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Authors: Georgia Fox

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BOOK: The Craftsman
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“Emma,” he moaned into her ear, “this feels good does it not?”

She gasped out, “Tell him to move me.”

Wulf relayed her order and the soldier obeyed, shifting her easily up and down so her husband’s cock penetrated her body in a steady rhythm. Her legs were weakening. Fortunately, Wulf had the presence of mind to place his hands under her knees to keep her thighs well spread. When she opened her eyes, the young man was looking down, lips parted as he watched her quivering breasts. His color was heightened, his eyes lusty, unblinking. He moved her faster on her husband’s thrusting prick.

“Would you like this fellow to suckle you, Emma?” Wulf whispered, pausing his fucking a moment, his cock pulsing inside her sheath. “Is that what you want next?”

She didn’t know what to say. The old Emma hissed at her to stop this at once. New Emma urged her to continue. While the waged war over her body, she struggled to breathe, fought to hold off another bone-quaking climax.

“You would like it, wouldn’t you? To feel his lips on you while you ride me?”
The young soldier holding her by the waist looked more than eager, licking his lips, staring hard at her plumply roused nipples.
“If it is agreeable to you, husband.”

Dear God what was she doing? What had become of good, gentle Emma—mother hen and devoted nurse to a dying husband? Oh, she was gone, gone, gone.

He chuckled and kissed her shoulder, nibbling it gently. “I suppose I can let him taste your tits for a few moments. I know this youngster—he’s a good soldier, dedicated to his post.” He gave a signal and the soldier tightened his hands around her waist, lifted her higher and ducked his head to lave her left nipple with his tongue. Lightening ripped the grey clouds open above them and thunder shook the sky. That was the closest yet.

In another flash of lightening, Emma spied a second soldier emerging onto the walkway. Apparently he’d come to see where his companion got to.

Now he knew.

He hesitated, half turned to retreat, so she smiled and arched her back. In the wildness of that storm nothing mattered, only the intensity that grew inside, the wicked desires she’d stifled for so many years. The beautiful cock inside her was working her into a new woman; one not ashamed to take what she wanted. And the storm bought out her wanton side.

The second soldier approached cautiously, staring at the sight of Wulf’s manhood spearing her spread pussy and his companion enjoying her breasts.

She’d never known it would feel like this— to have other men watch and participate in her climax. It built inside her like a flood of raging water, pushing at her walls, ready to burst out.

Emma groaned, holding the young soldier’s head as he closed his lips on her roused nipple and sucked. The sensation throbbed through her veins. The second soldier had his cock out, working it rapidly as he watched from the shadow of the wall. Wulf resumed his fucking from behind, whispering in her ear that it felt like thrusting his humble sword into a tight, fleece lined silk sheath. Again he wanted to know if he was hurting her. She shook her head. Each upward pounding slapped her breasts into the young soldiers face and his lips tugged harder, swapping from left to right and back again. Meanwhile Wulf’s cock seemed to swell inside her, impaling her.

It was rough, hot, dangerous, splitting her in two just as the lightening cracked open the low churning clouds. But she didn’t care.

The watching soldier pumped his cock with both hands, straining and purple-faced, while the young man at her breasts was surely bruising them with his hungry mouth. And she raced up and over her peak, coming hard, head back, hips writhing, pussy frantically gripping her husband’s shaft.

 

* * * *

 

Wulf stilled and let the rapid fluttering squeeze his cock while he restrained himself. If he thrust once more he knew he’d spend and he wasn’t ready yet.

He pulled out of her and set her bare feet on the wet stone. She almost crumpled and probably would have melted to her knees if the soldier wasn’t holding her around the waist.

“You!” Wulf bellowed at the second soldier who was still masturbating by the wall. “Did I give you permission to watch me fuck my wife?”

The man shook his head, his face guilty, but he couldn’t stop his hand’s motion. Wulf knew that helpless sensation all too well.

He crooked his finger at the man, beckoning him closer. The soldier approached with bowed head, thick red cock in hand, the end of it already dripping with seed, some of it on his gloved thumb.

“On your knees man.”
The solder dropped to the wet stone at once.
Wulf told the younger soldier to turn his wife around so that she faced the man on his knees and then he looked into her eyes.
“He wants to say he’s sorry for spying, Emma. How can he make it up to you?”

She was trembling, but passion burned hot in her beautiful eyes. His wife was like a wild thing captured, but unafraid. Lightening pulsed overhead but the thunder was slow in coming now as the storm moved north.

“Open your legs, Emma and let him apologize.”

It took a moment. He stared deep into her eyes and saw the excitement she struggled to hide. Finally, she parted her legs, grabbed the soldier by the back of his head and eased his face into her pussy. She kept her gaze pinned to Wulf’s. Behind her the younger man held her tight, his hands on her breasts, looking down over her naked body to watch his companion.

Emma lifted one leg over the wide shoulder of the other soldier, giving him greater access to her treasure. Wulf could see his wife was drenched with rain on the outside and ravenous lust on the inside. Arms folded, feet apart, he watched the brawny soldier burrow his greedy mouth into that sweet, tight cunt and bring her to another orgasm. The soldier would taste the seed that he, Wulf, had spent in her earlier. Good.

As she gasped and shook, her fingers digging into the other man’s scalp, the rain eased. The last lashes of the storm were passing, but the night stretched ahead. A long night of discovery for Raedwulf. And for his reckless bride.

How many times could he make her peak tonight, he wondered, his own fires almost burning out of control.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

Her husband’s eyes were narrowed, watching the soldier kneeling before her, eating her pussy. At her back she felt the first soldier stiffening under his tunic and through his chausses. She glanced down at his hands kneading her breasts and then at the head of the man lapping between her thighs.

Her face would have been red hot if not for the cooling rain. How did she get here like this? The storm had drawn her out, beckoned her into wickedness. Yes, she would blame the storm.

The tongue teasing her pussy was not nearly as good as Wulf’s had been the night before, but it sufficed—taking her to the edge and over in a bumpy journey, her moisture quickening, joining the rain that ran down her thighs. Behind her the younger soldier breathed heavily, his groin pressed to her bare bottom so that she felt his cold belt buckle again on her tender flesh.

“That’s enough,” Wulf barked, stepping forward.

The man kneeling scrambled hastily to his knees and Wulf told him to go and spend over the battlements. Apparently he didn’t want the man’s seed near his wife’s pussy. Now he reached down and slid a finger into her. She tensed, gripping with her inner muscles. Emma had no idea what would happen next, but she feared this fire would smolder forever. Even the rain had not put it out and now the storm galloped away over the horizon leaving her behind like a piece of driftwood. Rain trickled from her hair, running in rivulets over her breasts, beading on her nipples so that they shone like gems. Drops fell to her stomach and pooled in her navel. The storm had claimed her for its own; her body thrummed with the last echo of thunder.

Wulf hunkered down before her, sliding a second finger into her cunny, all the way to the knuckle. He studied her intimately, solemnly.

“Here,” he murmured his fingers pushing upward, touching her hidden core, “this is where you are most sensitive.”
She tried not to scream as he wiggled his fingertips against that place inside her.
“No,” she groaned, feeling the quakes beginning deep inside yet again. “Please. I won’t be able to stand up if you…”
“He’ll hold you up,” he nodded toward the soldier.

“But I can’t…” Her knees softened, vibrations shaking her body. The pressure mounted again, even so soon after her last peak, and it spiraled upward through her belly, becoming a rapturous torrent. Commanded by his ruthless touch, her juices came down, flooding out of her.

He withdrew his fingers slightly, remarking on how coated and sticky they were now. Then he pushed upward again. This time she was so aroused it was almost painful when he touched her center. Emma inhaled, rocking forward, breasts swaying. A few feet away the second soldier was shooting his load over the battlements, still watching her over his shoulder.

Wulf looked up and slid his fingers from her sex. “It’s time we went back inside. You’ll catch cold out here.” He stood, lifting her in his arms like a bundle of wet rags. “Bring my mantle,” he muttered to the soldier who’d held her up for him.

“What about …?” The young man jerked his head to where the other soldier was pulling up his hose.

Wulf considered. “Yes. Bring him too.”

Emma buried her head in his shoulder while he carried her back along the walkway and inside the castle. What would he do to her now? She was at his mercy. But she was not afraid; she was excited by it, intrigued, challenged. He was playing with her, learning from her like a new toy.

Back in their chamber, Wulf dried her off with his mantle while she eyed the two soldiers warily, wondering what part they would play.

“They won’t fuck you,” her husband whispered in her ear, as if he read her thoughts. “My cock is the only one that gets to enter you.”

She swallowed.

“But I need to study you, Emma. I want to know every part of you. And the extra hands will help.” He kissed her on the lips, tossing his mantle aside. “Now get on the bed. On your knees here, at the end.”

Twisting her wet hair over one shoulder she climbed up onto the bed and bent over as he wanted, sticking her arse into the air. He pulled her legs wider apart and urged her shoulders down further until her cheek was pressed against the warm fleece blankets, her breasts touching the bed. She was displayed before him and the other men like ripened fruit.

She felt her husband’s fingers touching her labia, opening her sex. She heard him invite the other two men closer. Her stomach clenched. She tried to steady her heartbeat. Cold fingers slid inside her pussy and between her arse cheeks. Three pairs of hands touched her, fondled her, poked her, stroked her. She closed her eyes tight and moaned softly into the fleece as they tantalized her sensitive flesh. A hand held her right buttock, the thumb sliding into her crack, parting her for further inspection. A finger circled the puckered skin around her anus, while another flicked and tickled her nether lips. Another hand held her left cheek and then she felt wet lips kissing it, the bristles of a manly cheek, brushing over her bottom.

“Hold her still.”

Another damp fingertip pressed at her back entrance. Her eyes flew open and she jumped at the sudden intrusion. She’d told him he could do anything to her if he caught her. Now he held her to that promise. Emma tried to relax, but her pussy felt heavy and full of yearning. The rough finger squeezing into her anus was an odd sensation, causing pressure of a humiliating nature. Then two mouths touched her pussy, kissing it gently, lapping at it. And she was able to partially ignore that prying finger.

The bed dipped by her head and she saw knees and hairy thighs. Hands slid under her shoulders, pulling her upward until she faced a cock she joyfully recognized.

“Emma,” he whispered.

It was her new husband kneeling on the bed before her, his manhood erect, pushing toward her mouth, needing attention. So it was not him behind her, eating her pussy or fingering her arse.

She opened her mouth and licked the bead of spunk from his cock tip.
“Are they making you come?” he asked her softly, one firm hand under her chin.
She shook her head, but knew it wouldn’t be long. Despite the strangeness of this situation, her body went with it, shameless.
“Suck me a little,” he told her. “But not hard. I want to spill deep in your cunny.”
Emma’s breath gathered in a low chuckle. “I thought I would be the one giving you instructions today,” she gasped out.

He moved closer, steering his prick into her mouth, stroking the damp locks of hair back from her cheeks and forehead. “Suck me, Emma. Suck me with your pretty, cherry-red mouth.”

It was not so easy from this angle, but she took as much of him as she could into her throat, glad she’d had some prior experience. Had she come to this man’s bed an untried maiden it would have been a shock, to say the least.

As his sister had said, Wulf was a rare man—although Deorwynn could have no idea exactly how rare and wonderful. He did not appear threatened by the other men or what they did to her. He was keen to learn and experience everything—and let her do the same, it seemed. His cock twitched and throbbed in her mouth while his hands caressed her hair and her spine. The warm, rain-washed taste of him was almost sweet today, but as she rubbed her tongue across the underside of his crown, he stilled, then pulled back, abruptly retreating. He signaled to the soldiers. The finger withdrew from her arse, the mouth likewise from her creaming pussy. They lifted her between them, swinging her around until she faced the foot of the bed. They held her lower body, keeping her thighs spread wide apart, her knees in the air. Wulf hitched forward again and she felt his moist lance prodding at her sticky nether mouth. She heard his grunt of pleasure, the sound of his own hand slapping up and down his incredible shaft. The soldiers spread her legs further, moving her back an inch. Thus, resting on her elbows, her lower body tilted upward, her knees not touching the bed, she was ceremoniously mounted on her new husband’s stiff prick. The other men had put her onto him like a spatch-cocked bird to be roasted.

BOOK: The Craftsman
13.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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