Lady Arlen wore her new gown to Easter mass. Made of a thin silk, she shivered in the cold glare of the old stone chapel. The chapel was built from the local bedrock—the same stone used for the stretch of Hadrian's wall that lay in her husband's barony, and thus held no warmth in the April noon. Lord Arlen had never been a religious man, and jilted mass in favor of tending to the plowing and sowing of the cornfields on the far edge of their land. The soil was rocky up in northern England and proved to be an arduous task; Lord Arlen would be gone for days at least. Lady Arlen didn't care much for the Church of England either, but she had to attend because it was expected of her.
The lisping Anglican clergyman carried on in his devotional jargon and Lady Arlen found herself licking her lips as her glance caught young Matty Groves. He a youth of eighteen—she was six years older—and she had never noticed what a fine man he turned out to be. Matty spent his days in fields and barns, far from Lady Arlen's gentle life of embroidery, singing, and child rearing passed in the manor. She had seen him last eastertide a gangly youth, but in a year's time he had grown in strength and height. His muscles bulged through his rough spun tunic and his legs were sculpted and powerful beneath his trews. He wore his hair long, shorn at the base of his neck and it was colored in a lovely chestnut. His eyes were springtime green, nose long and straight, and lips full and crimson.
Lady Arlen's legs clenched together with a stir and her undergarments were dampened and warm. Stuck in the church for another hour at least, she squeezed her thighs together in a quest for succor; each nudge of pressure was a dull relief to her mad lust for young Matty Groves.
Matty didn't enjoy church; he much preferred to be out in the fields, laboring, or between the thighs of an easy wench after a night at the village tavern. He passed easter mass with thoughts of the fresh spring air awaiting him outside, and admiring the slender figure of Lady Arlen. Her gown was a deep red and tight around the bodice, pushing her breasts high and proud. The plump, creamy globes melted over the neckline just so, and Matty's hardness strained at the confinement of his trews. He wondered what it would be like to run his tongue along the soft skin of her breast, pushing his fingers through her thick golden hair and entering her as her blue eyes were dark with lewd hunger.
Matty drank the blood of Christ and dissolved the wafer under his tongue, concluding the service. As the villagers filed out, Matty felt a light caress on his forearm. "Matty Groves, won't you come home with me tonight? I'm lonely and I desire you. Please, Matty Groves, please sleep with me tonight?" Lady Arlen whispered into his ear for him alone to hear; her lips tickling the tender skin at his neck.
His lust was stirring and his cock was fully hard but he resisted. "I can't come home with you, I won't come home with you, for the gold ring round your finger tells me your Lord Arlen's wife, and my head would surely come off."
"My husband's far gone and won't be home for days now. Don't you desire me, Matty?"
Matty's head was pounding with unchecked lust as her comely breast rose and fell with her waiting breath, and the plump bloom of her lip opened wide with each sinful word she spoke. He found it harder and harder to resist. "Meet me at the servant's entrance round back at nightfall," she whispered and turned on her heel to leave.
As she was passing through the threshold of the old stone chapel, she threw her head back and shot a simmering gaze in his direction, causing Matty's skin to tingle throughout.
When dark fell over the yellowed Northumberland hills, Lady Arlen's pale face stuck out of the service entrance like the specter of an angel. Catching the eye of Matty Groves, she bade him closer and took him by the hand. Like two apprehensive virgins, they ascended the back stair, careful not to slip upon the damp cobblestone. In the diminishing light, Matty studied Lady Arlen's shadow, imprinting it into his mind for he knew he would never know her again after tonight.
They stood against the firelight in the Lord's bedroom. It flickered around the stone walls and up upon the weathered oaken beams at the ceiling, casting a luscious glow on the pale skin of Lady Arlen. She stood a length from Matty. With deft and slender fingers, she unbuttoned the bodice of her striking scarlet gown to reveal full, rounded breasts capped in rosy nipples. Matty stood frozen as he took in the glorious sight. She drew her hands down and pushed down the rest of her gown until it fell in a silken heap at her ankles. Her hips were rounded like a perfectly formed cloud; soft and white and beckoning as they framed the spare bush of spun golden hair between her thighs.
"Come here, Matty." Her voice was husky and deep with the lust that burned within her.
Her breath was softly ragged as she fiddled with the buttons at Matty's chest, giving way to a triangle of smooth chest. She ran her cool hands across it, scraping her nails over the skin ever so lightly. He tweaked with a flood of desire that begun at his hot red cheeks and shimmied down to a lump in his throat before meeting the earth at the tips of his toes. His head was ringing as she pressed her soft lips on his muscled contours, running her warm pointed tongue along his pectorals and flitting around his faintly haired nipples.
She ran her hands down his strong sides and lifted his tunic over his head to reveal his torso. It was hard and muscled from long days laboring in the fields, and accented with a light showing of soft chestnut curls that extended from his clavicle to his pelvis. Matty grasped Lady Arlen close to him; her firm breasts swelled on his chest and her nipples beckoned like two sweet butter tablets.
Matty sought the noblewoman's blossomy mouth and took her lip upon his, pulling and nibbling at her sweet orifice. Her tongue pushed past his rougher lip and flicked in and around his own tongue. Slowly she pulled away and looked into Matty's eyes with her own glimmering gaze, "take me to the bed Matty."
He wrapped his lips round hers once more and slid his arm down the perfect ellipse of her spine, over her plump and sweet little ass, and down to her smooth thighs. Nocking his forearm beneath her slender legs, he picked her up in his thick muscled grasp. She wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck and he carried the light wraith of a woman to the Lord's bed. Gently he laid her upon the lush velvet bedspread and stood over, admiring her nude form. She twined her legs around his ass and pulled him close to her. He didn't bother to resist and fell tumbling atop her pleasing and supple form.
With a brilliant use of her appendage, Lady Arlen slid her small feet down his back and hooked her toes to the waistband of Matty's trews and drew them downwards, revealing his thick erection. She took the cock in her grasp with evident delight. Matty groaned as her soft hands wandered up and down his shaft, tugging at his sensitive head and cupping the balls in her palm.
Her cunny was positively dripping with fluid so delightfully pungent that it filled Matty's senses. His mobility was inundated with an overwhelming desire to consume every bit of the noblewoman, and he brought his mouth to her chest. The lady breathed a plaint of delight as Matty took one swollen nipple between his lips. He suckled at the sweet rosy skin and bit softly upon the hardened nubbin. Lady Arlen ran her fingers through Matty's hair as she brought him closer to her breast and he doubled his attentions, bringing his fingers to a pinch at her opposite nipple. She ground her damp cunny against his lower abdomen as he worked, pleasuring herself with the hard cut of his powerful body.
Matty pushed his throbbing hardness against the honeyed twin cambers that split open to reveal her rosy star at the bottom, tapering upwards to her trickling cavern and stiffened bud. "Enter me, Matty," she moaned, "get deep in me and fuck me!"
Lady Arlen was hanging off the edge of the bed, her back soft into the down mattress and legs dangling upon the wooden frame. Matty stood over her. Tauntingly, he withdrew and smirked at her desperate countenance before sliding his cock into her keen and greedy mouth. Eagerly, she pressed her fat lips around the peasant's shaft and plunged back and forth, taking his length down her tight throat. She wanted nothing more than to consume her lover whole and took him as deep as she could within her. Matty bellowed his lust as she cried her pain. So buried was he in the Lady's throat that her fair skin turned red and her eyes rolled into darkness as her breath faltered. He reached down and behind himself to press his fingers upon her cunt, pulsating rapidly, and brought her to a strangulated climax.
He pulled his throbbing rod from her to return the foregone zephyr to her pretty lungs. She laid—skin pink and dewy—panting. "Matty Groves, where have you been all my life?" she sighed, gazing upwards at him. He found himself descending into her smoky blue glance as his cock tickled her mound below.
As Matty was suspended bare above her, she drew her breath in as she examined him. His body was cut and godlike, his face sweet and powerful and lusty all at once. He reminded her of the empyreal knights she read of in the Arthurian cycles; he was the Gawain to Lord Arlen's Green Knight, and she a yielding Lady Bertilak. A far cry was he from her cantankerous husband who dripped his seed into dryness and left her each night. Matty was an attentive and generous lover; he made her feel desired and gave her a pleasure she had only had glimpses of before.
