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Carcasonne Ch. 01

By: bad_hobbit



This has been lying around unpublished for some time. It was my attempt to write a historical story, using rather archaic language. I hope you like it. (Thanks to snoopercharmbrights for reviewing).

Carcassonne - Bad Hobbit ©

Chapter One – One Night, One Room, Two Ladies

It is strange, the way fate turns, is it not? By the time I was thirty I had travelled the seas of the East and far to the West. At eighteen I walked in the Americas, taking my share of loot and women as I saw fit with my fellow conquistadores. At twenty-five, aboard a Portuguese trader, I landed in the Indies, and spent five years with a Siamese woman, learning simplicity, love and cleanliness – before she was taken from me by malaria. Returning to Spain a wealthy man, I fetched up first in Cadiz, and then worked my way to Malaga, now a man of means – and not a little guile. But I could not settle among people so uncouth, having seen what I had seen, and I had little time for those who showed so little real civilisation, who so readily defiled the beauty the Moors had left them, who lived in filth, squalor, intolerance and ignorance.

I met Rodrigo in Almeria. Although ten years my junior, like myself he was a man of humble birth and a wanderer who saw the world for what it was – a sorry thing, directed by vile men who understood little and cared less. Like me, he had scant respect for the aristocrats, who were simply the many-generationed bastard offspring of pirates and brigands who had themselves taken their grand estates and lofty titles from the rightful owners by force. Equally, he hated the priests who used superstition and invented ritual which had little to do with the teachings of our Lord to justify their fat and meaningless existences.

With little persuasion he fell into the role of my manservant, companion and confidant, and we learned much from each other.

I tutored him in Portuguese, while he in turn taught me French. Our mutual facility for languages became useful as, more for sport than enrichment, we slid effortlessly into a life of trickery and deceit, aimed purely at those we despised. Wealthy merchants, landowners, bishops, cardinals, dukes and minor royalty were all charmed by the gentilhombre and his faithful companion, telling fascinating tales of strange places and wild adventures. More than a few young women fell under our spell, and while I charmed and seduced the wives and daughters of grandees, Rodrigo consorted with the maidservants.

Leaving Barcelona in some haste, due to a misunderstanding over the maidenhead of the Duke of Bilbao's daughter and some trifling missing gemstones, we crossed the border into France, and descended into Carcassonne. The citadel was impressive, and we fetched up at an inn selected more for its anonymity and seclusion than for any obvious merit of meat or drink. (We suspected that the Duke was not a forgiving man, and we anticipated pursuit.) Nonetheless, the place was clean and comfortable enough, the food wholesome and the wine certainly better than passable. The beds were large and well-tightened, the feather mattresses clean and apparently free from vermin, and the rooms well-swept.

The establishment was run by a woman of perhaps thirty-five years, who looked rather care-worn, with just a young serving girl and a pot-boy to help her. That night we were the only guests staying, although a few locals were drinking in the quiet and subdued atmosphere, in sharp contrast to the more boisterous places on the main street. By the look of the landlady's clothing, business was not good.

I sat with Rodrigo, enjoying what was undoubtedly the best wine we'd tasted in a week, watching the serving wench at her work. She was pretty, blonde, with a sweet smile and a graceful manner. As I watched, the landlady came to our table.

"Good evening, monsieur. Are you enjoying our wine?"

"It is good, thank you madame. Where is it from?"

"The local vineyards at Roussillon. The owner selects only the best for us. And the food? Was it to your liking?"

"Excellent thank you."

"And how do you like my daughter?"

I felt a pang of concern here. The mother was about to warn me to stop admiring the young wench. But I looked from one woman to the other and smiled.

"Surely this girl is not really your daughter? For one thing, you are far too young to have a girl of her age as your own." She smiled at the compliment. "And secondly, I see little family resemblance. The girl looks more as if she hails from much further North – Alsace, Bavaria perhaps – whilst you have the rich, dark good looks or this region. I see no shared features in your appearance."

"Monsieur, you flatter me, but you are clearly no fool. Marie is my foster daughter. I took her in when her mother died – she came from the North, as you say. But she is a beauty, do you not think?"

"Indeed, a very pretty girl."

"For a gentleman of refinement such as yourself, she would make a merry bedfellow."

"I doubt it not, but I suspect I am rather too old for her tastes. She will prefer young boys her own age."

"Ah, sir, but for a mere five francs she will gladly overcome these shallow preferences for this evening, and show her appreciation of a man of quality."

"Five francs, madame!" Rodrigo interjected with some scorn. "There are stews aplenty in this town where one can find a buxom lass for a franc or two. Is she a virgin?"

"Alas, sirs, I cannot lie. She will not bleed for you, though she is young and tight and will be of great pleasure, I have no doubt. She has had but a handful of men, and is still young and innocent."

Rodrigo gave her an appraising look. "She looks barely old enough for the trade you speak of."

"Monsieur, she came to me aged around six or seven. That was twelve years ago, and for the last six of those years she has been my sole companion since my husband departed this life. She may look barely fourteen in some lights, but that adds to her appeal to many. Why, she lost her maidenhead but six months past when she was fully eighteen. In these parts that would almost brand her as an old maid!"

I looked the girl up and down. Sweet, yes; attractive, definitely; but rather more skinny than I would normally pluck. "I usually prefer my women a little more mature, madame. And I am surprised that you would sell me a girl you count as your own daughter, even for such a high price."

"Sir, she is a willing little minx when the mood takes her, and as you see, ours is not a wealthy establishment. It is necessary to provide extra services to make ends meet in these difficult times. The girl encourages the transaction for the right gentleman if the price is right, and she will not disappoint."

"Indeed, and I can see that the girl would fetch a good price from one so inclined. But tell me, madame; what price for you in my bed tonight?"

"Me, monsieur?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "But sir, you should not jest with me so cruelly. I am an old woman, hardly a fair bedfellow for such as you? Look at my hair, my hands, my skin. Do you really think that I am the type of ..."

"Madame, you would seem to be barely my own age, and I do not consider myself old. Both you and I have seen life, it is true, but you are still a very handsome woman." She blushed at what was clearly an unaccustomed compliment.

But it was true. Her eyes were large, dark and smouldering, her cheekbones high, her hair thick and still mostly black, though tied in a tight bun and streaked with silver in places, making her look a little severe. There were some lines on her face, it was true, but these added, to my mind at least, character and allure. This woman had experienced much, and would show a man the benefit of that experience.

Her working clothes were shabby, and did little to accentuate her figure, but the practiced eye of one such as myself could tell that there was indeed a good body beneath the shapeless dress. Her apron cinched in around a still-slender waist, her ankles and calves, when visible, showed a promising curve that indicated well-muscled legs; legs that would comfortably encompass a man's hips. Whilst she was not skinny like her foster daughter, she showed little unnecessary fat. The swell of her breast and a nicely-rounded behind promised that all was in better shape beneath her clothes than her modesty would confess.

"Monsieur, you flatter me. But I would not suggest I could take the place of Marie in this respect. Will you not consider my offer?"

"Madame, perhaps you will consider my offer. I will take Marie to my bed, but only on the condition that you join us. For this, I will offer to pay you twenty francs." I could see the look of surprise on her face, but I pressed on. "You must do exactly as I say, and concede to all of my requests. I will seek to give pleasure as well as receive it, I will strive not to leave either of you with child, and I will do nothing deliberately to hurt you. However, I cannot guarantee that you will find everything I do pleasurable or even comfortable. That is my offer. What do you say?"

I watched her face carefully. It was clear that twenty francs was more than she would take in the tavern in a week, and the temptation was clearly strong. What it was that held her back I could not tell. Perhaps a reluctance to hand herself over entirely to the whims of a man like myself? I doubted it. More likely it was a shyness about having congress with a man in front of her adoptive daughter. I was about to goad her with the taunt that she was prepared to sell me her daughter's body but not her own, when I saw her come to her decision.

"Monsieur, I will accept your offer. I take your word as a gentleman that you will not seek to hurt us, especially my daughter. I accede to your wishes to have complete control. I ask only that you pay us half the money now, and half when you are fully satisfied – as I'm sure you will be."

"Agreed. Now please boil lots of water. We will all bathe, and my man Rodrigo will need to prepare you for our encounter. Shall we say in one hour?"

"Bathe, sir?" She looked shocked. "But is that not rather dangerous? It is well known that bathing weakens the body and lays us open to fluxes."

"Madame, I have travelled widely, met with and consulted many wise people – and even more who claim to be wise but have no evidence on which to base their so-called wisdom. Trust me madame; when we are joined in my bed tonight, we will all appreciate the joys of well-washed, sweet-scented skin. Rodrigo, go with madame now and please instruct the ladies on the proper preparation for our mutual pleasures. Oh, and madame – I cannot be expected to spend the night in your arms or between your legs if I do not know your name. Mine is Don Carlos de Colmenar Mendoza. May I know yours?"

"Eleanor, monsieur. Eleanor Dutour. My daughter is Marie."

"Well, Eleanor. Let us meet in an hour in my room. And bring plenty of candles – I like to see a lady properly when I make love to her."

As she went to inform Marie of our plans for the evening and to send the few drinkers home, Rodrigo turned to me and in a low voice said "An expensive evening, sir, if you don't mind me saying so. We could have found employment for our cocks in many other establishments for a fraction of what we're paying here."

"Ah, Rodrigo my friend, you fail to appreciate the real meaning of quality. These ladies will provide entertainment of a delicious and sublime nature, far above that we would find in a common stew. But Rodrigo, I have purchased these delights for myself alone. Whilst I may decide to share this bounty with you, you will need to be patient. Now go about your duties." Rodrigo gave me a sour look, made a small, rather mocking bow, and set off to assist Eleanor and Marie.

The ladies were certainly surprised and a little shocked by the preparations Rodrigo required of them. Firstly, he produced a large syringe, filled it with warm water and a little of some precious oils I had brought back from the Indies, and cleansed each woman internally. Although alarmed and slightly disgusted, they acquiesced when he produced the first instalment of ten francs, and they allowed him to flush out not only their vaginas but also their back passages. Eleanor must have guessed that I intended to explore every orifice, but said nothing. Rodrigo simply explained that his master enjoyed the taste of a woman between the legs, and wanted no distractions from unpleasant odours.

After that, he shaved both women. I find this a sensible precaution against crab lice, and Rodrigo, who has shaved my face daily without a cut for three years, explained to them that I also was shaved below and required this of them. They again allowed him to prepare them as I had commanded, and then they finally bathed. Again, Rodrigo added some of my precious oriental oils to the water, and when they had washed their bodies and hair, provided soothing unguent cream for their shaved areas and some spicy perfume for their skins. I have little doubt that he enjoyed his tasks immensely.

Finally they were ready, and Rodrigo ushered me in with a wink that told me I would enjoy what I had bought, and then withdrew discreetly to the next room, closing the door behind him. I knew that he would stay within earshot, hoping at least for some vicarious pleasure through hearing our carnal noises, and perhaps an invitation to join the fun. Perhaps.

I was pleased to see that he had lit many candles and with a full moon shining through the uncurtained window, the ladies were shown off in a soft, sympathetic light. They stood, side by side, dressed in rather shabby white nightshirts, eyes shyly downcast. Their hair was loose and still damp. To me they looked radiant, the one dark and mature, the other pale and delicate.

"Ladies, come to me, kiss me I pray!"

Eleanor stepped forward and embraced me. Our lips met, and I think she was genuinely surprised at the tenderness of my kiss, for her lips, at first hard and unresponsive, softened as she found me not the ravening brute she may have expected. Our kiss became warmer, more as between lovers than as part of a business transaction. Her body softened against me and we embraced.

After a short while, I broke the kiss. "Was that to your liking, madame?"

"I confess, monsieur, that I have not been kissed like that for some time. It was indeed pleasant."

"Good." I turned to Marie. "Now child, perhaps you'd like to try a kiss?"

Where her maman had been at first unyielding and defensive, Marie was shy, soft, delicate. She trembled a little as our lips met, and as I showed her the pleasures of a real kiss, perhaps for the first time in her life, she hung coyly in my arms, tentatively returning the explorations of my lips and tongue. Through her nightdress I could feel the contours of her slim frame, as I had felt the richer outlines of Eleanor's curves. I knew I would enjoy this night and the delightful contrasts it offered.

I pulled back a little and unlaced the bodice of Marie's thin, frayed nightshirt. I reached inside and gently cupped her breast, tiny but very firm, teasing the nipple with my palm and eliciting a small gasp from the young girl. As I continued to caress her, I turned to her maman. "Eleanor, please unlace your shift and show me your breasts".

Eleanor complied, watching all the while as I caressed her foster-daughter, seeing in the girl's face a little of the pleasure – unexpected, it seemed – that I hoped to bring to them both. With her bosom exposed, Eleanor seemed transformed from a woman severe and a little resentful into a creature of smouldering sexuality. I reached out and cupped one of her full globes, feeling its relative heaviness in my hand, and again felt her nipple swell against my palm. The contrast between the two breasts that I was caressing was marked; the one small, very pert and hard, the other softer, fuller, somehow richer in promise. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the feel of them both, and also the reaction I was eliciting from the two women.

I bent forward and applied my tongue to Eleanor's free nipple, and felt a little tremor as she reacted to the unwonted caress. I then repeated the exercise with young Marie, alternately dipping, licking and suckling until their breasts were wet with my saliva, their nipples hard and erect, and both women were becoming aroused.

I smiled at my handiwork. "Ladies, please now remove your shifts. I would like to view the entirety of your beauty."

I withdrew my hands, and Eleanor, with little fuss, pulled the rather ragged garment off over her head. Marie shyly opened the neckline wider and let her garment fall from her shoulders and down her slender frame to puddle about her feet. Instinctively her hands moved to cover her pubic area, hunching so that her upper arms shielded her nipples from view.

Eleanor's body was all I could have wished for. Her breasts, though full, were still proudly erect. Since she had never borne child, and had worked hard with her arms and shoulders, the years had not sagged them and their shape was, to my eyes, perfect. Her belly was softly curved, and her hips flared but not fleshy. Initially, she too covered her pubic area with her hand, but saw no reason to mask her breasts. Her thighs and calves showed the strong musculature of a woman used to running up and down stairs and carrying loads. I had a strong desire to climb between those thighs and feel them squeezing me.

Marie was skinny, but delicate in every way. Her Germanic fair hair and bright blue eyes accentuated this, and her pale skin seemed to glow white in the mixture of candlelight and moonlight. I guessed she would be inexperienced and deliciously tight. I love all types of women, especially when their bodies are lean and well-toned. Young creatures like Marie can have a special appeal, if handled carefully. What they lack in experience and finesse, they make up for in freshness and delicacy. I love the pure delight of seeing the astonishment on their enraptured faces as you introduce them to practices and sensations they had likely never imagined. Recalling the wide-eyed, squealing climax of my lost darling Mae Ling when I first ploughed her pert, tight back passage as a skinny china doll of just nineteen years, I felt familiar pangs of lust and sadness. Marie would be a delight, but she would require gentleness and patience. Eleanor, on the other hand, seemed to me a repressed cauldron of lust which, with the right application of heat, would boil over deliciously.

"Ladies, you are both so beautiful. It will be my great privilege to make love to you this night – and my immense pleasure. Please rest assured that you have nothing to fear from me – I will do you no harm, but on the contrary will show you new or forgotten pleasures. I ask you only to trust me. So first, please remove you hands from in front of your delicious slits. Place your arms by your sides so that I may better appreciate you."

I love the sight of a shaven quim. There is something intensely erotic about a woman's vulva, so boldly exposed. Perhaps it is a suppressed desire in a man, recalling innocent – or not so innocent – childhood days, spent in the company of near-naked girls, unripe but full of promise. Or maybe it is the unspoken invitation of the up-pointing slit and the plump, softly-swelling lips that is so much more enticing than a rough tangle of coarse hairs. In any case, the sight of two naked quims had my member pointing skywards in no time at all.

"Now ladies, come to me I pray." As the two naked women approached me I loosened the sash of the black silk oriental robe that I wore, part of my precious collection of treasures from my days in the East, and let it fall to the ground, then opened my arms wide to embrace them.

Eleanor's eyes widened and Marie gasped and raised a hand reflexively to her mouth. "Mon Dieu, maman! C'est enorme!"


Carcasonne Ch. 01



I smiled. Yes, I am glad to be well-endowed, though sometimes, especially with young maidens, it can be something of a curse. Most women I have met can wrap both hands around it, end to end, and leave the head still exposed. Moreover, their fingers barely meet, giving me the benefits of both length and girth. Once used to it, most women find it an organ of great pleasure. Some struggle to accommodate it, particularly when I use the rear entrance, but I am always careful and gentle in the way I employ it. My dearest Mae Ling shed a few tears the first few times before I understood the need to take greater care and patience. She soon learned to love my staff, and welcomed it wherever and whenever I wanted to insert it. I learned so much from her, and miss her so terribly.

But now I had two fair ladies on which to test my mettle. I took each of them by the hand, then placed those hands onto my member. I felt the delicious thrill of a womanly touch as the two ladies at first gingerly and then more robustly touched and then embraced my hard rod. Eleanor began slowly to stroke up and down. "You are right, ma petite. The monsieur is certainly large. And I have never before seen one shaven like this – it makes it perhaps both prettier and more intimidating. But he says he will not hurt us, so I presume he knows how to use this impressive organ?" She looked at me quizzically, seeking reassurance.

"Absolutely, my dears. Let me suggest something. Marie, why don't you take a seat for a little while and simply observe? Your maman and I will explore each other while you pay careful attention to what she does, as I may ask you to practice the same techniques yourself. Madame Eleanor – are you willing?"

"I am, monsieur. Marie, do as Monsieur Carlos says, and pay careful attention. I will seek to pleasure the monsieur as he wishes, and you may learn a little and be better prepared for him."

"Madame", I said, "I would only say that I would hope our pleasure will be mutual. But ladies, could I ask that, as a means of introduction, you both apply your pretty mouths to my staff and balls? I would enjoy that greatly, and I would then like to reciprocate."

The women looked at each other, perhaps a little surprised, then dropped to their knees. Eleanor held the head of my cock and ran her tongue up over the shaven balls, along the shaft, and then teased beneath the tip. "Oh, bravo, madame!" I breathed as the sensations tingled through my body.

Eleanor repeated the exercise, then gently guided Marie's face down to try it herself. "Don't be afraid, ma petite. The gentleman tastes and smells sweet. Just try to follow the lead of your maman."

The ladies then took it in turn to sweep my rod and balls with their wet tongues. Eleanor instinctively seemed to gauge the correct pressure and wetness. Marie was a little too soft and tentative, but after a few attempts began to get the rhythm. I could stand this tantalising approach for only so long. Soon I had my hands buried in their hair, matching the to-ing and fro-ing of their heads as they alternated. Then, when it started to become more than I could bear, I pressed both their faces to my member, on either side, and guided them to share the feast, balls to tip and back, kissing each other across my hot rod.

Then with some guidance from my hands and a twist of my hips, I steered my slick penis into Eleanor's mouth. She gave a little stifled cry, but dutifully opened wide to accommodate first my tip, and then gradually the deeper thrusts of my shaft. Marie, meanwhile, I steered to lick my balls. The combined effect was driving me wild.

I confess that Eleanor's technique was surprisingly adept. When I briefly manipulated their heads to give Eleanor some respite and sample Marie's dainty lips and tongue, it was clear that not only was the girl inexperienced in this technique, but also rather frightened of it. Whilst her maman understood that the contact of lips and tongue are what a man craves, poor Marie seemed unable to remove her teeth from the procedure, and I was forced to withdraw with a sharp cry of discomfort. To my surprise, Eleanor immediately took the young girl's place, not only engulfing me once more in soft wetness, but taking up the rhythm herself, and of her own volition taking me deeper. My surprise as over half of my not inconsiderable meat disappeared into her delicious mouth broke my concentration, and as she bobbed her head assiduously up and down my shaft, I lost control, firing the first of my juices into her throat.

Eleanor seemed unsurprised, and remained at her post until the final spasm. I know of few better sensations for a man than spending his seed in a hot, wet hole, and a skilled woman's mouth, with the benefit of a tongue, is probably the most luxurious such orifice I can think of. As my climax finally subsided, I glanced down. Eleanor retained my softening shaft between her lips, while Marie looked on wide-eyed and speechless. Finally, I was allowed to withdraw, and I helped my skilled oral gymnast to her feet. A small dribble of semen escaped the corner of her mouth, her face was flushed and there were tear-streaks down her cheeks – not through sorrow, I later understood, but from watering eyes as a result of her exertions.

To their joint surprise, I kissed Eleanor passionately on the lips, tasting my own juices as I did so. "Thank you, madame. That was an act of extreme tenderness, and you performed it with consummate skill." I drew her to me, sliding my hand down her back and between her legs. Somewhat to my surprise I discovered that she was wet – very wet indeed. She smiled coyly but said nothing. I called Marie to me and told her she had also done well, and to mark the lessons of her maman – open wide, relax her jaw, keep her lips and tongue in play but not her teeth. She nodded, perhaps a little overawed, and I kissed her, lifting my hand into her slit at the front. She cried out as my finger slid effortlessly between her silky lips into the wet crevice below. So it seemed that Eleanor's oral performance had excited them both. Good!

I moved to the dresser and poured us all some wine. Unsurprisingly, Eleanor gulped hers and I refilled her glass. After a few moments, I led them both to the bed and laid them down on either side of me. I then got onto my knees and began to caress them, running a hand over each of their bodies, moving my mouth back and forth, to mouths, necks, the insides of elbows, breasts, navels, thighs, and then finally onto their quims. I used the fingers of one hand to caress and stimulate Maria's cleft, sliding one finger (all I could insert) into her tight little hole and using my thumb to tease her little love button. Meanwhile, I slid two fingers into Eleanor's quim and dipped my tongue into the front of her slit.

I pride myself on my dexterity and ability to do several things at once, but even I was pleased with the result. Within just a few minutes, Marie was virtually screaming in uncontrolled rapture, and the pulsing in her tight little vagina almost broke my finger! To our mutual surprise, a jet of warm fluid gushed from her slit, spraying the sheets and my arm.

Meanwhile, Eleanor was writhing and moaning almost as loudly as her foster-daughter. Once Marie's climax had subsided, I withdrew my finger with some difficulty from the young girl's sweet cunt and shifted position on the bed. I slid my now-free hand under Eleanor's rounded bottom, slipping a finger between her firm cheeks into a cleft already moist with her copious juices. I probed, teased and finally invaded the tight puckered hole with my finger. She gave a little squeal, but I contrived to increase the friction on her love-spot with my tongue whilst using both hands to push deep into both her holes. Moments later, she gripped my head between her thighs and began spasm after spasm of violent contractions as her hips bucked. I clung on tightly, bracing myself against her gyrations whilst continuing to invade her contracting orifices with my fingers.

I would say that Eleanor's climax lasted perhaps a whole minute. By the time she flopped back, limp, onto the bed, my hands, tongue and neck were definitely feeling the strain, and I rose up and then collapsed between the two women onto the mattress.

"Monsieur Carlos – what – what did you do to me?" Marie seemed amazed and a little frightened. "I felt as though my body was struck by lightning, everything inside me pulsing and throbbing, and the pleasure – unbelievable. But – but then I sort of – had a pee-pee. It didn't feel like a pee-pee, but – it just gushed out!"

"Marie, my child, you experienced a climax. From your reaction, it would seem to have been your first. And for you it was clearly very strong. What you squirted over me and the bed was not urine, but the delicious juices of your quim. Look!" I licked my arm, tasting the slight salt-spice of a girl's love-fluids. "Every woman tastes different. You ladies are both delicious, but you can see why I am so fastidious about cleanliness. And you, Eleanor – was it good for you."

"Don Carlos, I believe you know the answer to that. And whilst that was not my first climax, I have had precious few, and none for some years except those I give myself."

"Maman!" Marie looked shocked at her foster-mother's admission to masturbation.

"Marie, you will soon realise that a woman needs her pleasures as much as a man. Since my husband died I've had precious few offers of sexual release, and most of them from men I would not touch. You, my dear, will find yourself a rich husband who can provide for you in every way. Old widows must make their own pleasures as they can."

"My dear Eleanor, you are not old. You are mature – delightfully so, like a fine wine. I for one am consumed with desire for you, and I'm delighted that you enjoyed my ministrations. Now, let us drink a little more of your excellent wine before we decide what to do next."



Carcasonne Ch. 02



Carcasonne, Chapter Two – Like Mother, Like Daughter

© Bad Hobbit

What we did next was that I fucked Eleanor while Marie watched. I had intended to spend perhaps half an hour making love to the woman again, but this was clearly not her objective. After some brief but passionate kisses and caresses, she simply said "Don Carlos, I would have you put your big rod inside my quim, if you please. Ever since you showed it to me, I've been wondering how it would feel. Would you please fill me with it?"

"My dear lady, it would be my very great pleasure – something I have desired for several hours now. How would you prefer it?"

"Monsieur, perhaps we could start face to face, with a bolster under my bottom. This will allow me to see it go in, which I would like very much. Then, if your stamina is sufficient, perhaps we can try some different ways."

I smiled, and we quickly arranged the bed as Eleanor had suggested. As I knelt between her spread thighs, revelling in the sight of her open vagina, Marie at her foster-mother's suggestion, lay alongside us, propped on one elbow, observing closely.

Eleanor looked me in the eye. "Don Carlos, please be gentle, at least at first. I have had so little of the male organ in recent years that I'm not sure how easily I will be able to accommodate you. Marie, will you please help by wetting the gentleman's cock with your mouth?"

I turned to Marie, and she rose onto her knees, then lowered her head to envelop me. She opened her mouth wide, allowing me to slip the head and a little of the shaft inside, and then swirled her tongue, letting the saliva spread around. "Good girl!" I said, as she spread the liquid from her mouth along my shaft, bobbing her head up and down, stimulating me deliciously, and this time avoiding any contact with her teeth.

Eleanor interrupted the performance. "Thank you, Marie; you seem to have learned well. Now let the monsieur's cock go, as I need it to fill me up."

Seemingly reluctantly, Marie released me. I stroked her hair and thanked her, before turning back to Eleanor's open slit. Eleanor, with her arms and legs spread as if in a gesture of surrender, watched carefully as I pulled my near-vertical penis down. I first rubbed it along her slit, eliciting some delightful moans as I grazed her clitoris. Then, satisfied it was now wet enough, I fitted the head into the entrance of her very juicy quim.

She stared open-mouthed as I began to push in. Then her eyelids fluttered as I began to stretch her. Although a mature woman, she was indeed tight, probably because she had not had children and, as she had said, few cocks inside her of late. As I pushed a little harder, she let out a little gasp. Then the head of my penis slipped through the tight entrance of her cunt, and she cried out, moving her hands down to grasp my buttocks. Gently I rocked back and forth, slowly easing my length, and more importantly my girth, into her, little by little, as she clutched and gently pulled at the muscles in my buttocks.

Finally I came to rest against her pubic mound, and she swept her arms up and pulled me down on top of her, kissing me deeply. I luxuriated in that delicious, luxurious grasp of a woman's tight cunt around my cock. There are few better sensations known to man. As I eventually pulled back, I saw that there were again tears in her eyes.

"Madame, this is the second time that my cock has made you cry. Am I so cruel to inflict hurt upon you?"

"Monsieur," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, then smiling, "would that I could cry such tears every day. The first were simply my eyes watering with the exertion of accommodating your impressive member so deep in my mouth. I was proud to be able to do that, and enjoyed being able to milk your juices from you in that way. These tears are just because you are the first man to penetrate me in several years, and I cannot believe how privileged I am to have such a big, beautiful, hard member inside me and such a charming man between my legs."

Some more tears appeared, and I kissed them away. "My dear Eleanor, please don't cry. There is much here to celebrate. I promise you, things will get much better. Starting now."

With that, I pulled back and thrust in a little harder, eliciting a squeal from Eleanor's lips. "Monsieur!" she protested, but I did it again. And again, each time with a little more force.

Then I pulled right back, so just the tip of my cock touched her cunt lips. "Regarde!" I said. "A big, hard cock waits to invade your sweet, wet cunt, madame. What do you have to say to that?"

Her eyes were fixed on that big, swollen rod of flesh, poised at her entrance, threatening, promising. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing quickened, her eyes shining. Most women look at their most beautiful when aroused. Eleanor was radiant – one of the most beautiful I have seen. Her breasts were firm, rising and falling with her excited breathing, the nipples hard and long. Her well-toned thighs were spread wide, the pink slit glistening, the deeper-rose inner lips, thickly coated with her juices, pouting enticingly as they embraced my cock-head. She looked down at my member, poised, the tip just tantalising the lips of her quim, turning her head to view her 'predicament' from several angles. Then she smiled and looked me in the eye. "Fuck me, monsieur. Please."

"Maman!" Marie gasped. "You have always said ladies should not use language like that!"

Eleanor smiled, and as I remained for a moment longer tantalisingly suspended at her entrance, turned to her 'daughter'. "When you haven't had a man in years, and then one such as Don Carlos appears between your thighs, with the biggest cock you've ever seen, about to slide in into your quim, the rules of etiquette change. I'm very wet, but I think he may still find it a little difficult to push into me, but," and now she turned back to face me, "I really would like Don Carlos to fuck me until I scream in climax. Monsieur, please fill me with your hot man-flesh and give me what I crave!"

I did as she asked. I was not gentle, but she was past asking for gentleness. Years of frustrating widowhood had left her with a powerful longing for a man's cock, filling her, using her – fucking her. I took care to make sure that my thrusts and withdrawals rubbed firmly on the front wall of her cunt, or rubbed the upper surface against her clitoris, both of which I have found pleases most women. Eleanor was no exception, and within a few minutes she was clearly in a state of some considerable arousal, her legs hooked around mine, her hands on my back, occasionally reaching down to grab my buttocks and urge on my thrusts.

Perhaps she thought we would reach our mutual climax this way, but I had other ideas. After a while I lifted her legs so they were over my shoulders, kneeling up and thrusting deep. Eleanor's squeals became louder. Then, when I became sated with this, I turned her legs to the left, treating us both to different sensations with her on her side. A few more minutes and I rolled to the other side, now entering her from behind, both lying like spoons, one behind the other. I find this position hard to maintain for any length of time, as there is no leverage, so I managed to roll her onto her knees and, kneeling behind her, took her like an animal. This lacks the tenderness of the face-to-face position we had started in, but it has two advantages. Deep, hard thrusting against the front wall of the lady's cunt is easier, and it is also a simple matter to cup her pubic mound and tease her clitoris, both of which I did.

After some ten or fifteen minutes of pounding her delicious quim, I felt she was ready for her climax. I applied a wetted thumb to her tight little ring. She moaned loudly at the new sensation, added to the friction in her cunt and on her clitoris. When I slid my thumb inside, she gasped, but seemed eager to push back against me, encouraging this second bold invasion of her nether hole. Her cries grew louder and more shrill, and I maintained the pressure on both her clitoris and anus, knowing that to increase it at this stage would serve no purpose. Two, three more hard thrusts and she was there. I could feel the waves of climax in her cunt and in her tight back passage, hear her fierce, almost anguished cries, sense the delicious, overwhelming release she felt.

But I held back – albeit with some difficulty – and waited for her climax to subside. Slowly, gently, I withdrew, and she collapsed onto the bed. I lay beside her and embraced her warmly. "Don Carlos", she panted, "you are an amazing lover. That was the most beautiful and fulfilling fuck of my life. I cannot believe you held back. What would you have more of me? My body is at your service, though I believe my quim may not stand another assault such as that!"

"Madame, I have had great pleasure of you already. I held back as I now wish to sample sweet young Marie." I turned to the blonde girl who still knelt on the bed, wide-eyed at the sights she had just witnessed. "Are you willing, my dear?"

"I – I'm not sure, monsieur. I am small and you are so very big. I am afraid you will hurt me, perhaps tear my tender parts."

"That will not happen, my sweet. My performance with your maman was spirited, for I guessed she needed something quite fierce, and I was not wrong. For you, a softer, gentler approach is needed, and that you shall have. Are you wet, my dear?"

"I – yes, monsieur."

"Good, then emulate your maman. Lie back, open your legs wide and relax."

"Monsieur, it is a little hard to relax with the thought of your monster – your enormous – I mean..."

"You mean his big cock, Marie, do you not?" Eleanor smiled. "Don't be afraid, chérie, I'm sure Don Carlos knows how to be gentle with an inexperienced girl like yourself. Do not be afraid. Once he has filled you up, you will enjoy it immensely, I promise you. Don Carlos, let me wet you as Marie did before you fucked me."

I was already quite slick with Eleanor's juices, but I did not protest. The lady had skills with her mouth that I had rarely encountered, and as she engulfed me once more, taking a substantial part of my manhood down into her throat, I almost felt that perhaps I should climax this way again.

But no. There was a deliciously tight quim on a sweet, beautiful young girl to enjoy, and that was my primary purpose. I reluctantly extracted my penis from Eleanor's hot mouth and knelt between Marie's skinny pale thighs, positioning my cock-head at her entrance. Her quim was very wet, but try as I might, I could not penetrate her. She winced, bit her lip. A little tear appeared at the corner of her eye. I sensed that the problem was not simply the apparent disparity in sizes between my cock and her quim, but mostly the fact that she was tense. Expecting pain, she was encountering it.

So I withdrew, and applied my mouth instead of my penis, gently sucking and teasing at her pink inner lips, inserting a digit, than after some further oral ministrations, a second digit. Eleanor gentled the girl, stroking her hair and whispering to her that all would be well, and Marie seemed to relax a little. I suggested the girl turn over, with her skinny, boyish hips across a bolster, and then I continued with fingers and tongue until Marie was well on the way to a second orgasm, her head on a pillow, eyes closed, breathing ragged, face flushed.

At that point I seized my chance. With fingers still on her clitoris and inside her, I rose up on the mattress. Extracting my fingers from her still-tight little cunt, I positioned myself at her entrance and pushed in one fluid movement. I heard her gasp of surprise, followed by a little yelp of dismay as the head of my penis began to stretch her. However, she was by this stage relaxed and very wet, so this time my cock was able to slide, with rather less force, past the so-tight entrance and into the liquid depths. Nonetheless, she reached out for her maman's hand, and gasped, "Maman! So big!"

I was gentleness itself. This time there was none of the fiery passion I had shown Eleanor. Slow, patient deliberate strokes, easing her open, each time a little deeper. When finally I had sheathed myself entirely in her snug little tunnel, I rested, bending forwards to kiss her neck. "So beautiful, my dear Marie. So tight, so delicious. You are an angel."

"Monsieur, you are so very big. It is like some great – beast – has climbed into my loins!"

"But my dear, is my beast hurting you?"

"A little, monsieur. I am not used to being – opened – like this."

"Do not be afraid, my little one. Just relax. It will feel good very soon."

Slow but determined strokes, in and out, in and out, and soon we were riding along beautifully. I took her hand and moved it to her soft, pale mound, pressing her fingers inward. "Stroke yourself gently, my little one, while I concentrate on pleasing us both with my cock." She complied, and soon her eyelids fluttered closed as her fingers added to the now-welcome sensations my 'monster' was stirring up within her.

Eleanor was not to be excluded from our little game. She moved closer, placed a hand between my legs and gently teased my own opening and the cleft between my legs as I rose and fell. She smiled into Marie's enraptured face. "How is it now, my little one?"

"Maman, it is – it is – oooooh!"

As she let out a long moan of pleasure, I felt the first waves of orgasm hit her. The ripples in her tight love-tunnel became fierce, milking my already over-stimulated cock to an unbearable level. I realised with some alarm that I could control myself no longer, and rapidly pulled out of her, to our mutual dismay, for I would have loved to spend in so hot and tight a quim as Marie possessed, and I believe her climax would have been greater with my girth to squeeze upon. Nonetheless, I had sworn not to impregnate either woman, and no sooner had my rampant cock unsheathed itself from Marie than a powerful stream of creamy liquid sprayed across the girl's pale skin. Again and again, jets of my fluid, retained for so long, spattered across her pert little bottom and her smooth, hollowed back. My roar of release was such that I would have awoken the other guests at the inn, if there had been any.

For her part, Marie's climax seemed just as strong as mine and perhaps more sustained. She had shed any shyness she may have felt at pleasuring herself in these circumstances, and her plaintive cries, like the mewling of a seagull, were delightful to my ears. As she manipulated her own clitoris, I reached around and gripped her tiny, firm breast. She hollowed her back even more with delight, and cried out again.

I slipped onto the bed alongside Marie, and Eleanor and I both embraced the girl. She was trembling with the intensity of her experience, and I felt proud to have been the author of those feelings.



Carcasonne Ch. 03



Carcassonne, Chapter Three – Come One, Come All

© Bad Hobbit

I called for Rodrigo. The women began to grab for the bedclothes to cover their nakedness, but I reminded them that my manservant had closely inspected their most private regions earlier this very evening. When Rodrigo entered, he brought hot water, wine, cheeses, bread and fruits that had been prepared earlier. With wetted napkins he delicately washed my rather copious, sticky seed from Marie's pale skin, pausing to steal a kiss from the young girl, who was now almost euphoric with her experiences. She smiled, and kissed him back, with a little more feeling than I had anticipated – something I believe he appreciated.

He then turned to Eleanor and removed the splashes that remained around her breasts, neck and cheeks from my earlier spending – again, rewarding himself with a kiss, though Eleanor's response was friendly but cool. He then poured us all some wine and offered us platters of food.

"So ladies, how have you enjoyed your evening so far?" he asked with a slightly mischievous twinkle.

"Incroyable!" Marie sighed. "I have never felt such sensations."

"He is indeed a man of many talents, your master," Eleanor echoed. She looked at me in a strange way, almost as if there was now some stronger bond between us than the fulfilment of the commercial contract we had entered into. I smiled at her. I felt it too.

"From what I heard from the other side of the door – I was not listening, you understand, but you were hardly quiet – you all seem to have enjoyed yourselves. Quite immensely, if I'm any judge. And given the distribution of my master's seed, may I conclude that the contract is now concluded, or is there more to come?" There was a hopeful glint in his eye.

I looked at the ladies. "Ladies, Rodrigo has shown great patience, skill and forbearance. He has prepared you with great care for our encounter – preparations that I trust you now understand and appreciate. I would that his efforts were rewarded. Would you be so kind as to offer him some reward for his pains?"

I was surprised that Marie answered first. "Monsieur, as I'm sure you are only too aware, my little love tunnel is – was – very tight before you so skilfully navigated it this evening. I do not yet feel able to accommodate a man, even if he is of lesser girth than your good self. However, the Monsieur and maman have tutored me in the use of my mouth, and if that would please him, I would be prepared to test my new knowledge on Rodrigo – if he is clean, that is."

Rodrigo almost looked affronted. "Ma'm'selle, at times like this I am always clean! In the service of Don Carlos, I have learned to bathe daily, and to keep my private parts scrupulously cleansed for such opportunities as this," he said in mock outrage. Then he grinned. "And the opportunity to try your sweet mouth would be too perfect to pass up. May I disrobe, so that you may ascertain for yourself whether my organ is worthy of the caress of your sweet mouth?"

Taking her smile as assent, he removed the belted cotton robe he wore – a shorter, European imitation of my own oriental kimono. Rodrigo is a handsome, dog, I confess, albeit in a manner some might think a little effeminate. His body is slim and well-muscled from the strictures of the life we have chosen, but his skin, beneath his clothes, is baby smooth. On occasion, when disguise has been essential, as it so often is in our trade, he has dressed himself quite convincingly as a woman, and charmed several admirers to help us in our plans or escape. His legs are long and shapely – a dancer's legs, I chide him often – and his bottom firm and pert. (It has never occurred to me to follow that path, you understand. Not with a boy.) His penis, whilst adequate and nicely sculpted, lacks my rather extreme dimensions, but he assures me has never disappointed his lovers. It is little wonder that now, wearing a small, neatly cropped beard and with his long hair flowing and his dark eyes flashing, he was charming his way into yet another young girl.

This was not the first time that he and I had shared a room with ladies – well, at least with women – for this purpose. In bawdy houses across Europe, and even in some more respected establishments, we had partaken in orgies and adventures with multiple and sometimes shared partners. Nevertheless, it felt strange to be standing aside for my manservant to receive lip service from a maid I had so recently enjoyed. I was well-used to the response of "oh no sir, not again, not yet, I pray!" from many of my female bedfellows. (Not all; I recall one duchess who seemed prepared to accommodate me all night... but I digress!)

To see Marie so eager to pleasure Rodrigo gave me feelings of both delight and a little jealousy; delight that my tutoring had gained results, jealousy that my rogering had not been enough for the girl. Nonetheless, it was thrilling to see the light of excitement in her eyes as she slipped to the floor and knelt at Rodrigo's feet, tentatively holding, then kissing, then licking his member.

She glanced up at Eleanor, watching from the bed. "Maman? Comme ça?" she asked a little hesitantly, before slowly pushing her dainty mouth onto the head of Rodrigo's cock.

Eleanor smiled. "Oui, chérie, comme ça. Bravo, ma petite!"

As we watched, Marie pressed a little further with each stroke, taking Rodrigo a fraction deeper into her mouth. Lying behind Eleanor on the bed, propped on one elbow, I reached around the older woman's body to cup a breast. She turned her head and kissed me – a soft, very affectionate kiss as of accustomed lovers. We broke off at a small cry from Rodrigo, as Marie pulled back abruptly. "Pardon, monsieur! My teeth – I do apologise. I suddenly felt as if I could not breathe. Pardon!"

"Not so deep or so fast, ma chérie," Eleanor advised. "Breathe in just before you take him down; try to yawn a little to relax your throat. You will soon find the rhythm."

I slid my hand to Eleanor's mound, and finding her still wet – or perhaps wet again – began to stroke gently between the plump lips of her quim. I managed to slide my other hand under her and clasp her other breast, whilst kissing and nuzzling at her neck. Her soft sighs and gentle movements showed me that my ministrations were welcomed.

But as she became more aroused, and became aware of my own growing organ pressing into her back, she turned her head towards me and said, "Don Carlos. Like Marie, I too am feeling the effects of your earlier onslaught. I will, if you wish, accommodate you once more, but I fear it will not be such a pleasant experience for me this time. I will try to pleasure you as my daughter is doing with Rodrigo, but even then, my throat is still a little sore from last time."

"Do not fear, my dear Eleanor," I whispered, reassuringly in her ear. "I will find another way to give us pleasure that will not cause you pain. Please roll onto your front."

"Don Carlos, if, as I suspect, you mean to explore my other hole with that mighty beast of yours, I will of course comply – that was our contract – but I cannot imagine that the experience will be less painful than the other options. My husband tried it once, and made me weep. He was much less well-endowed than you, so I am quite afraid that you will cause me some of the anguish you professed you would avoid."

"My dearest Eleanor, please do not fear. I have shown both you and Marie that I am skilled in the use of my organ, that it does not hurt but rather has brought great pleasure to you both. Trust me, my dear. I have performed this act with many women. Though not every one has achieved climax, most have, and all have told me it gave them great joy. I would very much like to share that pleasure with you."

"Very well, Don Carlos. I do trust you, as you have shown you are a skilled lover and a gentleman. Do as you wish – I am at your command."

I smiled, then kissed her gently. As she rolled over, I retrieved some unguent cream from my bag of necessities, and carefully coated my fingers with it. I slid one hand under Eleanor's body, back into her slit, and gently probed her tight rear hole with the middle finger of the other hand. She caught her breath as the cold ointment met her warm flesh, but soon relaxed as I probed deeper, swirling my finger whilst stroking gently on her clitoris with the other hand. She made a small moan when I inserted a second finger, but by her breathing and body movements I could tell that her pleasure was continuing.

Just as I started to insert the third digit, I heard Rodrigo moan loudly. I glanced across and saw him, head thrown back, hands buried in Marie's hair, cock buried deep in her mouth, clearly enjoying her oral ministrations. Marie, as far as I could tell, was also deriving some pleasure from the experience, as her hand was once more between her legs. 

Then Eleanor let out a gasp of, "Mon Dieu!" and I returned my attention to pleasuring the woman beside me.

"Am I hurting you, my dear?" I asked solicitously.

"Ah – ah – Don Carlos. Not – not pain. But – so strange, so – so intense. I – I don't know. I ..."

Her voice trailed off into a long sigh as I increased the pressure in her slit. A final finger slowly moved inside, soon I was swirling all four around, stretching the hole wider as Eleanor clutched at the pillow and uttered incoherent little cries.

The jar of unguent lay open beside me on the bed. Carefully rising to my knees, I asked Eleanor to apply some of the cream to my now rampant organ. The cream felt cool but very sensual as she spread it thickly on me. "Are you ready, my sweet Eleanor?" I whispered in her ear.

"I – I believe I am, Don Carlos. You have opened me wide with your fingers, and though it feels strange, there is little pain. Perhaps you are right. Try me now."

"When I withdraw my fingers, rise to your hands and knees, spread the remaining cream from your hand between your cheeks, then hold them apart with your hands."

Slowly I withdrew the thick plug of fingers I had inserted into her anus, and as directed she rose and spread herself. My well-lubricated cock-head moved to fill the slowly closing ring, and I gently pushed. My slow but determined thrust opened her back passage wider than ever before, and she began to whimper quietly with the profound stretch I was forcing on her, but there was no protest.

I had to press quite hard to achieve admission, but finally the head of my cock popped through the tight ring and we both gasped. I love the feeling of entering a woman's arse for the first time. The tightness and the taboo nature of the act itself, together with the sight of the woman in such a position of submission, make this one of the most sublime acts for a man. Some men I have met abuse this position, thrusting lustily and causing pain for the woman. I, on the other hand, adore the sheer delight of using this position of power to drive the woman to an unexpected and intense orgasm through sensations she never knew she could experience. I find that the contractions in a woman's already-tight back passage brought on by such an orgasm are so strong that my own orgasm is then both unstoppable and so intense as to be painful. It has the further benefit that a man can spend his seed here without risk of impregnation.

As I began the slow and delicate process of filling Eleanor's delectable, tight and almost-virgin arsehole, I heard Marie give a sharp intake of breath. I saw her eyes wide, fixed on my cock, partly buried in her maman's rear. "Maman! Qu'est ce qu'il fait?"

Eleanor lifted her head from the pillow. Her breathing was a little ragged and there was perspiration running down her forehead. "Don Carlos m'encules," she replied. Yes, what I was doing was sodomising her, filling her tight little 'cul' – her arse. And Marie was surprised and clearly a little frightened by what she saw.

"Does it – does it not hurt, maman?" she asked querulously.

"A – little. But mostly – mostly it feels good. Don Carlos is very gentle. And – ooh – and he is teasing my little love button all the time, which feels – feels so good."

"But – he's so big!"

"C'est vrai!" Eleanor panted, as I quickened my pace, thrusting a little deeper than before. "But – it does not hurt – as I thought it would."

As I continued to ease my way deeper with each slow but purposeful thrust, Eleanor's moans became more pronounced. After I had insinuated around half my member into her tight passage, she moaned loudly, "Monsieur, please, no deeper. It begins to feel – uncomfortable." Taking my cue, I pulled back a little and began to concentrate on teasing the tight ring with my cock-head, extracting a few gasps of "Oh yes!" from my partner.

As we explored the sensations together, I glanced across at Marie. Rodrigo was now stimulating her slit with his mouth and fingers, and she was gazing wide-eyed and open mouthed at what I was doing with her maman. Then Rodrigo glanced up, saw where she was looking and looked around at us. I saw him grin and then turn to Marie. "Would you like to try that also, my child? I can show you the sort of intense pleasure your maman is feeling right now, if you'll let me."

Marie looked even more surprised and confused than before, if that were possible. She suddenly gasped, and I saw that Rodrigo had inserted a finger into her tight hole to give her a small taste of what she might experience. I reached down and picked up the jar of unguent, casually dropping it at his side. He retrieved it, and availed himself of the slippery contents, while Marie seemed able only to look on in amazement.

I returned my attention to my own task – ensuring that Eleanor experienced a powerful orgasm as a result of my anal explorations and manual manipulations. As I progressed, raising Eleanor's sensations gradually higher and higher, I was aware of gasps from Marie that told me Rodrigo was probably now well advanced in his preparations of the young girl's tight passage. He said something to her which I did not hear, and she rose a little unsteadily to her feet and positioned herself behind the chair, bent forward, legs apart. Rodrigo pressed in behind her, and I heard the girl give a little yelp, which I took to mean that Rodrigo was in the process of forcing entry.

Eleanor, who until now had simply made an occasional gasp or moan, turned to look at her daughter. "Courage, ma petite. It will not hurt for long. Try to – try to relax and open for him. It will – it will feel good – I'm sure."

Marie continued to make little whimpering noises as Rodrigo pressed deeper. Then she let out a sharp little cry, and Rodrigo grunted and threw his head back. So it seemed that both mother and daughter were now being simultaneously sodomised.

The next few minutes were as strange as they were sublime. Rodrigo and I both struggled to keep our composure and control as we navigated the tight nether holes of our two ladies. The ladies for their part seemed amazed and enraptured by the sensations we stirred up in them, letting out the occasional plaintive whimper or cry, but not protesting, never once asking either of us to stop. I had managed to insinuate perhaps a little over half my organ between Eleanor's nicely rounded cheeks, but each time I tried to press deeper, the tone of her murmurs changed and I knew this was her limit.

Glancing at Rodrigo I could see that he and Marie were experiencing no such problems. Not only was he sliding his much slimmer member more energetically between Marie's skinny cheeks, but the little strumpet was moving her hips back to meet him, encouraging him to drive deeper. I envied him as I saw him repeatedly bury his length into her welcoming dark tunnel, the rapture on both their faces evident.

And then the pitch of Eleanor's cries rose, and for a moment I thought I had mistaken the depth or angle of my thrust. But no, seconds later, she began a long, undulating moan that rose in pitch, and I felt the first spasms of her climax as her tight ring gripped my shaft almost unbearably. As the pitch of her moans rose even higher, it was joined by my own hoarse cries as I made one last thrust into that pulsing tube and spent my seed so powerfully inside her that the sensations verged on pain.

Marie watched her mother, back hollowed, head back, making noises the like of which I had previously heard only from pigs being slaughtered. Then I heard her cry, "Maman!" before she too let out a little shriek and dissolved into her own climax. How he did it I do not know, but Rodrigo managed three or four more thrusts into the skinny girl's pulsing arse before his own climax took him.

The cacophony in our room must have seemed like a bizarre farmyard, with Marie's little yelps sounding a little like a seagull's cry, and Rodrigo and I grunting and roaring like bulls. When finally we were all sated, it was Marie who suddenly burst out laughing. With some evident difficulty she separated her little bottom from the rod that had impaled it, and went first to her mother and embraced her. She then kissed me, before returning to Rodrigo and leaping onto him, embracing him with her arms and legs as he barely held his footing.

"Rodrigo, Monsieur Carlos, je vous aime! I love you both!" she squealed. With some difficulty I extracted my own cock from Eleanor's tight hole, not without some discomfort on both our parts I might add, and we embraced like lovers – which perhaps we were.

After a cup of wine all round, we retired to our beds. Eleanor slept in my arms, and Marie went off to sleep with Rodrigo. We were all too sated, tired and sore for any more entertainment, but we agreed that it had been an excellent night.



Carcasonne Ch. 04



Carcassonne, Chapter Four – To Hell and Back

© Bad Hobbit

Rodrigo arose early the next morning, and made straight for the battlements. Less than ten minutes later, he returned, breathless. "Don Carlos," he called, urgently to me as he burst in through the bedroom door, "the signal!"

We had passed the night before we arrived in Carcassonne at a small, rather humble auberge in the foothills of the mountains, which stood atop a cliff with an impressive view of the citadel. From there, the road took a circuitous route down to the valley and the city beyond; a day on foot or walking a horse, or a fast ride of perhaps four or five hours – although, should one have wings, the distance could be crossed in less than an hour. Rodrigo had become very friendly with the maid – so friendly in fact that I had to disentangle their bodies when I came to rouse them in the morning. He had agreed with the girl a signal – a white sheet to be hung from an upstairs window if riders in the Duke of Bilbao's colours should arrive; two sheets from two separate windows if they had already passed through.

"How many sheets?" I asked.

"One. They are still there, or so it would seem."

"Good. Still, there is no time to lose. Prepare for our journey, while I set up our Toulouse excursion."

"Journey? Toulouse? What is happening?" Eleanor asked, still a little sleepily.

"My dear, there are some men half a day's ride from here who wish us ill. We must depart, but we mean to return. Rodrigo and I would like to entrust our belongings to someone who we know will care for them. Do you have a safe hiding place where they will not be found?"

"I – I have several such places, and I am flattered that you place your trust so much in me."

"My dear Eleanor," I said bending to kiss her and caress her face, "last night you trusted me, and I hope I did not disappoint. I believe that you and Marie are the only people in this city I can trust, and I need you to help me. The men who follow me will kill Rodrigo and myself if they catch us. If they arrive here, you need to tell them we stayed but left again early. That we spoke of travelling to Toulouse, and then possibly north to England. That is all you know, do you understand?"

"Don Carlos, I understand, but is that what you intend? Will we ever see you again?" Eleanor looked worried. I kissed her again.

"God willing, we will be back. More I cannot say, as it would put you both in mortal danger. This is all you know, this is all you can tell them, so you should have no fear. We were just guests at your inn, which we chose – obviously – because it is discreet and allowed us to be incognito. We were just passing through, do you understand?" I was moved by the very real concern in her eyes. Twelve hours ago we had just been paying guests.

"Don Carlos, I will do as you say. Show me the belongings you wish hidden, and I will keep them safe for your return."

First, I went to the gatekeeper at the North Gate and gave him some instructions and a small consideration. I was wearing my best cloak and leading my mount, a distinctive grey mare. I then headed for the nearby stables and saw the usual group of riders, waiting around for messages to take, errands to run. I selected two men who could be said to bear a passing resemblance to Rodrigo and myself, and drew them to one side.

"I need you to take these two letters to Toulouse. Hand them to the Captain of the Watch when you arrive. Make good speed, but do not overtire your horses. If you are overtaken by men in blue and yellow livery, then there has been a change of plan, and you are to deliver the letters to them. Do you understand?"

"Why do you need both of us? Why can't one of us take both messages?" the younger of the two men asked.

"I need you to keep each other honest. I want the messages delivered, unopened, to the Captain of the Watch, who will give you the second half of your reward. Here is the first," I gave them each two francs, "Another three each when you deliver."

"What if the men in blue and yellow reach us first?" said the older one.

"Then they should also reward you. If they do not, do not press them – they can be difficult people. Return here and I will leave instructions with the gatekeeper to recompense you. Now, I need you to take these horses," I indicated mine and Rodrigo's which I'd retrieved from the stables, "and to wear these cloaks and hats." I handed the garments to the two men, who put them on appreciatively. "You may keep them once your errand has been completed."

"This is strange, monsieur. Why the disguises? And what are we to do with the horses on our return?"

"They must be returned to the stables here, where I have made arrangements. Failure to do so will result in consequences – and not good ones, do you understand? As for the disguises, well, I have my reasons, and this," I gave them a further franc each, "should preclude any further curiosity."

Shortly afterwards, two men, both dark, one tall and broad in the shoulder, the other slighter, riding fine horses and wearing fine cloaks, galloped through the North Gate and away towards Toulouse. The gatekeeper watched them go, and wondered what the strange Spanish gentleman wanted when he left the sealed envelope and then rode off with his companion to the north west.

An hour later, three wagons and a string of pack horses left the city, bound for Narbonne. Once around the first curve and into the woods, two men clambered from among the cargo, offloaded the burdens of two horses – too fine for pack animals – and after a short exchange of coins and farewells, rode off rapidly to the east.

We arrived in Narbonne before sunset, and stayed only to trade horses and quaff a little ale, before setting off again. If our ruse had failed, and the Duke's men were not now galloping towards Toulouse with all speed, we did not want to be surprised inside a walled city, unable to run without our pursuers knowing our every move.

The journey took us five days of fairly hard riding and camping rough in the woods. On one occasion along the road, some ruffians tried to relieve us of our possessions. Rodrigo is expert with the throwing knife. I, for my part, have some skill with the sword. My blade is from the East, originally the tool of choice of a Samourai of Cipango, who lost it, and his life, it would appear, to a pirate in the Malacca Straits. The pirate, in turn, was hanged by a sea captain of my acquaintance, who lost the sword and its shorter companion to me in a not entirely crooked game of cards. It is the strongest and sharpest blade I've ever seen, and it made short work of two ruffians armed with clubs. With Rodrigo's knives in two more, they soon understood they were not welcome and left us in peace.

We finally made Marseilles with no hint of imminent pursuit, and immediately set about the next stage of our plan. Don Felipe de Velez Mendoza is a tenacious bastard, and I knew he'd arrive sooner or later with his men-at-arms; in fact, I was rather counting on it. I was determined to be ready for him, and finish this episode once and for all.

The eight men in blue and yellow livery rode into Marseilles two days after us. The boys I'd set to watch the gates did their job well, and earned their franc apiece. Yes, they said, the leader was an ill-favoured fellow with a scar on his nose, who wore his sword to the right. Don Felipe used the left hand, a sure sign, they say, of the bastard line. Certainly the rumours about the Duke and Felipe's mother were rife when I was at the ducal home. But bastard is as bastard does. Whatever the facts of his birth, Don Felipe and his henchman Valdez had boasted in my hearing of torturing and murdering peasants accused of withholding taxes from the Duke, so his reputation was an evil one.

Felipe discovered, to his immense annoyance, that we had lately taken ship for the Levant, by way of Naples, Palermo and Iraklion. The story was widely known around the waterfront taverns, where we had been scrupulous to ensure that our garrulous drinking companions knew on which ship we had sailed. Indeed, we were seen to board the very ship the previous evening and sail on the tide. No one saw us return, in disguise, on the pilot boat an hour later – well, no one who would mention it, thanks to some judiciously-dispensed coins.

So Don Felipe went from tavern to tavern with his men, seeking a ship in which he could pursue us. The next was not due to depart for a week, by which time our trail would be cold. So, as he and his henchmen threaded the narrow alleys around the harbour, I set the second part of my plan into action. Without warning, his group were set upon by a large group of thugs armed with clubs and knives, and were scattered in several directions. Don Felipe and Valdez, separated from their men, scurried down one alley, only to find more men coming towards them. They turned left down another narrow lane – and encountered me.

Even in the faint moonlight and the glow of a torch from a bracket on the far corner, I made sure that Felipe would know me. He did, telling Valdez to guard his back as he gleefully drew his sword to deal with the quarry he thought had escaped. "I am reckoned one of the best swordsmen in all Spain," he hissed. "I shall be delighted to prove it to you."

I said nothing. What serves for swordsmanship in the patios and courtyards of palaces, when you are judged on the lightness of your step and the flourish of the tip of your foil or epée, is one thing. On the mud of a battlefield, when your next blow may, if struck well, keep you alive for the few seconds you need to prepare to strike the next blow, swordsmanship is another thing entirely. In the dark, fetid alleyways of a Marseilles night, I know which type of swordsmanship prevails.

Don Felipe, his fine, slim Toledo blade held in his outstretched left hand, edged toward me. The lunge, when it came, might have taken many opponents by surprise. I, who have stared into the eyes of men I had to kill to save my own life on battlefields from Mexico to the Malacca, saw the blow coming, and sweeping the cudgel in my left hand across my body, parried the blow, striking down with my Samourai sword to sever Don Felipe's outstretched sword arm above the wrist. The blade is sharp and strong, and the arm presented no problems for it. Felipe's eyes were wide with shock, pain and terror – as well they should have been, since I then used the cudgel again to stove in the side of his head. An ignominious death for an evil man, and one that would raise few questions; ambushed by thugs in an alley, clubbed to death, his hand cut off so that the thieves could make off with his rings.

Valdez, hearing his master fall, turned. His last sight was of my blade as it plunged into his chest. With master and chief henchman dead, there were now none left in the party who would know me by sight.

I wiped my blade on Valdez's surcoat and sheathed it. The leader of the group of hired thugs came up to me for his payment. "One dead, two wounded, the rest fled carrying their injured comrades. Of mine, two have taken hurt and I shall require extra payment." I looked into his eyes, knew he was lying but chose not to contest the matter. I tossed him the bag of coins we had agreed, and reached for another I had beneath my surcoat.

Good. So at least three could return to the Duke with the story that we had sailed to the Levant and probably beyond, now out of his reach, whilst his poor Don Felipe and several of their party had fallen victim to dastardly thugs in the back-lanes of Marseilles.

The thug looked at me and said "And I'll have the rest."

"As we agreed, you can take whatever you like from the dead men. And I have some extra coin to recompense your injured comrades."

"Not enough. I'll have that pretty sword of yours and all. And whatever else you're hiding. Better hand it over or me and my pals will take it off your body."

From the shadows behind him, two more thugs appeared on either side; big, ugly men holding clubs and blades. There was little likelihood of me leaving the alley alive, whether or not I handed over my treasures. My sword was sheathed, and they would be upon me before I could draw it.

I cried out in Spanish, as if in despair. "Madre de Dios! I go right!"

With that I dived and rolled to my right. I heard the buzz of the crossbow quarrel pass over me almost immediately, and the groan of the erstwhile leader as it struck him in the chest. The knife that struck the man on the left followed barely a second later, as I rose like a cat. The Samourai keep two swords – I'm told that the second is used for ritual suicide should the unfortunate knight be captured or dishonoured. A man like me would never be so foolish. I keep mine strapped to my back, and I can retrieve it easily with my left hand by reaching up and behind my shoulder. As I rose up, I plucked the short sword from its scabbard and brought it in a high arc into the neck of the man on the right.

As I turned to face the next opponent, I saw that Rodrigo had done his work well. The third man's body was slumped against the wall with one of Rodrigo's knives in his chest. My companion emerged from the shadows behind me, hefted his crossbow across his shoulder and retrieved both knife and quarrel. I used Don Felipe's blade to widen both wounds. This should look like a melee in which the two Spaniards were worsted by a much larger gang of thugs, after giving good account of themselves.

We checked the corpses and removed any money and treasures we could find, including several valuable items secreted about the person of the thug leader. We also removed boots and any finery from the dead Spaniards – this needed to look like a violent robbery rather than a carefully planned assassination. I borrowed Don Felipe's cloak, as my clothes were heavily bloodstained, but once I'd changed in our rooms, my surcoat, the cloak and their boots and gloves ended in a weighted sack in the harbour. We wanted nothing to suggest that the killers had ever left Marseilles, and we were on the road at first light.



Carcasonne Ch. 05



Carcassonne, Chapter Five – A Warm, Wet, Welcome

© Bad Hobbit

We reached Carcassonne around two weeks after we had left. We had disguised ourselves as simple travellers and had attached ourselves to a small group of pilgrims moving towards Santiago de Compostella.

Returning to the inn, sporting luxuriant beards and still in disguise as pilgrims, we surprised Marie at work, sweeping out the tap-room and scrubbing the tables from the previous night. Little had changed since our earlier visit; everything still had the air of wholesome and clean shabbiness about it.

At first the ladies did not recognise us, and I was well pleased with our disguises. When Marie brought the two newly-arrived pilgrims a flagon of ale each, I made her shriek by slapping my hand on her skinny rump. "Monsieur! Do you mind? You make too free!"

"Ma'm'selle, I'm only reacquainting myself with a place I have already visited. Indeed, my companion here has ventured much deeper, as I trust you recall?"

She looked at us again with renewed scrutiny. "Don Carlos? Rodrigo? Mon Dieu! Maman! They have returned!"

She threw her arms around me and kissed me joyfully, then repeated the embrace with Rodrigo. Eleanor appeared, wiping her hands, and rushed over to us. I held her in my arms for some time, kissing her with renewed passion. When I drew back there were tears running down her face.

"Madame, it seems whenever I embrace you I bring tears to your eyes!"

"Don Carlos," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "Marie and I have prayed daily for your safe return. I am happy beyond words that you are indeed here."

We kissed again, then she brought wine for herself and Marie, and we drank each other's health as she told her tale. "We saw the men you spoke of, though they did not trouble us unduly. They were uncouth and dangerous-looking creatures, their leader particularly ill-starred. We followed your instructions and told them what you asked us to say, and they left in a hurry by the North Gate after words with the gatekeeper. Marie saw them again two days later."

"They returned to the city, took fresh horses and rode East. The leader's face was like thunder," the girl said, gravely.

I smiled. "I gave two messengers, disguised to look like Rodrigo and myself, identical packages to take to Toulouse. Each package contained a number of letters, the main one addressed to the man you saw, Don Felipe, head of the guard for the Duke of Bilbao, who I expected to overtake our heralds before they reached their destination. He has been pursuing us for some time, for reasons I will not go into. The letters told him we had sent him on a wild-goose chase to Toulouse while we made for Marseilles, with a view to travelling to the Orient. I wanted to ensure we arrived at the port well ahead of him, but that we should have a chance to deal with him there. Suffice it to say that the man and his lieutenant are now both dead, apparently killed by ruffians, and his comrades are returning to the Duke to tell him we have gone to the Orient – or at least the Levant – never to return. He will never have any cause to return to Carcassonne to seek us out, which is as well, as Rodrigo and I have had enough danger and excitement to last a lifetime. Ladies, we are travel sore and would appreciate the opportunity to bathe, if you please."

And after we'd bathed, we fucked. Rodrigo and I were still in our respective tubs, pouring steaming water from the jugs provided over our weary bodies, when the ladies entered, closed the door, and proceeded first to wash us and then to masturbate our members. They helped us from the tubs, and both began to pleasure us with their mouths. This was a delight I'd not anticipated, at least so soon. Eleanor seemed eager to show me how much of my member she could accommodate, to remind me of her clever mouth, and Marie's shyness was now a thing of the past as she eagerly sucked on Rodrigo's rigid staff.

But this was just the first course, for the ladies, pleased with their mouth work, took little time in removing their dresses and embracing us warmly. The feel of Eleanor's breasts on my chest was delightful, and her kisses were honey to my parched lips. Then I was led without preamble to the bed, with a naked Eleanor preceding me onto the mattress, opening, spreading and welcoming me home. I saw that she had maintained the smooth, shaven nature of her quim, which to my delight was wet, hot, silken and so, so welcoming. She enveloped me in her body, untroubled by my girth, relishing the stretch I forced upon her and indeed into her. Her arms and legs surrounded me, her mouth was hungry on mine, and she bucked her hips like a young filly with a new rider in the saddle.

I was only dimly aware of the fate of Rodrigo. I saw that Marie had unrolled a palliasse from under the bed, pressed him back upon it and mounted him. It was the first time that he had explored that particular orifice, the first time they had coupled as God intended, and from what I could see of their faces between Eleanor's voracious kisses, both were enraptured by the experience.

And Eleanor clung to me as if her life depended on it. Her heels rode high up my back, pressing my buttocks as if she spurred a stallion. She arched herself off the bed, driving her quim upwards to meet my increasingly-urgent thrusts. Her long nipples were hard against my chest, and her arms held me so tight that her full breasts were flattened against me.

And between kisses – luscious, languid kisses that seemed liquid and luxurious as her tight cunt – she spurred me on with the most divine poetry I've ever heard. "Fuck me, my dear Don Carlos. Fill me with your delightful cock. Push your mighty shaft so far into me that it pounds my aching heart. Take my body, my dear lord, take it and use it how you will, for it is yours and yours alone. No man can ever fill me or fulfil me like you. Whatever you desire of me, I also desire it. Take me! Fill me! Fuck me!"

No man, had he a heart of stone and a cock of putty, could fail to be moved by Eleanor's words. Indeed, I believe they also worked their magic on her, as she reached her climax shortly after. As I tried to withdraw, so that I could spend my seed over her delightful skin, she refused to release me. "Eleanor!" I gasped, "I must withdraw. My climax is so near!"

"Spend inside me, my love. I want to feel your delightful cock giving me its divine juices." I had no chance to argue, for at that moment a spasm of almost celestial pleasure jolted through me. Eleanor's tight silken cunt was still rippling with her own aftershocks as I unloaded spurt after spurt of my semen within her. The sensations were heavenly, but almost immediately I was concerned for what I have done.

"My dear Eleanor, it was not my intent to impregnate you. Why would you not release me?"

"My dear Don Carlos, neither have you done so. It is not my time of the month to conceive, and indeed perhaps I may never do so, since my husband failed to give me a child for over six years. But if I were to bear child for you, I would consider it an honour and privilege. I love you, Don Carlos."

I looked into her beautiful dark eyes and felt deeply moved. In our times of deepest danger I had thought often of Eleanor and Marie and the delightful night we had spent together. It was an unspoken agreement between Rodrigo and myself that we would return to Carcassonne once our dealings with the Duke's men were over, and perhaps settle here. I pressed forward and kissed Eleanor again, softly, tenderly.

Our reverie was broken by wild cries from our bedroom companions. We looked to see Rodrigo standing behind Marie, sodomising her enthusiastically while the pair of them whooped and cried their mutual climax to the town.

"You depraved boy, Rodrigo! Can't you keep that skinny cock of yours out of the poor girl's arse? God gave you another tight hole to slip it in – is that not enough for you?"

"But monsieur," protested Marie, "I adore it! It feels so good when he slips it into my little hole. Honestly, monsieur, it was my suggestion!" The look on her face was a picture, as she seemed so serious about protecting her lover from my criticisms, even though they were only of a humorous intent.

"Marie, you are a hot little vixen. I've a good mind to plunder that little hole of yours myself, as you seem to like it so much."

"Oh monsieur! Please no! With Rodrigo it feels so nice, but I fear monsieur that – you are so big – and it might ..."

I laughed out loud, and Marie saw that my threat was in jest. "My sweet, your lovely little cunt was tight enough for me." I saw her catch her breath at the obscenity. 'Amusing,' I thought, 'that she is offended by the use of an old word for her vagina just after she has actively encouraged a man to fuck her arse! I'll never understand women.' "Besides, if you and Rodrigo carry on with the obvious enthusiasm you've shown so far, within a month both of your holes should be slack enough for me to slide in without touching the sides."

Rodrigo guffawed and even Eleanor chuckled at my ribaldry, while Marie looked a little shocked. Perhaps she thought that I was seriously suggesting this would happen. I looked down at Eleanor and felt renewed stirrings of emotion.

"Rodrigo. Take Marie into the other room and fuck her little body in every hole you can find as often as you can both stand short of actually catching fire. Eleanor and I have some business to attend to. We will see you at supper time."

For perhaps half an hour, Eleanor and I lay in each other's arms, kissing and gazing into each other's eyes. My cock remained inside her, swelling again in the soft, warm wetness, as her legs continued to embrace me.

"You came back," she said after the others had gone. "We have saved your belongings. Will you take them away with you, or do you intend to stay longer?"

"I had to return, not just for my belongings, but for you. Our night together was not enough. Not enough by a very long way. You touched my heart, Eleanor."

"And you touched mine, Don Carlos – and not just with that enormous cock of yours!" We both smiled. "I'd never met a man who cared so much about what a woman should feel. Your tenderness with me and with Marie set you apart. I now feel ashamed of my earlier behaviour, selling my step-daughter to men unworthy of her. None of them showed the compassion and gentleness that you displayed to us both. And since my husband died, no man has ever called me beautiful, or made me feel as cherished as you did that night. I thought about you constantly while you were away, and feared so much for your safety. Will you really stay here?"

"Here? Inside your sweet cunt? Absolutely, my beautiful Eleanor." I gave a little thrust that made her gasp.

"No, please stop teasing me – but no, please do that again. Oh yes! Oh yes!"

"Eleanor, I'll stay right here, at your inn, for as long as you'll have me. I love Carcassonne, I love the inn – Eleanor, I think I love you. As you've probably guessed, I've fucked many women. I've given and received a lot of pleasure, but found little love. With you, your tearful eyes and your lovely accommodating body, your shyness and your boldness, and your desire to give more than you take, and your joy at receiving more than you expect. Yes, Eleanor, I really want to stay here – with you."

We kissed, softly, tenderly, and again the tears flowed. Again, I kissed them away and began licking her neck. Then I arched my back and licked her nipples.

"But now, Eleanor, I have an urgent need to make love to you, passionately and fully to completion. Will you have me?"

In reply, Eleanor unhooked her heels from my back and placed her feet on the mattress, pushed my hips back so that I slid almost out of her, then pushed up with her hips to swallow me to the hilt in her luscious and very wet cunt.

"Let this be your answer, Don Carlos. My cunt is the instrument of my love for you. I want to absorb you into my whole being. Let my cunt swallow you, devour you. Let us take this day to be our blessing, when all other cares fall away, and let me worship you with my body."

And she did. She slowly rolled us over until I was on my back, still embedded to the hilt in her. Then she sat up and slowly began to ride me, up and down, up and down. "Oh Don Carlos," she said. "Such a long journey, all the way from the top to the bottom and back again. My legs will tire of going so far up and down!"

The sight of her breasts jiggling and her loose hair flying as she bounced on my cock; the sound of her breathing and her little cries becoming more shrill as she approached her orgasm; the sight of her sweet, wet pink quim, which she had kept still fully shaven for me, devouring my cock at each down thrust; her face, flushed and increasingly passionate as she relished her self-imposed task; these memories I will treasure to the grave. As she neared her climax, I reached out to touch her clitoris, but instead she put her own hand there, as I had shown Marie, and once again I was treated to the sensations of her climax and the sight of her fingers, worn from too much hard work, turning into instruments of her own pleasure. Only then did I let go, and succumb to the sweet ministrations of her luscious hole, firing a second blast of my seed into her womb.

Throughout the afternoon, we made love. She sucked me to hardness and beyond. I licked and teased at her quim, still tasting my earlier deposits there mingled with her own sweet juices as her firm and ripe body writhed and she moaned and cried out my name. And finally, when we were almost spent, she offered me that tightest of treasures, her pink rosebud again, this time admitting me after I had tested her with just two fingers. I believe that as a result my entry was more of a trial for her, but she insisted I enter from in front, looking into her eyes as I probed and stretched her oh-so-tight entrance. She bore it with love and I again eventually brought her to climax – different from before, but a new experience for both of us. My climax was almost dry, as she had drained every drop of seed from me.



Carcasonne Ch. 06



Carcassonne, Chapter Six – A Place Called Home

© Bad Hobbit

Over supper, Rodrigo and Marie looked a little tired – we had heard them at intervals during the day, and the sounds were becoming more amusing every time. Marie had relaxed and was now very vocal when she climaxed – a quality I admire in a woman, as it rarely fails to excite me to my own peak. (The one exception was a rather fat merchant's wife in Aragon – but that's another story). I had noticed that Marie's vocabulary at such times seemed to encompass words that had previously made her blush, and I was impressed.

As we ate, I said that I felt the inn could be made more successful, but we needed to adopt a different approach. If Eleanor would be guided by me, I said I would help her transform the business within a year. She was impressed at my boast, but sceptical. So Rodrigo and I laid out the plan we had hatched on the road back from Marseilles, and set it before Eleanor. She felt some parts were a little unethical, but liked the overall promise.

A week later, members of two rival Carcassonne gangs met in the 'Coq D'Or' in the main street. They had not intended to. Each was there to meet a stranger to discuss a business proposition, but when they saw each other, everything else went out of their minds. The place was laid waste, and customers stayed away. Some drifted into Eleanor's inn and found the décor improved as we'd applied some whitewash, brought in some new furniture and bought Eleanor and Marie new clothes. The food and drink were also better than they had expected – certainly better than at the Coq D'Or, even though the company was a little less boisterous.

I waited a month or so, then paid the owner of the Coq D'Or a visit, and found him a miserable and bitter man. The place had been a goldmine, but now it was clearly little more than a shell with little trade, though the landlord tried to cover this up. After sharing a cup or two of his sour wine with him, I said I had often nurtured a desire to be an innkeeper, but had never found the right place. He immediately cheered, telling me that it was my lucky day, as he was thinking of retiring and would be interested in finding a buyer.

We haggled for a long time over the price, me eventually paying him a little over the odds of what the place was now worth, though much less than he would have got a few months earlier. He felt he'd got a bargain, took my money and all his possessions, (including a few I thought I had bought), and left for Perpignan the next day. Three weeks later, the inn reopened as 'The Scallop Shell', aimed very specifically at the pilgrims headed for Santiago de Compostela. As 'passing trade', they had no fear of the recent history of the place that the locals seemed so worried about, and within two months we were full most nights.

Eleanor supervised the cooking, the purchase of the wine and beer, the arrangement of the rooms – pretty well everything practical. I, meanwhile, hired more staff, including several pretty girls as maids and serving wenches – much to Eleanor's disgust. I pointed out to her that they were not for my amusement but to tempt customers in and then to keep them in for food and meat. She seemed unconvinced, but acceded reluctantly to my plan.

We renamed Eleanor's Inn 'St. Jacques', to add to the pilgrim theme, using it first as an overflow from the Scallop Shell, and later as an auberge in its own right for the older and perhaps more discerning pilgrims requiring a place a little less boisterous than the 'Shell' was becoming. Soon, both places were full during the season for pilgrimages, and we were looking for a third inn. Our fortunes were improving and we enjoyed our lives together in Carcassonne.

Our ménage was a little strange to say the least. Although most of the time I lay with Eleanor and Rodrigo with Marie, there were times when the spirit of our first encounter returned.

One day, in high summer, we four rode out to the river, taking a picnic. The weather was hot, the wine was good and we were all soon swimming naked together, playing like children in the cool water. Eleanor returned to the bank, stretched out naked on a blanket in the shade, and slept peacefully. Marie, little minx that she is, arose giggling from the shallows, saw me standing there naked and said in a somewhat tipsy manner that she had forgotten what a big cock I had.

I teased her a little, saying that now she was getting fucked by Rodrigo on a regular basis, she was probably too slack for me. She said that Rodrigo was really only interested in her arse, and that her cunt hardly got stretched at all. Her language and the mock pout that she gave me got me hardening in no time. Rodrigo had clearly had a bit too much wine, as he just grinned, rolled over in the grass by the river and said, "Fuck her if you like. She still keeps talking about your cock, you know."

I was surprised at Rodrigo's reaction, and perhaps even more when Marie suddenly knelt beside me and began to suck my member. I became erect very rapidly under this treatment. After a few minutes of this, Marie came up for air.

"Oh Don Carlos, you are such a big man. I'm sure maman really enjoys your attentions, but have you entirely forgotten your little Marie and her oh-so-tight little quim? You know I haven't been really stretched for quite a while, so my sweet little cunt is probably still as tight as maman's arse." The expression on her face was so demure, just like the sweet young girl I had been offered two years earlier, but her language and her manner were so different.

I looked towards Rodrigo, who was observing drunkenly from nearby. "Don't mind me, Carlos. Go ahead, be my guest." He belched. "If Marie wants it, you may as well let her have it. But I might want to join in later." He flopped back onto the grass.

Marie smiled her sweet-little-girl smile that I had seen her use a lot of late. She could charm even the most curmudgeonly customer, and I felt sure that she sometimes used it to make Rodrigo jealous. Now she leaned close and whispered, "Fuck me, please, Don Carlos, while maman is asleep and Rodrigo is too drunk to care. I still remember how you filled me that first time. Please fill me again."

Whatever I felt for Eleanor, I was still the prisoner of my own penis when a girl like Marie set her sights on me. I confess that the maids I had hired were not purely for the guests' amusement, although I had yet to set my cock to a quim other than Eleanor's. Once or twice I had got as far as a kiss, an embrace, a feel of the breasts. On one occasion, a maid had unbuttoned my breeches, all coquettish and ready to service me, but had been so shocked and terrified by what she found there that she had run off in tears! But with Marie – well, that was different. This was a path I had already trodden once. What harm in revisiting it, since the girl seemed determined to take me, with Rodrigo's consent?

Before I could protest – not that I was minded to do so – the sweet blonde thing straddled my body and began to impale herself on me. I watched her face, transfixed as she concentrated on taking me, feeling, relishing the stretch she was suffering. I watched as she bit her lower lip, her eyes screwed up with concentration. Then, when she had managed to accommodate the head inside her tight cunt, she looked down.

"I have captured your beast, Don Carlos. My sweet little cunny will eat him all up. I'm such a tight little thing, you know, and you're such a big, strong man with such a big, strong cock. Do you like it when I swallow your huge powerful beast?"

I was transfixed. I still recalled with pleasure the night when I had purchased Marie and her mother for ten francs each, and surprised her by entering her from behind. Now here was the girl virtually demanding of me that I service her. By the time she had slithered her oh-so-tight little cunt all the way down onto me, I was becoming desperate to plough that tight wetness until my cock exploded.

And so I did. The little demon rode me, making her endearing little whimpering noises and her whisperings of "Oh you're so big, Don Carlos" and "You're stretching me so much I think I might split in two, monsieur", and "Please have mercy on my tight little cunt, monsieur!" The girl had become such a teaser. I for my part found her clitoris with my fingers and began to tantalise her until she was moaning with pleasure.

Then my reverie was broken by Rodrigo. He suddenly appeared behind Marie, pushing her forwards onto me. "Oh Rodrigo, so forceful!" she teased, but she spoke too soon. He held a small flask of olive oil in one hand, and before the girl could protest, was applying it to her rear entrance. She squealed, but he simply held her down, bent forward over my body, and she then squealed louder as he pressed his cock into her tight ring. "Rodrigo, no! I'm full of Don Carlos! I cannot – Ah! Ah! AHHHH!"

I confess, it is a strange sensation to feel another man's cock moving inside a woman you are fucking. Only the thin membrane between her two holes separated Rodrigo's member from mine, and for me the sensations were strange. For Marie, the sensations seemed overpowering. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, her body pressed down onto mine, her head thrown back, and from her throat came a thin, keening sound – like a choked-off scream.

Rodrigo seemed unmoved by Marie's reaction. While I held still, cradling the skinny girl in my arms, Rodrigo pressed still deeper into her arse, moving his hand around to cup her mound and stroke her clitoris, brushing my fingers aside, so that I transferred my attention to her tiny breasts. He then began the sort of thrusting I would be loathe to attempt in a girl's vagina. Marie's eyes screwed up and I saw tears well at the corners, but Rodrigo seemed not to care. "Do you like this, you little whore? Two cocks in you – is that enough, or should we find a passing boatman so you can suck his at the same time?"

"Rodrigo! Please, be gentle with the girl. You are hurting her!" I protested.

"Nonsense, Carlos, she likes it hard up the arse, don't you my pretty?" Marie seemed unable to speak, simply making little whimpering noises. "Come on Carlos. You're not really fucking her, and she keeps talking about that big cock of yours. If you can't thrust from that angle, move her up and down. She's as light as a feather."

He embedded himself balls-deep in her rear, then used his body to push her up and along my shaft. Marie gasped but still said nothing. Then, when she had travelled most of my length, Rodrigo dragged her back, re-filling her tight quim with me, before withdrawing his own shaft.

"Here, Carlos, help me. Keep up the movement. Slide her back and forth."

"Marie, dearest. I can't see you hurt," I said softly to her. "Say the word and we'll stop.

"Please!" It was the tiniest whisper. "Please, no. Please, don't..."

"It's alright Marie. If we move you slowly, I can pull out of you, and then..."

"No, monsieur. Please – please, don't stop. I am – so near!" Her words were almost pleading, and she gripped my shoulders hard. "Please – do as – as Rodrigo says!"

I confess I was astonished, but I complied nonetheless, and between us Rodrigo and I slid Marie up and down my cock, and Rodrigo plunged in and out of her little arse. And about a minute later, I was aware of a stream of hot fluid gushing over my loins, her climax so strong that, as once before, she was drenching me in her fluids. Marie was squealing breathlessly, and I could feel her unbelievably tight hole squeezing me mercilessly. Rodrigo let go his stream of semen into her tight arse with a hoarse cry, and the two of them collapsed onto me, both panting furiously.

"Off me, now, I beg you," I gasped, "or I will spend inside you!" The sensations were unbearable – I had to take my climax immediately.

"Don Carlos – fill me with your seed. Don't hold back, I pray!" Marie sighed, to my astonishment and delight. Seconds later I did as she said, and my climax inside her was one of the strongest I have ever experienced.

The three of us lay in a heap, exhausted, sated. Marie kissed me, almost like the sweet kiss she gave me on that first night. Then she turned to Rodrigo, who leaned over her shoulder and kissed her more passionately. "I love you, my Rodrigo. You are such a bold lover!"

"And I adore you, my Marie. I trust that pleased you?"

"Oh Rodrigo, it was so – exquisite. And Don Carlos, thank you so much. I so needed to feel that big, big cock of yours once more. Maman has monopolised it for too long!"

"Perhaps, but now I see you are putting it to good use, ma petite." I looked around and saw Eleanor lying on one elbow, observing us. Her face betrayed what I felt was more than a little annoyance.

"So, you two rogues. You've violated my daughter in the most unspeakable manner. And you, Carlos. You pledge me undying devotion, and then you stick your cock into Marie at the first opportunity. What do you have to say?"

"Maman! Please do not chide Don Carlos for this. I made him do it. I was in such need ..."

"Marie, I can see that your physical prowess would enable you to overpower such a puny specimen as Don Carlos." The sarcasm in Eleanor's voice was palpable. "I found your performance today quite extraordinary. To imagine that a daughter of mine would allow herself to be used, to be filled in such a brutal manner, frankly surprises me. How could you?" She sounded angry and hurt.

"Maman, I wanted it! I love it when Rodrigo takes me up the arse, and when he is strong and powerful – well, it feels even better. I have tried putting my fingers, even a courgette inside my quim as he sodomises me, and it makes my climaxes even stronger. I needed to try it with something even bigger, and Don Carlos's manhood is the largest thing I believe my quim can take. Maman, it felt so exquisite it seemed that I was with the angels!"

"With these two horny demons poking your fire with their rods? It seems unlikely, my pretty. And you two – what do you have to say for yourselves?"

There was no point in bluster or excuse. Marie was still impaled on our softening members and semen was leaking all over us. I was drenched in Marie's juices and we probably stank of sex. "Eleanor, my dear. What can I say? You are my most precious one, but I started my relationship with you when you offered me your daughter's quim for five francs. As you know, I accepted your offer and enjoyed the experience immensely, since when my cock has been yours and yours alone. But Marie has tasted its effects, and whilst I know Rodrigo is a proficient lover, I do not blame the girl for seeking to repeat her earlier experience. But I beg you to excuse my weakness. You yourself introduced me to her sweet tightness and her delicate little body. Now that she has experienced much – and Rodrigo has tutored her well – she is the most delightful of bedfellows; second only to you my dear."

"Flattering rogue! Well clearly I can see that my sweet daughter has been corrupted irreversibly. Rodrigo, you have much to answer for."

"Madame Eleanor, it is not I alone who must bear the blame – and indeed the credit – for that. You forget that she first experienced the joy of the rear entrance by emulating her maman. I cannot be blamed if the little minx – I believe your own words when you first tried to sell her to us – has become not only an eager pupil but also an insatiable enculeuse. I claim the credit for showing her this delight, since my organ is less proud and less intimidating than Don Carlos's mighty tool and is therefore more easily a giver of pleasure, rather than of pain. But my dearest madame, from the sounds I hear through the wall at night, it seems that you also enjoy accommodating my master – and yours – both front and rear, so please do not deny Marie and I our use of such pleasures."

To my surprise, Eleanor smiled. "Rodrigo, I cast no blame, nor am I truly angry with any of you. Whilst I am perhaps a little jealous of Don Carlos for putting his rod once more inside my daughter, despite our closer relationship," and here she shot me a warning glance, "I believe that this small damage is easily remedied. Perhaps the goose should have the same sauce as the gander, n'est-ce pas? Rodrigo, you are a fine, strong young man, and unlike my daughter, I have never experienced your services as a lover. I suggest that the three of you clean yourselves in the river, and then you show me your skills. Don Carlos, you may observe, and only join us if I request it, do you understand?"

I smiled with some relief. So Eleanor's jealousy could be assuaged by allowing Rodrigo to fuck her. All was well, since I would not deny either of them. Perhaps I could return to one or other of Marie's tight holes when my friend and my regular lover were suitably occupied.

We three separated gingerly from each other, and then waded into the cool water to cleanse our bodies, and Eleanor joined us. We splashed each other playfully, but with none of my scented oils, our toilet was a little less scrupulous than usual.

We climbed out of the cool water and our bodies soon dried, partially because of the heat of the day, and partly because we were soon locked in a four-way embrace. Rodrigo and Eleanor had begun kissing and caressing whilst still in the water, Eleanor casting glances in my direction to look for signs of jealousy. I gave her none, since she deserved to sample whatever pleasures she desired from my friend, and I had no fear that he would steal my woman – nor I his. As those two continued their fondling and kissing on the blanket by the water's edge, I slid in behind Eleanor, nuzzling her neck and reaching round to cup and stroke her breasts. Marie slid alongside me, dividing her attentions between both of we men, touching and stroking Rodrigo's skin, whilst surreptitiously caressing my hardening shaft.

Rodrigo's organ, meanwhile, was being tended to very effectively by Eleanor, first with her hands, then between her full breasts – a feat of which sweet Marie was not capable – and finally in her warm mouth. Rodrigo's face was a picture of delicious torment as he experienced for the first time the touch of those lips and that tongue which had so often driven me to wild climax. Eleanor is an accomplished mouth-artiste, as Rodrigo was rapidly discovering, and I was afraid she would coax him beyond his limit as she had with me on more than one occasion, especially as she seemed capable of devouring much more of Rodrigo's length than she could manage with mine.

But this was not to be, as after a long and very deep suck on my companion's rigid cock, which made him cry out, she slowly pulled back, and allowed the throbbing organ to stand erect before her face. She looked up at its owner and smiled. "Now – eat my quim, Rodrigo. Show me how skilled you are with your silver tongue. And then, when I'm ready, I want you to fuck me, Rodrigo."

She glanced at me to see what effect her words were having, but I just smiled and kissed her, continuing to stroke her luscious breasts. Marie, the sweet little whore, had been lying on her belly, sucking the head of my shaft as I knelt behind Eleanor. She now rapidly changed position, perhaps so as not to arouse her maman's suspicions that she was once again exploring parts she should not.

I moved aside and slowly lowered Eleanor onto the blanket, but continued to caress her breasts as Rodrigo sank between her thighs. With gentle lapping stokes at first, gradually increasing intensity, he made my Eleanor's slit glisten and begin to flood with moisture. Then, with great care, he used that moisture to ease the passage of his fingers into her dripping quim and her tight rosebud hole. First a finger in each, then slowly introducing more, his 'come-hither' movements with two fingers in her sweet cunt arousing her inexorably upwards. Meanwhile, his thrusts with two and then three fingers at her rear were met first with squeals of protest, and then with moans of pleasure.




Carcasonne Ch. 06



Satisfied that he had achieved optimum wetness, Rodrigo rose up onto his knees. "Madame, if you are ready?"

"Oh yes, Rodrigo, I am ready for your cock." She glanced up again at me. Was she goading me or asking my permission? It mattered little. I approved of what they were about to do; how could I not?

I smiled back at them both. Eleanor lay back and spread her legs wide, reaching for Rodrigo as he slid between her thighs, lowering his shaft into her open slit. Eleanor let out a little moan of approval as Rodrigo's cock ploughed that sweet, wet furrow, before swinging his slim hips back and in a single, fluid motion, penetrating my woman to the hilt.

Eleanor cried out, throwing her head back, her eyes closed and her mouth open. Rodrigo began the rocking, thrusting movements that I knew Eleanor enjoyed so much.

"Oh Eleanor. It seems Carlos has not over-stretched your sweet quim. You fit snugly around me – almost as tight as your daughter."

"Mmmm, Rodrigo," Eleanor replied, "What you lack in girth you make up for in performance. Your rod feels good inside me. You use it well."

She lifted up from the blanket and kissed Rodrigo passionately. He responded in kind, and their long dark hair mingled, obscuring their faces as Rodrigo's hard buttocks continued their rhythmic thrusting between my Eleanor's thighs. She raised her legs and rode him, hooking her heels high onto his buttocks as I knew she loved to do with me, opening herself wide and taking all that her lover had to offer.

With their bodies pressed close, I had withdrawn my hands from Eleanor's breasts, and Marie and I simply sat, embracing, as Rodrigo and Eleanor performed for us. All the while, Marie was stroking my rod almost absently, as if she wished to remind herself of the size of the organ that had so recently filled her. For my part, I idly slid a hand beneath her, teasing her nether lips and probing her somewhat-slackened but still very wet quim, attention she seemed to appreciate.

Then Eleanor pushed Rodrigo's body away from her. "Rodrigo," she said, somewhat breathlessly. "I seek another service from you now. Withdraw from me for a moment and sit up."

Rodrigo did as she requested, and Eleanor straightaway rose to her knees, found the oil flask and applied some to her rosebud and to Rodrigo's shaft. Then she turned her back on her erstwhile lover and straddled him, so that his shaft bobbed between her legs. She stroked it across her slit, closing her eyes in momentary pleasure as it stimulated her clitoris, before rising up and then pressing down. Rodrigo's cock pressed at her stubborn ring, causing Eleanor to gasp, but she persevered, and Marie and I watched, fascinated, as the head first opened, and then was swallowed by, that tight orifice.

Rodrigo groaned loudly, and Eleanor let out a little cry. Then she began a slow, bobbing motion that moved the hard rod a fraction at a time deep into her bowels. She had once tried this position with me, and found it difficult without the muscles of my loins to force the monster into its narrow cave. Rodrigo's more modest dimensions proved more suited to the task.

Finally Eleanor came to rest on Rodrigo's thighs, all of his hard rod inside her tight tunnel. She rested briefly, then began to slide up and down.

A smile spread across her lovely face. "Mmmm, Rodrigo. 'Tis more comfortable to feel something a little more modest than Don Carlos's monster probing my bowels. Pray caress my slit."

Soon the smile on her face turned to an expression of rapture, eyes closed, mouth open, emitting a soft moan each time she bounced, ever more enthusiastically, on the spike that impaled her, and Rodrigo's deft fingers showed her the pleasure she craved. I once witnessed the boy bring a maid to climax in barely three minutes as she stood looking over a balcony, Rodrigo lifting her skirts behind and ministering to her virgin cleft with those same fingers. Eleanor clearly appreciated this skill now.

But, it seemed, it was not enough. Still dancing on the exquisite spike she had taken into her hot depths, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at me. "Carlos, my love," she gasped. "Come to me – now. Let me feel – what Marie felt. I must know – how it feels – to have two – two cocks – within me."

I confess it was a difficult manoeuvre. Rodrigo closed his legs, and I straddled them. Eleanor stopped her bobbing and opened her legs wide. Her quim was overflowing with juices, and it was well used to my invasions and usually stretched readily, but today, with her other hole filled, she seemed much tighter. She winced at my first attempts at entrance, and I withdrew. However, she protested, insisting I press on and in. So I returned to my appointed task. As I increased the pressure, slowly forcing my cock into her wet hole, she cried out in apparent anguish and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh my God, oh my God!" she gasped in a thin little voice.

"What now, my love?" I asked in trepidation. I will force myself on and into a woman only if it is her clear desire and mutual pleasure is the ultimate goal.

"Please, Carlos my sweet, press on slowly, as gently as you are able my lord. I will have this thing, even though I now feel as if my loins are being rent asunder!"

"My love, I would not cause you pain for any reason," I said, gentling her brow and stroking her hair. "If this is torment to you then I must withdraw."

"No, Carlos, you must not. Proceed, I beg you. I saw the rapture of Marie in my position. The girl is smaller than me, so I will not be gainsaid. If I must pass through briars to reach the fields of clover, then I can bear that. Press on, my love." She leaned back a little, looked at me with her big, dark, tearful eyes, brushed back my hair and kissed me so tenderly. She then slid her hands down my back to my waist, and tried to pull me forward. I relented, and resumed pushing.

The next few moments were a trial for me. Physically, the unaccustomed tightness of my dear Eleanor's sweet cunt was delicious. The sensations were like invading little Marie, only more so. But the clear pain and discomfort she was feeling made my pleasure a secondary thing. All I could feel was tenderness towards this beautiful woman, as for what seemed like hours I edged delicately into her.

And then I was home. Our bodies were pressed together, Eleanor helpless, legs spread wide, doubly impaled, face and body coated with perspiration, smiling with her eyes full of tears as she sat, gripped tightly between two men. Once again, she embraced me and kissed me passionately. Then she half-turned to Rodrigo to share a kiss with him.

"Gentlemen," she said eventually in a slightly choked voice. "You have sheathed your blades snugly within my body. What would you of me now?"

"If you are ready, my love, let us try a little movement."

With that, I lifted her a little from her seat, allowing her to ride up Rodrigo's cock about a hand's breadth, before returning her. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. I then slowly withdrew a fraction of my own length and returned it. She looked at me, still a little apprehensive, and merely nodded.

We repeated the exercise, this time with a slightly longer journey on both shafts. With further approval from Eleanor, we began a rocking motion that soon had each organ sliding out and then back in through most of its length. Rodrigo's fingers had returned to Eleanor's slit, and the thick, choked, tearful sobs of my difficult entry were soon replaced in her throat by sharp cries of pleasure.

But the movements were tiring for me, and so I had one further, wild idea that could perhaps bring us all to greater pleasure. I halted our thrusts for a moment, had Eleanor wrap her arms and legs around me, and with some effort took her weight while Rodrigo changed position. This elicited more gasps from Eleanor as our cocks moved at strange angles. Then, at my word, Rodrigo and I stood up.

Eleanor squealed loudly. I held her firmly in my arms until Rodrigo and I were steady on our feet, then let her slowly fall back to a position of maximum penetration. Her face was a picture of astonished sexual torment. Her hair was wet and stuck to her face, her big eyes were like saucers and her mouth open in a silent cry. For then, again at my signal, Rodrigo and I lifted Eleanor up, until Rodrigo signalled that he was about to slip out. Then we lowered her down.

Eleanor's cry was wondrous to hear – wanton and distressed at the same time, as two cocks penetrated her simultaneously, stretching both holes in one wild and tantalizing descent onto our twin spikes. We raised and lowered her again and again, and she almost sobbed with the intensity of the sensations.

I called to Marie, who stood spellbound at our side, watching her maman's sweet torture. "Slide your hand between us, Marie. Stroke your maman's slit as you would your own."

The girl was clearly a little surprised at the request, but complied. Rodrigo and I both had our hands full with sliding Eleanor up and down, so Marie's ministrations were essential to take her maman where she needed to go.

Surprisingly, it was Rodrigo who first lost control. "Merde!" he cried, as I felt his body stiffen, and then the pulsing of his rod through the soft, so-stretched membranes of Eleanor's loins as he emptied his seed into her bowels. But this, plus Marie's caresses and my increasingly forceful thrusts seemed to be the trigger for Eleanor. Her cries had become more shrill, rising in pitch, volume and urgency. As the throbbing of Rodrigo's cock in her anus began to subside, I heard her reach a peak, and her scream was both thrilling and terrifying. The fierce contractions of her sweet vagina around my rod told me all I needed to know of the reason for the cry, and I rejoiced in it. My only fear was that some passing traveller might mistake it for a scream of distress and come to investigate.

I waited as long as I dared before pulling back to spend my seed, but Eleanor, to my surprise and dismay, would have none of it. She simply embraced me fiercely, herself rising in the saddle and then driving her own body downwards with some energy. Rodrigo cried out in pain, his senses overloaded by the almost brutal embrace of Eleanor's clutching anus. As for me, I had no recourse but to burst my seed into my darling's womb.

We four stood locked, almost like some strange tableau from a sculptor's studio. Eleanor, slumped between our bodies, now moved only to breathe raggedly. Rodrigo and I flopped our heads onto Eleanor's shoulders and panted in our exhaustion. Only Marie retained her composure, her hand still trapped between our bodies. Slowly, gingerly, we separated. First Rodrigo from Eleanor's nether hole, followed by a stream of warm milky fluid. Marie withdrew her hand, and I bent my knees, allowing Eleanor to place her feet upon the ground. Slowly, delicately, I withdrew, knowing that even semi-hard, my member could cause pain if pulled too rapidly from a vagina that was, like as not, somewhat sore. Another thick dribble of milky fluid followed.

Eleanor was a little unsteady on her feet, and I helped her carefully into the cooling waters of the river to wash away our mutual secretions. "Why would you not allow me to withdraw, my sweet?" I asked as I lovingly ladled water over her sweat-beaded skin with my cupped hands.

"Carlos, I would like your child. I love you, my dearest, and nothing would please me more than to bear you a fine son or daughter, if I am able. When I saw Marie take your seed as she did, I knew that now was the time."

"Yes my dear. I confess that I am a little concerned that I may have fathered more than one child today."

Eleanor smiled. "Do not let that concern you, Carlos. Marie confessed to me only last week that she believes she may already be with child to Rodrigo. It seems that he has made liberal use of both entrances, and she always makes him spend inside her. She, I believe, is consumed with the same desire for Rodrigo as I am for you."

We embraced so softly, standing in the shallows, our wet skin rubbing together thrillingly. "Then marry me, my love," I said at last.

Her eyes filled with tears. "It seems to me, my sweet, that I do little but bring tears to your beautiful eyes!" I said, smiling.

"Would I could weep such tears every day for the rest of my life, my love. I will gladly, most assuredly marry you Don Carlos. And I rejoice and give thanks for the wonderful day you came to my inn at Carcassonne."

Eleanor and I married three weeks later. Rodrigo was my groomsman and Marie, beginning to thicken at the waist, was Eleanor's chief bridesmaid. Two weeks later, our roles were reversed as Rodrigo married Marie.

Marie bore Rodrigo a beautiful daughter, Heloise, blonde as her mother but with her father's dark complexion. Little more than a month later, Eleanor gave me a son, little Louis, fine and strong. In the years that followed, Marie proved fecund, producing three more children, two more girls, Jeanne and little Eleanor, and the longed-for boy who they called Charles. Eleanor conceived again after another year, but lost the child, and I almost lost her in the process. Once she had recovered, we resumed our enthusiastic lovemaking, although for years, until it was clear she could not conceive again and would go through no further risk, I deposited my seed on her belly, between her luscious breasts, in her mouth or on her face, or – frequently – inside her still-tight arse.

Now our children are growing up fast. Young Louis has been courting sweet Heloise, and I believe they plan to marry in the autumn. Judging by the looks they share, and their occasional disappearances together, I suspect that she has already discovered that the boy follows after his father in certain dimensions, and the smile she has worn for some months testifies to my suspicions that she has tested the organ in question and found it more than satisfactory.

We have now established a chain of inns and hostelries along the pilgrims' route. As our fortunes grew, we bought poorly-run premises first in France and then, following the death of the Duke of Bilbao (one cannot be too careful), venturing into Spain. Typically, we would supervise the changes that were needed, hire reliable staff locally, remain on the premises for a few months until things were working well, and then simply return from time to time to inspect and take our share of the profits. It has been a good business, and has served us well.

Marie and Rodrigo are planning to move to Spain next year. I confess that, on the occasions when Rodrigo was away on business, I did reacquaint myself with my younger bedfellow's body from time to time. She stood up well to the ravages of childbirth, though her oh-so-tight little quim never recovered its shape. For that reason, she was ever eager to welcome my larger girth to satisfy that hole, since her husband still preferred the rear entrance which she granted to me on only a few occasions – unsurprisingly, as she always struggled to accommodate me there. On more than one occasion, by accident or her design, I spilled my seed within her womb. I half suspect that young Charles may be mine – ironic, really, that they named him after me.

One the whole, I have been a faithful husband, and Eleanor a faithful wife, though neither of us pries into the other's sexual doings. I know for a fact that Rodrigo has had congress with my wife on at least two occasions since we were wed, and I suspect they were intimate more frequently when I was away purchasing an inn near Nîmes, and Marie was confined with little Eleanor. If they both received pleasure, I have no reason to complain. On my travels I have, from time to time, fallen back into my old habits, and talked my way between a woman's thighs. However, I have avoided the pox and the production of bastards, and as I gave as much pleasure as I received and never ploughed those furrows again, I count it of no importance.

The only occasion when my prick led me to something more than swift gratification was long ago, in an inn in Carcassonne – may God be praised!