Finally the ladies emerged from the castle, faces blushed, and bosoms lifted high in their riding attire. Her Grace, Falling, led us to the stables where peons had readied all the steeds for the (now early afternoon) excursion. Since this is a fantasy, everyone was an excellent rider. (Author's note: In real life my riding experience has been such that the damn horse went wherever it wanted, and I hung on for dear life.) I made certain that the pig was roasting over a hot bed of medieval charcoal, and we were off. Fortunately we remembered to bring a few Middle Ages sandwiches and ale with us. As you might expect, ale from the middle-ages was quite well fermented. The sandwiches? Well, the bread was a bit stale, and the lunchmeat and tomatoes dried out a little, but the salt was holding up nicely.
We had a jolly good time, except for one little mishap. Not to worry. Everything turned out well. Lady Julianna's mount, frightened by a child's plastic snake placed by some malicious kid right on the path we were on, bolted, and were it not for the marvelous equestrian skills of Her Grace, Falling, who rescued the lady by racing cross-country to close the gap between the two steeds and bringing the runaway to a halt, it might have been an unhappy excursion. I would have given chase myself, but even in this fantasy, I remembered my real life experiences with horses and thought better of it. Lady Julianna seemed a bit uneasy, so we all dismounted and cuddled her back to calm. Stroking her in certain places seemed to give her the treatment needed to bring her off -- er - back to normal. Her level of excitement did seem to go out of control a time or two, but finally all was well. Soon dusk was approaching and we all agreed that the feast that awaited us beckoned us back to the castle.
As we started back, I noticed a large private bus moving slowly along the road adjacent to the property. When we finally got back to the castle, we dismounted and castle staff led our mounts to the stable to be put to bed for the night. We made our way as a group to the pool area, and what we found surprised us. There was the bus I had seen, now parked in the drive leading to the castle, and the pool area was overflowing with people. Looked like maybe forty, plus or minus a few. I only recognized some of them, but some of those in our group seemed to recognize others as well. It turned out to be a busload of people from the Author's Hangout at Literotica. The group was traveling the country, crashing every gathering they came upon. The castle staff had entertained and served them well, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. There were greetings and introductions all around, and as soon as introductions were made, it was obvious who they were. Some had come a very long way to be here, even a few from overseas.
One group, over near the bar included Fem, Zade, Abs, Vana, DampPanties, minx (who I had proofed a story for at Literotica), EL, cloudy, imp, fallen, trini, Rogue, Rachlou, and Vella. Looked to me like a hen party of the highest order.
Another group was near the spit with our roasted pig. That group had Feee, inlovewithyourghost, SelenaKittyn, Sweetsubsarah, Sophia Jane, Nosferatuness, Matriarch, Minsu, Tom Collins, and Mckenna. They all had drinks in their hands, and were sniffing the pig as if they wanted to devour it.
Then over at the far end of the pool was the last group. All men, and all watching a football game on television. Author's note: Television was in it's infancy during the middle ages, but Her Grace had the latest model Muntz available, in big screen -- 8 inches. I discovered the names for all the guys, and they'll lynch me if I leave any of them out. So there was The Fool, Joe, Rob, SEVERUSMAX (he shouts a lot, I guess 'cause his name is all caps), Sal, slyc willie, curt, woody (is there an innuendo there somewhere?), and Neonurotic,
Author's note: If anybody is missing, I live on 1st street, in the capitol of Zimbabwe. Everybody there knows me. You can complain in person when you find me there.
As luck would have it, the football game ended just as the foreman of the castle staff announced that the gourmet pink pig was ready to serve. The Crusaders beat the crap out of the Seljuk's in the ballgame, 296 to minus 190. People rushed to the serving line and a few were trampled, but no serious damage was reported. The castle staff had wisely erected makeshift picnic tables (read gluttony stations) to seat everyone, and the meal was a boisterous success. To use a medieval cliché, everybody pigged out. Author's note: That term was actually first used at a nobleman's feast in the South of Gaul, when people really had gall.
As the meal drew to an end, people started forming small groups, from pairs up to six or seven to a group, and wandering off around the castle grounds, clothing dropping wherever it was discarded along the way. The castle staff had a hell of a time cataloging it all, by owner, for return at a later time.
Author's disclaimer: Don't ask me who was in which group. I'm not dumb enough to try to group any of this crowd with any others. All I can say is that if you ended up in the wrong crowd it's your own damn fault. And if you found yourself in no group at all, go take a shower and get rid of your B.O. There's an ample supply of frankincense and Liz Taylor Passion in each shower stall. (Yes, I believe Liz was around during the middle ages. She was on her 126th husband about then.)
The next morning the castle staff served a scrumptious breakfast, and the busload of guests slowly gathered what they could find of their belongings and headed for the tour bus. There were hugs and kisses all around, and gracious words of thanks for the wonderful evening and the marvelous breakfast. Castle staff loaded the unclaimed belongings in the cargo bay of the bus to be sorted and distributed later.
The nobility took refuge in the pool area to relax and tell tales of their weekend that would soon be coming to an end. From time to time a pair or small group would wander off, only to return later with clothing in disarray and makeup smudged or on the wrong lips. I looked for the television set that had been at the end of the pool the day before, but there was no sign of it anywhere. I inquired of the castle staff and they told me they had not seen such a contraption in their entire lives. Author's note: I hate being lied to, don't you? I knew damn well there had been one the previous day.
Oh, well. Maybe it will turn up somewhere, sometime. We all ate a light lunch, and the gentlemen helped me strike the tent and load it into my transportation. Falling wanted to keep the driveway streamers as a memento of the occasion, so they were placed in the stable. About mid-afternoon we all took a stroll around the grounds, solidifying our friendships. Author's note: If there was any sex for you sex-thirsty perverts to read about, I didn't see any, unless you count the kissing, groping, and fondling.
We made it back to the castle just as the staff trumpeter was sounding a fanfare announcing the readiness of the evening banquet. I think it may have just been a dinner bell, but this IS a fantasy, so just go with me on the trumpeter thing, okay?
The banquet was the real deal. A myriad of toasts preceded the seven courses with wine appropriate for each, and desserts to die for. I shouldn't say this, but I did see a little hanky-panky during the meal. No, I'm not going to describe it. Author's note: Here's your chance to have a little fantasy within a fantasy. Imagine the hanky-panky of your choice with the noble(s) of your choice.
As the evening wore down, I found myself in close proximity to Her Grace, and she invited me to join her for a nightcap. We went inside and one nightcap led to another, and soon I was feeling no pain. My eyes began to droop, and maybe what I saw was a dream. Her Grace was on a couch with a young man, and they were talking softly, and drinking vodka. As they continued to talk, their speech became a bit slurred, and then I saw them begin to remove the other's clothing. In only a few minutes they were coupling right before my eyes, kissing, groping, fondling, and then fucking. Hard. Her Grace was moaning, and words I couldn't quite understand came from deep in her throat. She shifted, rising to the back of the couch, and the young man followed, re-inserting, then stroking faster, faster, faster. He was holding her hips to gain deeper penetration, and then in mid-stoke the couch toppled over, dumping the couple onto the carpet, still engaged. The young man reached for anything to stop the fall, and pulled the fish tank over, cracking as it hit the carpet, spilling small fish onto the carpet. Her Grace seemed to have struck her head on a coffee table behind the couch, and I saw some slight bleeding from her scalp, but it quickly stopped.
I woke early the next morning. We were to wrap up the festivities. I was lying naked, face down, on the patio. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was an empty vodka bottle just out of reach at my fingertips. I glanced to my left as I rose up on my arms, and saw Her Grace conked out, naked, not two feet away. There was another vodka bottle, empty as the other, in her right hand. I tried to figure out why we were there. Then a memory of what I thought was a dream came wandering into my head. I slowly came to my feet and I turned to look into the den just inside the patio doors. The room was a wreck. The couch was overturned, an end table was on its side, the fish tank was busted, with a vodka bottle stuck through the glass, and little dead fish were scattered over the wet carpet. Another empty bottle lay on the carpet next to the fallen fish tank. I remembered seeing a young man, but there was no evidence of him now.
Her Grace woke then, and seemed confused as well. When she stood and looked into the den, she broke into peals of laughter. When she finally stopped laughing, she put her arm around my waist and said, "I guess it wasn't a dream. Let's go get cleaned up. We have breakfast to put out."
