Author: Uther Pendragon
Title: Igrayne
Keywords: MF mc myth

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law 
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do 
something else. 

This material is Copyright, 1996, 1997, Uther Pendragon.  All 
rights reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading 
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long 
as this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous 
permission. 

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as 
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination 
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly 
coincidental.  

                             #  #  #

                             Igrayne
                       by Uther Pendragon
                   nogardneprethu@gmail.com



First Part: 

The Duke of Tyntigayll was dead to begin with. 

Well -- actually -- to begin with, the world was created, Adam 
sinned and his descendants likewise.  The Duke was born, and I, 
and Igrayne. I became High King, and Igrayne wed the Duke.  The 
Duke was inimical but came to visit me to patch things over.  He 
and his lovely Duchess decided that I had asked them to court to 
court her.  This was true, but not proven, and their departure 
was abrupt enough to pass for casus belli.  The Duchess held one 
castle, Tyntigayll, and the Duke the other, Terrabyl.  We 
besieged his; I left the camp; he sallied and died.  But one must 
begin somewhere. 

So we did not yet know that the Duke was dead when Merlyn, Sir 
Ulfius, and I rode up to Castle Tyntigayll in disguise.  Neither 
did the occupants of Tyntigayll.  Indeed, ensorcelled by Merlyn, 
they took me to be the whoreson Duke, Merlyn to be Sir Jordanus, 
and Sir Ulfius to be Sir Brastias.  When I pled illness and went 
early to bed, the only doubts in their minds were whether the 
illness were real or an excuse to get alone with Igrayne the 
sooner.  As hostess, of course, she could not leave the table 
immediately.  However, when the food was gone and the ale was 
passing, she was de trop.  She came up to the chamber carrying a 
lamp. 

"Milord, art thou seriously ill?  Is there a medicine which I 
can fetch thee?" 

"Thyself is all the balm that I need." 

She laughed at that, and blew out the lamp.  This was to my 
displeasure, but once done, relighting would cause an unwanted 
delay.  Besides, however glamoured she was to see me as the Duke, 
unwonted behavior must disturb her.  If the Duke was ass enough 
to have her undress in the dark, I must lose that sight as 
well. 

Here was where the chance of discovery resided.  Merlyn was 
mage indeed, but I was only an inch under six feet, one of the 
tallest men in my kingdom.  The Duke was five inches shorter, and 
Igrayne a magnificent five foot four.  When a man is stretched 
out above a woman, it is hard for her to avoid noticing that his 
beard reaches where she is used to finding his eyebrows. 

Soon she came to bed.  I was in the center, and she slipped 
under the covers to my left.  I reached over with my right hand.  
There was neither surprise nor reluctance in her response. 

I held her face until I could bring our mouths together.  Then 
I stroked down her side to her magnificent flank and then up her 
soft belly to her breast.  There I found, even while she was 
lying on her back, a firm, smooth hillock.  I smoothed my hand 
upward to find a nipple which firmed to a height of two 
fingerbreadths.  I brushed this with my fingers as gently as 
calluses from sword and lance can brush. 

Meanwhile, we kissed.  She met my lips with closed lips, as 
befits a modest woman.  She opened them to my tongue as befits an 
obedient wife. Beyond those chaste lips, however, there awaited a 
hot and hungry welcome. Her tongue met mine immediately.  I slid 
mine under hers and tasted a sweetness to exceed honey.  She 
withdrew hers to just touch mine tip-to-tip, and then flicked 
hers back and forth.  I was unaware that tongues could be 
tickled.  She brought hers to a stop and touched mine gently, 
then withdrew a bit.  I extended mine to touch it again and she 
repeated.  When I was pressing her lips against her teeth and 
extending as far as possible, she closed her lips over my tongue 
and sucked it.  My blood, which by all logic should have followed 
the suction, instead rushed to my lance which was already full.  
When she relented from her suction, I withdrew my tongue.  Hers 
followed mine, licked its underside, then explored the insides of 
my lips. 

I had to enter somewhere, and I intended this tryst to last.  
Without breaking the kiss, I turned so my head was above hers.  I 
hardened my tongue and stabbed as far forward as I could. While I 
explored the roof of her mouth, she lapped at the underside of my 
tongue.  I chased hers and trapped it against the top of her 
mouth.  Again, it was flowing with sweetness.  The extension was 
tiring and I retreated. She followed all the way into my mouth 
and played tag there.  I sucked her tongue more gently than she 
had sucked mine.  She waggled it yet trying to reach mine and I 
touched it and withdrew in a game.  She pulled back slowly and I 
followed continuing the tag of touches.  She made it feel more 
like she was licking my lips than that she was escaping their 
clutches.  When, for the first time since my tongue broached her 
lips, both tongues were behind their own teeth, she moved her 
face so that her lips were slightly upward from mine.  She 
gripped the hairless part of my upper lip between her two and 
sucked on it.  She began to lick it and I, new to this play, saw 
a possibility.  With only a little effort, I was able to suck on 
her lower lip in turn.  This stood in stead for the breast that I 
was feeling with my hand.  The firmness of the nipple there 
called to my mouth.  I was torn, but with reluctance broke the 
kiss. 

Twins have been born of futterings less sensuous than that 
kiss. 

Before I could proceed downward, she caught my beard and used 
it as a handle to move my face around as she sprinkled kisses 
wherever she could reach.  Quite forgetting that she kissed 
another, I forbore my lust for the sake of her love.  When she 
went higher on my face, however, I kissed lower on hers.  My 
first kiss landed on her cheek, my second on her chin.  She 
forwent kissing to be kissed and I trailed a string along her jaw 
line to her ear.  There were folds and tastes there to keep me 
and giggles and wiggles and thrashing to push me off.  It was, 
however, resistance to the kiss and not the lover.  I captured 
her lobe and sucking it was again reminded of the waiting nipple.  
The path down her throat, delectable in itself, now seemed an 
unbearable delay. 

I was holding the left breast in my hand, and I simply moved 
my mouth to where the right one must be.  I met smooth skin and 
kissed it, then trailed upward to pebbly skin, and thence to 
upstanding smoothness.  One suck and this nipple stood up.  It 
felt as though I had a twig in my mouth, but a blunt twig with 
infinitely smooth bark.  I was beyond teasing her.  I merely 
clung there and suckled like a lusty babe.  Nothing came out, of 
course, but there was still a taste of sweetness.  I slowly grew 
up and changed my suckling to licking and playing with lips and 
tongue. 

I had been hard since my entrance to the room, much less hers.  
Deeply desiring this tryst to last forever, I came to want its 
inevitable conclusion more.  As I love a wet ride, I moved my 
hand down her breast, across her belly to the nest at the top of 
her thighs.  She parted her legs for my hand and my scarred and 
callused fingers parted her soft smooth lips where I intended to 
play until she was flowing and stretched to receive my thrust.  I 
found her drenched, which was luck indeed.  She misconstrued my 
gesture out of the private conventions of her marriage.  She 
reached for me as soon as I had touched her center. 

I am thought a strong-willed man, but there are temptations 
St. Lawrence could not resist.  I followed her touch perforce and 
struggled to restrain from spending.  Led by the reins, I 
scrambled between her legs.  I managed to bring the magnificent 
breast back to my mouth while she lifted her legs and rested her 
feet on my calves.  Her soft hand slid my blunt sword home as if 
into a sheath formed for it alone. 

The sheathing of a sword, however, betokens the end of a 
struggle, and this began one.  No sooner had her hand acted my 
squire, seeing me well mounted and my lance firmly couched, than 
her hips and lower belly acted my opponent in the lists.  They 
thrust at me with enough force to unseat a rider less surely 
placed.  I thrust back, perforce, although there wasn't much 
motion that I could make in that direction, being already firmly 
seated.  As she fell back, I withdrew until I was caught at the 
tighter ring of her portal, then was first in the lists for the 
next passage.  Nor was this the last of her divided councils.  
While her hips thrust against me as if to unseat me, the inner 
flesh clung to me so as to hold me the firmer. 

A realm so divided must certainly lose, but this combat ended 
otherwise.  I thrust, and she bucked.  We met with an audible 
smacking of flesh.  My lance pierced her without doing her 
injury, being instead set afire by the rubbing.  All her wetness 
could not extinguish the fire, but barely eased the feeling of 
sweet friction.  I made many passages in those lists, before 
being overcome by the ache rising through me that betokened that 
I must: 

SPEND! 

SPEND! 

Spend! 

Spend. 

Spend... 

Spent, I fell on her glorious flesh.  I treated those breasts 
as pillows and that destrier mare as a mere palfrey.  She bore 
the treatment with equanimity and me with her softness and 
slowing breath.  Indeed, I awoke minutes -- I hope -- later to 
her soft caresses down my back.  I was wilted and without, but 
her hands passed from my back to my haunches and I stirred 
already. 

I moved off her to a mattress more seemly, if less soft.  Our 
activities had moved us perilously close to the edge, so I moved 
far away. I heard a sniff. 

"Come," I said, "I came all this distance to join thee.  Thou 
canst move over a foot to meet me." 

And move she did handsomely, measuring herself against my side 
in a way that awoke both desire and fear that she must surely 
notice my height.  She was on her side with her front pressed 
against my side.  A magnificent front it was, too.  But my arm 
was not what I wanted there. 

"Stay right here," I directed. 

I moved an inch away and a cubit toward the foot of the bed.  
That put both her magnificent teats within range of my mouth.  I 
began to kiss the sides of the nearer and circled it slowly 
towards the peak.  Occasionally, my beard brushed over my target 
as I circled.  She wiggled but did not seem displeased.  When I 
reached the peak, I licked the nipple all over before taking it 
between my lips.  I dropped back a little to the bed and pulled 
at her shoulder.  She got the idea and turned so that I could lie 
in comfort and suck.  I stroked her side with my hand running 
from the very outside of her left breast to a point a little 
above her knee. Occasionally, I paused at the top to stroke her 
arm. 

She began to move under that caress, not the undulations of 
deep heat, but the acquiescent moving against the stroke that 
means that it is appreciated.  I changed breasts and tilted her a 
little more to accommodate.  The nipple was firm and smooth in my 
mouth when I first drew it in.  I stroked up from her hip in a 
new direction, ending with my hand cupping the base of that 
breast.  Such was the generous size that my thumb touched naught 
of my face but my beard when it extended along that length. 

I fondled there for the nonce, and then stroked back down over 
her belly rather than her side.  This was soft, and smooth and 
gently rounded. The navel was deep and my index finger could just 
fit within.  That brought on a fit of shaking there which even 
reached her breast.  The nipple barely moved in my mouth, but 
that slight motion was a great pleasure.  My finger left its 
private lodging and rejoined the rest of the hand as it stroked a 
circle around that navel.  All was smooth, soft, and still 
shaking.  The second circle went wider and found a feathery 
fluffery at the furthest reaches.  I broke off the circle and 
rested my hand against her there. 

The pad where my thumb met my wrist was just below her navel 
and the third and fourth fingers were displacing curls.  Her 
flesh warmed my hand, and I hope that it warmed her as well.  As 
the heel of my hand moved down, I left my finger tips where they 
were until they were curled under and the backs of the fingers 
were pressed into her curls.  I brought my fingers together 
catching some hairs between each pair.  I lifted them enough to 
pull the sweet pad, but not enough to cause pain.  Then I parted 
the fingers and slowly, carefully, extended them again.  Doing so 
combed her hair and gauged the soft, firm targe which guarded 
both bone and softest flesh.  The hair extended downward to cover 
a softer pout and then followed the lips back further than I was 
going on this survey.  I patted the tiniest forward perimeter of 
those lips, and reluctantly left to visit her thighs. 

There was no need for reluctance, the inner thighs were silken 
warmth and responded to my foray by parting slightly more and 
turning out. I stopped at the limit of my comfortable reach and 
started back up.  Their were very fine hairs, undetectable to my 
touch going in their direction, that I felt when going against 
them.  I tried to keep my fingers as light as possible in this 
direction and to let the these hairs provide the contact.  At a 
point I judged half way to my ultimate goal, I reversed direction 
and brushed down again.  I repeated the process coming up a 
fingerbreadth further on one leg and then going back down.  Then 
I switched legs and did it again.  She stirred under these 
caresses, and I was well content to be both surveying and 
exciting my bedmate.  Finally, my fingers brushed thicker hairs 
at the top of her thigh. 

Meanwhile, having laved and lipped her left nipple, I was 
afraid of overstaying my welcome.  She had evinced no pain, nor 
any response but pleasure.  The first wince, however, is not a 
sign to leave off, but a sign that you have stayed far too long.  
So I reluctantly loosed my lips and let the nipple slip.  Then I 
moved from mount to vale.  I licked and kissed her pebbly flesh 
beside the nipple and thence to the smooth skin further away. I 
kissed downward towards the base, feeling -- all the while -- the 
smoothness of the other breast brush the left side of my face.  
In the valley, conscious that this was less tender flesh though 
delicate and smooth to the touch, I kissed her more forcefully, 
the narrowest line of lip protecting her flesh from my teeth.  I 
sucked wildly here, as well.  A little adjustment allowed each 
ear to rub a breast while I kissed the center of the valley 
between. 

While exploring one valley, I had reached another, as you 
might remember.  Just outside, my fingers toyed with locks 
trapped between her smooth thighs.  I played there a minute, 
without touching skin.  Then her own movement brought her lips 
within range of my finger.  I stroked a finger between the thigh 
and the far edges of each lip.  She parted her legs a bit more to 
accommodate this, but I thought her position probably difficult.  
I nuzzled my way upward and then pressed her back with my mouth, 
using my arm as a lever at the same time.  When she took the 
idea, she rolled on her back and I was able to pull her right leg 
toward me. 

With this improved entree, I gently pressed the two lips and 
slid them slowly against each other.  I was no longer worried 
about the dryness of my road, my own contribution being more than 
was needed to ease any passage. I wanted to play there, however, 
before any serious resumption of action. She, however, reached 
for me again.  I stiffened completely in her fingers, but my 
mouth, at least, was able to resist this time. 

"Nay, my lady, givest me a few more minutes." 

"I was but inquisitive, my lord, I don't believe that I have 
ever felt thee so thick." 

"I have stored up a long absence.  Let me, however, remind 
myself of the territory before I possess it again." 

She dropped back, but replied, "I had not thought that thou 
wouldst ever forget that territory." 

"I said not 'forget,' but 'remind.'  I have thought too much 
about it this whole siege through."  And that, in this whole 
feigned trip, was God's own truth. 

Her legs were more spread now, and I divided the thicket to 
find the meadow within.  Her inner lips were lush and thick, even 
if they stayed within her bounteous outer ones.  They were 
together and I first kept them that way, holding them between 
thumb and first finger and rubbing them back and forth as gently 
as possible.  I pulled them out slightly and let them go to feel 
the hairbreadth return through my fingers.  I traced the minute 
ridge of their meeting, glad to find it splendidly slippery.  I 
parted them with my fingers and felt one between finger and 
thumb.  The position was not best for kissing her breasts, so I 
bent a little and rested my head on her belly.  I dipped a finger 
into her nursery to test the size.  It seemed dubious that my 
member had fit, let alone having room for a son. 

My fingers were damp enough to fare anywhere without hurting 
her, and I brought them forward to the peak of her furrow.  
There, well above the nursery, I found the tiny nurse standing 
watch.  I spread it with the juice that I carried with me and 
then returned for more.  When the nurse was well wetted, Igrayne 
had begun to breathe more quickly.  Thankful that the nurse had 
carried the message, I stroked her more and Igrayne rolled her up 
to me with a rolling of her sweet hips.  I again checked the 
nursery, this time with two fingers.  It was as tight as before, 
but accepted two as easily as one.  I returned with more of the 
liquid, and damped down the nurse again. Igrayne began to gasp.  
I abandoned all pretense of covering the entire furrow, and 
stayed there playing with the nurse and plying the immediate area 
with the moisture. 

In ingratitude, the nurse abandoned her post.  But a knight 
once sworn returns not indifference to indifference.  I walked my 
post and hers.  Meanwhile Igrayne was holding my hair in one hand 
and my shoulder in the other.  She was panting as from a race.  
My fingers continued to pace their beats while the soft belly 
under me firmed.  There was still sweet padding, but it felt like 
it covered not flesh but iron. Then she started.  Her hips swung 
sweetly into my hand.  One hand pulled my hair and the other 
clawed my shoulder.  She tightened still more under me and 
brought her head and her shoulders off the mattress.  Then she 
fell back and waves passed down her body.  The flesh under my 
face quivered like a very slow bow string.  Then she shuddered 
and closed her legs with a snap like a portcullis falling.  Her 
hips rose and fell once more and then she was still and softer 
than ever under my head.  Her thighs, too, relaxed.  I moved my 
hand to clasp her delicate curls without trespassing into more 
sensitive areas. 

She broke out in a sweat, and I found the blanket to cover 
her.  When I again lay down it was beside her with my arm just 
above her breasts and my mouth inches from her ear. 

"Igrayne, Igrayne," I whispered.  "Lovely, Lady Igrayne.  
Loved by my heart, laved by my tongue, lady of strength and 
grace.  Beauty and boldness, brightness beloved.  Igrayne, 
Igrayne, Igrayne." 

Skald, I am not.  Those lines will testify to that.  But my 
observation is that women occasionally prefer poor chants that 
they are loved to wondrous renditions of the love of Leander for 
Hero.  This seemed such an occasion. 

"Oh my lord."  She answered.  I presume she meant the Duke, 
she may have meant Our Lord.  The High King, she did not 
mean. 

"Hush.  Lie here and be hugged." 

So she did, and a marvelous armful I had.  Now, I love 
spending, but there are things that you don't notice in the midst 
of your own passion. Holding a lovely woman in your arms while 
she visits her passion is a blessing of its own.  Igrayne had 
been on that journey and she returned slowly.  While she did, I 
left off clipping and played with her hair.  It was held in some 
formal winding by a hair clasp.  I undid the clasp and pulled the 
strands out into a lush curtain.  It was enough to cover her 
breasts, or cover my chest, or to spread over the head of the 
bed.  And I did all these things with it. 

When her breathing eased, I essayed a kiss.  Her tongue met 
mine with all the passion of our first kiss.  After some time 
dealing with only that delight, I began to explore her whole 
mouth.  The roof of her mouth had its own taste, which I can't 
describe except as a slightly sweet spice.  Meanwhile, her tongue 
-- finding itself no longer the main interest of mine -- 
responded like an ignored puppy.  It lay in wait and then jumped 
up when my attention was elsewhere.  I must admit that I found 
these licks much more pleasant.  I pinned her down to the floor 
of her mouth and she wagged her tongue so as to tickle me.  I 
withdrew to my own mouth and she chased me.  Trapping her, I 
sucked as she had sucked me.  Rather than fighting it, she 
pressed her mouth to mine and held my hair. 

My ardor, bred up over those months of wanting, had been but 
partially quenched by our first encounter.  The long rest and the 
clipping had quite restored it.  Her ardor, once the short rest 
was over, was whetted -- not abated -- by her recent solitary 
vigil.  I was stroking her body from neck to thigh, but the 
breasts received more than their share of attention.  It was time 
to reenter the lists.  Thinking of tilting gave me the idea that 
a bolster under her hips canting them up might sweeten the angle 
between her softness and my hardness.  I broke the kiss to 
speak. 

"Milady, can we have the bolster below," I asked. 

"I have not sewn it to the mattress during the last months," 
she replied.  There was playfulness in her tone and alacrity in 
her action. 

She pushed the blanket aside and swung the bolster down to our 
waist level.  Then she raised herself up, slid the bolster under 
her, and swung herself down on it kneeling and facing the head of 
the bed.  I had been trapped again into a marital habit.  She 
reached over and took me.  (I was beginning to know why we call 
them "reins.")  I clambered into position over her legs.  Her 
hand clasped it tight, once, and then placed me against her. 

"It *is* larger than I had remembered." 

I smiled but replied not.  I was investing the castle this 
time, not storming it.  I paused just at the foregate while I 
passed my hands around those marvelous haunches onto her narrow 
girdle and upward to rest on her ribs with fingers just touching 
the sides of her breasts.  My thumbs touched her shoulder blades 
and I held her absolutely still as I parted the leaves of the 
gate and entered the outer bailey.  I brushed my hands down her 
plenteous, now pendulous, breasts until I reached the borders of 
the areolae.  Then I paced the outer bailey, back and forth as 
there was no room to go side to side, gathering the wealth that 
had been stored there as precious mead.  I rolled the tips of her 
breasts on my fingers as you might drum your fingers on the table 
when the benediction is too long, but at a third of the speed. 
She stirred at that, and backed a fingerbreadth toward me.  With 
the placement of my member, that removed me from the gatehouse 
rather than driving me within. 

I moved my hips back until I was properly situated, and 
stopped there just at the gatehouse.  I bent forward slightly and 
passed my hands downward until the tips of my middle fingers met 
the sides of her two nipples.  These I stroked up and down.  She 
was still, as if concentrating on her mammary sensations.  I 
moved my hips forward and just nudged into the gatehouse.  I 
stretched no gate, merely taking what space was there.  I judged 
that the entry I was using would pass only my least digit, and 
that merely to the first knuckle.  I spread my hands lower until 
I could press upward on the tips of the hanging nipples.  She 
pulled herself upward, which moved her castle away, but I moved 
with her, neither displaced nor advancing. 

Then I did advance, pressing inward in the gatehouse, widening 
the entrance until it would admit most of my force, only the 
breadth of the van barring my passage.  Here, I was feeling her 
warmth and grasp for the first time and restraint was becoming a 
task.  A true knight, I held my post.  I paused there and moved 
my left hand to her downthrust belly.  There I delved in her 
navel with my last finger.  She lifted away, the gatehouse 
retreated, and I moved in perfect pace with it. The most perfect 
pace, however, can not overcome a change of angle.  The top 
entered more, the bottom retreated, and the very slow friction of 
each was sensuous torture.  I held my finger there, and her belly 
raised perforce, while my right hand played with her nipple.  I 
moved that hand up the breast to her back. 

My left hand stroked across her belly to her left breast.  She 
eased down a bit, and again there was the exquisite sensation of 
shifting within sans any forward movement.  I flexed the fingers 
of my right hand into claws and directed the knuckles toward me.  
Then scratching with the backs of my nails I stroked her back 
from right shoulder blade to left buttock.  She, predictably, 
dropped her belly to escape the tickle -- for I was careful that 
there was no actual pain -- and drove herself back toward me.  I 
rode partly with this swing of hers, but still ended completely 
in the gatehouse.  Enveloped rather than invading, I felt the 
sweet friction of her clasping flesh as my vanguard was admitted 
-- or captured.  She was holding herself up on her raised arms 
and I dropped my left hand to the bolster to do likewise. 

This allowed me to bend over far enough to kiss her on her 
upper back.  She wiggled at this and her rump shifted sideways 
and my half-inserted self was shifted reciprocally to this.  I 
felt every tug and slide of the sideways shifts, but was not 
conscious until later that the net result was inward.  Meanwhile, 
I kissed her back from left shoulder to right, licking every spot 
that I had sucked, and sucking again to make sure. 

I had but one hand for breasts, so I stroked them 
alternatively, sometimes gliding my hand over the smooth skin, 
sometimes tickling the nipples with my fingers.  Meanwhile, she 
dodged either kiss or tickle, her hips swayed, my member was the 
swivel on which our connection turned, and I felt the always-
varying motions there as one extreme tease.  I was easing through 
her gatehouse in a sort of dance, back a little forth a little, 
round, round, round.  The travel back was less than the travel 
forth, however.  I suddenly sensed that the friction was on the 
widest part, not on the tip.  At that, I stopped peppering her 
with kisses and rose back to kneeling erect.  That, in itself, 
provided forward impulse.  With an exquisite slip through the 
gate, I was in the inner bailey. 

My body pulled back a bit, but it scarcely moved my invading 
force.  The gatehouse kept tight around the main force and the 
van was held within the bailey by the width of the vanguard more 
effectively than it had been kept out.  I was pulling back the 
merest bit while I returned to the soft teasing scratching that I 
had done earlier.  I used both hands this time, being careful 
that the nails were always turned in and going away from their 
points.  I covered her lower back with these teases and then the 
backs of her thighs. 

I then gripped both hips and eased myself forward again.  The 
van now started to occupy the inner bailey, widening it as it 
advanced.  The defenses were only soft, frictional resistance.  
Meanwhile, the gatehouse held tight to the main force of the 
invaders, yielding them passage but only under resistance.  I 
pressed forward until the van was deeply into the castle and only 
the last inch of the invasion was completely outside.  The 
resistance, incapable of stopping the invasion was now a threat 
to the cohesion of the invader.  The force, which could not be 
stopped as it was, faced the possibility of firing its missiles 
futilely and collapsing while still in possession. 

I stopped the advance for a moment, then, and explored the 
neighborhood of the castle with my hand. One finger found that, 
though the castle was invested, one watchtower below it was still 
manned.  The hider had returned from hiding.  Dipping my finger 
in the honey of the outer bailey, I stroked the watchman until a 
gasp from the mistress of the castle told me that the message was 
received. In its pause, the invasion force had recovered, for the 
nonce, from its danger. 

I whispered "elbows."  Igrayne dropped herself onto hers.  I 
pulled myself fully forward and the entire force had entered the 
castle. As well, the entire inner bailey was occupied, and the 
tip of the van tenderly touched the innermost keep. 

Here, my metaphor, as well as my entry, was ended.  The keep, 
soon to be Arthur's keep, was not to be entered by the invading 
force, but only by its missiles.  And those would be fired 
somewhat later. 

She knelt with her knees on the bolster, very wide apart.  My 
knees were on the mattress proper, between her legs, and almost 
together.  Her ankles rested on my calves, with her feet touching 
each other.  I was, from knees to crown, rigidly erect and bent 
slightly backward.  Her elbows were resting on the mattress, and 
-- I presume -- her head as well.  Her back was arched downward, 
so that our loins were pressed against each other's as firmly as 
possible.  My hands, at that time, were pulling her hips into me 
and, by the same token, pulling myself into her. 

I bowed over her back while smoothing my hands forward over 
her belly to her breasts.  She responded to the caress by 
straightening her back.  We both moved slowly and the two motions 
eased me slowly out of her.  I could feel the close clasp of the 
gateway pass over my shaft, and the subtler, silkier, friction of 
her inner bailey slide over the more sensitive head of my organ.  
For the last half of the motion, the lower lips gave a fleeting 
caress to the base of my shaft.  Once over her, I kissed her 
spine.  Then I drew both my hands down her hanging breasts to the 
sensitive tips.  There they toyed awhile.  Her breath was ragged, 
but I could not tell if it were the position or the 
sensation. 

An easing of the position seemed the best assay of which, so I 
gently grasped her right shoulder and straightened myself 
somewhat.  She got the message and raised herself on her arms.  
Each motion withdrew me slightly, and each hairbreadth withdrawal 
was a sensual delight.  I put both hands on her shoulders and 
stroked back evenly along her sides.  Where her waist flared out 
from its narrowest part, I put on gentle pressure. 
Simultaneously, I straightened slightly at waist and knees.  My 
motion within her was reversed, but the sensations remained as 
delightful.  I pulled her tightly to me and then bent over again.  
The withdrawal was less and even slower.  The pleasure, if 
anything greater. 

I took her breasts in my two hands and pulled back very 
gently.  She followed the lead and pressed into me as I pressed 
forward.  A minor motion forward on the breasts moved her as 
easily and I backed out.  She needed merely to get the message 
for her to cooperate.  Soon we were moving against one another at 
moderate rate and the motion tightened my loins and threatened my 
culmination.  She, also, was panting more in the easier position.  
Then she began to move more vigorously.  This drove my pleasure 
to the peak with my tension following amain.  The bridle that I 
was using was too delicate for this new ride, so I abandoned her 
breasts.  My left hand caught her shoulder to guide and restrain 
her, my right sought below her belly to find her center. 

There was no need in this position to spread the nectar which 
flowed down between her lips.  I merely pressed the meeting of 
those lips rhythmically with her motions.  At this, her motions 
sped, as did mine. I backed when she went forward, using my hand 
on her shoulder only to see that our partings excluded the 
primary juncture.  I advanced when she returned, thrusting hard 
and joying in the rapid friction.  I could hear her breathing two 
notes above my own and could feel the shoulder muscles tense in 
my hand and her thighs tense against my arm.  Our pace kept 
increasing until, suddenly, her knees slipped from their 
lodging. 

I couldn't let this interfere at that point.  I grabbed her 
left hipbone with my right hand and held her against me.  I 
dropped her shoulder and supported myself on my left arm.  I had 
to pull back for this position to balance, but I took her with 
me.  She spread her legs wide and I pulled her over me until I 
was buried deep.  When I moved forward, she was ready to push 
back with her hands.  She straightened.  Every muscle I could 
feel tightened.  Her belly rested on my arm bone and I could not 
have told which was harder.  I withdrew, she pulled herself 
forward.  I pressed forward, she pushed back and I drew her to me 
with my supporting arm.  In violation of all the logic of sieges, 
the castle assaulted the invading force.  The walls of the 
gatehouse constricted rhythmically on the main body, and then the 
inner bailey itself was squeezing the vanguard and the furthest 
advanced forces.  My invading force firmed to its uttermost, and 
fired flight after flight of shafts toward the keep.  I held her 
up and pressed her against me.  My hips were moving in thrusting 
motions but her purchase on the mattress was not enough to press 
back.  Most of my motions brought her with me.  Nevertheless, the 
castle attacked the invaders, and the invaders fired on the 
donjon. 

Both actions stopped together.  My muscles, which could have 
pulled us both to the ceiling a moment earlier given a purchase, 
were now hard pressed to hold myself up.  Igrayne would have 
overstrained my arm if she had not, herself, collapsed so that 
legs on one end and head and torso on the other were on the 
mattress.  I had only the center to support.  This I did an 
instant longer as I felt her last pulses around me and the 
invading force, having lost all firmness, dropped -- rather than 
fired -- its last volley.  I batted the bolster out of the way 
and eased Igrayne, slick with perspiration, down to the bed.  My 
last effort was to tumble to the side so that I did not fall on 
her. 

Igrayne and I had striven mightily.  Sleep was the victor. 

                              - = - 

           And now for something completely different!

                           *Glossary* 

A note on spelling:  This is a modern preoccupation.  The 
generation which thinks that the opposite of "win" is "loose" may 
end this pedantry. Was the castle spelled "Tyntagil" or 
"Tyntigayll"?  In truth it was spelled "whatever."  At the time, 
only Latin words had spellings, and no one was careful about 
those.  I have chosen *one* spelling used by Malory, but he 
used others. 

The words here are those not recognized by my spell checker.  
Minus a few, "fluffery," e.g., whose meaning you know without the 
word having entered English.  Also minus the second person 
singular forms.  Plus a few, "tilt," e.g., which may be 
recognized by the spell checker for a different meaning. 

Amain: Vigorously. 

Areolae: (pl) The darker-colored flesh on the breasts around 
the nipples. 

Arrow Slit: Castle keeps have *THICK* walls.  If you cut 
a window straight through them, men might be able to enter, but 
sunlight from a different angle could not.  What we did was cut a 
tall, very narrow, slit on the outside.  Then we widened it out 
at an angle, called the EMBRASURE, towards the inside.  It let a 
certain amount of light in, and kept most missiles out.  An 
archer could also stand in the embrasure and shoot out. 

Bailey: see Castle. 

Brastias: A knight serving the Duke of Tyntigayll.  Sir Ulfius 
was disguised as Sir Brastias. 

Butt:  A target, especially for archery. 

Castle:  Technically, any fortified point.  The castles under 
discussion here were the full versions.  They consisted of a KEEP 
or DONJON, the inner, hardened, multi-story, central 
fortification.  People lived there at all times.  The INNER 
BAILEY was surrounded by a tall curtain wall.  The donjon was on 
one side and various stables, storehouses, etc. were set around 
the central area.  Anything portable of military importance was 
permanently housed in the inner bailey.  If the enemy was in your 
inner bailey you were in trouble.  The OUTER BAILEY, was on the 
natural approach to the inner bailey and the only way to enter 
it.  (It could totally surround the inner bailey, but this was 
not usual.)  Much economically and agriculturally important 
activity occurred in the outer bailey.  The surrounding curtain 
walls were high enough to resist a raid and require a siege to 
take them.  The entrance to either bailey was through a GATEHOUSE 
which contained the gate and was a tower built above the level of 
the wall so as to be held independent of it.  The gate, proper, 
was on the inside so that people chopping at it could be 
entertained by 20lb rocks, arrows, the contents of chamber pots, 
boiling water, and other mementos dropped on them.  See also 
"Portcullis." 

Casus belli:  (A sure sign of a limited spellchecker.)  The 
occasion or opportunity for the war.  Sometimes given as "cause 
of war," it is a false cognate.  The cause of the war might be 
"If the Allies don't win soon, our Allied bonds will be 
wallpaper," or "Our King wants to bed the woman that this Duke 
has inconveniently wed."  The casus belli would be something more 
fitting.  Perhaps "The vicious Huns have sunk a liner," or "The 
Duke's departure was an insult to our amour propre that can only 
be cleansed by blood." 

Clip:  To hug. 

De trop:  Superfluous. 

Destrier:  Imagine that you are a quadruped.  They array you with 
heavy gear and hoist a man wearing twice his natural weight in 
armor on your back. Then they point you at a large group of 
equally burdened quadrupeds with screaming riders trotting toward 
you fronted by very sharp lance points. Do you go:
1)  directly forward at a trot as steady as the ground allows  
or  
2)  elsewhere? 

The second option occurs even to horses.  So we train them for 
war and call the trained results "destriers."  We don't want to 
waste them, and their single pace is neither efficient nor 
restful on a journey.  We ride PALFREYS for travel and mount the 
destriers only for battle. 

Donjon:  see Castle. 

Duchy:  A dukedom. 

Ector:  Sir Ector fostered Arthur.  His wife was Arthur's wet 
nurse. 

Embrasure:  see Arrow Slit. 

Ensorcelled:  Affected by magic, glamoured. 

Ere: Before. 

Fingerbreadth:  The width of a finger. 

Foregate:  The area just outside the gate. 

Forwent:  Abstained. 

Futterings:  Activities on topic in this archive. 

Garde-robe: We deterred moths from laying eggs in our (woolen) 
clothes by hanging said clothes in our latrine rooms.  Of course, 
some dull historians claim that small rooms in our walls used as 
clothes closets were properly garde-robes, and that latrine rooms 
were called that as mere euphemisms. 

Gatehouse:  see Castle. 

Gladsome:  Causing joy. 

Glamoured:  Fooled by magic. 

Haft:  Handle or hilt. 

Igrayne:  Duchess of Tyntigayll.  Later Queen of Britain. 

Jordanus: Knight of the Duke of Tyntigayll.  Merlyn's 
disguise. 

Joust:  See Tilt.  (The 'o' is silent.) 

Keep:  see Castle 

Laved:  Washed. 

List:  see Tilt. 

Mage:  Seer, Magician, Adept. 

Mead:  Drink, brewed from honey.  Think beer. 

Merlyn:  Mage who brought me into Igrayne's bed at Castle 
Tyntigayll. In return he received control of Arthur's fostering 
and education.  The latter got him a nice sinecure much 
later. 

Milady & Milord:  Yes we spoke that way.  A baron could whip 
his wife with a horsewhip, and some did.  No baron addressed his 
wife tutoyant. 

Nonce:  Short while 

Palfrey:  Horse for riding when not in combat.  See 
Destrier. 

Passage:  see Tilt 

Portcullis:  A grillwork (usually) that could be raised and 
lowered at the front (or outer) end of the gatehouse.  Lowered on 
its rope, it provided another obstacle to overcome in capturing a 
route into the castle. If the rope were *cut* the portcullis 
crashed down.  This discommoded those in its way and could be 
used to trap a small party inside the gatehouse where they could 
be attacked from above.  see Castle. 

Quim:  The female pudenda. 

Recurved:  A good longbow is made from wood that curves one 
way and then is strung to curve the other.  Cut the string, or 
even unstring the bow, and the arc reverses. 

Sally:  While the besieging army is busy digging ditches, 
serving the siege engines, raiding the surrounding country for 
supplies, etc., the besieged army quietly gathers a force of 
armored, armed, (preferably mounted) knights and men at arms.  
Then they sneak out a side door (a "sally port") and fall on a 
portion of besiegers.  If they have the self-discipline to stop 
while they are ahead, they can almost always score a minor 
victory.  "Sally" is both a noun and a verb. 

Skald:  A Scandinavian bard.  One of rare training and 
precision. (Skald/bard is equivalent to chef/cook.) 

Straitly:  Tightly, closely. 

Swiving:  Activity on topic in this archive. 

Targe:  A shield, usually a small one. 

Terrabyl:  The second castle of the Duchy of Tyntigayll.  The 
Duke holed up there, and we besieged it. 

Tilt:  Joust.  Two men, who usually don't have any quarrel 
with each other, get on expensive horses wearing very expensive 
armor and ride towards each other along opposite sides of a rail 
fence pointing sharp lances at one another.  They do this until 
one is knocked off his horse or both horse and rider are knocked 
down.  After a certain age, it gets hard to remember why.  The 
place where this takes place is called the LISTS. One ride at 
each other is called a PASSAGE. 

Tyntigayll:  A castle, well made.  A Duke, ill bred.  A 
duchy. 

Ulfius:  Sir Ulfius was a faithful and intelligent retainer of 
mine. 

                              - = - 

Second Part: 

The dawn wind woke me because I had set a sort of mental 
sentry for that purpose.  The room was against the east wall of 
the keep and each arrow slit showed sky a lighter gray than the 
room's blackness.  Inside, I could distinguish nothing.  Touch, 
however, was still available, and quite enjoyable.  Igrayne's 
back was pressed against my front, and I held one breast in my 
hand.  I enjoyed these sensations as I woke, and then ran my 
fingers as far over her skin as I could reach without disturbing 
her fit to my body.  She half woke but then snuggled against me 
more firmly. 

The pleasure of external pressure was soon overmatched by the 
discomfort of internal pressure.  I visited the garde-robe.  No 
sight was needed to find that.  On exiting, I followed the wall 
until I came to the door.  I placed the beam across it to lock it 
fully and delved into a purse that I'd left with my clothes.  
Merlyn had offered me an herb which had an enchantment against 
morning breath.  I chewed some and spat it out into the rushes.  
I continued until the bed was dimly outlined against an arrow-
slit.  I then returned to bed by keeping toward that slit. 

My motions had nearly wakened Igrayne, and my return  --  
rustling through the rushes  --  finished that task.  What my 
hands had explored, I wanted my mouth to taste, and I started at 
her forehead and worked down.   Her brows were fine, prickly on 
the lips when swept inward, but smooth when slicked out.  Her 
temples were touched by hairs so fine my lips could not detect 
them but my tongue could.  Her ears were convoluted, tasty and 
quite ticklish.  Here she stopped me. 

"My Lord, I must rise." 

"Is the kitchen so laggard that they need their mistress' 
supervision to serve a simple meal?"  I asked. 

"I doubt that any in the kitchen expect to see me ere thou 
ridest away," she answered.  "But there is a crisis threatening 
our woolens and I must protect them from moths." 

She left me laughing there and went to the garde-robe.  I 
noticed that she passed in front of all but the leftmost arrow 
slit to do so.  She was outlined against the gray for a moment, 
suspicion of sweet breast, blockage of almost all, brief outline 
of hip, then repeated.  This gave me an idea. When, after what 
seemed a long time, Igrayne came back out to the larger room, I 
asked her to look out and report the weather. 

She entered the embrasure to look in all directions and 
reported that it was much lightened in the east, clouds to the 
south, etc.  I hardly listened.  Instead I looked at what the 
light revealed of her when she was so near it. 

The silhouette was still the most revealing.  While she tried 
to describe the southern sky, her right breast was outlined.  It 
was large and jutting, with only the sweet sag that bespoke a 
woman rather than a statue. She raised her arm to brace herself 
and the breast raised slightly in response.  The nipple pointed 
pertly in the chill, if not so far as had met my warm mouth in 
the night.   She was turned slightly away and her belly made only 
a slight bulge.  Her hip, however, was canted out by her stance 
and her flank made a sweet arc against the light.  She turned so 
that her head was in what light there was.  It was faint enough 
so that her golden hair and cream skin were the same shade of 
lightness.  As she walked back, there came a moment when I could 
see the light framed by her thighs.  These spread broad and were 
topped by a tangle that was only hinted by the silhouette.  Then 
she was back and cool and ready to be warmed. 

I was right glad to clip her in my warm arms.  The morning 
kiss was sweet and her tongue entered my mouth greedily.  I 
licked the invader and sucked gently on it.  She licked the 
inside of my lips once more, then broke to kiss me on the nose.  
I kissed her chin and then along her jaw. My kisses were becoming 
wetter and I licked, rather than really kissing, the space behind 
her ear from bottom to top.  This was salt and had a special 
taste which was just Igrayne.  I lipped the top of this ear and 
then licked the inside while she wiggled.  I traveled down the 
side of her neck with little lip-nips and short licks.  I found 
one spot where her motions underwent a subtle change.  Here there 
was no longer a girl trying to escape a tickle, but a woman whose 
body responded to a sexual thrill  -- however minor. 

While my mouth explored that spot and the immediate 
surroundings, I stroked down her side and back and flank.  All 
was smooth.  There was soft padding over all, but one could feel 
muscles move underneath.  Finally, I reached her haunch.  Here 
was fullness, here was softness, here was firmness when she 
flexed in response to my squeezing hand.  My lips left their 
vantage, pleasant as it was, and kissed down her neck to her 
shoulder. Thence, I made a brief expedition down her arm to her 
elbow and back up.  I intended nothing serious, but wanted to 
acknowledge that portion of her body.  From her shoulder I kissed 
diagonally to the edge of her breast and then around that base.  
I continued down with lip-nips and licks and real kisses, as 
well.  As I crossed her belly, I think she found my beard as 
ticklish as the kisses.  I passed about an inch to the side of 
her navel. Then I changed course. 

Before she could react, I was kissing her navel and searching 
it with my tongue.  I let go of her haunch and pushed on the 
front of her thigh. She fell onto her back when she sensed my 
intent.  I clasped a breast in my left hand and a thigh in my 
right.  But I was giving the lovely, firm, belly my primary 
attention.  I circled the navel with licks and kisses before 
returning to that center and plundering it again.  I stayed until 
the squirming became real dislike.  She pushed me away and 
downward.  This direction did I take and she pulled me back 
immediately.  From this I guessed that the fool of a Duke had 
kissed only two of her lips.  I was less concerned about the 
disguise every moment, but more concerned about the hour.  I 
decided that this delight must be delayed.  I did kiss her mons, 
however, and pretended to pluck its hairs with my lips.  Then I 
reversed my course and licked and nibbled my way up her belly 
toward her breasts. What my mouth was cheated of, however, would 
not be denied my hand.  I covered her delta with my palm and 
smoothed those curls downward. 

When my mouth reached her breast, I kissed a circle around its 
base and then a spiral up to the top.  There, I licked around the 
nipple until it stood up tall and rigid.  Then I blew on it until 
she shivered.  Only then did I take its sweetness into my mouth.  
I sucked it between firm lips and then opened my mouth as wide as 
I could and sucked the whole top of her breast within.  I eased 
all but the nipple out and rubbed my lips across that smooth 
twig.  Then I went to simple, gentle sucking. 

Meanwhile I was fingering her lower lips.  I pressed them 
gently and stroked the hair on the outer ones.  Then I parted 
those with two fingers and slipped the middle finger between 
them.  Her inner lips were tight together and moistly slick.  
These I stroked slowly and as gently as possible.  I was at her 
breast at the same time, so I had a little difficulty 
distinguishing her responses to one action from her responses to 
the other.  Nonetheless, I took a slight easing of her thighs and 
rolling of her legs as an invitation to further search below.  I 
brought the finger between and outer lip and the inner ones.  
Still with gentle pressure, I moved that inner one against its 
twin.  The motion was less than half a fingerbreadth in its 
greatest extent.  The friction, never great, decreased as I 
continued.  I added my index finger to the friction and then it 
held the greatest extension while the middle finger crept to the 
juncture. 

There it parted the inner lips easily and stroked between.  
Here was honey enough, generated that morning, to ease its 
passage to the center. Thence I stroked in all directions, first 
for small distances then, gradually, for larger ones. 

Caressed at breast and groin, Igrayne was content for a bit to 
lie there and react.  The reaction was mostly in small motions of 
her body and in quickening breath.  My strokes lengthened until I 
reached the fold where her inner lips met.  There I met the 
hider, again unhidden.  I dipped below to gather more mead and 
returned to stroke the hider.  I dipped more mead and spread it 
around the general neighborhood, dipped more and re-annointed the 
hider.  Igrayne's breath was coming quick indeed and I kissed 
over to the other breast while continuing that pattern below.  
Then, on my next trip to gather honey, I stuck my finger deep 
into the hive.  Igrayne gasped.  I returned to the hider, but the 
journey was no longer uneventful. The path was moving up and down 
faster than my finger was traveling. 

Then Igrayne's sweet hand moved to my chest and then downward.  
The light was good enough now that I could see a pale shape that 
must be Igrayne's face above me.  I am sure, however, that she 
could see nothing of her hand's progress between our two 
shapes. 

"Milady,"  I said, "I rode yestereve, and I must ride this 
day."  Her hand stopped but she made no response.  "And I rode 
twice last night, as well." 

"My lord, I am sorry." 

"Art thou?  Thou seemed glad enough last night.  Almost as 
glad as I was."  Women apologize first and think next, but she 
was thinking now.  "Be thou the rider this dawning." 

"Pfft!   Right gladly, my lord."  This was not a giggler, 
except when tickled.  This lady had a deep chuckle. 

We abandoned our caresses for a moment to arrange ourselves.  
It is not a position into which one falls by accident.  I took a 
diagonal which put my feet well to the west of my head, so that 
she was facing what light there was.  She moved the bolster to 
the head and the blanket to the foot. Then she knelt above me and 
bent forward.  I stole a kiss on each nipple and then gestured 
for her to proceed.  She took me in her hand and then sat back.  
The position had been proof against spending for my life up until 
then, and I had a vigorous night behind me.  The touch of that 
hand, however, made me fear an exception.  In any event, there 
was stiffness enough for our purposes and more.  She parted 
herself with one hand, placed me with the other, and then stroked 
the head of my member once from the back of her honeyed vale to 
the front.  Then she returned it to the critical location and 
settled herself further. 

The tip of my member was within the precincts, but she 
stopped.  She shifted her weight to one leg and inched the other 
one back and then repeated the process.  The motions, which 
clearly had no erotic intent, swirled my tip within her 
vestibule.  She was better satisfied with this position and 
settled back.  Her wet warmth engulfed almost all the head of my 
member.  She slowly straightened and the rest of the head was 
within her.  As she lowered herself from there I could feel the 
head pass through the entrance strictures and then that band 
tighten on the flesh  --  even more sensitive  --  just behind 
the head.  At this point, she moved slightly from side to side  
--  apparently to be sure of the direction.  This twist and turn 
on the closely clasped, supersensitive, flesh made me gasp.  She 
gave me an absent smile and lowered herself until she knelt with 
her knees on either side of my chest and her glorious haunches 
seated on my legs and groin. 

Here, with my essence held totally captive within her, I 
gestured for her to stop and offered her the hair clasp that I 
had removed the night before.  That hair streaming around her was 
a glorious sight, but what it hid was more glorious yet.  Here, 
with her very self impaled upon my lance, she straightened 
completely, shook her hair back, and caged that entire wild mane 
at the top of her neck.  There was more light in the room and I 
could see her shape as she sat there, hands reaching behind her 
head.  The hair, whose golden color memory had to supply in that 
light, hung in waves down her back to below her waist.  Her brow 
was wide and high, with the eyes beneath wide apart.  Her nose 
was small and pert, spoiling the gravity of her expression and 
clashing with the wide lines of her mouth.  Her chin and jaw were 
sharp edged and determined.  The throat below was long and 
elegant, leading to shoulders broad for a woman.  There was 
nothing masculine about the torso below, however.  Instead of 
narrowing down from below her shoulders, her chest widened to 
support her magnificent breasts. These jutted forward in her 
present raised-arm stance.  The curve below defied simile as it 
defined loveliness.  The round shields at the ends, two inches 
across, were dark in that light and looked roughened from the 
cool air.  Their bosses extended far and moved as pointers 
whenever Igrayne moved.  Her waist narrowed below her ribs and a 
small hillock with a well in its middle was her belly.  From the 
waist, the hips flared out and her thighs were at a wide enough 
angle that I could see the insides of both against my hips.  The 
hair between was not reached by the still-scant light and looked 
dark. 

Clasp arranged, she bent forward until her nipples touched my 
torso and then she began to move back and forth.  The tickle of 
her nipples against my skin was immensely arousing, and the pull 
of her inner strictures along my member doubly so.  For the 
moment, I could do no more than put my hands on her side and leg 
and experience all those sensations.  The position, delightful as 
it was, was an obvious strain on her and she straightened her 
arms and changed her angle of attack.  I stole a glance at her 
face and noted an inward-turned expression. 

By this time I was in a stable state of arousal.  I was 
extremely sensitive, but I knew, from previous experiences in 
this state and this position, that I could go on like this 
indefinitely.  Such a future was, at that moment, very 
appealing. 

She was holding herself a little above me and moving from side 
to side. My member not only was drawn out at both sides of this 
motion, but it was rubbed against her ultimate softness at the 
middle.  Her breasts swayed in time to that motion and I reached 
my left hand up to catch one.  As I toyed with its furthest 
firmness, I slid my right hand up her left thigh.  Soon I was 
near the scene of the action.  Without trying to interfere, I 
played with her lowest curls.  Then, with my fingers still there, 
I ran my thumb down to the juncture of her lower lips.  When I 
reached there, she gasped and lowered her head.  She changed her 
stroke to a simple back-and-forth. The feel to my member was 
little different from what my own thrusting would have delivered.  
I rubbed the front of her furrow, and she straightened, but 
continued her motions.  I continued rubbing and she looked 
worried.  I played a bit with her nipple, but the surrounding 
flesh was puffy and I didn't know whether to play with it or 
not. 

I switched breasts.  She was moving faster, breathing faster 
and looked like she was in pain.  Then she pressed down on me and 
arched her back so that her belly was pushed toward me.  The 
effect was that of a recurved bow when its string breaks. 

She moved forward until I was almost out.  Then she pressed 
backward twice as hard as before.  Her arm muscles were sharply 
delineated despite the layer of padding.  Her sweet belly was so 
taut that it quivered.  She clasped my member as if to squeeze it 
out.  And then the rhythmic clasps on my member pulsed like a 
beating heart, but much faster.  Her face looked like she were 
undergoing torture.  She moaned thrice, and then hissed.  The 
clutch at my member faltered, then stopped.  She looked at me, 
unseeing. Then she fell down on me so fast that my left arm eased 
her down. 

I clasped her with my right arm and extricated my other.  Then 
I held her with both.  If one leads a military force and 
something totally unwonted (aside from an actual attack) happens, 
then one moves off to the top of a hillock, send one small party 
off for wood and another off for water, assign half the remainder 
to stand guard while the other half does some camp-setting 
chores.  At that point one can think.  Stopping to think while 
the army is looking on, leads to doing something stupid in order 
to do something.  So it is with a woman.  Hold her, hug her, pat 
her, tell her that she is pretty.  Then decide what the situation 
calls for.  Do not be surprised if the situation calls for more 
clipping, more patting, and more compliments. 

The top of her head being the only convenient spot, I kissed 
that.  I clipped her tight, flipped the hair to one side to clear 
my space, and petted her from shoulder to haunch with my right 
hand while merely holding her tight with my left.  Then I 
switched hands.  She was sweating in a room still rather chill, 
so I brought the hair back and arrayed it over her.  I kissed the 
top of her head again.  Meanwhile I was crooning. 

"Wondrous wife.  Beloved bedmate.  Lovely lass.  Delightful 
darling. Precious and pretty.  Luscious loveling.  If this trip 
only brings this moment, it will be well worth the effort."  (We 
had spun some story about continuing on from there and rallying 
the duchy.  I almost said "Well worth the risk," but mention of 
risk has spoilt more than one bedding.  Women worry so.)  "I 
remember thee as the loveliest lass in the world, and so you are.  
But I find that I have forgotten half your beauty, even when I 
think that of thee." 

"Milord, thou didst not. ..." 

"No.  I did nothing.  Thou didst it all.  And lie here and 
rest a minute and we'll find if thou canst do still more." 

I kissed the top of her head again.  Then I stroked down to 
her haunch with my right hand and clasped that in a friendly, and  
--  perhaps  -- slightly lascivious, manner while she caught her 
breath.  The sky was somewhat brighter behind us and I could see 
her hair in its true color.  I strayed a hand though one of her 
strands. 

"Gloriously golden, her hair is revealed in heaven's 
rays." 

She kissed my chest, and I clipped her closer.  She kissed 
over to my nipple, and I eased my hold.  Then she rose, and I 
gripped her waist and haunch and pressed her down on me.  She 
straightened for a moment and brushed her hair back. 

"Ardently angelic," I said.  That gave me an idea, after I'd 
said it. 

She was in more light now.  Her hair, being pressed back where 
it would obscure nothing, was the color of honey where it was all 
together and a cloud of gold at the ends which floated free.  Her 
expression was slightly distracted, but her face was glorious.  
The skin was cream risen in the night, her brows and lashes were 
a shade darker than her hair.  Her eyes were the deep blue of a 
shaded lake.  Her lips were the red-brown of the dried blood of 
game birds.  Her tongue which licked them was a brighter red.  If 
the skin of her face was cream, the skin of her breasts was the 
milk left behind.  It was the whitest white with a little blue 
seeming to hide beneath it.  Her nipples and the flesh around 
them were bright pink. Even as I watched, those nipples were 
growing out.  Her belly was a white as her breasts.  The well at 
its center was just darkness, as was the mystery between her 
thighs. 

I slid my hands up the outside of her thighs to the widest 
part of her hips.  "Broad beamed," I said.  I stroked them up her 
torso until I was cupping a breast in each hand.  "And 
buxom." 

With my hands on her breasts and my thumbs on her nipples, she 
began the side to side motion that she had used before.  I 
stroked one nipple in time with her motions, moved that thumb 
off, and then stroked the other nipple.  She was slightly lower, 
and my member was slightly deeper within her.  My eyes were on my 
hands and her breasts, but my attention was lower. I finally 
looked at her face, and her eyes were on my chest, but her 
attention  --  like mine  --  seemed to be within.  I felt her 
clutch me within.  I looked up again and she smiled at me and the 
clutch came again. I thrust with my hips as best I could in that 
situation. 

"Closely clasping," I intoned in my best imitation of a bard's 
voice. 

Perhaps in response to my thrusts, she shifted into a direct 
up and down movement.  She rose until the head of my member was 
just inside her outer ring, and then clasped that tight while 
still rising.  My member, perforce, rose with her.  When she 
reversed course, she would relax within, and I would begin to 
slip out.  Before the head was completely out, her downward 
motion stopped the exit, and she slowly enveloped me again.  I 
had never in my life climaxed on my back, but that precedent had 
not included such motions.  I gathered my wits with some 
difficulty.  'Delightful darling' was unworthy of this partner.  
I toyed with her nipples and pondered.  'Deceived' sprang to 
mind, and I suppressed it. 

"Delightful dame of dancing depths." 

She straightened to a near vertical.  Her movements were a 
straight up-and-down along my member with no special clutches.  
Her face looked worried or tired, which I could well believe.  I 
raised my legs behind her, but she did not use them for rest.  
She moved with simplicity and economy in only one fashion. 

"Endearingly eager enchantress." 

I dropped my hands from her breasts to her knees.  After 
feeling those flex for a moment, I ran my hands up the insides of 
her legs.  She did rest back against my legs, then.  She was 
fully skewered when she did so and she rested one arm on my chest 
to brace herself as she shifted her legs from a kneeling to a 
squatting position.  Then she raised up once and I could see the 
golden gleam of her delta and myself far back piercing her.  Then 
she slipped almost the entire way down and began moving in 
circles just above my groin. 

"Faithful and faultless falcon of fervor." 

The motion kept the head of my blunt arrow well within her, 
and always being rubbed against some part of her entrance.  It 
was bliss and torment. I kept stroking her inner thigh with my 
left hand while my right reached that bright delta.  I stroked 
the damp curls as she moved around my member. Then I spread my 
first two fingers and stroked her parted lips.  I returned my 
left hand to her right breast and held and stroked it.  I watched 
her face as I stroked quim or nipple, and repeated what made her 
attention turn inward.  The earlier glimpse of her golden lower 
hair inspired my next line. 

"Gold garlands a gladsome glade." 

Her attention had truly turned inward.  She abandoned all 
complexity to return to an up-and-down stroke.  I stopped with my 
middle finger just outside the meeting point of her lower lips.  
Then I stroked inside.  She gasped and speeded up.  My member had 
gone from feeling caressed by her softness to feeling burnt be 
her friction. 

"Hallowed and hale helpmate of my haft." 

Then there was a flutter around said haft.  My legs were 
widespread and bent, and she reached back with one hand to push 
against a knee.  This turned her more toward the light and gave 
her more leverage for her movements.  It may have been a trick of 
the dawn, but a blush spread from Igrayne's head to below her 
breasts.  Her breath was coming in gasps.  I stroked both the 
nipple and the space where her lower lips met.  The flutters on 
my shaft became steady graspings. 

"Igrayne ignites." 

And ignite she did!  She threw herself backward against my 
raised legs and writhed against my shaft and my rubbing finger.  
The clasps on my shaft felt both pulsing and almost constant.  
Her face was drawn as if by torture.  She looked at the ceiling 
and shouted: 

"Yes?  Oh. ... Ah?  Yes!  Yes!  Oh yes.  Oh, oh, oh, YES!  Oh.  
Oh. ... Oh.  Oh." 

Still clasping my essence, she threw herself forward and clung 
to me. The rest of what she said was muffled in my shoulder and 
came out as "mmm" and "hnnn." 

I pulled her haunches against my groin and raised myself as 
well as I could in that position.  Then, as her pulsing grip on 
my member became a recurrent clasp and then a flutter around it, 
I relaxed. I raised my arms to pat her back and clip her to 
me. 

"Kissed by my lips."  I kissed the top of her head again.  
"Kept in my care."  (Did I mention that we were not obsessed by 
spelling?) 

I held her and rocked a hairbreadth each way.  I waited for 
her breath to slow a little.  When it did, I tightened my arms a 
trifle to let her know that she was held by my desire, not only 
from exigency. 

"Lovely and loved. ... Lady and lover. ... Lithesome lass. ... 
The luxurious, lubricious, luscious, lusty, lover lies safe in 
the luminous lull." 

That brought a movement that was suspiciously like a 
suppressed chuckle. 

"So thy critical sense is back?"  I asked. 

"My lord, I said not one word." 

"No.  Thou didst not.  Thou art loved, though.  And all those 
other things.  And lovely.  And a luscious armful.  And a lusty 
lover, if not precisely at this moment.  Lie thou here, my lady.  
That is a command!" 

I spread her hair over her back.  That didn't work, so I moved 
it to my left, and then used my left hand to spread it over my 
right arm and her back.  That was much better.  I kissed her 
hair, and she  --  after a while --  blew across my chest hairs.  
Otherwise her breath was even. 

My left hand had been patting down her hair.  I moved it to 
her rump and cuddled and squeezed there and below.  She 
stirred. 

"Art thou rested enough?" 

"Fully.  And the dawn is well advanced." 

"Magnificent muse of merriness." 

She chuckled openly at that.  But she rose up, fitted me fully 
in her, and resumed the up-and-down motions.  When I was fully 
firm, she shifted over to the rotary motion.  After a minute, she 
went over to the side-to-side motion.  This faltered.  I was 
concerned. 

"My lord, I cannot." 

"Well, I can." 

I pulled the bolster to my side and tried to turn so that she 
was upon it.  I came out and we were in a mess for a moment.  
Then I was up and kneeling.  I placed her on her back athwart the 
bolster.  I knelt over her for a moment then I placed myself at 
her threshold and thrust within. 

This was no strife, though strove we both.  This was no joust, 
though justly did we keep time.  This was simple swiving swiftly 
done. 

Wet was the road by this time, and the path was now an 
accustomed one. My member had been teased unmercifully in the 
previous position, it felt for every crevice now.  I stroked 
smoothly for a dozen strokes and then the whole tension and 
friction of that morning joined together to overwhelm my 
head. 

Whatever Igrayne's weakness, it was in her legs and not 
between them. Fast as I was to kindle, she took the spark first.  
Straightly did I stroke and swiftly.  Straitly did the sheath 
grasp and slickly.  Igrayne's whole body stiffened and pressed 
her center toward me.  My member was grasped closely with a 
pulsing clench.  I drove into that warm wildness and spent and 
spent and spent. 

We lay breathing into each other and too tired to move away.  
There was a knocking at the door, whether it began then or we 
just noticed it then I couldn't tell. 

I summoned enough energy to rise.  Igrayne started to follow.  
I tossed the blanket over her. 

"Jordanus!  Cover thyself Igrayne."  Then "Stop knocking, 
Jordanus, thou art heard." 

I unbarred the door.  Igrayne perforce covered herself.  
Merlyn was carrying my armor and acted my squire. 

I had a secret reason for urging Igrayne to lie still.  Well I 
know that the first shaft in the butt is what counts in the 
archery of Eros.  I always hoped, despite that fact, that Arthur 
was conceived in the love of the morning rather than that of the 
night.  I wanted to give those shafts every chance. 

Igrayne joined us for breakfast.  (With her convoluted 
coiffure redone.)  We rode out on new palfreys leading the ones 
we had ridden in on the evening before.  We reached our camp to 
learn that the Duke had been killed in combat. 

That reversed the situation.  Before, the rumor that I was 
after a man's wife had stiffened his forces and demoralized mine.  
Now it looked like a simple solution to everybody not personally 
involved.  There are no simple solutions.  Igrayne, however, was 
spurred by an unbleeding belly. 

She also was obliged by fealty.  We were not like your modern 
corporations which ask loyalty and withhold it.  If the Duchy of 
Tyntigayll came to me as dowry, every tower came with its old 
tenant.  If it came by right of conquest, men who had fought for 
her honor would lose their lands.   She owed them any effort she 
could honorably make to avoid that loss. 

Igrayne plighted peace, fealty, and her troth in that order, 
if not quite at that speed.  I told her I had sired Arthur, and 
the bargain that was struck.  She served me as Queen.  She gave 
wise counsel always in my interest.  She bore my heir and gave 
him into the hands of Sir Ector and his wife (and, indirectly, of 
Merlyn). 

She gave me the joy of her bed and of her body.  She never 
(except for a brief period after the birth of Arthur) did gainsay 
me that access.  I had much joy of her for the few years that 
remained for me.  And she, too, had pleasure in those joinings, 
if I know aught of woman. 

But never again did I have the warm, wet, wild welcome that 
she gave the semblance of that thrice-damned Duke.  


The End
Igrayne
Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
1996/07/24
1997/02/18 
2003/05/19
2004/04/30


For a much shorter story involving the wish 
for conception, see:
beaut.txt
"Beautiful Everywhere"  


The directory to all my stories can be found 
at:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm