Through The Mists Of Time

You awaken to the sounds of war, 12th century war. Swords clash. Men cry out. You tremble. You look around. It is not your bedroom. These are not your clothes. You are dressed in a rough woven dress right out of a movie.

That's it. You are just having a vivid dream. This is just your mind's sequel to the Singing Sword, that silly movie you watched too late last night. In the morning everything will be back to normal. Then the dream gets more vivid.

The door to your chamber bursts. There is a Viking. There can be no mistake. From his horned helm to his booted feet, he is a mighty man. There is a blood lust in his eyes. Yet, he seems some how familiar. His beard is dark and full with a touch of red and a touch of silver. His sword drips with blood. His shield is notched from heavy fighting. He seems on a mission. Heaven help the man who interferes. He sheaths his sword. His shield still hangs from his forearm. On it is a longboat rolling across the sea under full sail. Where have you seen that ship?

Without a word, he takes you in his arms. Taking you and the blanket right off your bed. You hang your arms around his neck not knowing whether he is friend or foe but it seems so right. He carries you into the darkness, sheltered behind his great shield. His chest rumbles as he bellows orders in a strange language. You melt into his chest. It feels so safe, yet so dangerous.

There are Vikings everywhere. Buildings are on fire. Men lay dead. Women weep. It seems unreal, like something that happened centuries ago. Your Viking carries you through this chaos with long strides. Everywhere you look, Vikings salute the lordly man who carries you gently in his arms.

Soon you see the beach. A small fleet of ships is just visible through the mists. A few fireflies glow eerily in the night. There is a blood moon casting a grisly hue on the whole scene. Your lordly Viking heads unerringly towards the largest ship. The ship's dragonhead prow stares boldly at you. Its fierce teeth seem ready to devour you.

With great gentleness your are deposited amid ship. The crew does not even look up. A tall warrior at the back motions for you to come. You slowly make your way. He signs for you to sit and bows slightly.

In the distance you can hear your Viking bellowing orders. The raid is over. Vikings stream out of the village carrying their prizes. Suddenly it hits you. You have been taken as a prize. Ripped from the fabric of this strange place. Will you be ravished or cherished? Will you be thrown to the crew after he has had is way? Your body shivers and it is not just the night chill in the air.

One by one, the ships head to sea. Your Viking is back. He seems a little tired now. He nods to the tall warrior in the stern and the ship shutters off the beach. The gentle rocking is almost pleasant as the boat comes to life. Soon the fires of the village are just a glimmer. The fireflies fade into the darkness. Your Viking is inspecting the crew. You seem to be ignored. We pass around a point. We have left a bay. The ship starts to ride the rolling waves of the open sea. We travel before the wind. The sail is raised. The oars are stored and the crew sleeps save for the tall giant at the stern. He seems to be second in command. His arms look like trees. The muscles in his legs are sharply defined. He exudes power. You wonder what your Viking has hid under his heavy leather jerkin with its many heavy iron rings.

Then he is there next to you. Still is his full battle gear. Without a word he scoops you off your seat and into his arms. He begins carrying you to the bow, past all of the crew. There is a wise crack. You do not understand entirely but it seems to be about your legs. It is met by a swift solid kick. You are sure the man has a broken nose. You realize that your Viking will tolerate no disrespect and that disobedience could cause a strong reaction. Yet with you, he seems gentle and somehow familiar. You wonder how he found you in this place and time where you do not belong. So many puzzles…but it is pleasant in his strong arms as the ship climbs and falls over the rolling waves of the sea.

You arrive in the bow. The sea is dark and forbidding. The dragonhead seems less fierce from the back side. More like the head of a horse leading the way home as it slices through the waves. You decide that it feels safe in the arms of your Viking lord as he scans the sea. The other five ships are spread across the waves. Each one is rising and falling with its own rhythm.

He sets you down gently but not as gently as before. You look in his eyes and see fatigue and maybe pain. He speaks his first words to you almost through clenched teeth. The language is clear modern English, not the more guttural tongue that had been spoken till now. It was a simple command to remove his armor. Not quite an order. Not quite a request.

You hesitate. Are you a slave? Are you to be a plaything? Are you to be commanded in all things with no free will? Then he commands again…..remove my armor. You can tell he is losing patience. There is anger in his eyes. The gentle looks he had for you are gone. He mumbles please so that only you can hear. He drops his heavy shield and drops his sword belt.

You are stubborn and proud but there is something compelling about this man. You realize he would not command if it were not needed. With a slight bow, you rise up, your blanket drops. You light shift flutters with the wind. It softly outlines the soft curves of your breasts and flows along the lines of your ass. You begin unfastening the heavy straps that hold the heavy jerkin. It drops to the deck with a metallic thud; the heavy rings striking one another. Then you see that your Viking is bleeding. He was injured in the fighting. You gently pull off the soft leather blouse. His chest is broad and hairy. It is adorned by a large silver medallion. You want to reach out. You want to touch it. Or do you want to touch the hair on the chest?

Without thought, you tear a large piece off the bottom of your shift exposing your knees and when the wind blows a little more. You use it as a dressing to stop the flow of blood. You look into your Viking's eyes. You can still see the pain but there is something else. You wonder again about this chance meeting some where in time and space. Fate does not roll dice. Everything has a purpose.

Suddenly you realize. This is truly your Viking. The Viking you have loved across space and time. The one who has shared your most treasured thoughts. Your concern mounts. This injury. Will he still be able to control the crew? Where are you? What is happening? You laugh thinking this certainly is not Kansas and you do not have ruby slippers.

You stop thinking about him. He tells you to take the dirk from his belt on the deck and cut strips from the blanket to hold a dressing in place. You can see his eyes following your every move. You realize that the hurt must look worse than it is when he caresses the smooth curves of your ass; gently pinching and stroking.

You look down at the leather skirt that he is wearing. It is moving slowly. It can be only one thing. You know he has desires. The pain and blood lust in his eyes are giving way to another fire. It burns as brightly as the rim of fire at the horizon. We are heading east. The sun is just beginning to show its face.

He stands and leads you into the very point of the bow. The dragonhead towers over your head. He rests your hands on each gunwale where you can feel the salt spray on your face. He stands behind you. You can feel his body gently pressing against yours. His dick nestles into your crack. He bends his head down and kisses your neck.

Reading his thoughts, you turn and unfasten the leather girdle around his waist. The skirt falls exposing his dick, now swollen with passion. You kneel and begin licking it. You take it in your palms and gently twist back and forth as you begin sucking on the head. His hands go to your head, caressing your hair. He runs his fingers through it. You can feel his cock swelling to full erection. It fills your mouth. This is more real than any other time with your Viking. You can smell his musk.

You just begin to taste the salty pre-cum when he stands you up. His hands grasp the soft fabric of your shift. He starts pulling. He is trying to tear it. You look up into his eyes, willing him the strength but you can see the pain of his shoulder. You kiss his chest and reach down and lift the shift over your head exposing your perfection to him. You are a wonderful silhouette against the background of the rising sun. You are outlined in fire.

He turns you around…..helping you bend at the waist. Your brace your arms against the gunwales of the bow. You know what is next. You have done it before, yet we have never done it. You can feel his cock touching your nether lips. You are damp with anticipation. He steps forward. His cock gently slides in filling your pussy. In and out he moves with the rising and falling ship. You are one with the sea. You are alone in the Universe. The crew is forgotten.

In and out he pistons. His passion is building. Your passions are rising. You can feel the tension in his loins. The anticipation of his release builds with in you. Nothing matters but pleasing your Viking. You are lost in the rhythm of the sea.

You can hear his breathing shift. He is starting to pant. You lose the gentle easy cadence of the sea. Faster and faster, filling your pussy with every inch of cock. His prick feels so good. It rubs your clit just the way you knew it would. Just the way I have told you so many times. The force of my thrust forces you to brace both arms on gunwales. You struggle to push back to take all of me.

His hands pull your hips to him. The silver medallion gently walks along your back as he fucks your pussy with all his considerable strength. I whisper that it is okay to cum. I want you to cum. Then he bursts. His seed flows and fills your pussy. You can feel it run down your legs in warm rivulets. It is flowing to the endless sea.

You do not want the moment to end. You are so close. You feel so loved. His cock feels so good. Your clits cries to be touched. You finally cry out, "Fuck me, Barbarian. Don't stop!"

He valiantly strives to hang on. He reaches around and strokes your clit, sawing his dick in and out. Wanting you to cross over. Wanting you to have that glorious release. Then it hits……your body quakes…….your passion washes over your like a giant wave…..

You open your eyes. It is your bed. The headboard is broken. Your pussy is flowing with man cum. Your sweaty and filled with passion. You are in ecstasy. The sweet after glow of a gentle loving fills your heart and soul. You can almost feel arms around you. There is the scent of a man; of a man in love. Was it a dream? Who was here?

And then you see it. The silver medallion is on your nightstand. It is still warm to the touch as you hold it to your heaving breasts. You kiss it and whisper, "Good night, My Barbarian. Sail back into my dreams soon." Some how you just knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe the medallion was magic and it would bring your Viking back to you.