Delicia’s escapade I was awoken by the sound of heavy breathing close to my ear.
“What do you want?” I said into the faintly flickering darkness in a commanding tone.
“You,” came the whispered reply. I had my man. I could smell his tumescence.
I lit my bedside lamp, and there were two of them, two blond, bronzed giants, kneeling beside the bed, eyes like obsidian marbles devouring me, red mouths hanging open like the chops of famished wolves.
“Does Daddy know you’re out?” I couldn’t resist teasing them.
“No. It’s death if we touch you.”
“You mean touch... these for example?” I let the sheet slip to reveal my bare musk-scented breasts.
“Or perhaps some of this?” I thrust the sheet down to my thighs and lightly caressed the silken rondure of my belly, an index finger tapping the tiny ruby nestled in its venter ipsum.
They both stood without taking those black eyes off my lackadaisical nakedness.
“You are worth death.” They were so romantic. But time was wasting. I got up, threw some cushions on the floor of the tent and pulled them over.
“You. Keep watch near the entrance. Go. You. Show me what you’ve got.”
While Ricimer, Athalaric’s son Roderic’s bosom companion, went reluctantly to the tent flap, I lay back on the cushions and gestured for Roderic to strip. In a second he was naked, and there was that bulging beast of a phallus beating a desperate tattoo against the rippled drum of the boy’s stomach. I knelt and commenced licking it assiduously from the tight wad of scrotum to the deep ridge below the beautifully swollen portion of the cherry-red head. It seemed to redouble in size beneath my ardent and practised licks, and what a mouthful when I eventually drew it into my mouth. I sucked at it rhythmically, half pressing him back, half keeping him from swooning on top of me, until I could feel his cum surging out of his fused balls like a snake piped out of a basket. Then I let it go, lay back on the damask cushions and swung my thighs wide. He almost came with the jolt to that pulsing punctum as he fell to his knees between them. I took hold of it and, with one arm gripping his sweat-matted hair, drove it straight into my moist cunnus. Could he hold off long enough to satisfy me? He was at it like a bull already, scrabbling for purchase among the cushions, rearing above me, driving it in high, falling on top of me, chest heaving, flattening my breasts. I rode each engorging thrust as he paddled me across the floor to the back of the tent, where our voyage was halted by my biggest clothes-chest. A torrent of Gothic invective flooded over my face as he rammed and squirmed and rutted, his huge body dancing like a cork in the gathering maelstrom of imminent release. Then, a pause. I opened my eyes. Ricimer was kneeling with one hand on his friend’s back, holding a cock every stiffened centimetre the twin of the one about to burst inside me. Holding, and, as I watched spellbound, levering it into his friend’s anus. Their mutual affection obviously knew no bounds.
Roderic managed to angle his anus to meet his bosom friend’s cock without losing the rhythm his cock had established within me. Ricimer worked his punctum into the anus an inch or two, then, smart boy, paused to let his friend’s hole relax before driving the whole length straight in. The result, as you, though perhaps not you Flavia, might expect, was a galvanising shock to the cock that stood like Trajan’s Pillar inside me. It was as if the shaft’s engirdling spiral frieze of lunian marble suddenly sprang into collective life, winding the hot sheath of my cunnus tight around itself with a million swords and spear-points and leaping forward like a gigantic battering ram. Ricimer drove in and out of Roderic, Roderic drove in and in and in within me, the three of us in perfect unison of matted movement. And then the triple release. Ricimer gripped his companion tight around the waist. Roderic,
“What do you want?” I said into the faintly flickering darkness in a commanding tone.
“You,” came the whispered reply. I had my man. I could smell his tumescence.
I lit my bedside lamp, and there were two of them, two blond, bronzed giants, kneeling beside the bed, eyes like obsidian marbles devouring me, red mouths hanging open like the chops of famished wolves.
“Does Daddy know you’re out?” I couldn’t resist teasing them.
“No. It’s death if we touch you.”
“You mean touch... these for example?” I let the sheet slip to reveal my bare musk-scented breasts.
“Or perhaps some of this?” I thrust the sheet down to my thighs and lightly caressed the silken rondure of my belly, an index finger tapping the tiny ruby nestled in its venter ipsum.
They both stood without taking those black eyes off my lackadaisical nakedness.
“You are worth death.” They were so romantic. But time was wasting. I got up, threw some cushions on the floor of the tent and pulled them over.
“You. Keep watch near the entrance. Go. You. Show me what you’ve got.”
While Ricimer, Athalaric’s son Roderic’s bosom companion, went reluctantly to the tent flap, I lay back on the cushions and gestured for Roderic to strip. In a second he was naked, and there was that bulging beast of a phallus beating a desperate tattoo against the rippled drum of the boy’s stomach. I knelt and commenced licking it assiduously from the tight wad of scrotum to the deep ridge below the beautifully swollen portion of the cherry-red head. It seemed to redouble in size beneath my ardent and practised licks, and what a mouthful when I eventually drew it into my mouth. I sucked at it rhythmically, half pressing him back, half keeping him from swooning on top of me, until I could feel his cum surging out of his fused balls like a snake piped out of a basket. Then I let it go, lay back on the damask cushions and swung my thighs wide. He almost came with the jolt to that pulsing punctum as he fell to his knees between them. I took hold of it and, with one arm gripping his sweat-matted hair, drove it straight into my moist cunnus. Could he hold off long enough to satisfy me? He was at it like a bull already, scrabbling for purchase among the cushions, rearing above me, driving it in high, falling on top of me, chest heaving, flattening my breasts. I rode each engorging thrust as he paddled me across the floor to the back of the tent, where our voyage was halted by my biggest clothes-chest. A torrent of Gothic invective flooded over my face as he rammed and squirmed and rutted, his huge body dancing like a cork in the gathering maelstrom of imminent release. Then, a pause. I opened my eyes. Ricimer was kneeling with one hand on his friend’s back, holding a cock every stiffened centimetre the twin of the one about to burst inside me. Holding, and, as I watched spellbound, levering it into his friend’s anus. Their mutual affection obviously knew no bounds.
Roderic managed to angle his anus to meet his bosom friend’s cock without losing the rhythm his cock had established within me. Ricimer worked his punctum into the anus an inch or two, then, smart boy, paused to let his friend’s hole relax before driving the whole length straight in. The result, as you, though perhaps not you Flavia, might expect, was a galvanising shock to the cock that stood like Trajan’s Pillar inside me. It was as if the shaft’s engirdling spiral frieze of lunian marble suddenly sprang into collective life, winding the hot sheath of my cunnus tight around itself with a million swords and spear-points and leaping forward like a gigantic battering ram. Ricimer drove in and out of Roderic, Roderic drove in and in and in within me, the three of us in perfect unison of matted movement. And then the triple release. Ricimer gripped his companion tight around the waist. Roderic,
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