In a silent kingdom, in the depths of the woods, an entire village slept. The curse had remained for 100 years. The legend of Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty was heard on the lips of every parent and child for a century in neighboring lands. Princes, brave and honorable, had tried to save her, climbing through the deadly thorns of the roses tipped with poison, yet, none had survived. Well, Alaric DuPres was not a Prince, but he was not afraid of the legends, the mythical curse, and he doubted there really was a beautiful Princess in the castle. Alaric was the son of the blacksmith, you see, from a Kingdom not so far away from this one.
It was already late one evening, when Alaric had decided to brave the rose thorns, for he was an excellent climber, and go into the castle once and for all. Even Alaric was surprised to find that the task was easy for him. He could not understand why so many of the high bred Princes had failed. He found himself standing alone in the castle's banquet hall. He found a sconce quickly and lit it, finding himself not alone after all in the dim flicker of light. Dozens of nobles slept at the table. So, that part of the legend is true! He mused. But what about the Princess? He turned on his heels and hurried to search for her.
On a divan of blue satin, rumpled with the wear of age, he found her. Yes, this must be her, you see, for she was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen. He feasted his eyes on her, a vision of supple breasts and curvy hips beneath the thin cover of silk on her nightdress.
Alaric had read the stories many times before and he knew what had to be done to wake her from the curse. Smiling triumphantly, he removed his shirt, the ballooning sleeves falling to the floor at his feet and he revealed a tautly muscular chest and narrowed waist. He kneeled to her and looked at her silky hair, long and auburn red, with curls at her temples. He let his hand move down over her sleeping body, to the thatch of hair between her legs that grew moist and warm the moment he touched it. This was the same silky red, and he took luxury in sliding his fingers through the slit there, feeling the little hard nub of her clit harden. She stirred. He must kiss her, he knew it, and she would wake from her slumber of 100 years!
He felt her stir sleepily under him, a smile on her face as if she were experiencing a lush dream. She touched her own breasts as in a private moment, and he took lead and pulled the thin straps of her dress away from her shoulders, pinching her hard little pink nipples in his thumb and forefinger. She moaned but still, she slept. Alaric tasted the hardness of her nipples, like two tiny stones, and he suckled them, softly at first, then hard, pulling and plucking to let her nipples snap back again when he released them from the grip of his teeth.
