitive, flesh made me gasp. She gave me an absent smile
and lowered herself until she knelt with her knees on either side
of my chest and her glorious haunches seated on my legs and
groin.
Here, with my essence held totally captive within her, I gestured
for her to stop and offered her the hair clasp that I had removed
the night before. That hair streaming around her was a glorious
sight, but what it hid was more glorious yet. Here, with her
very self impaled upon my lance, she straightened completely,
shook her hair back, and caged that entire wild mane at the top
of her neck. There was more light in the room and I could see
her shape as she sat there, hands reaching behind her head. The
hair, whose golden color memory had to supply in that light, hung
in waves down her back to below her waist. Her brow was wide and
high, with the eyes beneath wide apart. Her nose was small and
pert, spoiling the gravity of her expression and clashing with
the wide lines of her mouth. Her chin and jaw were sharp edged
and determined. The throat below was long and elegant, leading
to shoulders broad for a woman. There was nothing masculine
about the torso below, however. Instead of narrowing down from
below her shoulders, her chest widened to support her magnificent
breasts. These jutted forward in her present raised-arm stance.
The curve below defied simile as it defined loveliness. The
round shields at the ends, two inches across, were dark in that
light and looked roughened from the cool air. Their bosses
extended far and moved as pointers whenever Igrayne moved. Her
waist narrowed below her ribs and a small hillock with a well in
its middle was her belly. From the waist, the hips flared out
and her thighs were at a wide enough angle that I could see the
insides of both against my hips. The hair between was not
reached by the still-scant light and looked dark.
Clasp arranged, she bent forward until her nipples touched my
torso and then she began to move back and forth. The tickle of
her nipples against my skin was immensely arousing, and the pull
of her inner strictures along my member doubly so. For the
moment, I could do no more than put my hands on her side and leg
and experience all those sensations. The position, delightful as
it was, was an obvious strain on her and she straightened her
arms and changed her angle of attack. I stole a glance at her
face and noted an inward-turned expression.
By this time I was in a stable state of arousal. I was extremely
sensitive, but I knew, from previous experiences in this state
and this position, that I could go on like this indefinitely.
Such a future was, at that moment, very appealing.
She was holding herself a little above me and moving from side to
side. My member not only was drawn out at both sides of this
motion, but it was rubbed against her ultimate softness at the
middle. Her swayed in time to that motion and I reached
my left hand up to catch one. As I toyed with its furthest
firmness, I slid my right hand up her left thigh. Soon I was
near the scene of the action. Without trying to interfere, I
played with her lowest curls. Then, with my fingers still there,
I ran my thumb down to the juncture of her lower lips. When I
reached there, she gasped and lowered her head. She changed her
stroke to a simple back-and-forth. The feel to my member was
little different from what my own thrusting would have delivered.
I rubbed the front of her furrow, and she straightened, but
continued her motions. I continued rubbing and she looked
worried. I played a bit with her nipple, but the surrounding
flesh was puffy and I didn't know whether to play with it or not.
I switched breasts. She was moving faster, breathing faster and
looked like she was in pain. Then she pressed down on me and
arched her back so that her belly was pushed toward me. The
effect was that of a recurved bow when its string breaks.
She moved forward until I was almost out. Then she pressed
backward twice as hard as before. Her arm muscles were sharply
delineated despite the layer of padding. Her sweet belly was so
taut that it quivered. She clasped my member as if to squeeze it
out. And then the rhythmic clasps on my member pulsed like a
beating heart, but much faster. Her face looked like she were
undergoing torture. She moaned thrice, and then hissed. The
clutch at my member faltered, then stopped. She looked at me,
unseeing. Then she fell down on me so fast that my left arm eased
her down.
I clasped her with my right arm and extricated my other. Then I
held her with both. If one leads a military force and something
totally unwonted (aside from an actual attack) happens, then one
moves off to the top of a hillock, send one small party off for
wood and another off for water, assign half the remainder to
stand guard while the other half does some camp-setting chores.
At that point one can think. Stopping to think while the army is
looking on, leads to doing something stupid in order to do
something. So it is with a woman. Hold her, hug her, pat her,
tell her that she is pretty. Then decide what the situation
calls for. Do not be surprised if the situation calls for more
clipping, more patting, and more compliments.
The top of her head being the only convenient spot, I kissed
that. I clipped her tight, flipped the hair to one side to clear
my space, and petted her from shoulder to haunch with my right
hand while merely holding her tight with my left. Then I
switched hands. She was sweating in a room still rather chill,
so I brought the hair back and arrayed it over her. I kissed the
top of her head again. Meanwhile I was crooning.
"Wondrous wife. Beloved bedmate. Lovely lass. Delightful
darling. Precious and pretty. Luscious loveling. If this trip
only brings this moment, it will be well worth the effort." (We
had spun some about continuing on from there and rallying
the duchy. I almost said "Well worth the risk," but mention of
risk has spoilt more than one bedding. Women worry so.) "I
remember you as the loveliest lass in the world, and so you are.
But I find that I have forgotten half your beauty, even when I
think that of you."
"Milord, thou didst not. ..."
"No. I did nothing. Thou didst it all. And lie here and rest a
minute and we'll find if thou canst do still more."
I kissed the top of her head again. Then I stroked down to her
haunch with my right hand and clasped that in a friendly, and --
perhaps -- slightly lascivious, manner while she caught her
breath. The sky was somewhat brighter behind us and I could see
her hair in its true color. I strayed a hand though one of her
strands.
"Gloriously golden, her hair is revealed in heaven's rays."
She kissed my chest, and I clipped her closer. She kissed over
to my nipple, and I eased my hold. Then she rose, and I gripped
her waist and haunch and pressed her down on me. She
straightened for a moment and brushed her hair back.
"Ardently angelic," I said. That gave me an idea, after I'd said
it.
She was in more light now. Her hair, being pressed back where it
would obscure nothing, was the color of honey where it was all
together and a cloud of gold at the ends which floated free. Her
expression was slightly distracted, but her face was glorious.
The skin was cream risen in the night, her brows and lashes were
a shade darker than her hair. Her eyes were the deep blue of a
shaded lake. Her lips were the red-brown of the dried blood of
game birds. Her tongue which licked them was a brighter red. If
the skin of her face was cream, the skin of her was the
milk left behind. It was the whitest white with a little blue
seeming to hide beneath it. Her nipples and the flesh around
them were bright pink. Even as I watched, those nipples were
growing out. Her belly was a white as her breasts. The well at
its center was just darkness, as was the mystery between her
thighs.
I slid my hands up the outside of her thighs to the widest part
of her hips. "Broad beamed," I said. I stroked them up her
torso until I was cupping a in each hand. "And buxom."
With my hands on her and my thumbs on her nipples, she
began the side to side motion that she had used before. I
stroked one nipple in time with her motions, moved that thumb
off, and then stroked the other nipple. She was slightly lower,
and my member was slightly deeper within her. My eyes were on my
hands and her breasts, but my attention was lower. I finally
looked at her face, and her eyes were on my chest, but her
attention -- like mine -- seemed to be within. I felt her
clutch me within. I looked up again and she smiled at me and the
clutch came again. I thrust with my hips as best I could in that
situation.
"Closely clasping," I intoned in my best imitation of a bard's
voice.
Perhaps in response to my thrusts, she shifted into a direct up
and down movement. She rose until the head of my member was just
inside her outer ring, and then clasped that tight while still
rising. My member, perforce, rose with her. When she reversed
course, she would relax within, and I would begin to slip out.
Before the head was completely out, her downward motion stopped
the exit, and she slowly enveloped me again. I had never in my
life climaxed on my back, but that precedent had not included
such motions. I gathered my wits with some difficulty.
'Delightful darling' was unworthy of this partner. I toyed with
her nipples and pondered. 'Deceived' sprang to mind, and I
suppressed it.
"Delightful dame of dancing depths."
She straightened to a near vertical. Her movements were a
straight up-and-down along my member with no special clutches.
Her face looked worried or tired, which I could well believe. I
raised my legs behind her, but she did not use them for rest.
She moved with simplicity and economy in only one fashion.
"Endearingly eager enchantress."
I dropped my hands from her to her knees. After feeling
those flex for a moment, I ran my hands up the insides of her
legs. She did rest back against my legs, then. She was fully
skewered when she did so and she rested one arm on my chest to
brace herself as she shifted her legs from a kneeling to a
squatting position. Then she raised up once and I could see the
golden gleam of her delta and myself far back piercing her. Then
she slipped almost the entire way down and began moving in
circles just above my groin.
"Faithful and faultless falcon of fervor."
The motion kept the head of my blunt arrow well within her, and
always being rubbed against some part of her entrance. It was
bliss and torment. I kept stroking her inner thigh with my left
hand while my right reached that bright delta. I stroked the
damp curls as she moved around my member. Then I spread my first
two fingers and stroked her parted lips. I returned my left hand
to her right and held and stroked it. I watched her face
as I stroked quim or nipple, and repeated what made her attention
turn inward. The earlier glimpse of her golden lower hair
inspired my next line.
"Gold garlands a gladsome glade."
Her attention had truly turned inward. She abandoned all
complexity to return to an up-and-down stroke. I stopped with my
middle finger just outside the meeting point of her lower lips.
Then I stroked inside. She gasped and speeded up. My member had
gone from feeling caressed by her softness to feeling burnt be
her friction.
"Hallowed and hale helpmate of my haft."
Then there was a flutter around said haft. My legs were
widespread and bent, and she reached back with one hand to push
against a knee. This turned her more toward the light and gave
her more leverage for her movements. It may have been a trick of
the dawn, but a blush spread from Igrayne's head to below her
breasts. Her breath was coming in gasps. I stroked both the
nipple and the space where her lower lips met. The flutters on
my shaft became steady graspings.
"Igrayne ignites."
And ignite she did! She threw herself backward against my raised
legs and writhed against my shaft and my rubbing finger. The
clasps on my shaft felt both pulsing and almost constant. Her
face was drawn as if by torture. She looked at the ceiling and
shouted:
"Yes? Oh. ... Ah? Yes! Yes! Oh yes. Oh, oh, oh, YES! Oh.
Oh. ... Oh. Oh."
Still clasping my essence, she threw herself forward and clung to
me. The rest of what she said was muffled in my shoulder and came
out as "mmm" and "hnnn."
I pulled her haunches against my groin and raised myself as well
as I could in that position. Then, as her pulsing grip on my
member became a recurrent clasp and then a flutter around it, I
relaxed. I raised my arms to pat her back and clip her to me.
"Kissed by my lips." I kissed the top of her head again. "Kept
in my care." (Did I mention that we were not obsessed by
spelling?)
I held her and rocked a hairbreadth each way. I waited for her
breath to slow a little. When it did, I tightened my arms a
trifle to let her know that she was held by my desire, not only
from exigency.
"Lovely and loved. ... Lady and lover. ... Lithesome lass. ...
The luxurious, lubricious, luscious, lusty, lover lies safe in
the luminous lull."
That brought a movement that was suspiciously like a suppressed
chuckle.
"So thy critical sense is back?" I asked.
"My lord, I said not one word."
"No. Thou didst not. You are loved, though. And all those
other things. And lovely. And a luscious armful. And a lusty
lover, if not precisely at this moment. Lie thou here, my lady.
That is a command!"
I spread her hair over her back. That didn't work, so I moved it
to my left, and then used my left hand to spread it over my right
arm and her back. That was much better. I kissed her hair, and
she -- after a while -- blew across my chest hairs. Otherwise
her breath was even.
My left hand had been patting down her hair. I moved it to her
rump and cuddled and squeezed there and below. She stirred.
"Art thou rested enough?"
"Fully. And the dawn is well advanced."
"Magnificent muse of merriness."
She chuckled openly at that. But she rose up, fitted me fully in
her, and resumed the up-and-down motions. When I was fully firm,
she shifted over to the rotary motion. After a minute, she went
over to the side-to-side motion. This faltered. I was
concerned.
"My lord, I cannot."
"Well, I can."
I pulled the bolster to my side and tried to turn so that she was
upon it. I came out and we were in a mess for a moment. Then I
was up and kneeling. I placed her on her back athwart the
bolster. I knelt over her for a moment then I placed myself at
her threshold and thrust within.
This was no strife, though strove we both. This was no joust,
though justly did we keep time. This was simple swiving swiftly
done.
Wet was the road by this time, and the path was now an accustomed
one. My member had been teased unmercifully in the previous
position, it felt for every crevice now. I stroked smoothly for
a dozen strokes and then the whole tension and friction of that
morning joined together to overwhelm my head.
Whatever Igrayne's weakness, it was in her legs and not between
them. Fast as I was to kindle, she took the spark first.
Straightly did I stroke and swiftly. Straitly did the sheath
grasp and slickly. Igrayne's whole body stiffened and pressed
her center toward me. My member was grasped closely with a
pulsing clench. I drove into that warm wildness and spent and
spent and spent.
We lay breathing into each other and too tired to move away.
There was a knocking at the door, whether it began then or we
just noticed it then I couldn't tell.
I summoned enough energy to rise. Igrayne started to follow. I
tossed the blanket over her.
"Jordanus! Cover yourself Igrayne." Then "Stop knocking,
Jordanus, you are heard."
I unbarred the door. Igrayne perforce covered herself. Merlyn
was carrying my armor and acted my squire.
I had a secret reason for urging Igrayne to lie still. Well I
know that the first shaft in the butt is what counts in the
archery of Eros. I always hoped, despite that fact, that Arthur
was conceived in the love of the morning rather than that of the
night. I wanted to give those shafts every chance.
Igrayne joined us for breakfast. (With her convoluted coiffure
redone.) We rode out on new palfreys leading the ones we had
ridden in on the evening before. We reached our camp to learn
that the Duke had been killed in combat.
That reversed the situation. Before, the rumor that I was after
a man's had stiffened his forces and demoralized mine. Now
it looked like a simple solution to everybody not personally
involved. There are no simple solutions. Igrayne, however, was
spurred by an unbleeding belly.
She also was obliged by fealty. We were not like your modern
corporations which ask loyalty and withhold it. If the Duchy of
Tyntigayll came to me as dowry, every tower came with its
tenant. If it came by right of conquest, who had fought for
her honor would lose their lands. She owed them any effort she
could honorably make to avoid that loss.
Igrayne plighted peace, fealty, and her troth in that order, if
not quite at that speed. I told her I had sired Arthur, and the
bargain that was struck. She served me as Queen. She gave wise
counsel always in my interest. She bore my heir and gave him
into the hands of Sir Ector and his (and, indirectly, of
Merlyn).
She gave me the joy of her bed and of her body. She never
(except for a brief period after the birth of Arthur) did gainsay
me that access. I had much joy of her for the few years that
remained for me. And she, too, had pleasure in those joinings,
if I know aught of woman.
But never again did I have the warm, wet, wild welcome that she
gave the semblance of that thrice-damned Duke.
The End
Uther Pendragon
1996/07/24
1997/02/18
For a much shorter involving the wish for conception,
see:
beaut.txt
"Beautiful Everywhere"
The directory to all my can be found at:
index.txt
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