The rough stone castle wall grazes my back with every thrust of his cock inside me. I have one leg hooked over his hip as he leans into me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, the other gripping my ass.
Hurry, I try to say, gasping, but it comes out as, harder… harder!
“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he growls in my ear, redoubling his efforts, hips jackhammering as he pounds into me. He lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist, my weight pinioned by his steel hard cock as he plunges to the hilt. My steadfast knight; I feel his sword flex and throb inside me as I orgasm, gazing through the arrow loop at the sun-dappled English countryside. In this moment I am queen of all I survey.
I’m spending a few days in a country cottage with a bunch of friends and dogs, but one of the guys, a former casual fuckbuddy, has seized the opportunity to try to “take things to the next level.” From day one I’ve made it clear that I don’t do monogamy and I’m not interested in a serious relationship with him. Now he has me cornered, and his clingy, possessive behavior is getting on my nerves.
Enter Tony, my best friend, favorite fuckpal, and all-around gallant knight. Tony doesn’t have a possessive bone in his body, but the mere suggestion that someone is trying to stake a claim on his bestie has him leaping onto his white charger — actually doing 85 mph on the motorway — and speeding to our rural bolthole to re-establish the status quo. I love this guy.
I text to let him know we’re sightseeing at a castle near the coast — I’m not telling you which one, as I don’t want to get my English Heritage membership revoked! The stunning location is my only justification for what happens next.
If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know I don’t go in for PDAs, but sex in a castle plays right into my history kink, a fact of which Tony is well aware. That’s why, rather than calling me when he arrives, he tracks me down, follows me, and pounces when I’m alone, halfway up a spiral stone staircase. The first I know of his presence is when he grabs me from behind, pressing me up against the wall. He’s standing a step lower, meaning his crotch is at the perfect level to grind against my ass, and as he does so, I can feel he’s already getting hard.
My heart rate is soaring from his ambush, but I gradually relax into his embrace, rubbing up against his firm body, then turning around to greet him with a kiss. It turns passionate, hungry, every fibre of his being telling me, you’re mine. I melt into it, feeling utterly protected and adored. When his hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt, I don’t fight it; I’m so caught up in the moment that it seems perfectly fitting that we should fuck right here, right now.
His fingers delve into my flimsy panties, finding the moistening groove of my pussy and stroking along it, into it. There’s no time for foreplay though; he withdraws his fingers and sucks them, murmuring with pleasure at my taste, getting them wet enough to push them further into me, opening me up enough to take his cock. My hips buck involuntarily, rocking on his fingers to cram them deeper inside. He’s done it to me again, triggering that addict’s craving for penetration.
He pulls back, looks into my eyes for confirmation, and grins when I nod my assent. Then he’s unzipping his jeans, tugging my panties aside… stirring his cock around at the wet entrance to my pussy… thrusting inside…
With so little preparation, he feels huge, cleaving me open, the sweet burn and stretch making me catch my breath and buck my hips. He pins me in place, the weight and friction of his body against mine fracturing me into a million points of sensation. The echo of our scuffling and gasping in the quiet space; the dim coolness of the stairwell; the roughness of bricks against my back; hard cock sliding into slick heat; fingers tight around my wrists, lips on mine; a flood of impressions I know I’ll never forget.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, the angle of his cock inside me is just perfect, the pressure of his whole body consuming me inside and out, grinding against my G-spot and clit, chest rubbing my nipples, his teeth on my neck. My gallant knight’s lance is sturdy, and it hits its mark with every thrust, urging me on.
Breath hot against my ear, he says, “Cum for me, my queen,” part request, part command, and I’m powerless to resist. Physical bliss and the joy of being so exalted, so beloved, push me over the edge into an epic climax, my pussy clutching and spasming crazily around the huge shaft thrust deep, my whole body shaking. I bite down hard on a mouthful of his shirt to keep from yelling.
As my orgasm subsides, he lowers my legs back to the ground, pulling out of me carefully. He’s close to climax himself, and rather than leaving me with cum running down my thighs, he offers up his cock to my mouth, the ultimate tribute. I have an idea…
I lead him up the worn stone steps, holding his pants up, bright red erection poking out like a flagpole. Up on the battlements, there’s nobody to see us but the sun and a few curious birds, as I kneel to lick my flavor from his shaft. I love to suck cock more than anything, and will often torment him by making it last hours and bringing him to the brink over and over before letting him cum; but now I make it fast and sloppy, spitting on it and sucking it deep in one smooth swallow. He groans and leans back against the rampart, surrendering all control.
I bob my head, letting his thick shaft glide in and out, just enough suction to steer him swiftly to the point of no return. He groans louder, winds his fingers in my hair; I feel the powerful pulsing first, and then spurt after spurt of hot salty-sweet cum fills my mouth, and I gulp it down as fast as it pumps out.
I lick him clean and he zips up and helps me to my feet. We cuddle and look out over the landscape, gradually coming to our senses, beginning to fully appreciate where we are and what we’ve just done. I feel a little giddy with it: sex in a castle!
Tony is pleased with himself, having finally broken down my resistance to public sex, but in a unique place that’s given me a memory to treasure. In the gift shop, he buys me a “Tudor Rose” pendant to commemorate the day; along with the friction burns on my spine, shoulders and elbows, the bruises on my knees, and the love bite on my collarbone that I wear as a token of our wonderful, unconventional relationship.
The title Knight Takes Queen is appropriated with love from the BBC series Musketeers, a dreadful historical potboiler of the type I adore. With four incredibly handsome swashbuckling male leads and some superb villains I highly recommend it to all you ladies — and gentlemen, if so inclined.
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More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe take a cold shower first…
