Medieval Passions

In the days of old, when lords and knights went off on spectacular, yet often long winded campaigns, the deserted ladies were left with three choices. Some, due to the nature of arranged marriages, would spend their time in the arms of some miscreant nobleman who, fearful or faithless, remained behind. Others who, with a less hot blooded yearning, were content with their chosen husbands would remain chaste until their men came home. A third choice made was by women whose soul was hued with both the deep color of passion and the light of fidelity. They would, remaining true to their vows, find their needed sensualism with members of their own gentle sex.

The noble beauty Madame Stephanie de Monteros was of this third persuasion. Stephanie had been betrothed, and soon after married to Lord Hugh de Monteros once she turned twenty. Hugh was a man glowing with chivalry and nobility, and Stephanie fell in love with him almost immediately.

The gallant de Monteros had departed with the King’s league to the Greek Isles, leaving his bride of two years alone at their chateau. There were of course maids and stewards, messengers and servants to do her bidding, but no one to accompany her at meals or at night.

Deep into the night, with only the moon’s soft gleam bathing her, she would lay awake thinking of the soft caresses and gentle feelings she so missed. Upon the soft linen of her bed, dressed in nothing but the night’s cool air, she would pleasure herself while her mind wandered. Imagining the sultry winds of the Aegean, or the golden hills of the Levant, her hands would play across the lust-tightened form of her body. The large nipples standing out firm, tipping her small, soft breasts. A flat stomach, rigid with anticipation, and the round smooth behind, and feminine, curvy waste. Her legs were long and trim. She was the Nordic Queen of her ancestral blood wholly in form and essence.

It was one of those nights of self-indulgence when she first discovered the sensuality of another woman. She laid bare, using her right hand to stimulate her clitoris and her left to drift across her sensitive skin, she could sense more than just the moon’s voyeurism. Someone’s gaze was transfixed on her writhing body, watching her self stimulation, and she was driven further toward climax by the sensation.

Thinking nothing of it at the time, Stephanie had left her chamber door open. Someone stood just inside the gaping aperture, still locked behind the shadows. Stephanie’s pale skin was aglow from the moon’s luminous touch, making her act quite visible for anyone within her doorway to admire. Her body trembling with fiery orgasm, she knew not if she should cover herself, or remain as her humor willed it.

There was indeed a gaze locked on her, through eyes watered with lustful surprise. The maiden Lysette roomed beside Stephanie’s chambers, and she always kept her door ajar lest her lady required something. With both doors open, the mellifluous sighs and soft moans entered the maiden’s room freely. Such sounds of erotic joy gripped her with curiosity, and so she had made her way to look in on her lady.

What she beheld froze her; she had oft times seen the woman bared, as when bathing, but never in such throes of passion.

It was a sight to behold—the soft gleam of the moon flowing from the window, bathing Stephanie in a milky aurora. Her hips raised high off the bed, both her hands busy between her legs, one massaging her clit, and the other feeling deep between her warm, moist folds. She loosed her breath in long, high notes. Her toes were curled hard against the edge of the feather bedding, with silk sheets shunned aside and left in a wrinkled pile. Her eyes were clenched tight, imagining the touch of her love, but she could still sense the attention given her.

Her thighs tensed, her fingers moving with heightened fervor, she climaxed. Masked behind her own moans, she could just make out a muted squeal from her doorway. Broken from her erotic oblivion, she bolted upright and looked to the door. She spied only a silhouette disappearing into the darkness of the hall. Wanting to discover her midnight admirer, she quickly wrapped a silk sheet about her and made her way to the tenebrous hall. A slight creak she heard, a heavy oak door swinging on its whining hinge. She knew where the sound came from, and it was the next door down, the door of her hand-maiden Lysette.

She looked as a phantom wrapped in her silk, seemingly gliding across the floor. Thus she made her way to the maiden’s door, which she nudged open wide enough for her lean body to fit through. The moon was feeding its soft, primrose gleam into that chamber through its wide windows. The light ricocheted off the silk sheet draped across Stephanie, enhancing her spectral appearance.

Before her she saw the maiden Lysette lying back upon her bed, her eyes were wide with abashment, but they twinkled with her risen hunger. Stephanie let the silk drop from her body while Lysette, impassioned and timid at once, gazed on as the fabric exposed the lady’s wondrous body to her. Her heart thumped hard within her chest, and her breath was stilled, her belly tightened, and between her thighs she grew warm.

Stephanie, unencumbered of the sheet, strode to her hand-maiden’s bedding and sat upon its edge. She reached out and laid her hand on the younger woman’s leg, gently caressing it. The soft feel of that flawless skin blew any restraint she might have felt right away. Her own breath went short.

“You can touch me if you want to,” she whispered to the maiden, inviting her. “Do what your eyes betray you want to, don’t be afraid.”

She commenced gliding her fingers higher up Lysette’s leg, reaching with soft strokes for her thighs. Lysette was wholly engulfed with need, a fire raged through her veins as her lady brushed her skin. A slight tremble traversed her body, a display of her yearning. Stephanie caught on to this beckons, and followed her hand’s path with her lips.

As Stephanie kissed her way up her leg, the hand-maiden tensed up, shy to such acts, yet curious and enjoying it. Stephanie’s full lips and wet, nimble tongue worked magic, sending lustful shivers up Lysette’s spine. She kissed and drew a line with her tongue to the woman’s tender sex, where she licked its entire length once before making thorough work of it.

Lysette gripped the bed in tight fists and leant hard against the chilly stone wall, her breath failing her. The sensations brought water to her eyes and a sweet sigh to her lips. The agile tongue soon had her fresh sex wet with anticipation and greed. She released the bed from her hold, replacing it with her own large breasts, pinching the hardened nipples between her thumb and forefinger. She bit at her lip as the tingling impulse from her fiery cunt drew her mind into a haze.

Stephanie looked up from her place between the woman’s legs, and smiled once she saw Lysette’s eyes clenched shut and her chest heaving with excitement. Stephanie hadn’t ever been in such a situation, but like old memories returning, she just knew how to treat another woman to sensual pleasure. Any failings she might have would be lost to her partner who had no prior acquaintance with it either.

With her arms entwined around Lysette’s legs, Stephanie slipped her tongue deep into the warm slit, intoxicated by the woman’s delightful aroma. The juices flowed to her lapping tongue, feeding her lust with its ambrosial taste. She licked higher and higher until she reached the awaiting, sensitive clitoris. She brought her right hand up and inserted two fingers into the moistened channel, sliding them fully inside and commenced pushing in and pulling out.

Lysette moaned, twisting her nipples painfully between her fingers. Her toes were curled and her legs were rigid, her whole body went taut. She had to consciously fight against her natural urge to shout out in ecstacy, several times she failed as the lusty haze settled in her mind again. Her impassioned cries and sighs echoed gleefully through the dark halls.

The sensations brought on by the wet tongue and soft, gentle lips bathing her clit, and the fingers slipping in and out of her tight, fresh sex pushed her beyond control. Eyes still shut tight, biting down on her lip, Lysette struggled with the orgasm welling deep within. She could feel the trembling between her legs, and giving license to the rapture vying for mastery, she shook with a blazing climax.

Stephanie brought her honey-glazed fingers to her lips and savored the nectar on her tongue. She smiled when the hand-maiden finally opened her eyes, and their gazes fixed one upon the other. Sliding herself up the bed, she brought her body along side the other woman’s, and cuddled gently against her. And their lips met in a long, deep kiss.

So ensued four months of Sapphic lovemaking between the two. At the end of which the gallant Lord Hugh de Monteros returned, dressed in all the riches and honor of victory. Garbed in the best silks and velvets available, and at the head of a train of splendid knights astride glamorously dressed chargers. Their homecoming was greeted by every man and woman, all of them dressed in their finest clothes. The chateau and town were likewise adorned; the ensign and arms of Monteros draped from every window. Musicians and the cheering of the subjects filled the morning air with an exuberant melody.

Upon the walls, all the courtly ladies waved and smiled, dropping rose petals and handkerchiefs about the returned chevaliers. Every one of them appeared as the maidens of Aphrodite, draped in Olympian grace and virtue, but still with all the charms of the world. A sight to behold indeed, but Lord de Monteros glanced upon them only to seek out his lovely Stephanie, and not finding her among them he looked no more. They welcomed their victorious lord of course, but they awaited the other knights who would gather their fallen kerchiefs and seek audiences with those amorous apparitions.

Riding through the wide cast gates, Hugh de Monteros found his wife, surrounded by all her ladies-in-waiting, standing ceremoniously on the stairs of his chateau, and she was the unsurpassably enchanting angel he dreamt of every night he was absent. He dismounted and gave his charger to an awaiting squire.

Indeed, an angel. Her long, golden locks mocked the sun’s eminence, and the azure of her eyes made the sky dull in comparison. She was wrapped tight in a white, brockade gown which accented the charms of her body, rather than covering. Every contour of her perfect form was visible, and her strawberry-hued nipples showed through, erect and taunting. Amidst a crowd of alluring courtiers, she was as Cleopatra on her night with Marc Antony, surrounded by the most beautiful women of the realm, yet they were plain next to her.

He looked upon her Norse face, and saw her shameless smile as she turned from him and ascended the stairs, leaving him in the wake of her glamour. His eyes never left the flirtatious, graceful body even as her maidens took him by the hands and bid him follow. Through the gaping door and into the chateau he followed, and his nymph-like guides led him higher into the castle, and finally into his lady’s private boudoir. And the sight that greeted him was breathtaking.

Stephanie had already disrobed, baring all of her addictive body to the deprived knight, and was reclining on a velvet couch with silks draped across it. Her head was resting against the breasts of her maiden Lysette, who rubbed a soothing lotion into the skin of his wife. Lysette was nude as well, allowing their bodies to press close and awaken the aphrodisia in that chamber.

The maidens led Hugh to a couch opposite his wife and sat him back upon it. His eyes never left the sight of his wife and the tender masseuse beneath her. Even the hands of the ladies disarming him and taking the tunic and pants from his body couldn’t break his trance. Soon he was as his wife, au naturel.

All but one of the ladies left Hugh, and this one continued to flirt her fingers across the giant form of the man. She caressed his broad chest and rigid stomach, and handled his engorged member as one would a precious treasure. She knelt before him with the same expression of servile ease she’d have if bearing a message or gathering fruits from the garden. He watched his wife as her own hand maiden rubbed her down, and she met his gaze, that impish grin reappearing.

She turned around and laid breast to breast with Lysette, initiating a deep kiss, a kiss so passionate it took even the breath of the man watching from across the room. Her hands returned the favor of caresses on Lysette’s larger bosom, her legs entwined around the maiden’s so they became locked together lips, arms and legs. Their heat exchanged and between them they hatched a wild fire of passion.

Remaining wrapped with the other woman, Stephanie, with her eyes shut tight, knew what took place across from her. She could sense her husband’s longing eyes glued to her, trying to lure her to him, yet enjoying the sweet deprivation as well. She could imagine him, his eyes wide while he watched his wife teasing him in the arms of another woman, and all the while his own manhood was manipulated by a third woman’s lips and tongue.

She broke the kiss after minutes and, after applying her lips upon Lysette’s soft breast, rose from her place. He was certainly ready enough from the handmaiden’s delicate ministrations, she knew it to be so. She turned toward him and said: “Come to me, love.”

After bidding the servant girl rise from before him and kissing her gently on the cheek he walked to his waiting wife. Disrobed she looked only more angelic to him, even more spectacularly inspirational than the Roman sculptures, for no artist’s ideal could ever attain the perfection of his Stephanie.

The distance separating them vanished and they were in each other’s arms, their naked bodies pressed firmly together. Like a storm tearing forth onto a calm sky, he soon had her lying on the couch again, his lips pressed to hers, and his cock deep within her. Her legs spread for him in impatient submission, and he took her while Lysette and the other maiden gazed on.

Stephanie’s vagina, moist from her tryst with Lysette, accepted the man’s large member. Not only a majestic sheath for his noble flesh, she was the completion of the man; tangled in his wife’s comfortable body he was lost to the world around, which crumbled into oblivion. They were not two bodies expending sexual puissance, but one loving, desiring flesh, one pure and sensuous act, as their marital vow had bound them.

Her hands locked around his head, nestling his face against the smooth, yielding skin of her breasts. Her lips allowed the sweetest nothings and entrancing whispers to escape as Hugh suckled her hard, deep red nipples, pinching so slightly the sensitive erections between his flawless teeth. His hands were nestled beneath her buttocks, clenching the firm mounds, and lifting her to achieve better leverage for his entry. Not the cheers outside nor the sighs of the two maidens broke the concentration of the two lovers upon each other, their senses attentive only to each other, united as much as their bodies.

He thrust his manhood in, and each time pulled back struggling to escape the greedy, clenching slit of his lover. His lips flitted across the hardened summit of her breasts before abandoning them for her lips, silencing her mellifluous cries with a kiss. Her tongue impatiently shot upward, snaking into his mouth, and wrestled amorously with his, her full lips trembled against his. He manipulated and massaged her rear with his strong, dextrous fingers, all the while lifting her from the couch, acquiring superb leverage for his attacks.

The weight of his herculean body pressed down upon her chest, crushing her flawless tits beneath him, but the constriction was not uncomfortable, but rather soothing in its power and breadth. The lady’s hips were locked against his, her legs hanging limp and at ease to either side, and with each injection of his engorged cock he felt the muscles of her buttocks tighten and hollow, encouraging his erotic motions.

Their lips remained locked, and they looked deep into each other’s eyes, engulfed with love for one another. They could both feel the moment of expiration nearing, and their hot bodies pressed harder against one another. Hugh’s thrusts went deeper, and his wife tightened her conditioned thighs, clenching his phallus within her sultry depths.

Their kiss was broken, and Stephanie pulled his head against her silky shoulder, nestling him, his cheek against hers. She allowed a long exclamation to fly from her lungs, her entire figure going rigid, allowing strong waves of orgasm to overwhelm her petite body. Hugh responded with his own release, loosing his virile essence inside his receptive lover. With the flow of his seed, he felt the fire of his months’ deprivation abandon him like the molten discharge of the trembling, frustrated volcano. The grip of his wife’s slender fingers held him with need upon her, and for a long time of silence, all but for the comforted breathing of the two, they clung to each other, oblivious to everything else.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Stephanie whispered, followed by a gentle kiss.

THE END.