St. Stephen Returns Pt. 01

My friend was back in town. My fishing buddy. My Warder of the Western Wood. Just for a week. Holidays, he said. But I think he needed to see me. Some months before he had moved to the remote mountains of Montana. Then gone incommunicado. He had hoped I would take flight with him, surprised that I could pass up on his loving. Being a simple man of the Earth he could never seem to grasp the delicate world I was attuned to. It was a beautiful fantasy to cherish, but not even a potential reality.

I had missed him these past months though. Years ago, before my Prince had returned from his campaigns I spent many nights in Stephen's arms, riding him through the long winter nights. I called him my 'charger.' I should have kept his love in check, but I needed him to be strong for me. And he was.

Then my Prince returned and he kept me very busy. We fell back in love. The Prince was my love. And we shared station. Our fit was devine and ordained. Stephen fell to the wayside with only a few stolen moments scattered over long months. He stayed true to my wishes and did not push his rights as my lover. He could have demanded station at court and our affair would be public. I would not have denied him. Sometimes I wished for it.

After a few years the Prince got busy enough that regular weekly trysts and long weekends in the Western Wood resumed, but Stephen could not be consoled. He wanted all of me and being that the Prince had not initiated the vows with me, he got angry and decided to join the Western Wall Defenders where his skills as a fisherman ranger were in great need. I went to him. I wanted him to stay, but i blessed his journey, hoping he would find love. We made love throughout the weekend, my vehicle blatantly parked for all to see. I was honoring my lover and my friend. I quenched none of my moans, bringing honor to him and his village.

Being that Stephen carried warrior status and was my protector in the Prince's absence, it was not a dishonor to the Prince and it brought honor to the Princess-hood and to the warrior class. I put my stamp of legend all over Stephen, soaking him in my juices, coaxing all of his fantasies into the light and fulfilling them. There weren't many, but I found them all. In the end though, I had to walk out the door, him begging to initiate the vows. Instead I resolutely returned to my Prince and spent several days honoring him. The land was happy, my esteem with the people strong, and only my warrior to feel the sting.

I had begun to miss him though. It had been over a year since his departure. He had a tender mountain man heart. Laying on his chest after riding him was one of my happiest memories. And the longer his absence the more often I borrowed memories of his unique size and shape to bring me to orgasm. Sometimes he was all I wanted. But being a high princess of Cascadia I could only go tramping into the woods after men in my imagination.

Picking up the phone. Hearing his voice. Learning he was in the Western Wood for the next several days, I dropped everything and drove to him, pausing only to outfit myself appropriately. The drive was a blur and then, waiting under our trysting tree, there he was, nearly invisible in his ranger cloak. I ran to him, right into his arms, into his kisses. We laughed and cried, holding each other for the next hour.

He had not been with another woman the whole time. I could just tell. I would soon remedy that. He was in great need of me. For now though filling up on kisses was sweet. Being just an inch or two taller than me, he had always been one of my favorite kissers. There was a time when I would spend hours kissing and teasing him until he could not hold back and he would strip me down and take me, pulling my clothes off or aside, he would cling me to his lap, filling me with his orgasmic shaft.

Stephen's cock is a one of a kind. My very favorite to ride. Medium length, but it doubles in thickness, tapering out all the way down to the base. More mountain then pole, and it has an upward arch, so as I slide downward on him, the heads punches directly into my g-spot. Each and every time I ride him, I orgasm. Almost always entailing multiple wet orgasms. Other positions work too, but riding him is heaven. I prefer it everytime, and he has never complained.

Just being in his arms, my pussy was salivating. Letting him savor me with sweet kisses was painful as the ache settled deeper inside of me. I had begun rubbing the bulge under his jeans, wanting to hold it, and yet, wanting to delay every action for maximum yumminess. Then, just as I tried to slide my fingers down his pants, he grabbed my hand, pulling me deeper into the wood.

For several minutes we wound through the thick wood on narrow trails. Then the wood opened into an ancient grove. Several great trees were around us. The whole scene was serenity. The walk had settled us too. He led me to a lush bed of moss. It was situated between giant roots. He took off his cloak and spread it out. Then he pulled his tunic off. I kissed his chest and he held me there. I listened to his racing heart. For a long while I just breathed his scent into me and squirmed into him. I knew we had days ahead to play.

I had come without bra and wearing no panties. He loved me clothed in just a short skirt and a tank top or button up blouse. Under my cloak I had on the same skirt I had worn on an especially steamy 'fishing' trip. I saw the remembrances in his eye when he noticed that detail. I had a simple v-neck on, but it was tailored just right to showcase my hips, narrow waist, and ripe breasts, nipples showing through the fabric. The skirt naturally flared over my hips and ass, pleated and begging to be lifted up around my hips.

He layed down on his back, pulling me onto his lap. I settled onto his bulge, straddling him. My bare, moist lips, parted around the form of his head pressing through his jeans, and my juices soaked the denim. I gazed into his eyes as I got reacquainted with my mount. His hands were on my hips where they struggled not to simply grind me all over him. Sensing he was about to lose control, I slid my ass down his thighs until my mouth was at his beltline. Watching his face I slowly undid his belt. I pulled his button open with my teeth and unzipped his jeans. Opening them up I had full access to his briefs, the cotton damp with my soaking. His thick bulge pushing the fabric upward and pulling the elastic band off his torso. It was impressive. I gripped the cotton around his shaft, squeezing with short kneading strokes. He moaned. Cock rising into full thickness.

I pulled the band of his briefs down under his balls. There it was. Hard and curved upward like a hook. 5, maybe 6 inches long, but so wide at the base that I couldn't even wrap my fingers around it, tapering to an average size head. It always reminded me of sucking on a popsicle.

I put my tongue at the base and slowly licked all the way up the shaft, until his head slipped between my lips. His precum greeting my tongue. For whatever reason Stephen could precum throughout sex and play but go hours before discharging his load. One of my favorite acts is to suck on him and stroke his precum all over his shaft until he is slick with it. Then I ride him, burying his shaft to the hilt. I am glad to be back on him.

He lays, arms outstretched, eyes looking up into the canopy of the great trees, groaning as I minstrate to his member. I decide to play no longer though. I am ready. I pull myself up and slide my hips over his groin. I guide his head into my lips and rock around it. Then, in one smooth motion, I sink onto him, taking most of him. His head tapped into my g-spot. The building ache both alleviated and intensified. I rose up and dropped down. The tap stronger, the need greater. Again, I rose up and pushed all the way down. His girth pulling my clit into the base of his cock. I shriek as memories collide with reality. How could I forget this pleasure. Big motions, rocking, groaning, and splooging wetness, and blam, orgasm! So fast, so hard, but I kept on riding him. His hands on my squirming hips, pressing me fully onto him with every rock.

Collapsing on him I let his powerful hands guide my ride. I bite his ear, gasping and groaning. That special wetness flowing through my yoni. I screamed his name in another orgasm. It felt just like being on a run away horse. I could only hold on. I loved it. My ass popping with every buck, my lips splaying around him until I was firmly planted, only to bounce off again. His hands catching me just in time and pushing me back down. A semi-continuous stream of orgasms were mine. Sometimes I was only vaguely conscious of the sex, being lost in bliss.

When he got behind me, I don't recall. I just remember the vague surprise of being on my tummy. He had my ass perched up, diving his cock as deeply as he could. I couldn't move my legs. They were just a quivering mess. I was soaked and panting, my skirt sticking to my ass cheeks..

Finally, he just lay on me, physically spent, but still swollen with need. Sunk all the way into me, he just kept a little rock and sway going which kept my juices pumping and little tremors of orgasms rippled through my body.

"I missed you so much," I sobbed. "Thank you. Thank you for coming home."

His cock stretched inside me hearing my need.

"I want your cum deep inside of me," I told him.

A few moments later he grunted deeply, fiercely whispering, "I love you." I felt the fullness of his seed inside me. I lay there as he finished his lasts pumps. He was gasping and kissing my hair. Then he pulled my face around kissing me passionately. "Thank you, thank you," He repeated between kisses. His tension leaking out of him just as his seed was seeping around his shaft and running across my clit and pubes saturating his cloak.

Then we slept.