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by James Cody

I am on a battlefield. A sword rests heavy in my hand. The weapon doesn't feel right, but the fiery speeches that Wallace spewed ignited an unknown fire deep in my bowels. I had to follow him into battle. But so many of us have died already that once green hills are now dark with the empty life of my countrymen.

When Wallace came to my village, I was working in the fields alongside my wife, Meagan. Oh, she was a beauty of a woman: almost as tall as me, with blazing green eyes and a mantle of golden hair that stretched down to her ass. We had no children but she had tits that would put any milkmaid to shame. But her greatest beauty was a spirit and a will that could confound the noblest of scholars. I was by no means a learned man, simply a farmer following the trail of his ancestors; yet, Meagan felt no shame standing by my side. For that, I was blessed.

"Alewyn," she said. "That's the savior of our land!" I had looked at her then, wondering her meaning. When she rushed to greet the new arrival, it dawned on me. Her parents and first husband had been killed by the invaders; and this man, Wallace, most likely held the key to her vengeance. For that, I hated him at the time. She would forget her happiness with me and brood over the loss of her first loves … her true loves. I didn't doubt her feelings for me, but she would never have with me the same passion she had with them.

I joined her as Wallace drifted through the village folk, seizing hands and asking for sword arms. A great battle was brewing and he needed souls for his army. As he came to me, I leered into his blue eyes. Meagan gripped my hand, feeling my unease at his presence. He took my shoulders and brought his face close to mine. Then, I had no choice. I broke free of Meagan's hold and followed Wallace. His words, her need for vengeance, my own need to prove myself the equal to her past compelled me to join his army.

To say that Meagan was cross with me would be an understatement. A fool she called me before setting off and leaving. I'm not a warrior by nature; god knows my hands are better at writing songs and harvesting wheat than taking a man's life. But the time came to fight for what mattered; those things that are often greater than we are.

On the outskirts of the village, the men joining Wallace pooled together in tents and rested that night before setting out for battle. Mine was alone, some ways away from the others. I sat by the fire, watching my blade glow in the moonlight as I sharpened it. It was in pristine condition, forged in times of peace.

Then, I sprang backwards as a rustling startled me. I rose to my feet, awkwardly holding the weapon. Like a dream, Meagan emerged from the shadows behind the fire. She approached me, her tunic falling away like some forgotten memory. She took the sword from my hand and tossed it to the ground. With a finger to my lips, she led me quietly to what was going to be our tent for the night.

I struggled to get my jersey over my head as Meagan pushed me to the bed and shoved my kilt past my hips, laying my hardness to bare. I ran my fingers through her hair as she suckled greedily at my cock. After a few minutes I had to move away as the intensity of my pleasure proved too much to bear. Reluctantly releasing me, Meagan moved onto her back and opened her arms to receive me.

When I entered her pussy, it was like discovering her warmth and moisture for the very first time. She seemed to have regained the tightness of her youth, something I had never known. She responded to my motions with a frenzy that left me breathless. When I leaned down to take her nipple in my mouth, she crushed my head to her breast. I tried to pull back from fear of hurting her. But she merely whispered my name and pumped her pelvis in tandem to mine.

As Meagan slowed, she slipped out from under me and turned onto her hands and knees. I moved behind her and lowered my head. I slowly explored the folds of her cunt with my tongue, trying to discover the secret we all keep in our most intimate self. Her legs trembled to the rhythm of my caresses. I found her clit with my lower lip and massaged it in small circles. I then pinched it and hummed lightly. Meagan arched her back and moaned loudly. That drove me insane; I got to my knees and fucked her from behind wildly. We screamed each other's names as we rolled around the tent, crushing its supports and toppling it over us. I cried tears as I came in her; her nails dug deeply into my thighs. We then fell asleep under the crumpled fabric of my tent.

In the morning, Meagan hugged me. "I couldn't promise to wait for you," she said. I closed my eyes and held my sword. "I can't promise to come back," I whispered.

That was a day ago.

As the sound of bagpipes rages on, I stand back as the last line of my comrades race to their death. Cowardice grips me. I want to turn and run and relive my last night with Meagan forever. But if I leave, they will find us and slaughter us. I raise my sword. I howl. I run. An arrow pierces my heart; I fall to my knees…


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