Give Me the ManbyAlex De Kok©
Her excitement spurred him on and his strokes became longer, plunging into her, her wordless cries still in his ear as she rode the crest of her climax until he felt that near-agony, his prick becoming super-sensitive as his climax hit and his seed erupted, flooding her depths, his hardness softening gradually in the warm, wet welcome of her.
His movements ceasing, Ardan propped himself on his elbows and looked down at Arla. Her eyes were closed, the rictus of climax easing from her delicate features, her chest still heaving as her tortured lungs sought air until suddenly her eyes opened and she looked up at him, her gaze locking with his, a smile growing on her face as he felt its mirror growing on his.
Arla laughed out loud. "Oh, Ardan! That was wonderful!"
"Truly?" He felt obscurely flattered that a Handmaiden of the Goddess, with so much experience, should be pleased by his performance.
"Truly, Ardan." She gazed solemnly at him. "I have had many lovers, as you no doubt realise, but I can honestly say, with all my heart, that I have enjoyed few, if any, better."
Despite the brief pain at her mention of 'many lovers', Ardan knew great joy at her words. He bent and kissed her, soft, light. "I thank you, Handmaiden. Can you take lovers outside?" he asked, suddenly curious.
"Alas, no, or I would be seeking you!" Arla grinned. "While we are training, we may have lovers, for this way we can practice our skills and benefit those we Initiate, but once we are sworn to the Goddess, we take no lovers."
"No. We serve only five years, then are free to go our way, or we may stay in the service of the Goddess and train those who come after us."
"I had heard that some women serve the Goddess only on occasion."
"Indeed so. Some are widows, some divorced, and some single, seeking to take lovers without stigma." Arla moved slightly. "I think it best if you withdraw, Ardan."
He eased himself back and propped himself on one elbow, just looking at her. Even with the livid bruising on her face she was one of the loveliest creatures he had known. Unbidden, a vision of Leara crossed his mind. Tomorrow, perhaps, he might seek her out. Tonight was for Arla.
He lay on his back, head on his hands. Arla half-rolled and leaned on him, chin on his chest, breasts pressing against him, her hand lying lightly against his shoulder, her bright eyes on his. "When do you leave for home?"
Ardan smiled. "I don't know. My father has given me money enough to last me two eightdays, but I think I will tire of the city before then. I want to explore a little, and ride out into the countryside. Perhaps I might stay an eightday, but not two."
"Do you have a girl at home?" Arla's tone was casual but he sensed her interest was not.
"No girl, not yet."
"Is there no-one who attracts you?"
He laughed. "Only you."
Arla made a fist and thumped his chest. "Idiot," she said, but she was smiling. She looked up. "Would you like some wine?"
He was surprised. "I thought it was forbidden."
"Before Initiation, yes. You have duly been Initiated. So, wine. The fact that I plan to repeat your Initiation as many times as possible before dawn does not stop us having a little now."
"Only a little?" he said, teasing.
"Yes!" Her tone was sharp. "Only a little. Only enough to enjoy. Not so much that it dulls the senses and wilts your manhood."
Ardan bent forwards and kissed her nose. "So go. Fetch the wine."
"Brute," she smiled, then unwound herself from him and stood, stretching, lovely in the candlelight. She moved away, barefoot, lissom, bending to a cupboard from which she removed a flagon and two glasses, ready on a tray. She poured the wine and brought the glasses back to the bed, handing him one, then sitting cross-legged beside him.
He sipped. The wine was light, dry, fresh and fruity on his tongue. "Delicious," he murmured
He was lying on his back, propped up on pillows, his prick limp on his thigh and Arla parked her hip next to his and lay back against him. He brought his free hand up to cup her breast and she twisted her head to kiss him. They lay in quiet contemplation for a while, sipping their wine. Arla reached across and took his soft prick in her hand, running her thumb lightly over the end, stroking him gently, smiling back at him as he hardened under her touch.
As Ardan's prick grew to hardness Arla drained her glass and set it aside, then bent and enveloped him with her mouth, swirling her tongue around the glans, sucking, forming an 'O' with her mouth and fucking him with it. He caught his breath as her teeth caught his glans on an upstroke but he blew her a kiss as the apology began to form and she returned to her self-appointed task,
He was rigid now and she let him slip from her mouth, swinging her leg across his until she was straddling his shins. She bent, catlike, and kissed his prick, then shuffled forward on her knees until she was poised above him. She caught his look and held it, staring into his eyes as she lowered herself over him, taking him into her a finger's width at a time, easing up again to spread her wetness, then down, gaining another finger-width, then up, and down again, taking him into her slowly, slowly, her unwinking gaze fixed on him, deep, dark, mysterious.
She began to move, riding him, slowly, rising until he almost left her, then sinking down again until her bottom rested on his thighs, pausing, squeezing, lifting herself again, then sinking. Slow, hypnotic, building tension, the slow not-ache within that rises to a crescendo, building it, building it slowly, teasing him.
He fumbled his empty glass to the bedside then cupped her breasts, feeling their soft weight in his hands, his thumbs rubbing gently over her nipples, hard now in her excitement. She murmured an almost-moan, her hands covering his on her breasts, pressing them to her, never ceasing her slow rise and fall, her liberal juices coating him, easing the passage of his hardness in the wet, warm depths of her core. The slow, steady pace was bringing him slowly to climax, too slowly, he wanted to thrust into her, thrust violently into her, but her eyes were closed, she was riding her own storm and he wanted her, too, to have the pleasure of the moment. Slowly, slowly, she brought him on.
She bit her lip, then bared her teeth in a grimace, teeth clenched, her own climax signalling its approach. When it came it was sudden, a tight scream forcing its way from her mouth, a ripple of her belly that he felt to his root and then a spasmodic clamping of his prick in her pussy as her climax washed across her. He thrust into her, released suddenly from her measured rhythm and in moments felt himself rising, rising, lifting, then almost angrily he thrust up into her, lifting her, his seed jetting from him into her scalding depths.
Arla collapsed across him, shuddering, trembling, her hands clutching at him, as if she were drowning and he was her rescuer. He held her tightly in his arms as the pulses of his engorged prick slowed, until all he had left were reflexive twitches responding to the easing pressure of her pussy around him, until gradually the lovers eased into stillness; until slowly, quietly they eased apart and, clasping each other, drifted into sleep; deep, deep, dreamless sleep.
Morning sunlight woke him, glinting through the high window. Stillness told him it was early. Arla was draped across him, her face buried in his shoulder, one arm across his chest, one leg hooked between his. He remembered her heated passion in the night as he rode her to climax once again. He stroked her head gently and she lifted her head, her eyes opening, a smile on her face as she saw him.
"Good morning, Ardan Tearo," she murmured.
"Good morning, Arla, Handmaiden of the Goddess."
"You slept well?"
"Apart from your snoring." She giggled. "No, Ardan, I'm teasing. I heard no snores. In fact I heard nothing." She cocked her head, listening. "It's early."
"But not too early."
"For this," he said, beginning to stroke her breasts, bending to kiss her.
After an aeons-long kiss she broke away for a moment. "It's never too early for this. Or too late." The second kiss was even warmer. Their coupling this time was gentle, loving, with Arla spread like a flower on the bed as Ardan tended to her, his prick deep within her, his strokes slow, but gently urgent, trying to maximise the pleasure for both of them, bringing them each slowly up to a shared moment of climax, warm, urgent, a gentle "Yes!" escaping Arla's lips as the climax washed over them.
Afterwards, they bathed together, washing each other carefully, lovingly, drying each other and standing naked in a locked embrace for long moments. Reluctantly, they dressed. Arla kissed him one last time.
"Goodbye, dear Ardan. Do not forget me too quickly, will you?" Her voice was playful but there was a sadness in her eyes.
"As long as I live I will remember you."
She nodded, a gentle smile on her lips. "I will not ask your promise, Ardan, for I know you mean it. Remember me with fondness."
"With love, too, Arla."
She kissed him again, then stepped back, reaching to cover her head with the mask of the Handmaidens, drawing up the hood of her blood-red gown. She took his hand, leading him from the room and out into the entrance hall. She stopped and took him by the hands, facing him.
"Farewell, Ardan, son of Gerlan, House Tearo. Go now, and live as a true man."
He bowed, a lump in his throat, knowing that he would probably never see this woman again. "Goodbye, Arla," he managed to say, "and thank you."
"Thank you, Ardan, not only for saving me from rape and possibly death, but for giving me great pleasure, too. Go, go now, before I burst into tears and disgrace us both."
He turned and went out, wondering why everything was blurred in the bright morning light. She stood and watched him go, her own vision shimmering, until he was gone from her sight.
Well, it's a contest entry, folks, so a vote would be nice. Go on, it's only a couple of mouse-clicks. Feedback welcome, particularly constructive feedback.