The Smoke-Girl & her Northern Ghost

"If you wish, I could use another person on the road with me. I have a hope that in a little time, you might even get used to the way that I must look strange to you. I have lived my life among many other men. I am used to having someone around me who might be trusted. In return, I can offer a horse to you and I will buy some clothing so that we do not need to keep ahead of the long line of men who would follow us, dressed the way that you are."

"I am not dressed at all, Gunnar," she smiled, "and now for the first time in a few days, this is what I wish to wear. I am still feeling very thankful, you know."

She reached up a little slowly, as one might who maybe wanted to touch a rose, but was not certain that there were no thorns nearby to prick her fingers and he kissed her then, a little softly and rather tentatively.

But her reply in her own kiss after a few moments was meant to signal her encouragement and they found themselves growing a little frantic in the pile of furs not long after that.

When they drew apart a little, she looked up at him, liking his face and the large and very hard body that she pressed herself against. "What are the women like where you come from, Gunnar? I am no maiden, but I can say that I have never been kissed this way in my life by any man. Are they all as big as you?"

"No," he smiled, "though I had a sister who was almost my size. It was a bit of a joke among my friends that she'd be a conquest, but not after they'd lain with her. Not one of them joked after that, Margit."

He looked away for a moment as he remembered it, "She had many lovers then who sought her hand. Not long before I left to come here, she was wed to the son of a lord. He was perhaps a hand shorter than she, but they two were very happy, from what I could tell and from what she told me of it."

She felt him swell against her and she eased herself onto her back for him. He surprised her by moving back farther than she'd have thought that he'd need, but she understood it better as he took her hips in his large hands and lifted her up a little while sinking down.

She watched in a little disbelief and a tiny bit of alarm, since no man that she'd ever been with had done what she was staring and watching him do now. Then again, she smiled once she knew and began to lift her legs so that she could rest them over his broad shoulders, surely none of them were strong enough to do this either. As his face came to her, he lifted her a little more and then he looked over her thatch to ask her if she was alright like this.

It made Margit giggle, "Better than that, if I am right over what you would do now, Gunnar."

Then his mouth was against her mound and she thought that she must have done something right in her life to be allowed a little of the heaven that he was bringing to her with his lips and tongue. It went beyond anything that she'd ever felt, since this wasn't done by the men of her tribe, or any other that she was aware of. In fact, she thought, she'd never heard of it being done at all.

She felt her hips buck a little and she was still self-conscious enough to laugh in a little shy embarrassment, over the way that he slurped and sucked at her so hungrily that she began to feel like a ripe bit of fruit which was being devoured.

As his groans and his quiet grunting went on in her ear, she began to answer him. It hadn't been her intent to make any noise at all -- she was still a little self-conscious even now. But she soon found that there was no help for it. He didn't stop. She doubted if she even could stop him.

She threw her arms over her head and sighed just before the next wave began and looked at him.

He was huge to her and he held her up to enjoy her -- and she knew that it was what he was doing as well as pleasing her -- with little more effort than a man might use to eat a fruit. He was using two hands in his devouring of her, that was all.

"I think that you enjoy this meal very much," she chuckled and she saw the blue eyes lock onto hers as he nodded a little.

"I am happy then," she smiled, "you may do this for as long as you like, Gunnar. I am at your mercy, and I would never have had the thought that I would enjoy the hungry sounds that a man makes as he does this -- at least the way that you make them."

He went at it a bit harder and those were her last words for a time until she tried not to, but she bucked against his face anyway and tried a little frantically to reach for more of his head than his hair, but at last, his hair was what her fingers found and she hung in his grasp with only her shoulders there in the furs, her head bent forward for long moments as she cried out.

He eased her down so that she could rest while he ran his fingers over her sensitive and sopping sex in such a way as to never cause her to want to push his hands away. It was as if he just knew.

She looked up and watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you," she smiled and he nodded with a smile, "It is something which I enjoy, but do rarely. Something like that is a thing that I would want to do with my woman." He shrugged, "and not having one, I do it only when I have the want and a woman who appeals to me."

Her whispered chuckle made him smile, "I hope that I appealed to you very much then. I think that I must have. You made sounds as though you had found the best melon in the cart."

It made him smirk as he looked at her breasts, "Perhaps the wettest, I'll grant, but there are others nearby in the same cart. Margit."

"Give me a chance, Gunnar, "a little grin sliding onto her lovely face as she whispered, "Maybe we might find something between us to keep you in my little market."

He nodded as he ran his palm over her from her lower belly to her breastbone and back a few times and Margit felt like a cherished pet before he moved to come for her.

She felt him swell against her and she eased herself onto her back for him.

Margit tried, but she couldn't hold back the groan when he slid into her slowly.

"A little slower, Northman," she sighed, "I think I am made to let children out of me who ought to be only a little smaller than what you seek to fill me with."

He began to apologize, but she chuckled up at him, "I did not say that I didn't like it, Gunnar. Keep going, you are a surprise to me, that is all."

As he began, Margit found that she couldn't take her eyes off him for very long at all. The longer that she looked, the more that she found to like in the details which came to her eyes. He rose up after a while and they looked at one another.

To her, he was what he said that he was, a scarred fighter; that was plain to her. But she also saw other things in him if she looked a little deeper. She ran her fingertips over his body and she could see that he liked it. She hoped that he liked it at least a little as much as she did. Her fingers slid over his muscles and she could easily feel the ridges of the scars of his battles almost anywhere on him -- in fact, she wondered if there was anywhere that she wouldn't be able to find one.

As good as this was with him, she wanted to seek for just one place like that and so she lifted her legs, mostly because she really wanted to anyway, and she reached far back on him for a moment.

She almost laughed, but she didn't, not wanting to disrupt something so slowly powerful as this -- when a pale northern beast took her in their pleasure, but she did grin as she held his head with her fingers in his impossibly light hair while he kissed her throat and she felt the beginnings of her first strong wave coming to her.

"I was frightened of your hair at first," she whispered, "But I have since come to like it on you very much, Gunnar. I see now that there is at least a little color to it and that makes me like it even more - as though I know a little secret that no one else knows."

She felt her smile on her own face to have found that not even the cheek of his flank was without a ridge somewhere which spoke of his might and ability to kill whatever might have gotten in a lucky swing with a blade.

She felt lucky to still be alive.

She felt lucky to have found someone like him and the way that it felt as they fucked like this.

She now couldn't seem to keep her eyes open for any length of time. The way that this ghostly creature fucked made it impossible.

He looked down and had to keep reminding himself to keep going. As good as this felt to him, and as much as he was enjoying her, it was all that he could do to keep stroking in and out because if he could see her, just a little as she was like this -- her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face -- well, it almost brought him to a halt just to gaze at her.

He was now certain that he'd never made love with a more beautiful creature in his life -- and he'd had more than a few. But the ones that he'd wanted had always shied away, looking fearful of him or just disliking him for what he was.

The Northmen were feared in Byzantium for the most part, and if not, they were disliked and looked upon as some strange and powerful beasts which protected the emperor. Any women that he'd had a thought to maybe want, would have never laid down for him like this beauty had. They'd never be able to avoid the looks if they became someone who loved him. Everyone would say that she was lying with some animal, since from what they knew of the way that they did anything, they surely had to be. Who sings and laughs as they kill men?

He'd most often had to settle for one of the whores which were brought for them now and then. None of them had looked like this to him, either.

Margit threw her head back and just as she realized that it was her who's been making the quiet moans that she'd been hearing -- as though there was another female here under him -- her body began to shake and twitch and she cried out in far more than a moan, bucking against him while she did.

Before she'd really gotten over it and settled back down for more of the way that he was driving her, it happened again and so quickly.

He leaned back and took one of her legs to lift it and she slid it over his massive shoulder with a smile and a little soft begging for more, but not very long after she'd settled into this change, she was doing it again. Her voice broke, but she cried out his name, wondering where it had come from inside her.

When she felt that she had a little wind back, she threw the rest of her reserve away as she asked him to stop for a moment. He did and she was sure that she could fall in love with him for only the concerned look on his face right then.

"You have done nothing wrong, Gunnar, but please, oh, please, ... let my leg down and fuck me as you did at first. I need to feel that I can finish a wonder such as you."

He smiled then, and it looked as though it was a little shy on him. It was a look that she was certain didn't cross that face very often, but he nodded and he eased her leg down for her and she fell a little more for him right then.

As he moved to lie on her without crushing her, she wrapped her legs around him and mewled in his ear softly about how good he was for her.

When he groaned back at her that he'd never felt anything this good in his life, Margit was certain of a few things, and the very first one was that she needed to kiss him or die for the want of it.

If she'd have said such a thing to him, he'd only have nodded, since he was a littler certain that he felt the same need in himself as they lay there struggling to breathe and kiss each other at the same time.

When he cried out in his deep voice and she felt him stiffen an impossibly hard thing in her even more as she felt the contractions which told her that he was spending into her, Margit just knew that for the first and only time her life, she'd now had the best one for her.

It took a rather long time to her after that. She'd been far more used to men softening a lot faster than Gunnar now did and she'd wanted to kick herself over it when she'd moved only a little and felt a bit of him begin to slide out, so she froze.

"What is wrong, Margit?" he asked in a husky whisper in her ear then.

"Nothing, warrior," she smiled as she hugged him tightly, "You are still in me, where I want and need for you to be. I want this feeling to last long before you slip out. It is every woman's wish, those who have been fucked so well to want their man to remain as long as can be inside of her."

She suddenly realized what she'd said and needed to hold her tongue; before she made the rest of an assumption that she felt she had no right to make. She only knew how she felt.

"Then do not move again," he smiled as he lifted his head to look down at her, "Most of the time, a man wants to draw out now, though he does not know why, really. I have no such wish."

They stayed like that for many minutes longer as they looked at each other and smiled. "We have the same eyes," she decided with a little nod, "I have a hope that you might see that we are the same, the ghost and the smoke-girl. I want to talk foolishness to you right now and it goes against anything that a woman learns of fucking with a man."

"Is that why you are so quiet?" he asked.

"Yes," she said and then they both groaned a little sadly as the last of him left her.

"I wish to make silly noises and ask you if I was good for you. I wish to ask you if I pleased you. I have never done this before." She shrugged, "I have never cared before."

"You would ask me something then which needs no answer if you knew me better," he smiled, "But I am glad that you make the admissions to me. It saves me from asking you if I made you happy and also, it prevents the next stupid thing that a man might ask when he is young and foolish."

Margit looked up at Gunnar and knew what he meant. Even so, it surprised her.

"Then ask if you need to, ghost," she grinned and pulled his head down next to hers, "I feel just as foolish and in a moment such as this one, I might tell you that I want this a lot with you. If you have such a lonely need to have your ears chattered off by a companion in your travels, then look no further than my eyes, Gunnar.

But ignore my mouth when it asks over and over if you might see a little spot in a hidden place up ahead so that I can have a little more of this loving from you."

He nodded then and it was settled. Margit hugged him so hard that her arms ached at the elbows and shoulders. The next time that they did it, she was on her knees as he took her from behind and while she loved it, she soon asked him if they could move so that she rode him.

"I like to look at your face," she shrugged, "I cannot help it."

They were still talking a little later on, and Margit sat up and told him more of her people as she sat within the ring of his body, his legs on one side of her and his head on the other while he lay listening fascinated with his head propped up on one hand and gently stroking her back with the other.

She reached for his hip and pushed it over a little so that she had the room to lower her head, having decided that he needed to feel her lips on him there. As she sucked and licked him noisily, she froze a few moments later as she felt his tongue in another place on her.

She couldn't help what she felt and so she moved a leg to the other side of his head very carefully. "Are you sure that you want that?" she smiled a little hopefully, "It feels good to me, but ..."

He didn't answer. He just pressed his face in farther and Margit raised her head to moan at the ceiling.

It took a lot of effort and even more grunting between them, but at last, the slight pain and the discomfort was past. Margit was on her hands and knees, though her hips had to be eased down in his strong hands. They didn't do very much but move very slowly as she gave him a virginal opening.

Her head hung down and she panted like an animal, not being able to move at all. She was his in this -- even more than she'd been when he'd been in her other opening, but to her, this felt much more like a possession by him, and she could do nothing about it.

She wouldn't have wanted to either in any case.

At first, she'd justified it out of the way that she felt about him. She'd never allowed any man to take her this way. She didn't have anything against it on the face of it, but to her, this had always seemed to have more to do with domination, no matter what her mother had said of it.

She heard her mother's voice in her head again, telling her that this way; there was no risk of a child being conceived. She heard her mother say that she and her father did this just as often as they did the other thing. It was another way for a woman to please her man, after all.

But she'd never heard her mother say that she liked it.

Margit now wondered what was wrong with her. Gunnar had been so very slow and careful not to force himself into her. She felt a lot for him for the consideration that he'd shown.

But even so, it had been by her agreement to try this with a man who was so large that just to get him in past her labia was not undertaken all that lightly, once she knew the size of him. This was another thing entirely. There had been moments in this when she'd been a little afraid that he'd split her wide open, but he didn't.

But once they'd managed the long struggle, she found that her faith in him hadn't been misplaced. He was caring and gentle and she decided that she loved this with him, even if they couldn't do it all that often.

She now understood what her mother had been talking about. But there still must have been something wrong.

Margit loved the way that he took her like this.

She opened her eyes and saw two walls of her long hair as it hung down, and she realized with a start that her mouth had been open as well. But then she felt his large and calloused hands on her body, placed so very carefully and stroking her along the length of her whole side and she knew then that he'd never hurt her.

She was surprised at the halting and quivering sound of her own voice ad she asked him a little plaintively not to forget her breasts, they hung now under her, but they were asking for a little of his love as well.

When she'd gotten as used to this and as comfortable in it as she thought that she could, she was surprised that they could converse a lot easier than they could the more usual way and she asked him to tell her of his where he'd come from if he could.

He did and she hung spellbound in his grasp for a long while as she listened. He told her of the land and its people, the forests and the reindeer and caribou herds, though he didn't use those names for them and she'd never really seen them, other than a few creatures that she thought might have been something a little like what he'd described from a distance once.

He told her of the long and cold winter and she replied that she didn't care about that. She was used to it as long as where they lived was warm inside and they could do this now and then.

He stopped to ask her if what he'd just heard from her was how she felt and she pushed back against him with a loud moan and answered yes.

He never really sped up, but there came a time when she felt him swell and she asked him.

Gunnar said that he'd withdraw before he hurt her, but Margit only hung her head again and begged him to go on to his finish.

She felt him move then and the way that his hand reached to slide over the underside of her belly confused her for a moment. It hadn't felt as though he'd pulled out of her in any way, but for him to be able to have his hand there, he must surely have.

The next moment, she gave up her wondering as his fingers began to work another, more familiar magic on her body. At first, the sensations conflicted to her, but as the movements went on , she suddenly felt more wanton that she could ever remember feeling in her life and she began to push back against him even more.