Dungeons and Dicks Ch. 02

I stood and stepped around, indulging myself in a serious eye-fondling of Anne. "He looks you over, professional arrogance and ingrained negotiating skills warring with non-commercial enthusiasm in his voice. 'I don't know, Holy One. I must admit that your armor is of high quality. I am not sure that I could better it without great expense...'"

Anne stepped out from behind the table and over toward me. I looked as if I was going to get the bite I wanted. "Gala slides her holy tabard aside to fully reveal her plain and utilitarian armor," Anne said. The last time she had 'removed her tabard', she had doffed her shirt as she did so. Apparently this was now a thing, and this evening's tight shirt slid up and over her head... revealing the most bland, most beige, most utilitarian bra I had ever seen any woman wear outside of the Sears catalog I'd kept under my bed as a kid. It was thick without being padded, and had wide strapping and a broad band around the back, all designed to give support that Anne's wonders did not need.

Apparently, Anne had planned her cosplay for this night a little more in depth than I had supposed...

"Gala points at her bulky armor," Anne went on. "'Obviously this is fine work, but hardly in keeping for one with the status of a Servant of Love,' she says sternly."

"He shrugs his broad shoulders and says, 'I could easily work medallions of her signs into the mail in various locations...' His eyes drift to the obvious pair of locations he almost involuntarily has in mind," I said, letting a glint appear in my eyes.

"Nonsense," Gala snapped. "I will need a new shirt of mail. A bit shorter than this one that drapes to the traditional knee. I'd like my new mail to extend down to no more than mid-thigh, to allow for a greater variety of genuflection."

"The smith's eyes widen a bit at that. He..." I replied.

"And I think ring mail, rather than chain, would be more appropriate for Greya's service," Anne added.

"'Ring mail?' the smith questions you," I said, genuinely confused. Who the fuck would want ring mail? "I could obtain the leather padding to sew the rings to easily, but I can't see how..."

"Don't be a fool," came the high voice, filled with scorn. "I don't want that pathetic, traditional construction. And a layer of rings sewn onto bulky leather armor would be no aesthetic improvement in Our Lady's eyes. No, sir smith, I want a coat of rings, laid together in a pattern like unto the combs of bees, and fastened flexibly together to the highest extent of your art."

"His eyes get round at your description," I said.

"I see, my... Holy One," gulped the smith suddenly. "I could indeed fashion such a mail coat as you desire, and make it strong, but..." He flailed his hands about uncomfortably, unable to keep his eyes off of the cleric, whose considerable charms were quite visible, even through her dull current protection. "But... without the leather underlay, such armor would do nothing to conceal your, um, form," he finished weakly.

Gala stepped silkily toward him. "Would you find that so objectionable?" She reached out and brushed the palm of her hand against his chest.

"He stammers, 'Go... Gods, no,' as his eyes are glued to your hand on his chest," I said. "He even is so distracted that he quotes you a rational, even reasonable, price for the work without haggling." I leaned toward her now in anticipation.

"I can't wait to see what she makes next week," Mark said softly.

"Really?" Geri said back with amusement in her return whisper. "I can't wait to see the next five minutes."

But instead Anne chuckled. "'Excellent,' Gala says." She chuckled again, with brisk, businesslike tone and a gotcha look in her eyes. "I will return soon for the mail, my good smith" she said in Gala's tones and turned extravagantly to return to her seat.

I had definitely been had. So we were adding merciless teasing to the mix now? It was almost enjoyable. Almost.

But I wasn't done trying, and I also wasn't sure she was really committed to only teasing me. Anne kept her eyes on me as she moved to take her seat on the couch.

"It will be no more than three weeks, Holy One," I called, in the smith's rough voice. "Four at the most. Probably."

Anne froze. "Oh come on," she scoffed in her own voice. I just smirked at her, but she was already rising again and moving back toward me. "My ears must deceive me, good smith," came Gala's tones once more. "I have need to be on my way upon my dangerous service. Surely not so long?"

The smith actually stepped backward a short stride as she approached him once more, arms out to the side. "I beg your pardon, and your goddess's too, Holy One!" he choked. "But I have the hauberk for Old Sir Ranulff, and then the bucklers for Gedris Longshanks the Ranger yet ahead of you!"

Anne looked at me and smiled, contented that she had pushed me so hard. She had a bit of glee in her face now.

"I understand your difficulty," Gala said softly, compassion filling her voice. "Perhaps if I were to donate to you my old armor, of which I will have no need when your work is complete, you could repurpose the mail from it for Ranulff's hauberk in no time?"

With that, there went that bra. Please understand, the difficult and awkward removal of a bulky, four-hook, back-fastening bra is... still the removal of a bra. And when that bra is removed to reveal those two particularly fantastic tits, the removal is so much better. I may have seen them the prior week, but having them now exposed at much closer range, nearly pressing against me, was quite powerful.

Gala reached out and lifted one of the smith's rough hands and held it, massaging the fingers inches from her naked breast. "Such powerful... such skilled hands," she mused. "I could not ask a craftsman of your caliber to rush your work... but perhaps you would consider the wisdom of placing my order before this Longshanks's? The call of the Goddess of Love surely is more urgent than the desires of an unaffiliated ranger?" Her hand drew the smith's closer to her bosom.

"I... He..." the smith stammered, clearly trying to resist.

Gala at last clasped his hand to her breast, pressing his fingers into her delicate but incredibly firm flesh. "Feel this breast, my smith. It is devoted, indeed anointed to the service of Greya," she said, looking slightly to the side, as if to an audience. "I am sure you agree that it must be protected?"

"Both of them must," was all the hapless smith could choke out.

"To seal the deal, will you anoint them further with me?" Gala cooed to the young man. Not waiting for the obvious answer, she sank down before him, her hands moving swiftly to the front of his breeches. She expertly worked the fastening and his manhood sprang forth. Her hands explored its length for a moment, before she leaned down and let long, wet strands of saliva drip from her ruby lips and down to soak his rod.

Her hands briskly spread the saliva over my... the smith's cock, then pressed it gently between those glorious tits. Her hands pressed those hills together around his shaft and she lifted and lowered them in a slow but relentlessly accelerating rhythm.

The feeling was incredible, the magically firm embrace pressed in on him, and soon his hips were thrusting almost involuntarily. The smith had no idea where to put his hands at a time like this and they dangled at his side in nearly ridiculous fashion. He could not care less though, as he was soon fucking those wonderful mounds for all he was worth.

"Oh yeah, do it. Fuck my titties" came a very quiet, feminine growl that was not so high as the priestess's.

Anyone could walk into the smithy as any time. The young man felt as if the eyes of the city were staring at him eagerly, but it was of no matter. It only made him more driven to assist the goddess, and anoint the everliving shit out of these tits.

The rhythm of his thrusts became stilted and irregular. Gala resumed pumping her breasts up and down to aid his release... and release he did, moaning as if gut-punched as he unloaded his jism between her breasts and above, in spurt after spurt of offering. His knees genuinely buckled as his orgasm ended and he felt like the strings had been cut from underneath him. He stumbled backward and sat almost involuntarily, staring at the spattered and sticky edifices between which he had just been buried.

Gala slid forward and bent upon his still-hard rod, coated in much of his own sticky offering. She opened her mouth and slid his cock within for a moment, then released it, and licked up and down to clean the rest. She sat back on her heels and rose to her feet above him, smiling.

"I thought the goddess was a jealous goddess and didn't want to share her offerings," Tess observed with puckish sarcasm.

Anne looked at her and wiped a splotch of cum off her upper breast. "This isn't some major reconsecration. This is just a bribe in her service." She licked the finger clean before scooping up another splotch. "The Goddess is just going to have to share," she added, reaching out and slipping her cum-sodden finger into my wide-eyed wife's mouth as she passed on the way back to her seat, where she primly wiped her chest the rest of the way clean with a towel. Anne had seemed to put out a lot of hand towels at the start of the evening for some reason...

I struggled to work myself back into my pants while still staring at Anne, but had to give up. No way I was going to not watch myself as I zipped up. By the time I had restored order down there, Mark, the jerk, had tossed Anne her shirt. No one seemed to give a shit about that bra.

Holy fuck, that had been hot. My exhausted dick wanted to rest for a bit, but was clearly having trouble doing so, never quite managing to completely deflate inside my shorts.

And what was that shit with Anne sharing my jizz with Tess? I know it was a joke, but... fuuuuck.

It occurred to me to wonder, drawing a quiet grin to my face, why she hadn't offered a fingerful to Geri, who sat right there beside her on the couch. I'd certainly supplied enough to go around. Would Geri have objected? Was she put out that Anne didn't offer?

I shot another glance at Geri (never hard in that 'armor'). Shit. She was a little put out!

Maybe.

My imagination was a pervy place, I decided, not considering in the moment that my life, all our lives, were exceeding the limits of the imagination I had possessed but a month before.

I buckled down and concentrated, getting my big head in the game and giving the little one a rest finally. For almost 45 minutes, the game was normal D&D. The remaining townie stuff was taken care of, and the players decided to head out to investigate some rumors of evil off to north, far too close to the city for the good burghers' sleep.

The rumors turned out to be true. Duh. We had lots of fun as I threw a series of monstrous and supernatural versions of forest creatures at the party. It was nice to just concentrate on a little plain mayhem for a bit, and that went for everyone.

But horniness will always resurface when surrounded by good-looking people in a situation like this.

Listen to me. Like I have some kind of general, academic knowledge to expound upon about sex-LARP Cosplay D&D among couples. It was pretty fucking likely that this was the only situation like this on Earth.

I suppose that did mean that I had a comprehensive data set...

Anyway, the evening was not even near over yet, but the looks started to go back and forth. No sex had happened for a bit, and both Geri and Mark had not had a chance at anything yet that evening.

I was beginning to see a logistical problem I was going to have to address over the long-run. There were three couples. When I engineered things so that pairings were random or self-selecting, it would become common for spouses to be the leftovers together. We had plenty of time left that evening to find something... someone each for Mark and Geri, but I was thinking ahead to the future where there might be a scenario like this, but when we were short on time. Would I have to choose which partner would be... featured, and which would be left out? I could always make up for it in spades the next week, but still.

For the moment, I kind of selfishly wanted to observe Geri some more first.

The next fight that I threw at them was a swarm of monster bats. The nasty creatures attacked the party by surprise and presented an even bigger challenge than I had expected from them. They were fast, maneuverable, and their radar let them dodge hits really well. But I enjoyed describing them as fragile. When a player did hit one, it got messy. Since they were always flying over head when killed, blood and gore sprayed everywhere at random over the party.

All the players had to deal with hearing my gory descriptions of their character getting struck or sprayed with bio-shrapnel, usually from some other player's strike. There was much good-natured ribbing back and forth as the battle progressed. But I gradually ensured that more and more of the splashing blood landed on Frenoria as the battle progressed. Geri was getting mad. I was grinning gleefully.

The last kill of the last bat went to Frenoria herself. As her sword cleft it in twain, blood flowed down her blade and arm, and a final chunk of bat liver fell from above, slapping against Frenoria's lovely face.

"The warm organ meat clings to her cheek as she blinks the blood from both her eyes," I said with a broad grin. It begins to slide down her cheek slowly.

"She slaps it away in disgust," snapped Geri, indignant about my constant comments about her gross condition.

"Your blood-soaked hand leaves a long streak of new blood against your face as you brush the liver away." I described equably.

"Why am I the one you are picking on?" Geri growled, then cut herself off. She looked at me hard for a moment, then finally grinned. I just shrugged blandly back at her. There were a few snickers around the table as everybody got who was up next.

"Ah'm going back to that creek and warsh this blood off. Ah feel disgustin'," Geri said in Frenoria's rural tones. She rose fluidly from the couch and moved away from the rest of the group into the open space of the condo. "She knows how to navigate the woods, of course, so she quickly finds the stream. She choses it because it seems safe," she said to me, as if daring me to inflict some crazy woodsman (i.e., me) on her.

"Granted," I said. "But the fight with the bats carried your group a little further than you thought from the water, so you are probably out of earshot. You know to still be careful."

"Careful, huh?" Geri smirked. "Very well, I'll keep my sword on."

Geri had added a sword belt to her costume this week. The low leather belt slung around her hips, high over one, and low where the slightly convincing-looking wooden sword hung sheathed. It was a fantastic look, though slightly ruined by the fact that she has spent most of the evening sitting on the couch.

She did indeed keep her sword on, but she nonchalantly removed the top, and then the bottom of her chainmail bikini and stood there, naked in front of us all as we stared. She mimed washing and rubbing her body, paying special attention to her hair and her breasts, but not missing any... crevices where goo might have been. That sword belt hanging now from her slender, naked hips was almost out of control sexy.

"Time for some more LARPing," I murmured, mostly to myself.

"Ohh, I like that," exclaimed Anne quietly. She hadn't heard me refer to our own unique brand of role-play that way. A few others also murmured amused approval, but mostly we just watched where Geri was going.

Her naked-but-for-a-sword body was indeed making me ache to create a forest-dwelling NPC to find her, but I considered grumpily that she and I had gone (rather spectacularly) the prior week, and I had just had the last turn. It would be wrong to over-indulge myself, and besides, I kind of wanted to watch anyway. Craig should get the chance I knew he had been drooling over.

But for the moment, Geri was putting on a show, and everybody, guys and girls alike, were just watching in fascination as Frenoria stood there, cleaning bat guts off her lovely body. I wondered how long it would be until Craig took the opportunity I was giving him.

But looks had been exchanged behind me that I had not seen.

"Renault is concerned for Frenoria, out there alone," Mark said suddenly. "I will go stand by, near our ranger," he said in Renault's voice. "Should trouble arise, she should have help nearby."

"Oh yes," said Gala in a desert-dry voice. "Do go stand by... just in case."

"But take care to respect her modesty," added Shanora as Mark struggled out of the bean bag chair. "It would be a shame if you were to take anything else, thief." He shot her a grin.

Geri was resolutely intent on her character's ignorance of Renault's approach. The better, the more deeply performed the role-play was, the better, the more acceptable, and the hotter this all was.

"Renault moves through the woods with all the silence at his considerable command," Mark said, mincing his way around behind Geri.

"You hear her splashing in the stream as you approach," I said. "Do you peek, or respect her privacy?"

Mark just looked at me like I had asked whether or not he was going to let gravity continue to hold him to the earth. "Damned straight, Renault peeks," Mark said. "He stealthily moves to the edge of the stream where he can get a very good look, hidden in the bushes." Mark knelt down, staring at Geri mime washing herself unconcernedly. "He settles in to watch over her."

The two of them just knelt and stood there, about eight feet apart or so for a long moment.

One hand still massaging her breast, Frenoria's hand that was washing her belly slid lower and between her legs! In moments, we all heard the slick noise of her fingers probing herself eagerly. You could have heard a pin drop in the condo otherwise.

Suddenly, Frenoria, without pausing so much as an iota in her ablutions, and without looking backward toward Mark, said in her clear, clipped accent, "Ah know you are back there. Please don't think your stealth is a match for my forest senses... not out here in the woods themselves!"

Renault slipped to a knee, "Shit!" he said, caught.

She turned languidly around, both hands now rubbing her tits slowly, though, given the attention she had paid to them, they must have been quite clean by now. One had new fluids glistening on it.

They looked at each other.

Renault stammered, "I... I'm... I apologize. I had not meant to approach so close." He looked upward at her.

"You look as disgusting as I did," Frenoria just said with a light sneer. "Come in and get clean yourself."

Mark grinned and rose to take a step forward toward his wife. So this was going to happen. How was this, LARPing between a husband and wife, in several weird ways actually naughtier than our other little scenes?

"Stop!" said Frenoria. "For all the god's sakes, get undressed before you get in the water. If you get those leathers wet, it will be nine hells getting them off of you."

Geri stared at Mark challengingly. Apparently, she knew her husband well-enough to know what the rest of us now realized. He should have had the confidence of knowing he had the biggest dick among us, but he clearly was hesitant to just flat-out strip and show off in front of all of us. Did he have it in him to put on a tenth of the show his wife had?

All of us seemed to have hidden depths of both voyeurism and exhibitionism, or this kind of round-robin role-play would not work, but I felt pretty strongly that we varied widely at how which side was strongest. Geri clearly loved to show off. Mark clearly was conflicted on that front.