by Juliana Harper
Every woman develops a fantasy life, even when she is quite thoroughly and happily in love with the man she married. I am no exception. My husband is a classically handsome, tall blond with an athlete’s physique—that of a tennis player or a swimmer, not a football player. He is unfailingly courteous, and an excellent and thoughtful lover. He wears evening dress like a prince, and shorts and deck shoes as if born before the mast. He’s just about perfect, so why do I indulge in dreams of other men—men from a heroic age long ago and far away? Who knows? Perhaps it’s just human instinct to crave variety.
As a college math professor and something of an intellectual, I would never confess to my academic colleagues that my erotic fantasy life owes almost everything to the books and movies peopled by the likes of Conan the Barbarian, Gor, and Hercules. In the privacy of my own mind and bedroom, I can be ravished by men-at-arms, rescued (and ravished) by knights-errant, or saved from the evil aristocrats (and ravished) by stalwart peasants. With a brief kick-start from one of my well-thumbed novels, I can make myself into anything from a tavern wench to a princess with no effort at all, and I don’t have to deal with the sordid realities of life in the actual Middle Ages: lice, drafty castles, lack of adequate plumbing, and the like.
I can take my handsome barbarian into my own clean sheets and fuck for as long as I please, without having to wait for my imaginary cocksman to revive after he has spilled his hot seed wherever I choose. He can be ferocious and heedlessly violent, or unexpectedly refined and gentle in his lovemaking, and it all depends on my mood, not on his. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband dearly, but when he is away on business for weeks at a time, my dream harem of fantasy studs keeps me both thoroughly entertained and thoroughly satisfied.
Wide-eyed, then, I carefully glanced across the crowded, smoky tavern as the door crashed back against the wall. The man who stood there was no run-of-the-mill mercenary. He was as tall as a tree and his broad shoulders all but blocked the evening light. His muscles rippled under his well-worn leathers, and the sword at his side had obviously seen a lot of use. Like the rest of his gear it was well-cared for, and the steely look in his eye bespoke a man who had seen much. His hair and beard glowed bronze in the lantern glow. A hush fell over the regulars, as even the most belligerent of the local heroes realized they would be seriously outclassed if they started a fight.
The stranger’s eyes swept the low-ceilinged room and came to rest on my face. The swirl of heat that had seized my body pooled like molten gold in my loins, and I almost swooned as he shouldered his way to the bar. “I’ll take nothing but your best,” he growled to the taverner, but as the barkeep reached to draw him a mug of ale, the stranger took hold of my wrist. “Have you anything worth taking with you, girl?” he asked. I shook my head, dumbfounded, as he led me out through the buzz of speculation. His huge hands set me astride his horse, and he leaped into the saddle, pulling my arms around his waist before spurring the gigantic beast into a gallop.
Where we were bound I had not the slightest idea, but I was willing to follow this demigod wherever he chose. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his magnificently muscled chest beneath my hands, and I nuzzled as close to him as I could, resting my cheek against the expanse of his broad back. After a while my hand crept daringly lower, exploring his taut abdomen and the thick bundle of treasure hidden by his codpiece. His purse might be full or light for all I knew, but my abductor apparently had something better in the way of riches: heavy balls and an impressive cock. We crashed down a narrow track to a clearing in the woods, and he deposited me before his tent. His horse was hobbled and groomed in a matter of moments, and once again he turned that penetrating gaze on me.
I went to him without hesitation, laying one hand on his wide chest and caressing the leather of his jerkin. He tilted my face up to his and kissed me, his tongue meeting mine. His breath tasted of wine, his body of honest male sweat, leather, and horse. His arms encircled me and swept me off my feet. Next thing I knew, I was being carried into the tent and my rough shift was pulled off before I was laid on a bed of furs.
Without a word he was on me, his big, hard hand squeezing my breast and drawing a moan from my lips. His sword belt and jerkin were cast aside, and his trousers opened to reveal a cock as huge and as formidably hard as the rest of him. My hands, dwarfed by his size, reached for him and drew him close. I raised my knees and parted my legs, and he plunged between them, sheathing his vast organ in the soft wetness of my cunt.
He was surprisingly gentle, this giant of a warrior, and he made sure that I was pleasured as mightily as he. My cries of delight rang through the trees for the fourth time as he finally groaned aloud and exploded into my depths. Amazingly he was still hard, and when I had recovered my breath he rolled us over and let me ride him, my knees gripping his slender waist as I took us from a trot to a wild gallop, feeling my body open to him, accommodating the tree limb of his cock as if it had been made for me. His huge hands lifted me and brought me down hard on his shaft, and I leaned into it, my clit in constant contact with the friction of his rod.
On and on I rode, until the night sky burst into a thousand fires behind my eyelids and my whole body liquefied in his hands. Then, unbelievably, he gathered the melted mass and rebuilt it into a sheath for the blazing pillar of fire that exploded once again inside me, filling me to overflowing with his come and sending me into spasms that milked him dry. He cradled me against his chest, and I curled my hands into the mat of fur that grew there. I was stunned and utterly content. I dozed in his great arms, secure against all the outrages of the world.
A noise from outside brought him upright like a hunting dog on the scent. Moments later even I could hear the approaching horseman, and my hero was already outside, having armed himself in a flash. I peered around the tent flap, saw a dark figure astride a rangy horse, and heard the rough voice of a landless, masterless gentleman-at-arms who had been drinking in the tavern earlier that evening. He had made a grab for me, but I had whacked his wrist soundly with the jug I was carrying and he had fallen back, muttering and cursing. Now it seemed he was after his revenge, come to take me by force of arms from the gentle giant who had abducted me.
I was trembling with a delicious combination of fear and lust. The sight of two men preparing to fight over me sent streaks of fire to my swollen pussy. My hand crept between my legs and caressed the sweetly bruised tissues. I stroked myself slowly as the combatants circled, my labia and clitoris swollen in wonderful agony.
Horrors! What if the intruder won? Could his lean, dark body teach me still more glorious songs of love and lust, or would he be a sorry second to my handsome captor? And was my champion aroused by the untimely challenge to his worth? Was his cock truly swelling as he prowled further into the firelight? So it seemed, but the play of light and shadow made my eyes uncertain. My fingers delved into the sodden depths of my cunt, feeling his seed and my own moisture combined within me but almost unaware that I was teasing out another orgasm even as I watched the beginnings of the fray.
The stranger spat a challenge across the fire and was answered by the rumbling growl of my champion. The dark horseman had slid from his saddle, sending his horse to stand at the clearing’s edge, and drawn his sword. My man reached for his own blade and let the challenger attack, parrying his cuts with negligent grace. Then, in a move almost too swift for me to see, and unusual in so large a man, my warrior slipped under his opponent’s guard and closed with him, dealing him a glancing blow on the temple with the pommel of his sword. The intruder collapsed in a boneless heap, and my gallant victor dragged him to a tree and bound him there for safekeeping lest he interrupt our idyll when he regained consciousness.
I was utterly disarmed by his competence and his swift defense of his property, as I now supposed I was (though certainly a willing chattel). I flung my arms around him, only now realizing that I had stood and watched the whole battle stark naked, clothed only in my unbound hair, with our mingled juices still damp on my thighs, stroking myself to climax even as the fight was raging. He sheathed his sword in a deft motion that sent shivers through me as I remembered the feeling of his fleshly sword sheathed inside me. Then he bent down, picked me up, and carried me back inside the tent.
Slowly and reverently I laid aside his sword belt, out of our way but close enough at hand in case of emergency. With trembling fingers I unfastened his leather jerkin, parted his coarse linen shirt, and began to kiss my way across his chest. I burrowed my face into his heavy chest hair, teasing his small, hard nipples with my lips and tongue. He had not had time to put on his boots. I knelt before him, and my hands grew steadier as I unlaced his codpiece and pulled down his trousers. His heavy balls swung before my face, and I caught a wonderful glimpse of his great half-erect cock before he pulled me to my feet and into his arms. We stood wrapped close together for a moment before we sank to the bed of furs still warm from our lovemaking.
Then, to my delighted amazement, he began to kiss my face and neck, working his way down to my breasts, which he lifted to his mouth with his rough but gentle hands. His breath was hot on my flesh, and his teeth grazed the trembling buds of my nipples as he sucked them into his mouth. Kneading my breasts with his fingers, he elicited moan after moan from my panting mouth, and the fires that I had thought could burn no brighter rekindled in my loins.
I could feel his cock lengthening and weighing heavier along my thigh, and I reached down to grasp it. It was outside the realm of my experience, both in length and girth, and he let go of my breasts so I could examine the prodigy more closely. The noble shaft rose from a tangle of dark thatch, its pendant balls so full I could only get one at a time into my mouth when I bent to suck them. I lapped each of them with my tongue, then hefted them in my hand, enjoying the wiry hairs, the velvet skin, and the curious vulnerability of this seat of manhood.
But it was his cock that really drew my eyes and my mouth. It was a veritable column of flesh, paler than the rest of his skin, heavily veined and capped with a plum-colored head just emerging from his foreskin. I drew back that hood and kissed the amazingly soft and meaty tip, licking daintily at the slit. A shudder ran through his huge frame, and I tried to take him in my mouth. For all my efforts, not much more than the head would fit, but I lavished that morsel with the tenderest of attention.
Finally he grew impatient to show off his swordsmanship once again and pushed me away, setting me on all fours amid the furs, my ass raised and my pussy totally exposed to his eyes, his hands, his cock. Opening me wider with his callused thumbs, he set his cock at my gates and battered his way in, plundering all in his path. He held on to my hips and slammed into me like an invading army, and I cried out in wild passion, unlike any sound I had ever made before. I was stretched to my limits, plumbed to my depths, and delirious with the sheer unbridled lust of it all. The prodigious engine of his cock drove on and on, past any known limit of endurance, driving me utterly mad with a sensation that built at last to a cataclysmic peak.
I came, wailing with feral joy, and once more felt the hot flood of his come inundate my womb. I clung to him, shivering, as the folds of my vagina clenched spasmodically around his spurting organ. He seemed to come forever, and I shook with him until at last I could feel him begin to soften inside me. Even soft and slipping from my grasp he was enormous, and I felt utterly bereft as the head of his shaft disengaged from my cunt. Never in my life had I been so thoroughly possessed. I was utterly and completely his. This was the man I had never dared to dream of, the man I would follow to the known world’s end. He relaxed, his arms around me, his head lying still on my breast. Then he drifted off to sleep awhile with my fingers tangled in his rough curls.
My body was still throbbing, aching in every joint and muscle so happily exercised, when I awoke in my own bed, alone. The covers were tangled around my quivering legs, my battered paperback novel squashed beneath my elbow, my hand still cupped between my thighs. Feeling the reminiscent pulse of satisfied lust, I smiled, remembering my mercenary warrior. He was mine to have whenever I called, but tomorrow might see me in the arms of some suave courtier, or a gallant knight, the diadem of royalty on my own brow. I could not tell until the moment and the mood were one, but I was safe in the knowledge that one or another of my indefatigable heroes would answer when I called, and leave me breathless with delight.