Chapter 2

Queen Gretchen was in a quandary because she had finally found the man of her dreams.

She knew it was time for her to move on from her days of depressingly decadent experimentation with all sorts of sexual satisfaction to a more stable union with a suitable spouse of equal status and extend the family line with fertile enthusiasm. The many “tingles” she had experienced with the demanding Doctor Hemingway and dozens of willing donors to her nocturnal needs paled in comparison to the absolute perfection of her union with the British Envoy.

Unfortunately, the exceedingly handsome diplomat was totally ignorant of the fact she was of the opposite gender due to her excellent disguise of a young lad with a feminine affect. The thrill of receiving his extended third leg from behind with both of them in a semi-conscious state was the most exciting encounter of her entire life.

She decided that she would make the creature of her creative mind disappear in favor of his enthusiastic younger sister with the friendliest of attitudes to offer solace to the British Envoy in a strange land.

Thus, when Sir Alistair of Cornwall awoke in the light of the rising sun, he saw that his bed companion was the beautiful Gretchen and not the young lad of the night before. She quickly explained to him,

“My brother was called to the border for some difficulties with our northern neighbors. They seem to think a border is a silly thing and not at all necessary for separating one land from another. Of course, he will solve that problem with his long sword and powerful arm and hopefully return before the feast of Saint Thomas to celebrate your arrival in our humble homeland.”

Sir Alistair was still a bit confused.

He remembered the soft sweet flanks of the young lad and he wondered if he might have strayed from the path of decent behavior with the person that had rescued him from a cold and snowy grave in the wilderness.

“Might I inquire your name, fair lady? I owe a debt of gratitude to your brother. May I assume it was you that occupied this bed last night instead of your handsome brother?”

The beautiful Queen told him her name was Gretchen but did not reveal that she was the ruler of the land.

“I am Gretchen, my lord, and it was I that gave succor to your frenzied advances under the light of the harvest moon. I thank you for your repeated performances. I hope that my lack of modesty did not offend you, but I was caught in the trap of your eager enthusiasm. May I offer you some early morning respite from the stresses of stiff arousal?”

Alistair looked down and saw that his staff of hardened flesh was protruding from the folds of his nightshirt and saw the wisdom of granting the pretty girl’s wish without further discussion. He was the first to agree that there were times to converse and times for action.

This was definitely a moment for the latter and not the former.

He mounted Gretchen without uttering an additional word, but his sigh of delight struck her to her core and she opened her feminine secrets to his usage with nary an objection or the slightest hint of reticence in response to his heated demands. She accepted his frantic pounding with a love-laden heart knowing that she had finally found her soul-mate and partner for life.

The wave of release built slowly in Gretchen’s hidden places.

She ignored his probing fingers digging relentlessly in the glory of her posterior perfection. It was beneath her dignity to even recognize his exploitation of her most secret assets. She did react quite visibly to his hungry lips rolling her sensitive nipples with little regard for her state of agitation as he speared her feminine channel with total abandon. Her hands on the back of his intriguing locks pushed his head down solidly into her heaving breasts. She wanted the touch of his tongue on her twin peaks of carnal desire. Each time he circled her nipples with his demanding lips she felt her vaginal folds tighten around his thick shaft of probing flesh driving deeper with each successive thrust. Her concentration was lost in the face of her own carnal lust that overwhelmed her thoughts of love and romance like a riptide of hidden force that defied all common sense and logic.

They both accelerated their frenzied copulation without any plan or sense of purpose.

Ultimately, Alistair realized he had already passed the point of no return and his sticky spunk would soon drench the compliant wench’s lower regions with the essence of his masculine release.

The first spurt was delivered deep inside Gretchen’s corridor of love covering her inner walls with the soothing cream that calmed her nerves and made her hungry for a follow-on encore performance.

It was also on Sir Alistair’s mind, but he was focused more on her pretty posterior for his newest target of opportunity. Before she even realized what he was doing, the British Envoy had her face down in the pillows and her defenseless bottom was raised up with two pillows underneath to make her pretty little star more pronounced and gaping for his attentions. The simple touch of his bulb-like head on her pulsating sphincter was enough to trigger her immediate surrender and he slipped inside without the slightest difficulty.