I walked into the bedroom - a door had been left open - and saw that the 'bed' was really a corner stacked high with cushions. That would be comfortable. Unique and unfamiliar, but comfortable. Stripping myself down to a simple tunic and pants, I was able to see my face again. Chiselled by the weather I had endured, it was rough but strong. I ran a hand through my dark brown hair, cropped short for this weather. The stubble of the week's jouney from my lands to this one was asessed by running a hand along my chin.
"Hmm..."
Quietly, I contemplated to myself, and the I walked over to my bags - they had been carried here by some of the other servants - and picked out some toiletries. A blade for shaving, and a small mirror. The man soon appeared from the rough desert traveller. I cut down the stubble, a simple and routine chore, before packing things away. Sorting through my belongings, I found myself a clean white tunic and pulled off the shirt. My chest was scarred, battle scarring, as was my back - one small puckered wound just inside of my right shoulder on the back, and dozens of small scars on my left torso.
"How did you get wounded in the back?"
The voice of the beautiful young guide made me jerk around, and she gave a small laugh as I blushed. My mind could see which way hers did; The wound had to have been taken from behind, and it was too large to be an assassin's weapon. Was I a coward? I accessed the memory in my mind, calling up the pain of the weapon as cold steel slipped between my ribs. But instead of shame, I smiled at the memory as I recalled it. She leaned forward in interest, shamelessly bribing me to divulge the memory with her cleavage.
"Back about fifteen years ago, I was being taught how to command a phalanx... I told them to march while leading... and forgot to march with them when I was on horseback. Got stabbed in the back by one of my own pikemen."
The former phalanx commander smiled, and she returned the expression, clasping her hands behind her back as she leaned forward, rewarding my story with an unimpeded view of her honey-gold skin. I looked at her breasts, then up at her face. It was rude not to take an invitation. For the first time, I took the time to study this young woman. Behind was the swish of her blond hair, tied back into a simple ponytail. A few locks escaped the worked leather band, and framed her face. Which was flawless, as was the rest of her body, toned by the activities of her job. What fat was there was in the right places.
Her breasts were two globes of honey-gold skin, tight against the white cloth of her... clothes. They weren't overly large, keeping with her rather slim build, and could fit easily into the palm of my hand. Her hips shook a little as she followed my gaze down to them, letting the white cloth sway in their wake. Those gave her an accented hourglass shape, strong, sinewey muscles flexing as she shifted her weight from side to side.
"You certainly have a way with yourself, don't you?" I teased.
She smiled, twisting her shoudlers to allow me a more distracting view. The cloth wrap was straining and stretching in... very interesting ways.
"I know what men like." She whispered, her voice oozing with sexuality. "And I just love to see them looking."
Turning around, she stepped into me, pressing her back against my bare chest. The feeling of her warm body was so alien... yet so familiar. I heard her moan in the same feeling as she stretched her shoulders to reach around behind her, holding my hips.
"It just makes me feel so... wanted."
She gasped huskily, grinding her hips against mine, feeling my member grow as she rubbed it with her asscheeks. I found my arms wrapping around her stomach, my hips moving on their own as they grinded against her backside. Reaching up, I slipped my hands under her shirt, and confirmed two of my earlier suspicions: she wasn't wearing anything underneath those cloth coverings, and her golden globes could easily fill my palms with their firm, jelly like texture.
The young woman gave a small moan as she let me play with her breasts, the fondling causing the elastic white silk to ride up to her shoulders and leaving me with a view of her bared chest. Leaning back into me, we shared a kiss - hot and intense - as her lustful form bucked against mine. She was ready, I could tell that as I pressed the fingers of my right hand against her waist, and slipped underneath her skirt. Again, I realized that there was no undergarments - I wonder what she wore on windier days - and touched the slick, warm crevice that was her womanhood. Not a hair on her body, either.
