Sir Leon And His Queen

"My Queen..." he moaned.

"Rosayle," she corrected him. "Just call me Rosayle.

"My Q-Queen. Rosayle. I-if you do that, I--"

He opened his eyes and looked down upon her visage.

The Queen's lips were only a few inches away from his manhood. They were full and red, wet and pursed and glazed with eagerness. He desperately wanted to clutch her glossy, brown hair and thrust passed those lips into her mouth and throat so she may enjoy his seed proper.

He saw down the tempting cleavage of her dress, glimpsing the contour of her firm nipples in the satin, and he recalled the fantasy of spending himself in her soft, abundant bosom.

But more than that, he saw her eyes were fixed on him, and he noticed her earnest smile for the first time. With secrets so long hidden now hers, a welcome sense of relief washed over him, and he decided to enjoy the end of this unlikely tryst.

Rosayle, feeling the sudden shift of his balls in her hand, surmised that he was close. She stopped massaging his sack, and used both hands to stroke his manhood. Her left hand made short, glancing strokes at the base, near his balls, and her right hand folded aggressively over the swollen ridge of his glans, her thumb massaging his sensitive frenulum. The knight panted and moaned without end, until he bent over, breathless, and held her shoulders for support.

"Rosayle, forgive me, I--"

His climax was violent. His hips bucked and shuddered as ropes upon ropes of his seed erupted from his swollen cock over her hands. His eyes rolled up, tongue lolling, as the haze of pleasure so long denied turned his mind into mush. And Rosayle, watching his convulsions contently, wordlessly and deftly caught volley after volley of his seed in her palm. Not a drop landed on her dress or the floor, such was her intent.

And when the knight had finished, the last spurt landing on her gold wedding ring, he fell to his knees in a naked heap, out of breath. The Queen was about to tease him about the amount when she realized that she too was out of breath.

The scent of his semen was heavy in the air as they both knelt on the floor for some time. Thereupon she reached into her dress for her silk handkerchief, and wiped her hands clean.

She broke the silence. "Leon, lay with me on the bed."

________________________________________

Ravens crowed just outside the window. The moon had risen, filling the chamber with beams of blue light.

Sir Leon lay nakedly on the bed, cuddling the Queen from behind as bodyguards might do. He clutched her clothed waist, feeling the comfortable silk on his bare skin. His manhood, too, became ensconced in the frills of her dress. He was unsure whether she would allow him to embrace her, but she did not complain when he did. He breathed the scent of honeysuckle in her hair, and for the first time in many years he was content.

"Don't misunderstand, Leon," she said. "You have a long way to go before those fantasies come true. But I will admit you did very well for a start. Surpassed my expectations."

"Thank you, Rosayle. D-do you forgive me?"

She chuckled.

"Of course not. Writing such things was incredibly stupid and immoral. You must not write them anymore. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Queen..."

"And I only say that because--" She paused. Perhaps it was too soon to even suggest it, lest she get his hopes up.

"What will the King think?" he asked. "If he found out--"

"The King is a selfish fool. He doesn't care for what I think, so why should I care what he thinks? He beds every virgin girl who walks into the castle. I can't even remember the last time he... he looked at me the way you do. Truthfully, I dread his return."

She clutched his knuckles firmly.

"I wish he had died. I wish the Zelmites had killed him."

Sir Leon hesitated, tempering his seething anger upon hearing her thoughts. "As a Royal Knight, I am compelled to hope for his safe return. But I must admit that if he continues to treat you that way, he'll find my fist in his face."

"Will he now?" She teased.

"He would be beat to a bloody pulp."

"Goodness, how violent."

"Th-that is, if you want me to. I'll do whatever you desire, My Queen. If you need anything at all..."

She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed on the white, satin pillow. Sir Leon would remember that smile forever.

"We'll see."