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From: shadowloup@aol.com (Shadowloup)
Subject: [ASSM] New  - Four Courners of the Round Table [weird, fantasy, m/F]
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The following story is copyrighted by Shadowloup 1999.  It is meant to be read
by adults, and can be distributed freely as long as this header is attached.
Constructive feedback is welcome. Those under the physical or metaphysical age
of consent should get lost.



And now for something completely different...


In dayes of old,
when knyghtes were bold
and toilette papyr
not yit invented,
they wippyd their asse
with Rynoldds Wrappe,
and walked away
contynted.
                ---- from Ye Book of Four and Three Quarters

In those days there were heroes.

Sir Fuckemmore was hard pressed.  Kink Arthur saw this, and came to that noble
knight's aid.

"Here, noble Sir Fuckemmore.  Have to and I shall take over," Arthur said.

"Nay sire.  I am a man of my word.  And if I cannot fornicate with these last
twenty maidens, as I have vowed to do, let no man say that Sir Fuckemmore did
not die ensconced in his saddle."

With that, Fuckemmore went back to his fuckery.  But the arduous labor tolled
heavily upon him, and his hips no longer snapped as they had earlier. Arthur
feared the worst for his knight.

A strange beating rose upon the air, like a flock of mighty hummingbirds on the
wing. Arthur looked up to see the feet of his advisor Whirlwin, as that sage
flew above the treetops.  The strange blade-like device set upon Whirlwin's
gaily colored struck back the air.

The wizard carried with him a heavy tome, bound in black hide. Its sheer volume
threatened to drag him from the sky.

Whirlwin landed, and as he walked to his Kink he eyed uneasily the thirteen
maidens lying in fleshy dishabille across the grass.  Seventeen more maidens,
their soft pink skin glistening with sweat in the sunlight, gently and lovingly
attacked the flagging Sir Fuckemmore's most intimate and vulnerable spots.

"Hail to thee, sire," Whirlwin said.

"Hail well met," Arthur replied.  "Is that the fabled Book of Three, nestled
within the crook of thy grubby little arm?"

"Nay, the Book of Three was overdue.  I was forced to return it to the lending
library from whence it came, and withdrew instead the Book of Four and Three
Quarters," Whirlwin said.

The two watched as Fuckemmore set forth once again.  He rode yet another
maiden, and rode her well.  Her sisters sat back to watch the amorous combat.

"Is this wise?" Whirlwin asked.

"Tis good to keep in practice.  I find if I do not practice with my lance, I
lose my keen eye, steady hand, and unerring aim," Arthur said.  "And judging
from yon trollop's squeals, she too is enjoying it."

"But these wenches are from the court of the Lady of the Fake Orgasm," Whirlwin
said.  "They are devoted to tearing down great men by sapping them of their
precious seed."

"Quiet Whirlwin.  Your babbling is as human seed spewed onto the ground.  It
gives you pleasure, but it is ultimately fruitless.  Besides, Sir Fuckemmore is
tiring.  And judging from the grin spread across his countenance, it is a
lovely way to go."

Unable to assail logic of this magnitude, Whirlwin joined Arthur in reading his
lance.

Seeing two fresh warriors, the maidens regrouped and charged. Whirlwin caught
one full on the twat with his lance, but was born down under the weight of
sweaty tits and clasping thighs.  Arthur too lost his footing.  He went down
upon the ground carrying five wenches with him.

But as the three knights engaged in carnal combat with the enchantresses, five
rebel knights massed their troops across the river.

These are the leaders, these be the numbers of their forces: King Cole of Nat
brought with him five thousand mounted men; King Kong of the Island had eight
thousand footsoldiers and a thousand men mounted and stuffed; the Duke of Earl
promised six thousand, but had forgotten them at home; King Ralph promised to
heave yet another five thousand into battle; the lord known only as The King,
furnished five footmen in addition to a stout fellow named Floyd, whom The King
called 'the Colonel'.

The Duke pushed his steed to the top of hill.  Looking down, he espied the Kink
and the two loyal retainers busy in their Herculean labor.  He cried to his
companions "Look! Yon is our dreaded enemy Kink Arthur and two of his loyal
retainers, busy in their Herculean effort."

"Looks like fuckery, pure and simple, to me," King Ralph said when he rode up.

"Let us sneak upon them like small rodents stalking a piece of cheese at three
in the morning," King Cole said.

It was agreed, and the five rebel lords sneakily and craftily and with little
forethought brought their men through the woods.

Many men stumbled through those woods, and it happened that several stumbled
across a peasant and his son out doing whatever it may be that peasants and
sons do in the woods.

"Ho," said the peasant.  "Whatever are you doing?"

"We are sneakily and craftily wending our way through the woods to sneak up on
Kink Arthur.  Once there we will beset him and cut short his rein by a few
years," the men said.  "Promise not to tell anyone?"

The peasant swore to keep the secret.  But when the men left, the peasant
looked to his son and said, "We must make like a priest and bugger off to tell
someone of authority of this most heinous crime."

They chanced upon a hunting party of Sir Maltliquor, Sir Prise, Sir Tainly and
Sir Asshit.

"You had best go to the defense of your lord, for as we speak, men wend their
way through the woods to slay Kink Arthur, who is oblivious since he is busy
boffing bawdy bimbos," the peasant said.

"This peeves me greatly," Sir Maltliquor said.  His hunting companions agreed,
and they rode off to do battle with the offending foes.

Meanwhile, Kink Arthur was fully absorbed in both his tasks and the maidens.
He was unable to hear the approaching hooves due to the girlishly chubby thighs
clenching about his ears. Nor was he able to move his right hand, for it was
busy diddling a dainty maiden’s sweaty clit. Nor was he able to move his left
hand, for it was busy caressing the rear postern of another lovely lass.  Nor
was he able to move his lower torso, as it was trapped beneath the quivering
loins of yet another wanton wench.  Nor was he able to move his legs, for two
more doxies contented themselves by placing their bubbies betwixt his twiddling
toes.

In short, Kink Arthur was in Paradise.

Even Whirlwin was caught short, though he himself felt quite long as he thrust
himself down the gulping gullet of his own wanton witch whilst his tongue
tickled her cavern of delight.

The five rebel knights jumped from their horses and drew their swords.

"Ah ha!" cried the Duke of Earl.  "Now we have you!"

"Damn! And to think I haven't even spilt my milt yet," Kink Arthur rued as he
attempted to extricate himself from the lascivious embraces of the
enchantresses.

"I shall shave you!" cried Sir Fuckemmore, who took two steps before walking
straight into the ground and succumbing to exhaustion.

"See sire!  It is the curse of the Lady of the Fake Orgasm!" Whirlwin cried
after regaining the use of his tongue.

"I could do with a little less crying and a little more fighting," Kink Arthur
said.  With that he stood, shedding horny maidens left and right like the sun
spreading rays in the morning.  He gave a mighty shout as he drew the legendary
sword Sexcaliber.

The five rebel knights surrounded the Kink, and he was sore pressed for he had
already been pressed till he was sore.

Whirlwin too was beset by the legions of the Lady of the Fake Orgasm, each
claiming that he was indeed the best ever.

There followed much feinting and fighting and smoting and smiting.  Kink Arthur
wielded his mighty sword vigorously, like a pederast ill-using a catamite.   In
fact, since the noble Kink had not had sufficient time to affix his trou,
Sexcaliber was not the only weapon Arthur displayed.  He thrust, prodded and
manhandled both weapons with great aplomb.   Yet still was he pushed back till
he was at the water's edge.

"Yield, Arthur, or die!" King Kong cried.

"I am not destined to die by this nameless lake with my trousers round my
ankles," Kink Arthur responded.  "'Twould not be seemly."

Arthur fought on despite the bleakness of his situation.

But then came the sounds of beating hooves, and the attacking host looked round
in confusion.  Into the melee rode the proud Sir Maltliquor and Sir Asshit.

The ensuing fray was cause for much fighting, acts of random violence and
senseless brutal slaying.  In general, a bloody good time was had by all.

Sir Maltliquor slew twelve and twenty thousand; Sir Asshit slew The King and
eighty thousand of his host; King Cole slew fifty thousand; Sir Tainly slew ten
and eighty million; Sir Prise slew ninety hundred; the Duke of Earl slew
eighty-nine and a third; Sir Cumcision le Bris slew nine and twenty hundred
before succumbing to wounds. 

(Much later when all had been said and done, Whirlwin tallied the figures and
proclaimed that more had been said then done.  For his tally revealed that the
brave and noble knights had slain the population of the entire earth twicefold,
were their accounts to be believed.  Upon learning this, the knights did revise
their bodycounts:  Sir Maltliquor slew three knaves and a mule; Sir Asshit slew
an infantryman and would have slain more were it not for a bad back; King Cole
slew five chipmunks; Sir Tainly slew ten or eleven peasants who did look
suspicious; Sir Prise could have sworn he slew ninety, but maybe it was less;
Sir Cumcision le Bris, in performing a clever circular parry, had slipped and
grievously wounded himself in the groin.)

Still the fighting continued with the clang and cries of men and arms reaching
deep into the heavens, whereupon it came to the attention of the Goddess of
Lust.  Being of a lascivious disposition, the Goddess was naturally attracted
by the sounds of grunting and the tang of manly sweat.

She approached the field of battle and became enamored by the sight of virile
men waving about long phallic objects which they used to smite each other
across the head.  Thus She became aroused.

And as Her appetite grew, Her lips which did not speak engorged, and Her inner
core did heat until it grew molten and the liquors of love dripped betwixt Her
thighs, bedewing the grass.

The heavenly tang of this arousal mixed with the gentle breezes which caressed
the battling knights, subtly tickling their noses.  Slowly each knight became
aware of the heavenly essence wafting round their nostrils.  As they did, each
doffed their helms, looked at their brethren knights with silly, vapid grins,
and said "Hey! There be ladies present!"

Their gazes affixed upon the golden tressed damsel clad in a blue silk garment
which covered Her slinky arms and throat, leaving Her bubbies displayed like
two rose crested mountains awaiting climbers.  Her loins were also displayed
below a simple girdle of gold chain.  Her attire left nothing to the
imagination, yet did also enflame it.

Such was the nature of the Goddess of Lust.  And thus was the melee by the pond
with no name quelled by Her power.

In honor of this miraculous achievement Kink Arthur did proclaim a tourney.
Tents were struck and the ground prepared.  A royal viewing stand was erected
for the Kink and his men at arms.  But when all had been done, it was found
that their preparations had been at fault for there were an insufficient number
of chairs.

"Oh good Kink Arthur!" the Goddess said.  "How shall I find respite from
standing when I have no seat?"

"Milady, as long as men have faces you shall always have a place to sit."

So saying the Kink nobly lay upon the ground.  The Goddess took Her place atop
his royal countenance and was much pleased.  Nor was the Kink the only mortal
to receive the Goddess' favor, for She in turn bestrode Sir Maltliquor, Sir
Cumspect, Sir Asshit, Sir Maltliquor, King Kong, and again Sir Maltliquor for
his bushy mustache did please Her so.  Each man nearly drowned with the
Goddess' spendings, yet none did complain.

Whilst the Goddess did sport the knights readied themselves for the games by
couching their spears and dressing their shields.  And when they rushed forward
to joust, not a blessed thing happened, as their shields lay upon those
couches.  And many did laugh at the others gaily dressed shield.  But all were
agreed that that most dreaded knight Sir Cumcision had made a most egregious
fashion blunder when he dressed his shield.

The Goddess was much pleased by these festivities.  To show Her pleasure She
called forth all the men to leave them with this parting thought: "Be not so
quick to anger, dear men, for fucking is far better than fighting."

And with that She wove arcane magicks in the air.  These spells did titillate
the crowd until all present spurted forth a sea of sticky white issue which
left them drained yet happy.  All swore fealty to the Goddess of Lust from that
day forth.

Thus did the Goddess bring piece of ass to mankind.  May we all follow Her
lead.  

Amen.


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