A spinner of wool decided to leave his shop and explore the world.
Perhaps he would be a hero, battling great creatures!
But no, he was afraid of the spiders he found among the wool. Many a skein he had pitched out the back door, afraid to pick the spider out. No monsters for him!
Perhaps he would discover great mysteries among the mountains!
But no, he often lost his way to the butchers though he had been there many times.
Perhaps he would make his fortune, trading among the tribes of the east!
But no, he knew no languages but his own, and in his shop made a bare living.
He would seek love then! For any person may find love, if they look in the right place.
Taking a cheese, a water skin, he cast around the shop for anything else useful on his quest.
Having no inspiration, he chose at random from his bench a prick, a spindle and a comb. Why not! They had been useful all his life.
Travelling to the edge of town, he looked right and left and back and forward. Forward looked good! He headed on.
Soon he had to cross a river. There by a sandbar was a woman bathing. She was plump and comely and naked, and her hair was matted and tangled.
"Ho! Woman by the river! May I help you with your hair?"
The woman was not afraid nor shy, and waved to him to come forward.
He sat on the rock and considered. Then taking his carding comb, he began teasing the snarls and snags from her hair, never pulling too hard and never breaking a hair.
After a fine while he considered his work - a fine head of hair! Beautiful and shiny!
The bather was quite pleased with the result.
"Man, you have made me beautiful with your comb. May I give you a reward?" She smiled a shy smile.
He laid his rucksack on the bank, stripped from his clothing and plunged into the water. Coming up by the rock he emerged between her legs and gave her a kiss.
She responded by grasping his cock and kissing him back. Soon they were a tangle of arms and legs in the grass on the shore, their lust indulged by sucking, suckling and fucking.
After a time as he thrust into her from behind like the bull in the field, he saw between her ample buttocks a glint of blue. Probing with her fingers (and getting a squeal and sigh from her) he found something hard.
Grabbing it firmly he tugged and Pop! out came a small glass bottle, filled with some blue liquid.
Glancing back over her shoulder the bather looked surprised. "How did that get in there? It must have been in the river and become lodged when I bathed."
Finishing inside her cunt, slippery from her immense enjoyment, he bowed and dressed and put the bottle in his rucksack. "For who knows what use I may make of this? My first talisman on my quest!"
He considered the bather. Was this his true love? No, she cared not for him, but just for his skill with a comb and a cock.
The bather resumed her washing and smiled and waved as he crossed the river and resumed his journey.
On the far bank he looked right and left and back (there was the naked bather, washing her cunt! Hi!) and forward. Forward looked good! He headed on.
Cresting a hill revealed a pleasant valley with a cottage. Smoke came from the chimney. A flock of sheep spread across the grass. A young woman was minding the sheep, pensive.
Approaching the woman, she spotted him and began to complain.
"Nothing ever happens here! I watch the sheep, and the sheep ignore me. Nobody visits this quiet valley; nobody visits my cottage. I'm so bored!"
He considered. "I have here something that will help relieve your boredom for a while at least!"
He dug in his rucksack and produced the spindle - long and thin and stiff, with a bulb on one end. A disk finished it off. She took the spindle from him and examined it.
"What is it? How is it used?"
"Let me show you. It is a spindle, for young women. First we must undress."
The girl (for she was just a young girl really, just into her adulthood) slipped off her shift with a flourish. She wore only that and was quite slim and strong underneath.
The Spinner laid down his rucksack and carefully removed his clothes. When naked he continued.
"Next we must hold each other, skin to skin, until something happens."
The girl embraced him, looking him impudently in the face, her breast against his, her virginal fuzz against his prick. His prick began to grow. Her pussy began to drip.
"Is something happening?!" She pulled apart a bit and stared at his cock.
"Yes, I think it is!"
"Now what do I do? Is it time for the spindle?"
"Sure! We can use the spindle now. Bend over!"
She bent, holding her knees with her hands, her legs strong and straight, firm rump thrust skyward.
With the spindle he traced tracks across her back, across her rump. Then Slip! he inserted the spindle into her cunt, which was wet and ready for it.
She gasped, trembled, then held very still.
Holding the short end, he eased the long thin shaft into her body until it reached the bulb at the base.
Easing in and out gently, he listened to her whimpers and gasps and chose his moment. Then he pushed! gently and got the bulb past her greedy inner lips.
Now the long shaft was completely encased in her girl-flesh. The disk was pressed to her bush. He began to turn the spindle as he had many times before in his craft.
She put her hands on the ground, her flanks exposed completely to his workings. Her flow increased, wetting her nether lips and beginning to run down her thighs.
"Spindle Spindle spin my wool! Set the sliver, twist the plies! Fine as silk for grateful eyes!"
Indeed, her virginal wool was fine as any he had ever spun. But he was not spinning yarn now. He was building to a peak of excitement.
"Threads so slender, twist and pull! Gather the skein! Add the stain! Pull yarn, pull!"
She was panting now and wriggling her hips uncontrollably. He began to alternate twisting the spindle with pulling it 'til the bulb started to appear, then letting her cunt pull it back in. She trembled each time.
Putting one hand under her bush between her legs, he felt with wet fingers until he found her nubbin. Massaging that in small circles, she immediately began to convulse.
Her knees bent and unbent, thrashed her butt in the air, her cunt lips clenched and unclenched. He could not pull the spindle out for the force of her grasping cunt.
With a howl, she began to cum! A stream of creamy foam spilled out around the spindle shaft, flowing around the disk.
Without knowing why, he cupped his hand to save her milky essence.
She quickly filled his hand and the overflow plop-plop-plopped on the ground.
She fell to one knee, and he let her go. With the other hand he rummaged for his water skin, with his teeth he pulled the stopper and emptied it on the ground.
Carefully, carefully he held his cupped hand to direct her cum-fluid into the skin, saving it for later. He knew not why, but this virgin quim fluid seemed to him precious.
"Who knows, but this may be the second talisman of my quest!"
Her heaving breath having slowed, she fumbled around behind her as she knelt on the ground, and carefully tugged at the spindle until she popped! it free. More fluid spurted after, adding to the wet between her knees.
"Thank you stranger for this new toy. I will occupy my quiet hours with pleasure!"
He bowed, dressed, stowed his water skin and donned his pack.
"Sweet young thing, I am glad to be of help!"
He began his trek across the valley floor to the other ridge.
He considered the shepherdess. Was this his true love? No, she cared not for him, but just for his toy. Perhaps one day she would desire a mate, but not today.
Mounting the ridge, he looked right and left and back (the shepherdess was lying in the grass, bare legs straight in the air, her hands furiously working at her quim) and forward. Forward looked good! He headed on.
When the sun was high, he came to a wood. Making his decision he plunged into it.
An hour of trekking brought him out the other side, and he was faced with a sea.
Evening was fast approaching. On a wooden pier sat a maid, a pile of nets at her side, picking at one disconsolately. He approached, greeted her.
"Fisherwoman! Kind greetings! Is there a place nearby, a helpful traveler can spend the night?"
"Oh Traveler! You may spend the night in my cottage, if you only help me un-knot these nets! I have been here two days, and all I have to show is this!"
She held up a small handful of cords - twisted and frayed. She showed him the net she worked.
He examined the knots with a practiced eye. They were pulled tight and swollen from the sea. She'd tugged and pulled at some of the knots but only served to make them tighter.
Rummaging in his pack he pulled out his prick - a short stick with a smooth fine tip, made for picking apart stubborn knots.
Applying himself, he quickly applied his prick to the net and had it fully de-knotted in a trice. He held up the cords to her amazement.
"You are so clever! Show me! I am but a clumsy hand at knots."
He gave her the prick and bent over her back as she awkwardly picket at a net. With only a little coaching, she soon had it apart. With joy she held up the lengths of cord she'd salvaged.
"I am saved! I can quickly make new nets and make a fine catch tomorrow. But the night draws in - you must stay with me and sup in my cottage!"
The cottage was at the edge of the forest, not far. They carried their small harvest of cord to the door.
She turned there and looked at him under lowered brow.
"But what do I know of you? You may be a kind traveler - you have shown me kindness already.
