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Maid Marian's Missions

By: AugustMacGregor



Part 1. Diplomacy

The feast could have fed all of Nottingham, but these royal pigs did not care one fig. They sloppily ate with nary a charitable thought—or even manners. This royal pig gnawed venison. That royal pig slurped wine. Yet another picked his teeth with a swan's bones.

Marian looked at the pigs sitting around the castle's banquet hall, and her stomach twisted with revulsion. These people were dressed in the finest cloths, but they were still pigs underneath that finery. The sweet lute music could not drown out their noisy eating. Nor could the juggler with his red balls distract her from the vile orgy of consumption.

What if villagers were here instead of these pigs? Marian wondered. Easy to imagine the good people of Nottingham in a long line leading to the banquet table. Each peasant could pluck a few morsels of food then move along, so the next fellow could also enjoy some. They would take just enough. That's all. Not like these pigs. The line of townsfolk would stretch through the doorway, wind through the entire castle, and out to the village. The abundance of meats, cheeses, pastries, and breads could surely have fed all of them.

"Why, Marian, you've hardly touched your meal!"

The booming voice cracked her vision like greasy hands cracking a vulture's bone. No question where the voice came from. The head pig sat only a few seats away. Prince John, with his merry eyes and neatly trimmed beard on chubby cheeks. Bedecked in more finery than anyone else. More than any maid that Marian had ever seen, in fact. Disgust gurgled in Marian's stomach. Yet again.

"My thoughts are full of other interests," Marian said. "Could we discuss your taxes now?"

"Marian, does this look like a good time for business?" He waved his hand over the table burdened with sumptuous foodstuffs.

Laughs were expelled by the other piggies.

"Wait 'til after we sup." John said. "Business is unhealthy for digestion. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Here, here," the piggies murmured.

"I suppose it can wait," she replied.

Sighing, she reminded herself to be patient. An ambassador for the meek and poor had to be patient. The townsfolk depended on her. Even if Robin thought she was on a fool's errand. He had given up on diplomacy long ago. 

Two quick claps and the lute stopped playing. Serving boys brought wooden platters piled with tarts, custards, and cakes. Greasy fingers dove into the sugary excess.

They look delectable, Marian thought. Wait. Hold yourself. You should stay hungry. Just as many villagers do. And all because of this pig's taxes.

A man dressed in garish garments approached the head table. He bowed and said, "Sire, we have a new play written expressly for your pleasure."

"For our pleasure?" Prince Pig replied. Again his voice boomed. "Then we hope to be pleased! If not... how are your skills at emptying chamber pots?"

The actor's face paled. "I would rather not find out, m'lord."

"Then go! Play for us."

The actor scurried away. Another man holding leafy branches walked to the middle of the hall. He raised his branches so that he resembled a tree.

Better than watching pigs eat. Marian picked up a tart and was pleased on how delicious the cherries inside tasted.

Two actors, dressed as hunters, appeared. Their bows held arrows tipped with soft-looking balls. The hunters seemed to be sneaking up on something as they approached the fake tree. The tree man tickled his leaves on the head of a hunter. 

"Oh!" cried the hunter. "What was that? Evil spirits?"

"Nonsense," said the second hunter. "Don't be a child."

Again the tree man tickled the worried actor, and he squealed. Chuckles scattered from the audience.

"Would you calm down? We'll never catch turkeys with you screaming."

This time, the tree man shook his leaves on both hunters, who squealed louder in mock fright. The pigs roared with laughter at the actors scampering around.

Finally, a hush returned as the hunters stopped. One hunter said, "'Twas only the wind. Crimey. Look." He pointed across the hall, where another actor stood wearing a hood with deer antlers.

Suddenly, a man tiptoed to the center of the hall. Right between the hunters and their prey, the pretend deer. This new man was dressed in green and a feathered cap. He aimed his bow and arrow at the deer.

"'Tis Robin Hood," whispered the first hunter. "A better catch than a turkey."

The two hunters shot their arrows. Both hit the fake Robin with their tips of soft balls. He theatrically fell over.

"Oh," pretend Robin croaked. "I die. Alone, I die!"

The pigs cheered, especially Prince John.

Marian couldn't believe her eyes or ears. Preposterous! She nearly yelled a protest, then bit her lip. Stay your tongue. How can you persuade the prince if you anger him? If only Richard sat in that chair. He wouldn't allow this nonsense. Not him. He has more kindness than all these pigs put together. Lion hearted and kind hearted.

The actors bowed and departed. A bumbling jester took over the entertainment. But his antics were lost on Marian. She was worried about Robin's safety. How long until Robin was caught and thrown in a dungeon? Or worse, shot with an arrow? Or hanged? These pigs would clap just as hard at Robin's hanging. The cherry tart lost its flavor.

I could save him. Persuade the prince to reduce taxes. Robin won't steal any more. He won't be in danger.

"Dear Marian," a voice said. A hand rested on her shoulder.

Prince John was above her. His eyes danced with mirth. "We shall listen to your business now. Come, follow us."

With Marian by the prince's side, they wound through the castle's halls. Prince John yammered on about his hunt when he killed a deer. Marian was thankful for the two lady attendants following them, so they were not alone.

The royal chambers were more lavish than she had imagined. Families could have slept on the bed under its furs made from a forest full of animals. Even more families could have warmed themselves by the fire blazing in the grand hearth.

Marian pushed away her spite to focus on her mission. "Prince John, your court is blessed with great treasure."

"Aye." He beamed.

The two attendants flanked him. By the firelight and numerous candles, Marian could see that they were quite pretty.

"Your food is plentiful," she said. "Your castle is adorned with riches."

"Aye." His prideful smile grew.

"But Nottingham's villagers live in squalor. With respect, sire, your taxes could be lessened. Then the townsfolk would not go hungry. They would be much happier. They—" 

"Peasants have humble lives," John interrupted. His beaming pride turned into a serious countenance. He nodded to the attendants, who unclasped his purple robe. "Peasants need not worry about matters of the throne."

"But they—" began Marian.

"Each is only a small part. A thread." The attendants tugged at the sleeves of John's red tunic. "Threads in our cloth. What can a thread know of the whole cloth?" The attendants pulled the tunic and undershirt over his head. "We wear the clothing. We make it work."

Marian stared at John's naked, plump torso covered in chestnut hair. "Prince, this is a peculiar way to discuss taxes." 

"Don't be naïve. Countries become tied together with the coupling of royals."

Dread sank to Marian's stomach. Goddess, help me. Coupling? Should I leave? Keep trying? Her legs seemed to resolve to stay. John's hairy legs were becoming unveiled as the kneeling attendants rolled down his stockings.

Marian remained defiant. "I did not come here for this."

"Sweet Marian. Are we not discussing your business? Tell us more of your precious peasants."

"They live in horrid conditions. Not enough to... um... eat." Logical thoughts were elusive as John's breeches were slid down.

John's manhood was bigger than Gavin's. A vision flashed in Marian's mind: tumbling in the woods with that fair lad during last year's May Day. Now, just as then, her heart thudded with rabbit speed. One attendant stood up and began to undress. The other attendant stayed by the floor and stroked the prince's manhood as it rose to full power. 

How does it feel? Marian blushed from anger, disgust, and the shame of being curious about John's secret flesh. No longer secret, though.

"God made our beautiful land, did He not?" John asked in a gentle voice.

"Um... yes."

"Our land has enough riches for all peasants to live. God deemed it so."

The standing attendant, now naked, switched places with the kneeling one and took over caressing the prince's rigid organ. The second attendant started removing her green dress.

Through it all, John continued: "How could we argue with God's plan? It is a glorious plan for all of us to live. Nay, thrive."

"Thrive?"

"Aye." He smiled at the standing attendant's bare breasts. "Thrive. It is a glorious plan." He kissed one of the attendant's nipple and suckled on it.

Twinges hardened Marian's nipples in envious reaction. Moist heat collected in her secret flesh. Her brain, though, held onto a tendril of her mission.

"Not everyone thrives," she said. 

"God's will." His tongue flicked across the nipple, causing Marian's nipple to ache for touch. "But we could—crimey."

The kneeling attendant held the crown of his manhood in her mouth. Marian's jaw dropped.

"Gwendolyn, you surprised us." John ran his fingers through her hair, looked up, and laughed. "Marian, how little you know. Watch her. She adores our royal scepter. Such a glorious mouth."

How does it taste? No, that's vile. Don't dare think it. 

"We were about to say," John began, "that perhaps the taxes could be lessened a little. If only for spring. A time of renewal, yes?"

"May Day is coming." Marian replied through her astonishment. "Two days hence. Could you proclaim it then?"

"Perhaps we could consider it," John replied.

"The villagers would love you."

"Don't they now?" John asked.

"Of course they do. They would love you even more." 

At the moment, John was certainly well loved. Cock fawned over by Gwendolyn's mouth. Caressed all over his body by the other attendant.

"Good," John said. "We welcome their love. Gwendolyn, stand up. See to Marian. Come Anne."

"Yes, m'lord," both attendants said.

John led Anne to the huge bed, and she lay upon it. With her parted legs, she knew what he wanted. The royal scepter impaled her. Anne moaned with obvious pleasure.

Marian gasped. One shock had followed another, and the line was not about to end. Gwen laid her hand on Marian's shoulder, then slid it down to her chest. Her heart was now a rabbit running as fast as it could.

"May I remove your dress, m'lady?" Gwen asked.

Dumbstruck, Marian stared at her. Gwen's smile was kind, compassionate. She understands. She's done this before. John's hairy backside pushed against Anne. Marian mentally switched places with her. For what? Lower taxes?

Gwen's fingers lightly rested on Marian's cheek. Up close, she was very pretty. Gwen kissed her lips. Soft and delicate. Exhilarating. Gwen took Marian's hand and carried it to her own breast. Warm skin with the hard nub of a nipple against Marian's palm. Reflexively, Marian rubbed and was surprised by how good it felt. So good, her other hand joined to feel both breasts.

"Your turn," Gwen whispered.

Together, they removed Marian's cream-colored dress. Being naked was a thrilling, wicked adventure. Even more thrilling were Gwen's lips as they kissed Marian's nipples. Gavin had not been this gentle in last year's May Day. That tumble in the woods was a lightning flash compared to this intoxicating breeze.

The breeze carried Marian to the bed, where she lay next to Anne—who was still being humped. With each of John's thrusts, the bed and Anne's breasts shook. Deep in pleasure, her face looked lovely. Her moans were music. Harsher were John's grunts. He stood next to the bed and towered above them. Firelight glowing around him gave the appearance of the God at Beltane. The God to celebrate the land's fertility at the start of the growing season. The God to spread his seed.

The bed's shaking stopped. John turned. Gwen tasted the royal cock. Anne rolled over and smiled at Marian while gliding her fingers over Marian's bare stomach and breasts. As tender and adoring as Gwen's touch. 

"Enough," John said.

Gwen stood. Anne slid Marian's legs apart.

No, no, thought Marian. It's not right. Not him. Not him. Her breath was quick. Her heartbeat quicker. Rabbit quick, like with Gavin, back in the forest, with the exhilaration of his skin, his touch on her body, his warm flesh inside her, filling her like nothing had ever done before, first with pain, but then with pleasure. I want it. I want his cock. I want to feel it. Feel it inside. Like Gavin's. But bigger. Yes, bigger. I want it. I want this bigger inside me.

Marian watched, wide-eyed, as John came closer and sunk his hot member into her. Proof he was bigger than Gavin. More comfortable, though, than that first time. John gripped her hips. His grunting and the trembling bed began anew. Gwen was behind John with her arms wrapped around him so she could massage his chest and stomach. Adoration of the Beltane God. Anne resumed caressing Marian.

"You were no virgin," John proclaimed while heaving. His eyes carried mischievous delight as if this discovery amused him.

Marian shook her head. She didn't care if he was amused or disappointed by not being the one to deflower her. Thankfully, that honor was not his.

"We are surprised," he said. "Was it Robin Hood?" A sneer was added. His piggish quality from supper returned.

"No," she replied firmly. 

"Good. Who was it?"

She returned his gaze with silent defiance.

"Little John? Will Scarlet? Which of the Merry Men made merry with you?"

Denying him the answer felt empowering. Just as accepting his meat in her clenched pussy. He was not the only one taking pleasure.

John's laugh sounded cruel. "No matter. They are not here now."

Someone pounding on the door jolted all of them. "Sire, sire!" A voice called from the other side.

"What is it?" John yelled.

"Intruders, sire!"

"What?" John turned. His cock rudely yanked out of Marian. He knocked against Gwen. 

"Intruders in the castle, m'lord."

"Enter," commanded the prince.

A guard wearing a chain mail vest entered the room and was struck by the sight of his erect prince with three naked women. Fodder for stories he would whisper for some time to come.

"Speak," Prince John demanded.

First the guard bowed. "Some of the Merry Men were disguised and got into the castle. I know not how many. Perhaps your highness should stay here. My men will protect the door."

"Nonsense. We will not cower. We will deal with these fools. Get our sword and vest ready." As the guard scurried off, Prince John turned to the women. He ordered them one by one with the swiftness of a nimble monarch asserting his power. To Gwen: "Finish me." To Anne: "Fetch my clothes." To Marian: "Stay put."

Gwen and Anne scrambled to follow his orders. Marian watched in amazement as Gwen suckled John to a roaring victory. Marian wondered what happened to the wetness the cock gave. A year ago, Gavin's cock had given Marian wetness when he had howled in pleasure. Did John's issue go into Gwen's mouth? Gwen still swallowed the prince's cock as Anne slipped the prince's tunic over his head. Then Gwen released the sword of flesh. It was softer. Gwen and Anne together put on John's breeches and stockings. Then John rushed off. Playing time was over. All three women hurried to put their clothes back on. As Marian made for the exit, the attendants warned her not to go.

"It's safer in here," Gwen said.

That wasn't clear to Marian. Not with the prince returning to finish their business. His way of doing business. But that might be desirable, considering the emptiness she felt in her womanhood after his abrupt departure.

Suddenly, a servant woman in a hood appeared in the doorway. She quickly surveyed the room and stopped her gaze on Marian. "Come with me," she said in a gruff voice.

Marian instantly recognized what she considered to be Robin's most ingenious disguise. "Bolt the door behind us," she said to Gwen and Anne, then ran to Robin's side and was gone.

The hallway was a hive of activity. Excited faces lit by candles and torches dashed by Robin and Marian as they ran. Someone shouted "Fighting in the great hall!" No one stopped to inquire of their identity. They were simply accepted as members of the castle.

They sped up stairs and around corners. Somehow, Robin knew where he was going. Marian was about to ask of his destination when they burst to the rooftop and into the balmy night. The fresh air tasted delicious. Like freedom. 

"Halt! You there. Name yourselves." A guard drew a short sword and approached them from further along the wall. Left behind at his station were a bow and quiver of arrows.

"Attendants to the prince," Marian lied. "We wanted to get away from the intruders."

Closer in, the guard eyed them suspiciously. While Marian could get away with the lie, Robin appeared more suspect. The prince's attendants were far prettier than he.

"I've never seen you before," the guard said. "What's your name?" He glared at Robin.

"Justice," Robin replied without trying to make his voice sound feminine.

Quizzical was the guard's face before it was hit by Robin's fist. The guard staggered back, then Robin's kick to his chest knocked him down. His head hit the stone floor with an nasty thud.

"Is he dead?" wide-eyed Marian asked.

"No. Look at his chest. He's breathing. I've learned to be careful around you." 

From inside his dress, Robin took out a metal black thing with four spikes. When he pulled the spikes apart, it looked like a menacing claw.

"Don't hurt him," Marian said.

Robin smirked. "Should I sing him a lullaby?"

Again, Robin produced something from his dress like a magician. A rope that was wrapped around his waist many times as if it were a belt. He attached one end of the rope to the black claw, secured the claw against an archer's slit in the castle wall, and threw the rope over the wall. As Marian peered over the battlement, her stomach flipped. The rope dangling against the sheer wall seemed too fragile.

"You mean climb down?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"You'd rather go back to the prince's room?"

She glared back. Part of her wanted to, though. She dared not utter this. Part of her wanted that feeling again, that feeling of a warm cock inside her.

"Didn't think so." Robin stole the guard's sheath, sword, and quiver of arrows. He attached all of it firmly across his back. "Never can have too many of these. Now. I'll go first. Watch how I do it. Hand over hand. Feet against the wall. Walking backwards, really. Nothing to it."

"Only if I fall, I die." Marian's turn to smirk.

"No, you'll hit me and we'll fall together. Then you'll land on me. So I'll die. Don't worry."

He gave her his famous devilish grin before stepping over the battlement and descending on the rope. While Marian watched his technique, she murmured a quick prayer. For him and her. Then she took a deep breath and joined him. Heart pounding, she concentrated on her hands and legs as Robin's instructions repeated in her head. Hand over hand. Feet against the wall. 

After an eternity, she heard Robin whisper, "Almost there. Look down."

Easy to let her feet slide down so her body could drop the short distance to the ground. Looking back up the wall, Marian was astonished at herself. But there wasn't time to just stand there and appreciate her accomplishment. Danger was imminent. 


Maid Marian's Missions



Robin flicked the rope several times, then yanked her to the wall. A whizzing sound as more and more of the rope fell and landed. Then the black claw sank into he ground where they were standing. Quick as a fox, Robin twirled the rope about his waist and packed the black claw.

Into the night they ran. Only a few villagers were out. They curiously watched the two fugitives speed through the narrow streets. Houses gave way to fields, which gave way to woods. Finally, they stopped to rest. Being surrounded by trees made Marian feel safer. As if the branches could ward off pursuers. Better than that, there was safety in being well hidden.

"Running is much harder in a dress," panting Robin said

Marian couldn't help but laugh at him—heavily armed, stout, dressed as a homely woman. The laughter was a relief, taking off some of the edge from her fright of being pursued.

"Let's keep going," she said. "We can walk."

As they made their way deeper into the forest, Robin asked about her meeting with Prince John. He's suspicious, Marian thought. With good reason. I was in John's room. But clothed. Thankfully. What if he found me when John was inside me? Her worried mind found that her womanhood missed the warmth of being filled.

She gave her best explanation: "The great hall was too rambunctious, so we... retired to a quieter room. John said perhaps he will lower taxes for spring."

"Perhaps?" Robin spat the word.

"Yes. Nothing definite. But promising."

"Ha. I'll believe it when I see that bastard sheriff stop knocking on doors and demanding money. I'll believe it when people get to keep more of their hard-earned money."

"But my visit was valuable," Marian protested. "We have to try diplomacy."

"I'll believe that when I see it working."

Marian fell silent. They had argued diplomacy against thievery enough to know neither would yield.

Soon, Robin stopped walking and said, "Here is one of my hideaways. You should stay the night here. Perhaps even for a few days. Prince John's men might be hunting you. Home would not be safe."

Marian nodded. All she could see was a clump of large bushes in front of a large oak tree. Then Robin led her through a concealed slit into a cozy den. A floor of leaves. A roof of tightly woven branches. A folded blanket for comfort.

"I need to go back," Robin said, "and make sure the Merry Men are not in danger. They created the distraction at the castle to let us escape. I must see if they need my help."

"Be safe," Marian said, and Robin was off.

Sitting against the oak tree was restful, but her mind could not settle down from the evening's excitement. Not with images and sensations of the activities popping up. Gwen's lips on her nipples. Anne's hand stroking her stomach and breasts. John above her. She could not deny it: Her womanhood missed John's cock. If only Robin could have stayed. They could have completed the passionate act. If only Gwen and Anne were here. Their touch would have been better than nothing.

Too many if onlys. She would fend for herself. Her fingers timidly traveled under her dress to find her vagina. Still moist. Touching it felt wonderful. Embarrassment crept into her mind, but she shut it out. Nothing could stop her. Not now. Satisfaction had been pulled away with Robin's rescue. Well meant, but badly timed. Even if Robin burst through the bushy slit into the den, she would not stop caressing. No, the caresses felt too good. She conjured a ghost of Robin to make love to her. His handsome face reflected his own yearning to match hers. His muscular chest rubbed against her breasts as he thrusted his arrow inside her.

The world's flower opened between her legs and blew ecstasy through her. Muscles quivered all the way to her toes and fingers and hair. She cried out, the joy was so powerful. So this was how it could be. This was what women had told her about. If you were lucky to be married to a generous lover—or tumble with one on the eve of May Day. One a bit more skilled than Gavin, who had been far too quick. Perhaps Robin was a more patient man.

She lay on the den's leafy floor and fell into a peaceful sleep.

***

Part 2. Worship

Robin was not there when Marian woke up. Plenty of birds were, and they serenaded her with a variety of sweet songs. Rustling out of the dark den, Marian entered the crisp morning light and felt energized. Pennywort and dandelion leaves made for a light breakfast.

Should I return home? She wondered as she ate. Would John really send men after me? She remembered his face, how pitiless it looked when he described peasants as thread in his cloth. What am I to him? A thread, too? Then he wouldn't care enough. He wanted to bed me. That's all. Then she remembered his face when he was inside her, looking mischievous as he tried to guess her first lover's identity.

Sticks breaking grabbed her attention like a doe alerted by an approaching hunter. Someone—or a large animal—was coming. Marian slipped back into Robin's hideaway as quietly as she could. Her mind tried to calm her thudding heart with the reminder that only Robin knew she was here. If it was a hunter, he would simply pass by.

"Marian," a voice softly called, and she was relieved that it belonged to Robin.

He looked exhausted. As they munched on the dark rye bread he brought, Robin told her that he did not sleep a wink last night. Too busy making sure all of the Merry Men were accounted for. Two did not arrive at their rendezvous point. Unfortunately, they were taken prisoner by Prince John's guards.

"Then I must see John," Marian said. "I must ask him for their release." Maybe we could continue where we left off? No, no, stop that. Just talk to him.

"He'll never grant you that."

"It's worth a try."

"He might take you prisoner. Besides, we're working on a plan to free them. The prison is not as secure as Prince John thinks."

Marian had to admit that Robin had a point. John was certainly capable of locking her up. The thought of being in a cage made her shudder. John might not care about continuing where he left her in his chamber.

"You're much safer here," Robin said and seemed pleased as Marian nodded. "Now, how about a bath?" He was more pleased at her perplexed expression. "There's a stream not far from here. Small waterfall splashing into a pool. Perfect for bathing. What do you say?"

She wondered if he was moved by the spirit of May Day. Or perhaps he simply thought she would like to be clean. He could have used one, too.

"Not to worry," he said. "I won't join you. I'll be on the lookout for anyone coming."

Part of her wanted to say, No, please join me. We will swim and play together. Then lay together. The thought of Robin above her instead of the prince was intoxicating. He had always seemed to be more interested in other ladies, for some reason, and had never propositioned intimacy with her. Until the bath question. She tried to hide her excitement as she said, "A splendid idea."

The waterfall was larger than Marian predicted, and the pool was big enough for several people. Rocks and moss bordered the pool. All of it was so peaceful, she drew in a deep breath and felt at ease. She didn't feel shy about shedding her clothes, as Robin loudly proclaimed he was going to collect wood for a fire should she wish to wash her dress and need to dry it. His noisy search proved he was going out of his way to not spy on her. Marian had to giggle.

The pool's cold water shocked her into goosebumps and gritted teeth. Winter's chill still had a bite before spring's warmth eased it fully away. Paddling about the pool helped her adjust to the temperature, and soon she was comfortable.

The smell of fire signaled Robin's success. Marian washed her dress, lay it on a rock when finished, and called to Robin. Yawning, he appeared from the direction of the fire's smoke. With a hand in front of his eyes, he carefully approached the rock like an old blind man.

"M'lord," Marian called between laughs. "Have you forgotten May Day is tomorrow? The Beltane fires will be lit tonight."

Unsaid was the traditional coupling of villagers this night to worship the union of God and Goddess, which would bless the land's fertility. If only Robin would follow her hint. Drop his hand. See her in her natural beauty. Then his arrow would quiver, rise, and shoot straight into her target. Early celebrating could begin. Night lay too many impatient hours ahead.

Robin hesitated. "M'lady, I fear the Goddess in you is too bright for my eyes. I am merely your humble servant."

Too bright? Does he have someone else in mind? On Beltane, Robin was always popular with the ladies of Nottingham—and not just the unwed ones. Wedding vows were suspended for the festival.

Marian forged ahead: "Nay, not too bright. The Goddess inside me wants to rejoice. Spring is here. April showers have pierced me to the root. Come refresh yourself in the pool."

Robin bowed with a flourish, still with a hand blocking his eyes. "Apologies, m'lady. I must retire to the moss. I must sleep before I faint. Tonight can wait."

No promises. Just like John. Perhaps John will lower taxes. Perhaps Robin will lay with me tonight. Men! They're so enraging! Heart sinking, she watched him pick up her wet dress and carry it to the fire.

She told herself not to worry. This place was too tranquil for worries. Brilliant water. Bird songs mingled with the steadily coursing waterfall. Green grew as far as she could see. Soon, azaleas would bloom. Then strawberries and honeysuckle. Her mouth watered. Plump strawberries. The tiny bubble of nectar on the stamen of honeysuckle. Ever since she was a child, spring's wonders enchanted her.

The enchantment peaked with May Day. Marian remembered her mother braiding her hair before the festival to symbolize the union of God and Goddess. Then dancing around the Maypole with a flower wreath on her head. Scores of children danced with the long, colorful ribbons for hours. Happiness frolicked in the air.

Snoring now frolicked. Light snoring of someone just entering a deep sleep.

Poor, tired Robin. That's why he didn't come in the pool. Marian sighed. Simple were the pleasures of children. Adulthood brought heavier concerns than a child ever had to contend with. Competition over Beltane night. Dealing with Prince John. Taxes. Whom to marry.

She told herself to relax. Her hand slid below the water and touched her womanhood. It had felt dazzling last night, so why not a return trip? And what better place than this?

She was well on her way to rapture when the sound of cracking sticks halted her hand. Just as this morning, when she was eating and heard Robin approach. But now she felt much more vulnerable. Her mind raced through places to hide. Outside of the pool seemed foolish. Behind the waterfall. A small space. Enough to fit her head so she could breathe. The rest of her body would be submerged. Not perfect, but it would have to do. She rushed to the hiding spot. The falling water became a roar when her face was directly behind it.

Robin! Oh Goddess, he's out there. He'll be caught. Please don't be a guard. Or the sheriff. The sheriff would be horrible to Robin. Please, oh please, not the sheriff.

A dark figure approached the fire and sleeping Robin. Through the rippling window of the waterfall, Marian could make out brown robes and a basket.

Friar Tuck? Could it be?

The figure moved away from Robin, and Marian could breathe again. If it were the sheriff, he would've kicked Robin and tied him up. But the figure didn't leave. He came to the pool and knelt. Perhaps to take a drink. It was hard to make out, but Marian had the eerie feeling that the figure saw her.

Does he see me? Leave, please leave.

Instead, the figure stood, removed his robes, and entered the pool. A second naked man appeared before Marian for the second day straight. The man had a pot belly; he was not as fleshy as Prince John. 

Again, Marian held her breath. The figure was wading. Right. To. Her. Staying put wasn't smart. She had to confront him. She could only hope it was Friar Tuck or another kind soul. One arm covering her breasts, she ducked under the waterfall and popped up the other side.

Friar Tuck looked like he saw a ghost. "Marian? Marian Fitzwalter?"

She nodded. "I am in an awkward position. Could you please go?"

Relief set in. "Crimey. I thought you were a fairy trapped behind the waterfall. I was about to help you out."

"No help needed. Could you please leave?"

Tuck seemed puzzled. "You are in here. Robin is up there, asleep. You two were... hunting?"

"No," Marian replied with a tinge of frustration.

"Gathering wood for the Beltane bonfires?"

"No."

"I was," Tuck said. "Gathering wood, that is. In my basket. I found only a few of the nine sacred woods."

"Then could you keep looking?"

Tuck's face turned impish. "In time. Would you mind if I swam a little? This water is lovely."

"Friar, this is embarrassing. We are without..."

Without warning, Tuck slid underwater. The maid's free hand darted to cover her womanhood. How dare he be so brazen? She strode to the edge of the pool to get out of Tuck's way. As she watched Tuck's surprisingly graceful swim, her irritation dissipated. The friar was not a mean fellow. Bawdy at times, yes. But always kind to her. You invited Robin in. You wanted him. Now Tuck. What of him? Goddess, you work in strange ways. You delivered a naked man in my hour of need.

Tuck stood up. His smile was warm, not cruel. "M'lady, I'm afraid I've worn out my welcome. Thank you for allowing me to swim."

Wordlessly, Marian relieved her arms of their protective missions. Tuck's surprised eyes stared at her breasts.

"Marian, you.... you bless me with your beauty. Such beauty. Voluptuous. Ripe."

His praise fell like rejuvenating raindrops on her skin. With growing confidence, she walked to him and kissed his lips.

"Such a lovely beauty," Tuck whispered, and Marian kissed him harder.

She took his hand. Led him out of the water. His erect manhood dripped. A hefty promise. A promise of pleasure. A promise of picking up where Prince John had rudely halted the pleasure—even though it had been mixed with swirling clouds of other emotions. This time was simpler. Friar Tuck's cock held the promise of coming home to roost and staying long enough to crow its head off. 

Tingles skipped on her nipples and pussy. Spongy moss became a bed. He was gentle as he settled on top of her.

She moaned in relief as he entered her. Her hunger began to be fulfilled. Tuck was certainly more tender than John had been with his heaving. While the prince had mighty thrusts, the friar had a fluid rhythm of gliding inside her wet den. Surprising, just like his graceful swimming. Before this, Tuck had always seemed bumbling. But he turned into a fish in the pool and a dancer between her legs. 

This was far better than her fantasy in the hiding place last night. How could Robin's ghost have felt as comforting as Tuck's real weight and warmth? And how could she have imagined a cock could plunge with such calm determination, such tender ferocity to please her? She could not have known based on experience—Gavin was frantic and John was selfish. 

Marian wanted to sing. Loud and strong. Let the entire forest know of her pleasure. But no. That would have woken up Robin. And he may not have allowed Tuck to continue. A maiden could only stomach so many interruptions. So, rather than singing, she moaned. Her soft sounds were greeted by the merry chirping of the birds.

When Tuck's hot passion burst inside her, Marian watched his blissful face with relief and jealousy. Yes, the carnal act had progressed until completion. But only for Tuck. She wished her face could mimic his bliss. His lips found hers as his spasms gradually faded.

Guilt followed her jealousy. I should be happy for him. What of mine? Do I ask for too much? Goddess, I don't want to be greedy. But it was so good last night. Marian's muscles remembered the orgasm she gave herself in Robin's den.

Tuck whispered, "I'll be right back," and rolled off of her.

He walked to where the pool narrowed into a stream so that he could cross easily by stepping on stones. When Tuck returned with his basket, Marian felt self conscious about her nakedness.

"My dress... I should put it on," she said.

"Nonsense," Tuck replied. "Picnics are much better in the nude. Mead?"

Marian was game to try a nude picnic. She accepted the bottle, and the honeyed wine was delicious. As was the bread and cheese that Tuck offered. She was ravenous. In fact, she ate more than she did during last night's feast at the castle. This food was simpler, but the company was exceptionally better this time around. And she even began to feel comfortable about being naked.

This was easily the most bizarre picnic Marian had ever experienced. Naked with Tuck on the opposite side of the stream from Robin, who's snoring had gotten louder. Even so, the picnic was not ruined. The waterfall, birds, sunlight dappled on rocks, and budding plants were too lovely to be overcome by mere snoring. 

Tuck took a drink of mead, belched, then delivered a limerick:

"All morning I searched for sacred wood,
but instead found dozing Robin Hood. 
No more shall I hunt,
for I've found a cunt
of the finest beauty in all of maidenhood."

Marian's laughter turned to shocked amazement as Tuck leaned down and kissed her pussy.

Smiling, he looked up and said, "So beautiful, it made my cock sprung. And so I shall thank thee with my tongue." 

Thank her, his tongue did. Marian stared in awe. Nothing she had lived through could compare to this. The only close experience was Prince John's attendants licking her nipples. But that tingling was a sprinkle of raindrops compared to this euphoric storm in her loins. Butterfly soft were Tuck's tongue and lips fluttering on her skin. How could something so soft incite such fiery pleasure?

Tuck took a break to drink from the mead bottle and deliver another rhyme: "I don't mean to be a braggart. Never have I tasted a tastier dessert."

Marian found a sliver of wit to ask, "Do you mean the mead... or me?"

Tuck laughed against her pussy then raised his head. "You are a peach, my dear. A juicy peach. Bursting with juices."

As if starved, he noisily slurped at her. The fiery pleasure began anew, and Marian laughed to the treetops. She was grateful for the smoothness of Tuck's cheeks and chin. How would Prince John's beard or Robin's scruffy goatee feel on her delicate skin?

Tuck paused a few more times for drinks of mead and comparisons of fruit and flowers. One: "Strawberry! You are also a strawberry. Ripe and luscious." Another: "And a cherry! A most delicious cherry." Yet another: "Honeysuckle! The sweetest nectar in the land. I shall suckle your honey."

After each brief interruption, he returned to lapping her well-adored pussy while she giggled and wiggled. The Goddess soared inside of her. When her orgasm exploded, Marian soared higher than she ever had. Beyond last night's orgasm. Nothing could stop her from singing this time. No worries or politeness or shyness. Her joy rang through the trees of Sherwood Forest and into the village of Nottingham. Perhaps even Prince John in his castle heard its echoes.

After eternity, her spirit returned to the moss, and her eyes fluttered open to see Tuck marveling at her. "Heavenly. Marian, you are an angel."

Aglow, Marian exhaled the last of her strength. "That felt like heaven." A sudden lust swooped into her. She needed that feeling of being filled again. She told Tuck as much. A pox on shyness!




Maid Marian's Missions



He seemed surprised at her burning eyes and blunt demand. But surprise didn't stop him from standing and presenting his erect member. Under Tuck's chubby belly, it looked ready to crow again. He had an odd physique. Skinny arms and legs, but a plump little belly. Odd or not, it didn't matter. What mattered was just one part of his physique. 

"Let's try another way," he said and lay down beside her.

Marian stood and tried to solve this new puzzle. His cock stared at the sky like a sapling out of pale ground. 

"'Tis the Maypole," he said with his impish look. "You dance on it, not around it." Marian was still confused, so Tuck provided more direction. "Ride me like a horse. Climb on top as you would ride a horse bareback."

That painted a clearer picture. Still, she needed Tuck's guidance to get situated with his cock's tip nestled between her moist lips. As she sank down on his cock, she cried out. His manhood filled her deeper than before. 

"Good?" Tuck grinned.

"Oh, Tuck," she sighed and gyrated her hips. 

Truly, this was a grand Maypole. Not towering to the sky like the Maypole she had danced around on past May Days. Tuck's cock had turned the fake phallus into flesh. No longer was the symbol merely a symbol. It was as real as the sun, and it stuck so far up her cunt that it felt enormous. She imagined Tuck's cock in place of the Maypole. Villagers skipped around it and gave it stripes with their ribbons. Somehow, she turned into a giantess crashing through the trees. Upon seeing her, the villagers dropped their ribbons and fled the field, leaving her alone with the immense cock. So she could sit and ride it to the moon.

"Marian?"

Robin? How did he get here? When he repeated her name, the fantasy vanished. Here. Now. On the other side of the stream. Mouth agape. Eyes as big as the wooden platters at the castle feast. Hair tousled from sleep. Marian froze. Made no effort to cover herself.

"Robin!" Tuck called. "You're awake, my good lad. Best mind the bees. They might fly into your mouth."

"By the hills of Loxley!" Robin exclaimed. "I heard yelling. Thought someone was hurt. How... Marian, how could you?"

His accusation spurred Marian's voice to arise. "You had your chance. I invited you into the pool. I wanted to celebrate Beltane with you. But you chose sleep."

"Another piece of advice," Tuck added. "Best not leave a maid yearning. She may find good Friar Tuck and be in luck for a hearty fuck."

Robin and Marian looked at Tuck in wonder. Which only made the good friar seize Marian's buttocks and heave his loins up, thumping his pole up again and again. Marian gasped and shook. Then she recovered by planting her hands on his chest and bouncing on his Maypole. 

The maid gazed over at the stunned Robin. "You will... uh... have... to wait.... uh... your turn."

Tuck laughed. Not cruel, but cheerful. A man clearly having fun. "Dear Robin, don't be angry. 'Tis only the way things fall. Such as the time I dropped you when carrying you across a stream."

Robin bounded over the stream. He rushed over to the panting couple and shed his clothes as if they were on fire. His manhood was halfway to complete stiffness. It grabbed and held Marian's attention. All those times, Marian wanted to lay with Robin. All those times, he showed more interest in other maids. He had only treated Marian as a partner in the campaign against Prince John. But not now. Now, he was completely naked. As Marian had yearned after. His lean legs. His rippling stomach. His muscular chest and arms. 

And his arrow. Straight, true, strong, beautiful. And hard. Marian immediately wanted it inside her instead of Tuck. She wanted to feel it, stroke it, worship it. Celebrate the union of God and Goddess for Beltane. See and feel him spread his seed for spring, for fertility, for her pleasure.

"That's enough," Robin demanded with glaring eyes. "Get off of him."

Still staring, Marian was speechless. It was a lot to take in.

"Ho Robin," Tuck replied. "That was only in jest."

Robin was not amused. "I bested you in swords after you tossed me into the water."

"Your memory fails you. I won that duel."

"You're welcome to another duel any time."

With his hard cock thrust forth, Marian imagined that the men could duel with their cocks. She wouldn't put it past men to do that. Their bumbling sex was competitive to the point of silliness.

"Enough!" Marian snapped. "Why must you two argue? Do you really think this is a good time to argue?"

Both men considered her. While Tuck's face was mirthful, Robin's was flushed. No question who held the more enviable position. The friar's loins had even kept moving, although they now gently rolled. Not the energetic heaving as before.

"We are all friends here," Marian said. "We don't need to fight."

Robin wasn't finished. "But he started it. With his stupid insult."

"Enough," Marian soothed and reached for his fully stiff cock.

"It was said only in jest," Tuck added. "I meant no insult. Besides. If not for meeting you that day, I would not have joined the Merry Men. I might still be at Fountains Abbey."

"True," Robin chuckled and took a step closer to Marian, who wrapped her hand around his manhood. "And what good would you have done there?" 

Robin's hardness captivated her. How could it get this hard? Up close, it was a strange thing to behold. Intriguing texture and shape. Blood lines twining around. Bumpier than the smooth stalk she had imagined a cock would be. Although the curious mushroom cap felt silky smooth.

Tuck's thrusts grew a little stronger. "I was in hot water at the abbey. Something about no respect for authority. So they said. Bunch of dried-up old men."

Robin chuckled again. "Nothing like you, eh?"

An image blossomed in Marian's mind. Prince John's attendant putting his cock in her mouth. How does it taste? Gwen didn't seem to mind. Or was it Anne? If I kiss it, will Robin turn into a prince? She suppressed a giggle over those tales she had heard as a child of kissing a frog. Robin wouldn't turn into a prince, but he would surely be pleased. Prince John had last night.

"Or you, my good lad," Tuck said. "Look at you. Your lance is ready for jousting."

Robin coolly replied, "Aye. My arrow is ready for shooting."

Amid the men's laughter, Marian leaned over and kissed Robin's arrow tip. A small peck to investigate. Nothing bad happened. So she gave it a fuller kiss. Then another. Then more of it in her mouth. Musky. A little salty. The taste made her think of smelling the forest in the morning and leaves after rain. She tried to imitate the motions of Prince John's attendants as they suckled the royal cock. They had seemed much more fluid than her awkward attempt.

Robin would not have called her awkward. His moans from above her told her that he was clearly enjoying her tasting him. And the maid enjoyed it as well. This cock up close was entirely new and different than anything else yet a bit like a mushroom cap and stalk. She was incredibly curious and deeply desired to explore this new country, to see the details close up, feel them with her fingers, taste them with lips and tongue, see the seed issue. Earlier, Tuck's issue was powerful, his wetness arriving in spurts. What did that look like? How did it taste? Prince John's attendant had swallowed it down before he had rushed out of his bedroom. She knew how it tasted.

Marian felt this urge much stronger than she had with Gavin, John, and Tuck. She wanted to explore Robin's strong, lean body in detail, especially this—this proud organ in her mouth, with its musky, earthy taste filling her mouth. Deep was her craving to rejoice in the Beltane union with Robin, to have him embody the God and joyously worship nature's springtime renewal with her moist womanhood and his strong manhood and the waterfall of seed it could produce.

Tuck's voice halted her dream. "Sweet Marian! I think Robin has waited long enough. Don't you?"

Tuck. Marian had forgotten about him. Strange as it sounded, with his cock still inside her. Marian asked, "Hmm? What?"

"You said Robin needed to wait his turn. Let's give him a turn, shall we? He and I can switch."

Marian was reluctant to let Robin go. She wanted more exploring, more feeling, more tasting. She gazed up at him, past his bumpy stomach muscles and flat chest, to his face. "Tonight," she whispered. "More tonight."

Robin nodded and whispered back, "Aye, m'lady."

So Marian's exploration was interrupted. But her sadness was short-lived, as she quickly realized that she was about to have Robin between her legs. Finally. He would be inside her womanhood. She beamed as Robin readied himself on the moss. She lowered onto him and cried out loudly. He was longer than Tuck. Skinnier, but longer. Finally, she had him inside. After secretly longing for him for many moons and past May Days. How she had wished he would kiss her and take her in his arms and lay with her. Now, in a most unexpected way, those wishes were filled. As was her womanhood. Tilting forward into a phantom wind, she rode him like a stallion galloping over fields toward the faraway horizon.

The poor friar stood by them where Robin had stood earlier. With his rooster in his hands, Tuck seemed disappointed by the lack of attention. Marian had not acknowledged his presence since Robin lay down.

Eventually, she reared back. Slowed her gallop to a steady saunter. Her chest heaved. Sweat speckled her brow and breasts. Tuck took the opportunity to cup her breasts and gently squeeze them. Marian groaned. Tuck kissed her nipples, suckled them. 

She cooed in appreciation. "Oh, Tuck. Your mouth has given me many delights today."

"Mmm," Tuck replied.

Robin drove his arrow up. Marian's nipple slipped from Tuck's lips. She quivered from Robin's bucking. Just as when Tuck had been underneath her. But Robin was more frenzied than Tuck's energetic heaving. The friar had more rhythm, even when he had fucked her rapidly. Her flopping breasts kept jumping out of Tuck's hands. He frowned from frustration, yet he seemed fascinated with their movement.

"Stand up," Marian said.

As he rose, she grabbed his cock. Shorter than Robin's, but greater girth. She wasn't as slow as she had been with Robin's cock. She wrapped her lips around the stalk. The meat filled her mouth. She remembered this meat had been inside of her. Is this my taste? His? Both? As with Robin, she tried to imitate the motions of Prince John's attendants. They had seemed far more knowledgeable. Here, she was only a novice.

Yet, Tuck wasn't complaining. Neither was Robin under her. Their grunts punctuated the splash of the waterfall and gurgle of the stream. Their cocks were brightly, passionately, exhilaratingly alive. Robin's pounding between her thighs. Tuck's sliding between her lips. The intensity of these feelings encompassed her in a cocoon of pleasure.

Soon, Robin bellowed. A fountain released and sprouted wet warmth into her loins. For the second time that morning. Satisfaction and sadness pricked her. Part of the cocoon would collapse. But Robin had spent inside her. This handsome man who's charm had melted her for a long time. His arrow, once mighty and hard, was softening. And it was due to her. Robin looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him.

Tuck's rooster beckoned with eager quivering. Marian wondered if it would burst soon. Suckle it more? It would fill my mouth with his juice. His seed. Do I want that? An image: Gwen—or Anne?—receiving Prince John in her mouth as the prince roared like the lion he desperately wanted to be. How does it taste? Then curiosity about what it would look like overtook her curiosity about its taste. Besides, she wanted Robin to be the first cock to make its offering in her mouth.

"Show me," Marian ordered, "what to do with my hand."

Tuck was disheartened. "No more with your mouth?"

"No."

He accepted her firm denial with a nod, then showed her how to loosely grip his cock and slide her hand up and down. Tuck's groans mounted. His Maypole throbbed. The spurt that came out of the tip startled Marian. She flinched. Still, she couldn't take her eyes off it. Again and again, his milk sprayed forth and landed on her chest like raindrops. Throbs rumbled against her palm. Then no more shot out. His milk dripped from the tip. Marian looked down at the creamy splots on her breasts. 

Gifts. Gifts from the Beltane God. The seed. I brought these forth. Are you proud of me, Goddess? Bless our fertility. The splots were gooey, sticky, and warm as she rubbed them into her skin. Her confidence grew that the Goddess was indeed proud of her. Her satisfaction glowed.

The three lovers entered the cool water of the pool where the waterfall splashed. In post-orgasmic rapture, they swam and splashed like the best of friends. The happy maid felt like she was living one of those shining moments from childhood. No responsibilities. Just freedom. In the back of her mind, she knew that the frolicking would end. Freedom had limitations. But she chose not to worry about the future.

After the swim, Tuck volunteered to hunt for dinner, and so dressed in his brown robe then left with Robin's bow and arrow. Robin was leery of the friar's success and became frisky with Marian. But she rebuffed him with the excuse needing rest. 

"Tonight," she said. "When the Beltane fires rage. You and I will lay together. Better that you rest your arrow now. You will need to use it many times tonight."

"And what of Friar Tuck?" Robin asked. 

"He can join if he wishes."


"Do you want him to join?"

"Aye," Marian admitted. Her hunger was so great, she hoped both men would be with her. "I wish for much seed to be spilled. I wish it for the Goddess."

He looked thoughtful, perhaps sorting out different emotions and his own wishes. "Then another day, I want you all to myself."

A smile spread across Marian's lips. "And you will. I wish to explore all of you."

Marian had to admit that she needed rest as well. She fell asleep, and the nap did wonders for Marian, who had felt fatigued after the morning's swimming and fucking.

She awoke to see Robin turning two rabbits on a spit over the fire. Tuck had surprised them with a successful hunt. The roasted rabbits made for a fine supper with the remainder of Tuck's bread and cheese, as well as a mound of fern fiddleheads that Robin had collected while Marian slept. All of it washed down with delicious, clean water from the stream. 

Dusk descended upon the trio, and Marian said, "Let's go join the villagers at the bonfires of Beltane."

"How about we stay here, just the three of us celebrate?" Tuck asked. His eyes upon her looked hungry. With his belly full, he was hungry again for her. Tuck was a complicated fellow. As a friar, he followed Christian teachings—but had no problem with joining villagers in rousing festivals of the old ways, full of dance, song, and drink. And his voice was among the loudest in the drunken revelry.

Marian's face was impish as she received his hungry gaze. "First, we dance about the bonfires. Dance in the music and merriment. And then, we three shall dance as we had earlier. Dance to worship the God and Goddess."

Tuck looked as if he were about to lick his lips in anticipation. Robin simply looked pleased. 

"And then you two shall become the Beltane God and give the Goddess all of your seed. For the earth. For fertility. For life to begin anew."

Wide smiles were on the men's faces. Desire and power and joy flowed through Marian's veins. Bless you, Goddess. Bless our earth.

And so, the trio walked off toward the bonfires that were building and would soon rage with flames licking the mischievous night, while the music of lutes, drums, and pipes spurred on the dancers to shuff off their workaday cares to frolic about the forest and rejoice in the warming spring and the green shoots poking up from the dirt and the green leaves appearing and the flowers and fruit of the earth that the Goddess would bring forth.

And then, the trio would find a soft place and frolic among themselves, their skin warming the others, their bodies becoming bonfires of renewed life as they continued to celebrate the spring far into the night.

END