Igrayne
by Uther Pendragon
[email protected].

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is Copyright, 1996, 1997, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Igrayne
by Uther Pendragon
[email protected].

First Part:

The Duke of Tyntigayll was dead to begin with.

Well -- actually -- to begin with, the world was created, Adam sinned and his descendants likewise. The Duke was born, and I, and Igrayne. I became High King, and Igrayne wed the Duke. The Duke was inimical but came to visit me to patch things over. He and his lovely Duchess decided that I had asked them to court to court her. This was true, but not proven, and their departure was abrupt enough to pass for casus belli. The Duchess held one castle, Tyntigayll, and the Duke the other, Terrabyl. We besieged his, I left the camp, he sallied and died. But one must begin somewhere.

So we did not yet know that the Duke was dead when Merlyn, Sir Ulfius, and I rode up to Castle Tyntigayll in disguise. Neither did the occupants of Tyntigayll. Indeed, ensorcelled by Merlyn, they took me to be the whoreson Duke, Merlyn to be Sir Jordanus, and Sir Ulfius to be Sir Brastias. When I pled illness and went early to bed, the only doubts in their minds were whether the illness were real or an excuse to get alone with Igrayne the sooner. As hostess, of course, she could not leave the table immediately. However, when the food was gone and the ale was passing, she was de trop. She came up to the chamber carrying a lamp.

"Milord, art thou seriously ill? Is there a medicine which I can fetch thee?"

"Thyself is all the balm that I need."

She laughed at that, and blew out the lamp. This was to my displeasure, but once done, relighting would cause an unwanted delay. Besides, however glamoured she was to see me as the Duke, unwonted behavior must disturb her. If the Duke was ass enough to have her undress in the dark, I must lose that sight as well.

Here was where the chance of discovery resided. Merlyn was mage indeed, but I was only an inch under six feet, one of the tallest men in my kingdom. The Duke was five inches shorter, and Igrayne a magnificent five foot four. When a man is stretched out above a woman, it is hard for her to avoid noticing that his beard reaches where she is used to finding his eyebrows.

Soon she came to bed. I was in the center, and she slipped under the covers to my left. I reached over with my right hand. There was neither surprise nor reluctance in her response.

I held her face until I could bring our mouths together. Then I stroked down her side to her magnificent flank and then up her soft belly to her breast. There I found, even while she was lying on her back, a firm, smooth hillock. I smoothed my hand upward to find a nipple which firmed to a height of two fingerbreadths. I brushed this with my fingers as gently as calluses from sword and lance can brush.

Meanwhile, we kissed. She met my lips with closed lips, as befits a modest woman. She opened them to my tongue as befits an obedient wife. Beyond those chaste lips, however, there awaited a hot and hungry welcome. Her tongue met mine immediately. I slid mine under hers and tasted a sweetness to exceed honey. She withdrew hers to just touch mine tip-to-tip, and then flicked hers back and forth. I was unaware that tongues could be tickled. She brought hers to a stop and touched mine gently, then withdrew a bit. I extended mine to touch it again and she repeated. When I was pressing her lips against her teeth and extending as far as possible, she closed her lips over my tongue and sucked it. My blood, which by all logic should have followed the suction, instead rushed to my lance which was already full. When she relented from her suction, I withdrew my tongue. Hers followed mine, licked its underside, then explored the insides of my lips.

I had to enter somewhere, and I intended this tryst to last. Without breaking the kiss, I turned so my head was above hers. I hardened my tongue and stabbed as far forward as I could. While I explored the roof of her mouth, she lapped at the underside of my tongue. I chased hers and trapped it against the top of her mouth. Again, it was flowing with sweetness. The extension was tiring and I retreated. She followed all the way into my mouth and played tag there. I sucked her tongue more gently than she had sucked mine. She waggled it yet trying to reach mine and I touched it and withdrew in a game. She pulled back slowly and I followed continuing the tag of touches. She made it feel more like she was licking my lips than that she was escaping their clutches. When, for the first time since my tongue broached her lips, both tongues were behind their own teeth, she moved her face so that her lips were slightly upward from mine. She gripped the hairless part of my upper lip between her two and sucked on it. She began to lick it and I, new to this play, saw a possibility. With only a little effort, I was able to suck on her lower lip in turn. This stood in stead for the breast that I was feeling with my hand. The firmness of the nipple there called to my mouth. I was torn, but with reluctance broke the kiss.

Twins have been born of futterings less sensuous than that kiss.

Before I could proceed downward, she caught my beard and used it as a handle to move my face around as she sprinkled kisses wherever she could reach. Quite forgetting that she kissed another, I forbore my lust for the sake of her love. When she went higher on my face, however, I kissed lower on hers. My first kiss landed on her cheek, my second on her chin. She forwent kissing to be kissed and I trailed a string along her jaw line to her ear. There were folds and tastes there to keep me and giggles and wiggles and thrashing to push me off. It was, however, resistance to the kiss and not the lover. I captured her lobe and sucking it was again reminded of the waiting nipple. The path down her throat, delectable in itself, now seemed an unbearable delay.

I was holding the left breast in my hand, and I simply moved my mouth to where the right one must be. I met smooth skin and kissed it, then trailed upward to pebbly skin, and thence to upstanding smoothness. One suck and this nipple stood up. It felt as though I had a twig in my mouth, but a blunt twig with infinitely smooth bark. I was beyond teasing her. I merely clung there and suckled like a lusty babe. Nothing came out, of course, but there was still a taste of sweetness. I slowly grew up and changed my suckling to licking and playing with lips and tongue.

I had been hard since my entrance to the room, much less hers. Deeply desiring this tryst to last forever, I came to want its inevitable conclusion more. As I love a wet ride, I moved my hand down her breast, across her belly to the nest at the top of her thighs. She parted her legs for my hand and my scarred and callused fingers parted her soft smooth lips where I intended to play until she was flowing and stretched to receive my thrust. I found her drenched, which was luck indeed. She misconstrued my gesture out of the private conventions of her marriage. She reached for me as soon as I had touched her center.

I am thought a strong-willed man, but there are temptations St. Lawrence could not resist. I followed her touch perforce and struggled to restrain from spending. Led by the reins, I scrambled between her legs. I managed to bring the magnificent breast back to my mouth while she lifted her legs and rested her feet on my calves. Her soft hand slid my blunt sword home as if into a sheath formed for it alone.

The sheathing of a sword, however, betokens the end of a struggle, and this began one. No sooner had her hand acted my squire, seeing me well mounted and my lance firmly couched, than her hips and lower belly acted my opponent in the lists. They thrust at me with enough force to unseat a rider less surely placed. I thrust back, perforce, although there wasn't much motion that I could make in that direction, being already firmly seated. As she fell back, I withdrew until I was caught at the tighter ring of her portal, then was first in the lists for the next passage. Nor was this the last of her divided councils. While her hips thrust against me as if to unseat me, the inner flesh clung to me so as to hold me the firmer.

A realm so divided must certainly lose, but this combat ended otherwise. I thrust, and she bucked. We met with an audible smacking of flesh. My lance pierced her without doing her injury, being instead set afire by the rubbing. All her wetness could not extinguish the fire, but barely eased the feeling of sweet friction. I made many passages in those lists, before being overcome by the ache rising through me that betokened that I must:

SPEND!

SPEND!

Spend!

Spend.

Spend...

Spent, I fell on her glorious flesh. I treated those breasts as pillows and that destrier mare as a mere palfrey. She bore the treatment with equanimity and me with her softness and slowing breath. Indeed, I awoke minutes -- I hope -- later to her soft caresses down my back. I was wilted and without, but her hands passed from my back to my haunches and I stirred already.

I moved off her to a mattress more seemly, if less soft. Our activities had moved us perilously close to the edge, so I moved far away. I heard a sniff.

"Come," I said, "I came all this distance to join thee. Thou canst move over a foot to meet me."

And move she did handsomely, measuring herself against my side in a way that awoke both desire and fear that she must surely notice my height. She was on her side with her front pressed against my side. A magnificent front it was, too. But my arm was not what I wanted there.

"Stay right here," I directed.

I moved an inch away and a cubit toward the foot of the bed. That put both her magnificent teats within range of my mouth. I began to kiss the sides of the nearer and circled it slowly towards the peak. Occasionally, my beard brushed over my target as I circled. She wiggled but did not seem displeased. When I reached the peak, I licked the nipple all over before taking it between my lips. I dropped back a little to the bed and pulled at her shoulder. She got the idea and turned so that I could lie in comfort and suck. I stroked her side with my hand running from the very outside of her left breast to a point a little above her knee. Occasionally, I paused at the top to stroke her arm.

She began to move under that caress, not the undulations of deep heat, but the acquiescent moving against the stroke that means that it is appreciated. I changed breasts and tilted her a little more to accommodate. The nipple was firm and smooth in my mouth when I first drew it in. I stroked up from her hip in a new direction, ending with my hand cupping the base of that breast. Such was the generous size that my thumb touched naught of my face but my beard when it extended along that length.

I fondled there for the nonce, and then stroked back down over her belly rather than her side. This was soft, and smooth and gently rounded. The navel was deep and my index finger could just fit within. That brought on a fit of shaking there which even reached her breast. The nipple barely moved in my mouth, but that slight motion was a great pleasure. My finger left its private lodging and rejoined the rest of the hand as it stroked a circle around that navel. All was smooth, soft, and still shaking. The second circle went wider and found a feathery fluffery at the furthest reaches. I broke off the circle and rested my hand against her there.

The pad where my thumb met my wrist was just below her navel and the third and fourth fingers were displacing curls. Her flesh warmed my hand, and I hope that it warmed her as well. As the heel of my hand moved down, I left my finger tips where they were until they were curled under and the backs of the fingers were pressed into her curls. I brought my fingers together catching some hairs between each pair. I lifted them enough to pull the sweet pad, but not enough to cause pain. Then I parted the fingers and slowly, carefully, extended them again. Doing so combed her hair and gauged the soft, firm targe which guarded both bone and softest flesh. The hair extended downward to cover a softer pout and then followed the lips back further than I was going on this survey. I patted the tiniest forward perimeter of those lips, and reluctantly left to visit her thighs.

There was no need for reluctance, the inner thighs were silken warmth and responded to my foray by parting slightly more and turning out. I stopped at the limit of my comfortable reach and started back up. Their were very fine hairs, undetectable to my touch going in their direction, that I felt when going against them. I tried to keep my fingers as light as possible in this direction and to let the these hairs provide the contact. At a point I judged half way to my ultimate goal, I reversed direction and brushed down again. I repeated the process coming up a fingerbreadth further on one leg and then going back down. Then I switched legs and did it again. She stirred under these caresses, and I was well content to be both surveying and exciting my bedmate. Finally, my fingers brushed thicker hairs at the top of her thigh.

Meanwhile, having laved and lipped her left nipple, I was afraid of overstaying my welcome. She had evinced no pain, nor any response but pleasure. The first wince, however, is not a sign to leave off, but a sign that you have stayed far too long. So I reluctantly loosed my lips and let the nipple slip. Then I moved from mount to vale. I licked and kissed her pebbly flesh beside the nipple and thence to the smooth skin further away. I kissed downward towards the base, feeling -- all the while -- the smoothness of the other breast brush the left side of my face. In the valley, conscious that this was less tender flesh though delicate and smooth to the touch, I kissed her more forcefully, the narrowest line of lip protecting her flesh from my teeth. I sucked wildly here, as well. A little adjustment allowed each ear to rub a breast while I kissed the center of the valley between.

While exploring one valley, I had reached another, as you might remember. Just outside, my fingers toyed with locks trapped between her smooth thighs. I played there a minute, without touching skin. Then her own movement brought her lips within range of my finger. I stroked a finger between the thigh and the far edges of each lip. She parted her legs a bit more to accommodate this, but I thought her position probably difficult. I nuzzled my way upward and then pressed her back with my mouth, using my arm as a lever at the same time. When she took the idea, she rolled on her back and I was able to pull her right leg toward me.

With this improved entree, I gently pressed the two lips and slid them slowly against each other. I was no longer worried about the dryness of my road, my own contribution being more than was needed to ease any passage. I wanted to play there, however, before any serious resumption of action. She, however, reached for me again. I stiffened completely in her fingers, but my mouth, at least, was able to resist this time.

"Nay, my lady, givest me a few more minutes."

"I was but inquisitive, my lord, I don't believe that I have ever felt thee so thick."

"I have stored up a long absence. Let me, however, remind myself of the territory before I possess it again."

She dropped back, but replied, "I had not thought that thou wouldst ever forget that territory."

"I said not 'forget,' but 'remind.' I have thought too much about it this whole siege through." And that, in this whole feigned trip, was God's own truth.

Her legs were more spread now, and I divided the thicket to find the meadow within. Her inner lips were lush and thick, even if they stayed within her bounteous outer ones. They were together and I first kept them that way, holding them between thumb and first finger and rubbing them back and forth as gently as possible. I pulled them out slightly and let them go to feel the hairbreadth return through my fingers. I traced the minute ridge of their meeting, glad to find it splendidly slippery. I parted them with my fingers and felt one between finger and thumb. The position was not best for kissing her breasts, so I bent a little and rested my head on her belly. I dipped a finger into her nursery to test the size. It seemed dubious that my member had fit, let alone having room for a son.

My fingers were damp enough to fare anywhere without hurting her, and I brought them forward to the peak of her furrow. There, well above the nursery, I found the tiny nurse standing watch. I spread it with the juice that I carried with me and then returned for more. When the nurse was well wetted, Igrayne had begun to breathe more quickly. Thankful that the nurse had carried the message, I stroked her more and Igrayne rolled her up to me with a rolling of her sweet hips. I again checked the nursery, this time with two fingers. It was as tight as before, but accepted two as easily as one. I returned with more of the liquid, and damped down the nurse again. Igrayne began to gasp. I abandoned all pretense of covering the entire furrow, and stayed there playing with the nurse and plying the immediate area with the moisture.

In ingratitude, the nurse abandoned her post. But a knight once sworn returns not indifference to indifference. I walked my post and hers. Meanwhile Igrayne was holding my hair in one hand and my shoulder in the other. She was panting as from a race. My fingers continued to pace their beats while the soft belly under me firmed. There was still sweet padding, but it felt like it covered not flesh but iron. Then she started. Her hips swung sweetly into my hand. One hand pulled my hair and the other clawed my shoulder. She tightened still more under me and brought her head and her shoulders off the mattress. Then she fell back and waves passed down her body. The flesh under my face quivered like a very slow bow string. Then she shuddered and closed her legs with a snap like a portcullis falling. Her hips rose and fell once more and then she was still and softer than ever under my head. Her thighs, too, relaxed. I moved my hand to clasp her delicate curls without trespassing into more sensitive areas.

She broke out in a sweat, and I found the blanket to cover her. When I again lay down it was beside her with my arm just above her breasts and my mouth inches from her ear.

"Igrayne, Igrayne," I whispered. "Lovely, Lady Igrayne. Loved by my heart, laved by my tongue, lady of strength and grace. Beauty and boldness, brightness beloved. Igrayne, Igrayne, Igrayne."

Skald, I am not. Those lines will testify to that. But my observation is that women occasionally prefer poor chants that they are loved to wondrous renditions of the love of Leander for Hero. This seemed such an occasion.

"Oh my lord." She answered. I presume she meant the Duke, she may have meant Our Lord. The High King, she did not mean.

"Hush. Lie here and be hugged."

So she did, and a marvelous armful I had. Now, I love spending, but there are things that you don't notice in the midst of your own passion. Holding a lovely woman in your arms while she visits her passion is a blessing of its own. Igrayne had been on that journey and she returned slowly. While she did, I left off clipping and played with her hair. It was held in some formal winding by a hair clasp. I undid the clasp and pulled the strands out into a lush curtain. It was enough to cover her breasts, or cover my chest, or to spread over the head of the bed. And I did all these things with it.

When her breathing eased, I essayed a kiss. Her tongue met mine with all the passion of our first kiss. After some time dealing with only that delight, I began to explore her whole mouth. The roof of her mouth had its own taste, which I can't describe except as a slightly sweet spice. Meanwhile, her tongue -- finding itself no longer the main interest of mine -- responded like an ignored puppy. It lay in wait and then jumped up when my attention was elsewhere. I must admit that I found these licks much more pleasant. I pinned her down to the floor of her mouth and she wagged her tongue so as to tickle me. I withdrew to my own mouth and she chased me. Trapping her, I sucked as she had sucked me. Rather than fighting it, she pressed her mouth to mine and held my hair.

My ardor, bred up over those months of wanting, had been but partially quenched by our first encounter. The long rest and the clipping had quite restored it. Her ardor, once the short rest was over, was whetted -- not abated -- by her recent solitary vigil. I was stroking her body from neck to thigh, but the breasts received more than their share of attention. It was time to reenter the lists. Thinking of tilting gave me the idea that a bolster under her hips canting them up might sweeten the angle between her softness and my hardness. I broke the kiss to speak.

"Milady, can we have the bolster below," I asked.

"I have not sewn it to the mattress during the last months," she replied. There was playfulness in her tone and alacrity in her action.

She pushed the blanket aside and swung the bolster down to our waist level. Then she raised herself up, slid the bolster under her, and swung herself down on it kneeling and facing the head of the bed. I had been trapped again into a marital habit. She reached over and took me. (I was beginning to know why we call them "reins.") I clambered into position over her legs. Her hand clasped it tight, once, and then placed me against her.

"It is larger than I had remembered."

I smiled but replied not. I was investing the castle this time, not storming it. I paused just at the foregate while I passed my hands around those marvelous haunches onto her narrow girdle and upward to rest on her ribs with fingers just touching the sides of her breasts. My thumbs touched her shoulder blades and I held her absolutely still as I parted the leaves of the gate and entered the outer bailey. I brushed my hands down her plenteous, now pendulous, breasts until I reached the borders of the areolae. Then I paced the outer bailey, back and forth as there was no room to go side to side, gathering the wealth that had been stored there as precious mead. I rolled the tips of her breasts on my fingers as you might drum your fingers on the table when the benediction is too long, but at a third of the speed. She stirred at that, and backed a fingerbreadth toward me. With the placement of my member, that removed me from the gatehouse rather than driving me within.

I moved my hips back until I was properly situated, and stopped there just at the gatehouse. I bent forward slightly and passed my hands downward until the tips of my middle fingers met the sides of her two nipples. These I stroked up and down. She was still, as if concentrating on her mammary sensations. I moved my hips forward and just nudged into the gatehouse. I stretched no gate, merely taking what space was there. I judged that the entry I was using would pass only my least digit, and that merely to the first knuckle. I spread my hands lower until I could press upward on the tips of the hanging nipples. She pulled herself upward, which moved her castle away, but I moved with her, neither displaced nor advancing.

Then I did advance, pressing inward in the gatehouse, widening the entrance until it would admit most of my force, only the breadth of the van barring my passage. Here, I was feeling her warmth and grasp for the first time and restraint was becoming a task. A true knight, I held my post. I paused there and moved my left hand to her downthrust belly. There I delved in her navel with my last finger. She lifted away, the gatehouse retreated, and I moved in perfect pace with it. The most perfect pace, however, can not overcome a change of angle. The top entered more, the bottom retreated, and the very slow friction of each was sensuous torture. I held my finger there, and her belly raised perforce, while my right hand played with her nipple. I moved that hand up the breast to her back.

My left hand stroked across her belly to her left breast. She eased down a bit, and again there was the exquisite sensation of shifting within sans any forward movement. I flexed the fingers of my right hand into claws and directed the knuckles toward me. Then scratching with the backs of my nails I stroked her back from right shoulder blade to left buttock. She, predictably, dropped her belly to escape the tickle -- for I was careful that there was no actual pain -- and drove herself back toward me. I rode partly with this swing of hers, but still ended completely in the gatehouse. Enveloped rather than invading, I felt the sweet friction of her clasping flesh as my vanguard was admitted -- or captured. She was holding herself up on her raised arms and I dropped my left hand to the bolster to do likewise.

This allowed me to bend over far enough to kiss her on her upper back. She wiggled at this and her rump shifted sideways and my half-inserted self was shifted reciprocally to this. I felt every tug and slide of the sideways shifts, but was not conscious until later that the net result was inward. Meanwhile, I kissed her back from left shoulder to right, licking every spot that I had sucked, and sucking again to make sure.

I had but one hand for breasts, so I stroked them alternatively, sometimes gliding my hand over the smooth skin, sometimes tickling the nipples with my fingers. Meanwhile, she dodged either kiss or tickle, her hips swayed, my member was the swivel on which our connection turned, and I felt the always- varying motions there as one extreme tease. I was easing through her gatehouse in a sort of dance, back a little forth a little, round, round, round. The travel back was less than the travel forth, however. I suddenly sensed that the friction was on the widest part, not on the tip. At that, I stopped peppering her with kisses and rose back to kneeling erect. That, in itself, provided forward impulse. With an exquisite slip through the gate, I was in the inner bailey.

My body pulled back a bit, but it scarcely moved my invading force. The gatehouse kept tight around the main force and the van was held within the bailey by the width of the vanguard more effectively than it had been kept out. I was pulling back the merest bit while I returned to the soft teasing scratching that I had done earlier. I used both hands this time, being careful that the nails were always turned in and going away from their points. I covered her lower back with these teases and then the backs of her thighs.

I then gripped both hips and eased myself forward again. The van now started to occupy the inner bailey, widening it as it advanced. The defenses were only soft, frictional resistance. Meanwhile, the gatehouse held tight to the main force of the invaders, yielding them passage but only under resistance. I pressed forward until the van was deeply into the castle and only the last inch of the invasion was completely outside. The resistance, incapable of stopping the invasion was now a threat to the cohesion of the invader. The force, which could not be stopped as it was, faced the possibility of firing its missiles futilely and collapsing while still in possession.

I stopped the advance for a moment, then, and explored the neighborhood of the castle with my hand. One finger found that, though the castle was invested, one watchtower below it was still manned. The hider had returned from hiding. Dipping my finger in the honey of the outer bailey, I stroked the watchman until a gasp from the mistress of the castle told me that the message was received. In its pause, the invasion force had recovered, for the nonce, from its danger.

I whispered "elbows." Igrayne dropped herself onto hers. I pulled myself fully forward and the entire force had entered the castle. As well, the entire inner bailey was occupied, and the tip of the van tenderly touched the innermost keep.

Here, my metaphor, as well as my entry, was ended. The keep, soon to be Arthur's keep, was not to be entered by the invading force, but only by its missiles. And those would be fired somewhat later.

She knelt with her knees on the bolster, very wide apart. My knees were on the mattress proper, between her legs, and almost together. Her ankles rested on my calves, with her feet touching each other. I was, from knees to crown, rigidly erect and bent slightly backward. Her elbows were resting on the mattress, and -- I presume -- her head as well. Her back was arched downward, so that our loins were pressed against each other's as firmly as possible. My hands, at that time, were pulling her hips into me and, by the same token, pulling myself into her.

I bowed over her back while smoothing my hands forward over her belly to her breasts. She responded to the caress by straightening her back. We both moved slowly and the two motions eased me slowly out of her. I could feel the close clasp of the gateway pass over my shaft, and the subtler, silkier, friction of her inner bailey slide over the more sensitive head of my organ. For the last half of the motion, the lower lips gave a fleeting caress to the base of my shaft. Once over her, I kissed her spine. Then I drew both my hands down her hanging breasts to the sensitive tips. There they toyed awhile. Her breath was ragged, but I could not tell if it were the position or the sensation.

An easing of the position seemed the best assay of which, so I gently grasped her right shoulder and straightened myself somewhat. She got the message and raised herself on her arms. Each motion withdrew me slightly, and each hairbreadth withdrawal was a sensual delight. I put both hands on her shoulders and stroked back evenly along her sides. Where her waist flared out from its narrowest part, I put on gentle pressure. Simultaneously, I straightened slightly at waist and knees. My motion within her was reversed, but the sensations remained as delightful. I pulled her tightly to me and then bent over again. The withdrawal was less and even slower. The pleasure, if anything greater.

I took her breasts in my two hands and pulled back very gently. She followed the lead and pressed into me as I pressed forward. A minor motion forward on the breasts moved her as easily and I backed out. She needed merely to get the message for her to cooperate. Soon we were moving against one another at moderate rate and the motion tightened my loins and threatened my culmination. She, also, was panting more in the easier position. Then she began to move more vigorously. This drove my pleasure to the peak with my tension following amain. The bridle that I was using was too delicate for this new ride, so I abandoned her breasts. My left hand caught her shoulder to guide and restrain her, my right sought below her belly to find her center.

There was no need in this position to spread the nectar which flowed down between her lips. I merely pressed the meeting of those lips rhythmically with her motions. At this, her motions sped, as did mine. I backed when she went forward, using my hand on her shoulder only to see that our partings excluded the primary juncture. I advanced when she returned, thrusting hard and joying in the rapid friction. I could hear her breathing two notes above my own and could feel the shoulder muscles tense in my hand and her thighs tense against my arm. Our pace kept increasing until, suddenly, her knees slipped from their lodging.

I couldn't let this interfere at that point. I grabbed her left hipbone with my right hand and held her against me. I dropped her shoulder and supported myself on my left arm. I had to pull back for this position to balance, but I took her with me. She spread her legs wide and I pulled her over me until I was buried deep. When I moved forward, she was ready to push back with her hands. She straightened. Every muscle I could feel tightened. Her belly rested on my arm bone and I could not have told which was harder. I withdrew, she pulled herself forward. I pressed forward, she pushed back and I drew her to me with my supporting arm. In violation of all the logic of sieges, the castle assaulted the invading force. The walls of the gatehouse constricted rhythmically on the main body, and then the inner bailey itself was squeezing the vanguard and the furthest advanced forces. My invading force firmed to its uttermost, and fired flight after flight of shafts toward the keep. I held her up and pressed her against me. My hips were moving in thrusting motions but her purchase on the mattress was not enough to press back. Most of my motions brought her with me. Nevertheless, the castle attacked the invaders, and the invaders fired on the donjon.

Both actions stopped together. My muscles, which could have pulled us both to the ceiling a moment earlier given a purchase, were now hard pressed to hold myself up. Igrayne would have overstrained my arm if she had not, herself, collapsed so that legs on one end and head and torso on the other were on the mattress. I had only the center to support. This I did an instant longer as I felt her last pulses around me and the invading force, having lost all firmness, dropped -- rather than fired -- its last volley. I batted the bolster out of the way and eased Igrayne, slick with perspiration, down to the bed. My last effort was to tumble to the side so that I did not fall on her.

Igrayne and I had striven mightily. Sleep was the victor.

And now for something completely different!

Glossary

A note on spelling: This is a modern preoccupation. The generation which thinks that the opposite of "win" is "loose" may end this pedantry. Was the castle spelled "Tyntagil" or "Tyntigayll"? In truth it was spelled "whatever." At the time, only Latin words had spellings, and no one was careful about those. I have chosen one spelling used by Malory, but he used others.

The words here are those not recognized by my spell checker. Minus a few, "fluffery," e.g., whose meaning you know without the word having entered English. Also minus the second person singular forms. Plus a few, "tilt," e.g., which may be recognized by the spell checker for a different meaning.

Amain: Vigorously.

Areolae: (pl) The darker-colored flesh on the breasts around the nipples.

Arrow Slit: Castle keeps have THICK walls. If you cut a window straight through them, men might be able to enter, but sunlight from a different angle could not. What we did was cut a tall, very narrow, slit on the outside. Then we widened it out at an angle, called the EMBRASURE, towards the inside. It let a certain amount of light in, and kept most missiles out. An archer could also stand in the embrasure and shoot out.

Bailey: see Castle.

Brastias: A knight serving the Duke of Tyntigayll. Sir Ulfius was disguised as Sir Brastias.

Butt: A target, especially for archery.

Castle: Technically, any fortified point. The castles under discussion here were the full versions. They consisted of a KEEP or DONJON, the inner, hardened, multi-story, central fortification. People lived there at all times. The INNER BAILEY was surrounded by a tall curtain wall. The donjon was on one side and various stables, storehouses, etc. were set around the central area. Anything portable of military importance was permanently housed in the inner bailey. If the enemy was in your inner bailey you were in trouble. The OUTER BAILEY, was on the natural approach to the inner bailey and the only way to enter it. (It could totally surround the inner bailey, but this was not usual.) Much economically and agriculturally important activity occurred in the outer bailey. The surrounding curtain walls were high enough to resist a raid and require a siege to take them. The entrance to either bailey was through a GATEHOUSE which contained the gate and was a tower built above the level of the wall so as to be held independent of it. The gate, proper, was on the inside so that people chopping at it could be entertained by 20lb rocks, arrows, the contents of chamber pots, boiling water, and other mementos dropped on them. See also "Portcullis."

Casus belli: (A sure sign of a limited spellchecker.) The occasion or opportunity for the war. Sometimes given as "cause of war," it is a false cognate. The cause of the war might be "If the Allies don't win soon, our Allied bonds will be wallpaper," or "Our King wants to bed the woman that this Duke has inconveniently wed." The casus belli would be something more fitting. Perhaps "The vicious Huns have sunk a liner," or "The Duke's departure was an insult to our amour propre that can only be cleansed by blood."

Clip: To hug.

De trop: Superfluous.

Destrier: Imagine that you are a quadruped. They array you with heavy gear and then hoist a man twice his natural weight in armor on your back. Then they point you at a large group of equally burdened quadrupeds with screaming riders trotting toward you fronted by very sharp lance points. Do you go:
1) directly forward at a trot as steady as the ground allows
or
2) elsewhere?

The second option occurs even to horses. So we train them for war and call the trained results "destriers." We don't want to waste them, and their single pace is neither efficient nor restful on a journey. We ride PALFREYS for travel and mount the destriers only for battle.

Donjon: see Castle.

Duchy: A dukedom.

Ector: Sir Ector fostered Arthur. His wife was Arthur's wet nurse.

Embrasure: see Arrow Slit.

Ensorcelled: Affected by magic, glamoured.

Ere: Before.

Fingerbreadth: The width of a finger.

Foregate: The area just outside the gate.

Forwent: Abstained.

Futterings: Activities on topic in this archive.

Garde-robe: We deterred moths from laying eggs in our (woolen) clothes by hanging said clothes in our latrine rooms. Of course, some dull historians claim that small rooms in our walls used as clothes closets were properly garde-robes, and that latrine rooms were called that as mere euphemisms.

Gatehouse: see Castle.

Gladsome: Causing joy.

Glamoured: Fooled by magic.

Haft: Handle or hilt.

Igrayne: Duchess of Tyntigayll. Later Queen of Britain.

Jordanus: Knight of the Duke of Tyntigayll. Merlyn's disguise.

Joust: See Tilt. (The 'o' is silent.)

Keep: see Castle

Laved: Washed.

List: see Tilt.

Mage: Seer, Magician, Adept.

Mead: Drink, brewed from honey. Think beer.

Merlyn: Mage who brought me into Igrayne's bed at Castle Tyntigayll. In return he received control of Arthur's fostering and education. The latter got him a nice sinecure much later.

Milady & Milord: Yes we spoke that way. A baron could whip his wife with a horsewhip, and some did. No baron addressed his wife tutoyant.

Nonce: Short while

Palfrey: Horse for riding when not in combat. See Destrier.

Passage: see Tilt

Portcullis: A grillwork (usually) that could be raised and lowered at the front (or outer) end of the gatehouse. Lowered on its rope, it provided another obstacle to overcome in capturing a route into the castle. If the rope were cut the portcullis crashed down. This discommoded those in its way and could be used to trap a small party inside the gatehouse where they could be attacked from above. see Castle.

Quim: The female pudenda.

Recurved: A good longbow is made from wood that curves one way and then is strung to curve the other. Cut the string, or even unstring the bow, and the arc reverses.

Sally: While the besieging army is busy digging ditches, serving the siege engines, raiding the surrounding country for supplies, etc., the besieged army quietly gathers a force of armored, armed, (preferably mounted) knights and men at arms. Then they sneak out a side door (a "sally port") and fall on a portion of besiegers. If they have the self-discipline to stop while they are ahead, they can almost always score a minor victory. "Sally" is both a noun and a verb.

Skald: A Scandinavian bard. One of rare training and precision. (Skald/bard is equivalent to chef/cook.)

Straitly: Tightly, closely.

Swiving: Activity on topic in this archive.

Targe: A shield, usually a small one.

Terrabyl: The second castle of the Duchy of Tyntigayll. The Duke holed up there, and we besieged it.

Tilt: Joust. Two men, who usually don't have any quarrel with each other, get on expensive horses wearing very expensive armor and ride towards each other along opposite sides of a rail fence pointing sharp lances at one another. They do this until one is knocked off his horse or both horse and rider are knocked down. After a certain age, it gets hard to remember why. The place where this takes place is called the LISTS. One ride at each other is called a PASSAGE.

Tyntigayll: A castle, well made. A Duke, ill bred. A duchy.

Ulfius: Sir Ulfius was a faithful and intelligent retainer of mine.

Second Part:

The dawn wind woke me because I had set a sort of mental sentry for that purpose. The room was against the east wall of the keep and each arrow slit showed sky a lighter gray than the room's blackness. Inside, I could distinguish nothing. Touch, however, was still available, and quite enjoyable. Igrayne's back was pressed against my front, and I held one breast in my hand. I enjoyed these sensations as I woke, and then ran my fingers as far over her skin as I could reach without disturbing her fit to my body. She half woke but then snuggled against me more firmly.

The pleasure of external pressure was soon overmatched by the discomfort of internal pressure. I visited the garde-robe. No sight was needed to find that. On exiting, I followed the wall until I came to the door. I placed the beam across it to lock it fully and delved into a purse that I'd left with my clothes. Merlyn had offered me an herb which had an enchantment against morning breath. I chewed some and spat it out into the rushes. I continued until the bed was dimly outlined against an arrow- slit. I then returned to bed by keeping toward that slit.

My motions had nearly wakened Igrayne, and my return -- rustling through the rushes -- finished that task. What my hands had explored, I wanted my mouth to taste, and I started at her forehead and worked down. Her brows were fine, prickly on the lips when swept inward, but smooth when slicked out. Her temples were touched by hairs so fine my lips could not detect them but my tongue could. Her ears were convoluted, tasty and quite ticklish. Here she stopped me.

"My Lord, I must rise."

"Is the kitchen so laggard that they need their mistress' supervision to serve a simple meal?" I asked.

"I doubt that any in the kitchen expect to see me ere thou ridest away," she answered. "But there is a crisis threatening our woolens and I must protect them from moths."

She left me laughing there and went to the garde-robe. I noticed that she passed in front of all but the leftmost arrow slit to do so. She was outlined against the gray for a moment, suspicion of sweet breast, blockage of almost all, brief outline of hip, then repeated. This gave me an idea. When, after what seemed a long time, Igrayne came back out to the larger room, I asked her to look out and report the weather.

She entered the embrasure to look in all directions and reported that it was much lightened in the east, clouds to the south, etc. I hardly listened. Instead I looked at what the light revealed of her when she was so near it.

The silhouette was still the most revealing. While she tried to describe the southern sky, her right breast was outlined. It was large and jutting, with only the sweet sag that bespoke a woman rather than a statue. She raised her arm to brace herself and the breast raised slightly in response. The nipple pointed pertly in the chill, if not so far as had met my warm mouth in the night. She was turned slightly away and her belly made only a slight bulge. Her hip, however, was canted out by her stance and her flank made a sweet arc against the light. She turned so that her head was in what light there was. It was faint enough so that her golden hair and cream skin were the same shade of lightness. As she walked back, there came a moment when I could see the light framed by her thighs. These spread broad and were topped by a tangle that was only hinted by the silhouette. Then she was back and cool and ready to be warmed.

I was right glad to clip her in my warm arms. The morning kiss was sweet and her tongue entered my mouth greedily. I licked the invader and sucked gently on it. She licked the inside of my lips once more, then broke to kiss me on the nose. I kissed her chin and then along her jaw. My kisses were becoming wetter and I licked, rather than really kissing, the space behind her ear from bottom to top. This was salt and had a special taste which was just Igrayne. I lipped the top of this ear and then licked the inside while she wiggled. I traveled down the side of her neck with little lip-nips and short licks. I found one spot where her motions underwent a subtle change. Here there was no longer a girl trying to escape a tickle, but a woman whose body responded to a sexual thrill -- however minor.

While my mouth explored that spot and the immediate surroundings, I stroked down her side and back and flank. All was smooth. There was soft padding over all, but one could feel muscles move underneath. Finally, I reached her haunch. Here was fullness, here was softness, here was firmness when she flexed in response to my squeezing hand. My lips left their vantage, pleasant as it was, and kissed down her neck to her shoulder. Thence, I made a brief expedition down her arm to her elbow and back up. I intended nothing serious, but wanted to acknowledge that portion of her body. From her shoulder I kissed diagonally to the edge of her breast and then around that base. I continued down with lip-nips and licks and real kisses, as well. As I crossed her belly, I think she found my beard as ticklish as the kisses. I passed about an inch to the side of her navel. Then I changed course.

Before she could react, I was kissing her navel and searching it with my tongue. I let go of her haunch and pushed on the front of her thigh. She fell onto her back when she sensed my intent. I clasped a breast in my left hand and a thigh in my right. But I was giving the lovely, firm, belly my primary attention. I circled the navel with licks and kisses before returning to that center and plundering it again. I stayed until the squirming became real dislike. She pushed me away and downward. This direction did I take and she pulled me back immediately. From this I guessed that the fool of a Duke had kissed only two of her lips. I was less concerned about the disguise every moment, but more concerned about the hour. I decided that this delight must be delayed. I did kiss her mons, however, and pretended to pluck its hairs with my lips. Then I reversed my course and licked and nibbled my way up her belly toward her breasts. What my mouth was cheated of, however, would not be denied my hand. I covered her delta with my palm and smoothed those curls downward.

When my mouth reached her breast, I kissed a circle around its base and then a spiral up to the top. There, I licked around the nipple until it stood up tall and rigid. Then I blew on it until she shivered. Only then did I take its sweetness into my mouth. I sucked it between firm lips and then opened my mouth as wide as I could and sucked the whole top of her breast within. I eased all but the nipple out and rubbed my lips across that smooth twig. Then I went to simple, gentle sucking.

Meanwhile I was fingering her lower lips. I pressed them gently and stroked the hair on the outer ones. Then I parted those with two fingers and slipped the middle finger between them. Her inner lips were tight together and moistly slick. These I stroked slowly and as gently as possible. I was at her breast at the same time, so I had a little difficulty distinguishing her responses to one action from her responses to the other. Nonetheless, I took a slight easing of her thighs and rolling of her legs as an invitation to further search below. I brought the finger between and outer lip and the inner ones. Still with gentle pressure, I moved that inner one against its twin. The motion was less than half a fingerbreadth in its greatest extent. The friction, never great, decreased as I continued. I added my index finger to the friction and then it held the greatest extension while the middle finger crept to the juncture.

There it parted the inner lips easily and stroked between. Here was honey enough, generated that morning, to ease its passage to the center. Thence I stroked in all directions, first for small distances then, gradually, for larger ones.

Caressed at breast and groin, Igrayne was content for a bit to lie there and react. The reaction was mostly in small motions of her body and in quickening breath. My strokes lengthened until I reached the fold where her inner lips met. There I met the hider, again unhidden. I dipped below to gather more mead and returned to stroke the hider. I dipped more mead and spread it around the general neighborhood, dipped more and re-annointed the hider. Igrayne's breath was coming quick indeed and I kissed over to the other breast while continuing that pattern below. Then, on my next trip to gather honey, I stuck my finger deep into the hive. Igrayne gasped. I returned to the hider, but the journey was no longer uneventful. The path was moving up and down faster than my finger was traveling.

Then Igrayne's sweet hand moved to my chest and then downward. The light was good enough now that I could see a pale shape that must be Igrayne's face above me. I am sure, however, that she could see nothing of her hand's progress between our two shapes.

"Milady," I said, "I rode yestereve, and I must ride this day." Her hand stopped but she made no response. "And I rode twice last night, as well."

"My lord, I am sorry."

"Art thou? Thou seemed glad enough last night. Almost as glad as I was." Women apologize first and think next, but she was thinking now. "Be thou the rider this dawning."

"Pfft! Right gladly, my lord." This was not a giggler, except when tickled. This lady had a deep chuckle.

We abandoned our caresses for a moment to arrange ourselves. It is not a position into which one falls by accident. I took a diagonal which put my feet well to the west of my head, so that she was facing what light there was. She moved the bolster to the head and the blanket to the foot. Then she knelt above me and bent forward. I stole a kiss on each nipple and then gestured for her to proceed. She took me in her hand and then sat back. The position had been proof against spending for my life up until then, and I had a vigorous night behind me. The touch of that hand, however, made me fear an exception. In any event, there was stiffness enough for our purposes and more. She parted herself with one hand, placed me with the other, and then stroked the head of my member once from the back of her honeyed vale to the front. Then she returned it to the critical location and settled herself further.

The tip of my member was within the precincts, but she stopped. She shifted her weight to one leg and inched the other one back and then repeated the process. The motions, which clearly had no erotic intent, swirled my tip within her vestibule. She was better satisfied with this position and settled back. Her wet warmth engulfed almost all the head of my member. She slowly straightened and the rest of the head was within her. As she lowered herself from there I could feel the head pass through the entrance strictures and then that band tighten on the flesh -- even more sensitive -- just behind the head. At this point, she moved slightly from side to side -- apparently to be sure of the direction. This twist and turn on the closely clasped, supersensitive, flesh made me gasp. She gave me an absent smile and lowered herself until she knelt with her knees on either side of my chest and her glorious haunches seated on my legs and groin.

Here, with my essence held totally captive within her, I gestured for her to stop and offered her the hair clasp that I had removed the night before. That hair streaming around her was a glorious sight, but what it hid was more glorious yet. Here, with her very self impaled upon my lance, she straightened completely, shook her hair back, and caged that entire wild mane at the top of her neck. There was more light in the room and I could see her shape as she sat there, hands reaching behind her head. The hair, whose golden color memory had to supply in that light, hung in waves down her back to below her waist. Her brow was wide and high, with the eyes beneath wide apart. Her nose was small and pert, spoiling the gravity of her expression and clashing with the wide lines of her mouth. Her chin and jaw were sharp edged and determined. The throat below was long and elegant, leading to shoulders broad for a woman. There was nothing masculine about the torso below, however. Instead of narrowing down from below her shoulders, her chest widened to support her magnificent breasts. These jutted forward in her present raised-arm stance. The curve below defied simile as it defined loveliness. The round shields at the ends, two inches across, were dark in that light and looked roughened from the cool air. Their bosses extended far and moved as pointers whenever Igrayne moved. Her waist narrowed below her ribs and a small hillock with a well in its middle was her belly. From the waist, the hips flared out and her thighs were at a wide enough angle that I could see the insides of both against my hips. The hair between was not reached by the still-scant light and looked dark.

Clasp arranged, she bent forward until her nipples touched my torso and then she began to move back and forth. The tickle of her nipples against my skin was immensely arousing, and the pull of her inner strictures along my member doubly so. For the moment, I could do no more than put my hands on her side and leg and experience all those sensations. The position, delightful as it was, was an obvious strain on her and she straightened her arms and changed her angle of attack. I stole a glance at her face and noted an inward-turned expression.

By this time I was in a stable state of arousal. I was extremely sensitive, but I knew, from previous experiences in this state and this position, that I could go on like this indefinitely. Such a future was, at that moment, very appealing.

She was holding herself a little above me and moving from side to side. My member not only was drawn out at both sides of this motion, but it was rubbed against her ultimate softness at the middle. Her breasts swayed in time to that motion and I reached my left hand up to catch one. As I toyed with its furthest firmness, I slid my right hand up her left thigh. Soon I was near the scene of the action. Without trying to interfere, I played with her lowest curls. Then, with my fingers still there, I ran my thumb down to the juncture of her lower lips. When I reached there, she gasped and lowered her head. She changed her stroke to a simple back-and-forth. The feel to my member was little different from what my own thrusting would have delivered. I rubbed the front of her furrow, and she straightened, but continued her motions. I continued rubbing and she looked worried. I played a bit with her nipple, but the surrounding flesh was puffy and I didn't know whether to play with it or not.

I switched breasts. She was moving faster, breathing faster and looked like she was in pain. Then she pressed down on me and arched her back so that her belly was pushed toward me. The effect was that of a recurved bow when its string breaks.

She moved forward until I was almost out. Then she pressed backward twice as hard as before. Her arm muscles were sharply delineated despite the layer of padding. Her sweet belly was so taut that it quivered. She clasped my member as if to squeeze it out. And then the rhythmic clasps on my member pulsed like a beating heart, but much faster. Her face looked like she were undergoing torture. She moaned thrice, and then hissed. The clutch at my member faltered, then stopped. She looked at me, unseeing. Then she fell down on me so fast that my left arm eased her down.

I clasped her with my right arm and extricated my other. Then I held her with both. If one leads a military force and something totally unwonted (aside from an actual attack) happens, then one moves off to the top of a hillock, send one small party off for wood and another off for water, assign half the remainder to stand guard while the other half does some camp-setting chores. At that point one can think. Stopping to think while the army is looking on, leads to doing something stupid in order to do something. So it is with a woman. Hold her, hug her, pat her, tell her that she is pretty. Then decide what the situation calls for. Do not be surprised if the situation calls for more clipping, more patting, and more compliments.

The top of her head being the only convenient spot, I kissed that. I clipped her tight, flipped the hair to one side to clear my space, and petted her from shoulder to haunch with my right hand while merely holding her tight with my left. Then I switched hands. She was sweating in a room still rather chill, so I brought the hair back and arrayed it over her. I kissed the top of her head again. Meanwhile I was crooning.

"Wondrous wife. Beloved bedmate. Lovely lass. Delightful darling. Precious and pretty. Luscious loveling. If this trip only brings this moment, it will be well worth the effort." (We had spun some story about continuing on from there and rallying the duchy. I almost said "Well worth the risk," but mention of risk has spoilt more than one bedding. Women worry so.) "I remember thee as the loveliest lass in the world, and so you are. But I find that I have forgotten half your beauty, even when I think that of thee."

"Milord, thou didst not. ..."

"No. I did nothing. Thou didst it all. And lie here and rest a minute and we'll find if thou canst do still more."

I kissed the top of her head again. Then I stroked down to her haunch with my right hand and clasped that in a friendly, and -- perhaps -- slightly lascivious, manner while she caught her breath. The sky was somewhat brighter behind us and I could see her hair in its true color. I strayed a hand though one of her strands.

"Gloriously golden, her hair is revealed in heaven's rays."

She kissed my chest, and I clipped her closer. She kissed over to my nipple, and I eased my hold. Then she rose, and I gripped her waist and haunch and pressed her down on me. She straightened for a moment and brushed her hair back.

"Ardently angelic," I said. That gave me an idea, after I'd said it.

She was in more light now. Her hair, being pressed back where it would obscure nothing, was the color of honey where it was all together and a cloud of gold at the ends which floated free. Her expression was slightly distracted, but her face was glorious. The skin was cream risen in the night, her brows and lashes were a shade darker than her hair. Her eyes were the deep blue of a shaded lake. Her lips were the red-brown of the dried blood of game birds. Her tongue which licked them was a brighter red. If the skin of her face was cream, the skin of her breasts was the milk left behind. It was the whitest white with a little blue seeming to hide beneath it. Her nipples and the flesh around them were bright pink. Even as I watched, those nipples were growing out. Her belly was a white as her breasts. The well at its center was just darkness, as was the mystery between her thighs.

I slid my hands up the outside of her thighs to the widest part of her hips. "Broad beamed," I said. I stroked them up her torso until I was cupping a breast in each hand. "And buxom."

With my hands on her breasts and my thumbs on her nipples, she began the side to side motion that she had used before. I stroked one nipple in time with her motions, moved that thumb off, and then stroked the other nipple. She was slightly lower, and my member was slightly deeper within her. My eyes were on my hands and her breasts, but my attention was lower. I finally looked at her face, and her eyes were on my chest, but her attention -- like mine -- seemed to be within. I felt her clutch me within. I looked up again and she smiled at me and the clutch came again. I thrust with my hips as best I could in that situation.

"Closely clasping," I intoned in my best imitation of a bard's voice.

Perhaps in response to my thrusts, she shifted into a direct up and down movement. She rose until the head of my member was just inside her outer ring, and then clasped that tight while still rising. My member, perforce, rose with her. When she reversed course, she would relax within, and I would begin to slip out. Before the head was completely out, her downward motion stopped the exit, and she slowly enveloped me again. I had never in my life climaxed on my back, but that precedent had not included such motions. I gathered my wits with some difficulty. 'Delightful darling' was unworthy of this partner. I toyed with her nipples and pondered. 'Deceived' sprang to mind, and I suppressed it.

"Delightful dame of dancing depths."

She straightened to a near vertical. Her movements were a straight up-and-down along my member with no special clutches. Her face looked worried or tired, which I could well believe. I raised my legs behind her, but she did not use them for rest. She moved with simplicity and economy in only one fashion.

"Endearingly eager enchantress."

I dropped my hands from her breasts to her knees. After feeling those flex for a moment, I ran my hands up the insides of her legs. She did rest back against my legs, then. She was fully skewered when she did so and she rested one arm on my chest to brace herself as she shifted her legs from a kneeling to a squatting position. Then she raised up once and I could see the golden gleam of her delta and myself far back piercing her. Then she slipped almost the entire way down and began moving in circles just above my groin.

"Faithful and faultless falcon of fervor."

The motion kept the head of my blunt arrow well within her, and always being rubbed against some part of her entrance. It was bliss and torment. I kept stroking her inner thigh with my left hand while my right reached that bright delta. I stroked the damp curls as she moved around my member. Then I spread my first two fingers and stroked her parted lips. I returned my left hand to her right breast and held and stroked it. I watched her face as I stroked quim or nipple, and repeated what made her attention turn inward. The earlier glimpse of her golden lower hair inspired my next line.

"Gold garlands a gladsome glade."

Her attention had truly turned inward. She abandoned all complexity to return to an up-and-down stroke. I stopped with my middle finger just outside the meeting point of her lower lips. Then I stroked inside. She gasped and speeded up. My member had gone from feeling caressed by her softness to feeling burnt be her friction.

"Hallowed and hale helpmate of my haft."

Then there was a flutter around said haft. My legs were widespread and bent, and she reached back with one hand to push against a knee. This turned her more toward the light and gave her more leverage for her movements. It may have been a trick of the dawn, but a blush spread from Igrayne's head to below her breasts. Her breath was coming in gasps. I stroked both the nipple and the space where her lower lips met. The flutters on my shaft became steady graspings.

"Igrayne ignites."

And ignite she did! She threw herself backward against my raised legs and writhed against my shaft and my rubbing finger. The clasps on my shaft felt both pulsing and almost constant. Her face was drawn as if by torture. She looked at the ceiling and shouted:

"Yes? Oh. ... Ah? Yes! Yes! Oh yes. Oh, oh, oh, YES! Oh. Oh. ... Oh. Oh."

Still clasping my essence, she threw herself forward and clung to me. The rest of what she said was muffled in my shoulder and came out as "mmm" and "hnnn."

I pulled her haunches against my groin and raised myself as well as I could in that position. Then, as her pulsing grip on my member became a recurrent clasp and then a flutter around it, I relaxed. I raised my arms to pat her back and clip her to me.

"Kissed by my lips." I kissed the top of her head again. "Kept in my care." (Did I mention that we were not obsessed by spelling?)

I held her and rocked a hairbreadth each way. I waited for her breath to slow a little. When it did, I tightened my arms a trifle to let her know that she was held by my desire, not only from exigency.

"Lovely and loved. ... Lady and lover. ... Lithesome lass. ... The luxurious, lubricious, luscious, lusty, lover lies safe in the luminous lull."

That brought a movement that was suspiciously like a suppressed chuckle.

"So thy critical sense is back?" I asked.

"My lord, I said not one word."

"No. Thou didst not. Thou art loved, though. And all those other things. And lovely. And a luscious armful. And a lusty lover, if not precisely at this moment. Lie thou here, my lady. That is a command!"

I spread her hair over her back. That didn't work, so I moved it to my left, and then used my left hand to spread it over my right arm and her back. That was much better. I kissed her hair, and she -- after a while -- blew across my chest hairs. Otherwise her breath was even.

My left hand had been patting down her hair. I moved it to her rump and cuddled and squeezed there and below. She stirred.

"Art thou rested enough?"

"Fully. And the dawn is well advanced."

"Magnificent muse of merriness."

She chuckled openly at that. But she rose up, fitted me fully in her, and resumed the up-and-down motions. When I was fully firm, she shifted over to the rotary motion. After a minute, she went over to the side-to-side motion. This faltered. I was concerned.

"My lord, I cannot."

"Well, I can."

I pulled the bolster to my side and tried to turn so that she was upon it. I came out and we were in a mess for a moment. Then I was up and kneeling. I placed her on her back athwart the bolster. I knelt over her for a moment then I placed myself at her threshold and thrust within.

This was no strife, though strove we both. This was no joust, though justly did we keep time. This was simple swiving swiftly done.

Wet was the road by this time, and the path was now an accustomed one. My member had been teased unmercifully in the previous position, it felt for every crevice now. I stroked smoothly for a dozen strokes and then the whole tension and friction of that morning joined together to overwhelm my head.

Whatever Igrayne's weakness, it was in her legs and not between them. Fast as I was to kindle, she took the spark first. Straightly did I stroke and swiftly. Straitly did the sheath grasp and slickly. Igrayne's whole body stiffened and pressed her center toward me. My member was grasped closely with a pulsing clench. I drove into that warm wildness and spent and spent and spent.

We lay breathing into each other and too tired to move away. There was a knocking at the door, whether it began then or we just noticed it then I couldn't tell.

I summoned enough energy to rise. Igrayne started to follow. I tossed the blanket over her.

"Jordanus! Cover thyself Igrayne." Then "Stop knocking, Jordanus, thou art heard."

I unbarred the door. Igrayne perforce covered herself. Merlyn was carrying my armor and acted my squire.

I had a secret reason for urging Igrayne to lie still. Well I know that the first shaft in the butt is what counts in the archery of Eros. I always hoped, despite that fact, that Arthur was conceived in the love of the morning rather than that of the night. I wanted to give those shafts every chance.

Igrayne joined us for breakfast. (With her convoluted coiffure redone.) We rode out on new palfreys leading the ones we had ridden in on the evening before. We reached our camp to learn that the Duke had been killed in combat.

That reversed the situation. Before, the rumor that I was after a man's wife had stiffened his forces and demoralized mine. Now it looked like a simple solution to everybody not personally involved. There are no simple solutions. Igrayne, however, was spurred by an unbleeding belly.

She also was obliged by fealty. We were not like your modern corporations which ask loyalty and withhold it. If the Duchy of Tyntigayll came to me as dowry, every tower came with its old tenant. If it came by right of conquest, men who had fought for her honor would lose their lands. She owed them any effort she could honorably make to avoid that loss.

Igrayne plighted peace, fealty, and her troth in that order, if not quite at that speed. I told her I had sired Arthur, and the bargain that was struck. She served me as Queen. She gave wise counsel always in my interest. She bore my heir and gave him into the hands of Sir Ector and his wife (and, indirectly, of Merlyn).

She gave me the joy of her bed and of her body. She never (except for a brief period after the birth of Arthur) did gainsay me that access. I had much joy of her for the few years that remained for me. And she, too, had pleasure in those joinings, if I know aught of woman.

But never again did I have the warm, wet, wild welcome that she gave the semblance of that thrice-damned Duke.

The End
Igrayne
Uther Pendragon
[email protected] 
1996/07/24
1997/02/18 
2003/05/19
2004/04/30

For a much shorter story involving the wish 
for conception, see:
 "Beautiful Everywhere"  



The directory to all my stories can be found 
at:
 Index to Uther Pendragon's Website