The Lonely Queen

The Queen waits with great anticipation for her most trusted chamber maid to arrive, bearing her lover through dark and secret passages, so that they may be together in private, and away from the prying eyes of the court. She paces about the room making sure all is perfect for the night. Candles lit, fresh linen and furs lain about with care, and a roaring fire ablaze with all the passion within the Queens bosom. When the room feels perfect, she then went about the maintenance of her own appearance; and so, before a grand, silver framed mirror she stands, grooming herself.

The woman looking back at her is indeed a rare and beautiful flower. The Queen's face is fair and bright and easy to look upon, her eyes are like rich pools of emeralds, as green as the rolling hills of the countryside. She is a youthful bride, selected for the King to breed heirs; but alas, he is too busy riding behind hunting hounds instead of his wife. She is far from virgin, but has not yet born children and is still fit and tight.

She is berobed only in a thin, silken evening gown that clings to her curvaceous body, leaving very little to the imagination as to what lush wonders lay beneath. Her beautiful, full and pendulous breasts can be seen straight through the regal garment; her nipples always slightly erect from rubbing against the smooth cloth. Long, glowing, auburn hair flows elegantly over her dainty shoulders, concealing their nudity in a flirtatious manner.

Her husband the King finds her beauty and elegance quite satisfying when he is present at court, but, woefully he rather enjoys the ice cold of the hunt more than the warmth of the Queens embrace. In his absence he has her locked away in the bowels of the castle, and proclaims warning that any man found meddling about the Queen's hall would lose his head. With only a handful of maidservants, she remains a prisoner until her husband's return from his lengthy adventures in the snow-sheeted pines.

But what the King does not know is that the very Knight he charged to guard her halls has fallen victim to the lonely and sexually starved Queen. When frigging herself no longer relaxes her healthy appetite for orgasm; she turns her sights on the handsome, well built Knight for more engaging pleasure.

Interrupted during her vanity by the sound of a gentile rapping upon her oaken chamber door, we now find the Queen stirring to investigate the noise. Her slippered feet carry her swiftly across the cold stone floor; a pitter patter of feminine steps reverberates within the stone room. She then presses her ear to the door, and waits patiently for the code they had agreed upon through correspondence. He is to whistle a songbird's tune to signal his readiness. This he does, with much Amore'.

As the grand oaken door creaks open, she could feel her body flush with lust at the sight of the handsome, dark haired Knight; her cheeks are aglow with bright joy. "My dear, there was no need to rouge for me," he joked from behind a dimpled smile.

With one gentle kiss of his lips, and with his powerful hands grasping her shoulders tightly, the Queen feels an overwhelming passion growing hot between her thighs. Lust drunken, she fiercely strips the brawny Knight of his doublet and hose, leaving him naked and all of his physical charm displayed. He is powerfully built with a flat belly, broad chest, and a muscular back made strong bearing arms gallantly into battle. The Queen knew he was skilled in all manner of weaponry, but was most impressed with the way he uses the club a 'dangle between his legs.

"My dear Venus, I have come to worship at your feet," He says charmingly as he works loose the knot in her gown. Her naked breasts, heavy and full, fall free from the cloth, and she feeds him her plump pink nipples. A cold draft kisses their bare skin and chases the couple into the warmth of the royal bed.

Now, nestled warmly amongst fur and abreast the tender glow of a fire, the pair coo like turtle doves and cast shadows of their passion on the clammy, grey, stone walls. "What a wondrous weapon you possess, sir," the Queen complemented before taking him into her moist mouth. She polishes his length with care, and with as much detail as an attendant would give the royal scepter. The knight's toes curl as he watches the Queen make love to his swelling dirk. She wraps her glossy lips tightly around his girth; the cupping and twisting motions of her hands drive him into a wild frenzy. He begs her, "mercy, mercy, you shouldn't render me drained and useless so soon!"

The Queen has felt the warmth of the Knight's lips over every inch of her body, and now she longs for him to explore her most sacred and neglected region. He pushes his face deep inside her black Venetian forest, and inhales her deeply... as if he had stepped outside for breath of fresh air; his tongue, rapidly thrashes her royal pink hood. She pumps her hips, feeding him her swelling lips. Muscles ripple in his powerful back; the Queen delights at seeing such a powerful man obediently pleasing her for once.

Suddenly... her voice leaves her; just as a group of startled sparrows bursts instantly from a tree towards the sky, and she can't inhale nor exhale. A shock surges through her body and electrifies her cunt. All of her pinned-up frustration and tempestuous lust leaves her at once, just as a fierce storm suddenly breaks, the sun peaks from behind frilly clouds, and calmness ensues.

Her gentleman lover climbs atop her, he is instantly overcome by the warmth of her bare skin against his, their sweat lubricating them as they start to slide against one another in a thrilling erotic dance. She is relieved and satisfied at having not an overweight selfish pig astride her, but a powerful, sinewy, stallion of a man. She wraps her naked, lily-white Thighs around his hips and whispers, "take me like the Heathens do their women." There is a look of lust and desire in her eyes.

"Oh...oh...ohh," she moans as he slides his swollen bell deep inside her; she relishes at every inch of him, rising and falling like a butter churn within her. Their tongues dart in and out of each other's hot mouths with sword like flashing. His powerful genitals, glistening with sticky white glee, smash into her delicate body; the bed posts rattle and clatter with such a row, that it is a mystery how the coitus remains undiscovered by the members of court.

Soon the two impassioned lovers come crashing down. The knight feels a seismic energy surging through his body. He presses his face into the deep, sweaty valley between her heaving tits, and lets out a searing battle cry of a roar. The royal chamber is then filled with a sudden and comforting hush. Orange light ebbs in fantastic, throbbing waves across the dull masonry. Silence is broken only when the fire crackles, sending sprites spiraling into the room.

The Queen knows that the King will be gone for weeks; and so the pair passes the night safe in each other's embrace, gently exchanging soft fluttering kisses.