Chapter 23: Escape

[ Setting the scene: the events of this chapter take place as the Rohirrim ride to Gondor. Éowyn has defied King Théoden’s orders twice: first by disguising herself as a man named Dernhelm in order to join the ride, and second by inviting Meriadoc to come with her. Only Marshal Elfhelm is aware of Dernhelm’s true identity. The leader of the Drúedain is guiding the Rohirrim along a shortcut to the Pelennor Fields, and the company is taking one final rest before they join the battle already raging before the walls of Minas Tirith.]

14 March 3019 (Third Age), Stonewain Valley

Their clothes were half-shed before a single word passed either’s lips.

“Hurry!”

There’d been neither time nor opportunity for preliminaries. Elfhelm, delayed by a need for reconnaissance and counsel, raced from the King’s side in search of Dernhelm, arriving just in time to see a slender form disappearing into a grey thicket of trees. Without a moment’s hesitation, he followed.

Their last few hours had, tiresomely, passed on foot instead of horseback, and a brief rest was all they’d be allowed. And on the morrow, wondered Elfhelm as he fled to their rendezvous, a ride to victory or the death of everything, including hope? The camp was tense with unknowing, and he knew he’d find little rest no matter what transpired. Few will. But there are far worse ways to spend what might be my final hours.

Éowyn drew her lips along his cock, her tongue dancing and weaving around his rigid pole. He was still struggling to remove his tunic, and his breeches were bunched around his ankles, but she was too eager and horny to wait for him to disrobe. With furious impatience she attacked his manhood the very second it was revealed, and the sensations were so vivid he wondered if he’d manage to finish undressing before she forced his release.

The loud wet pop that followed the sudden withdrawal of her mouth was an appropriate punctuation to his question. She panted, still on her knees and staring lustily at his penis, while he clumsily shed the remnants of his clothing. The moment he was fully naked she rose, toppling him to the ground, swinging her leg over his head, and pressing her weeping sex against his face. Her palm stroked his hardness, her tongue plied his glans, and as he sunk his tongue deep inside her slick channel she re-enveloped him with eager lips.

Their wet slurping broke the watchful silence of the forest, but both were beyond caring. He savored the rich flavor of her inner flesh, drinking from what seemed to be an endless well, alternating between forceful tonguing of her slick depths and fluttering teases at her swelling clit. In turn she worshiped his hypersensitive cock with everything at her disposal, aggressively inhaling his stem until his entire length was lodged in her throat.

Éowyn’s climax — short, sharp, and violent — arrived first, and as her thighs squeezed against his head and her desperate fellatio grew frenzied, he erupted in turn. She swallowed, insatiable, and together they fed on the other’s raw sexual essence.

But neither would be satiated by a single exchange of oral pleasure. She stood, heaving with lust and staring down at his saliva-slicked cock. With a nod, as if reaching a decisive conclusion to some internal debate, she lowered herself until his tip nestled just inside her swollen folds. Holding his shaft in her fist she rubbed his glans through her wet opening, abrading her throbbing clitoris ... forward and back, over and over ... until the teasing and stimulation were beyond either’s ability to bear. With a smooth lunge she impaled herself to the root and began a surprisingly languorous rocking, drawing him outward until she was empty, then falling to take him back inside. But it was a pace that couldn’t last long. Bracing herself, clawed fingers digging into his chest, she slammed herself downward, grinding in sudden desperation. Their bodies slapped together, their sharp exhalations synchronous. And then, with a strangled cry to the heavens, she arched backwards and flailed in climax.

Elfhelm was on the brink of his second release when she abruptly rolled away, leaving him gasping with unfulfilled arousal. Surely, he thought, she won’t leave me like this!

Éowyn was on her stomach now, her eyes boring into his as she noisily fingered her wet hole. Begging. Demanding. He longed to say the words that sprang to his lips, but the warning in her piercing gaze stayed his tongue, and instead his mind roiled with uncertainty. She reached out to grasp his throbbing rod with her dripping hand, slathering it with even more of her juices, and then levered her hips upward. It was an invitation even he couldn’t misunderstand, and he moved behind her, eager to reseat himself in her cunt. But she kept her thighs tightly shut, denying him entry. His confusion reappeared. Is she teasing me? I don’t understand what she wants me to do.

She reached back and took hold of him again, positioning his tumescence against her darker entrance. Shocked and trembling with disbelief, he couldn’t restrain a gasp. This... this is what she wants? Though Elfhelm had lain with his share of women, neither in reality nor even in his most decadent fantasies had this possibility arisen. That the ravishing, previously unattainable Éowyn would offer herself to him in this way ... it was all he could do to quell a premature eruption at the very thought.

With a deep breath of determination, straining with all his might to hold back an explosion, he tentatively pressed forward. His phallus was so slick with her juices that it took only a small exertion of pressure to push through her tight outer ring, but he immediately found himself fighting an even more desperate battle against the urge to come. Though only an inch of his cock was inside her ass, he arrested all motion lest he lose control. Alas, it was too late, and a fight he was going to lose no matter what. Even as his balls began to contract he ground his teeth in frustration that he wouldn’t be able to prolong this lascivious opportunity.

I ... I can’t hold...

The rustle and crackle of dried leaves shattered their isolation. Senses suddenly firing at full alert, he squinted to see what the last threads of dusk might reveal. Éowyn also raised her head, her eyes glazed and unfocused. A faint blur of motion amidst the undergrowth drew the focus of his keen sight, revealing a small grey shape snuffling the ground, searching for food.

It’s only some woodland creature, indifferent to our purpose. There’s nothing to fear.

His own danger fled in turn, for the threat of discovery — or worse — muted his previously uncontrollable need to come. Clutching her upthrust cheeks he slid inward, his awe and excitement at this unlikely union restored. The heat and pressure surrounding his cock were enormous, and she whimpered as he advanced; noises born of desire rather than discomfort. He moved more cautiously as he plunged deeper, but she offered no sign of hesitation or resistance, and now his pelvis pressed against the firm flesh of her ass, his spear thoroughly buried in her rear channel.

Momentarily paralyzed by sensation and emotion, he struggled to regain his equilibrium before he started thrusting. But she was impatient, and instead took up the motion herself. Rocking slowly back and forth, impaling herself with luxuriant stokes, her grippingly tight rectum dragged against his length as she moved. Finally emerging from his reverie he joined her, ardor accelerating their rhythm until he was fucking her as forcefully as she’d ridden him earlier.

Éowyn’s wail of ecstasy sailed above the frenetic slap of their rutting, and her head fell to the rough ground as he pounded away at her ass, blind to everything except his incomprehensible pleasure.

But though her eyes were closed, Éowyn was not blind. Her body’s attention was focused on the deliriously naughty feeling of a hard cock sawing in and out of her colon, an act she still couldn’t quite believe she craved with such intensity, but a few minutes earlier her eyes had espied what his had not: the silhouettes of secret voyeurs peering from behind the surrounding trees. It was this, even more than the pure sensation of their anal coupling, that drove her cries, for the realization that they had an audience instantaneously quadrupled her lust. She pushed back as hard as she could against Elfhelm’s stiff prod as it repeatedly split her ass open, wanting to speed their onrushing climaxes ... and, after he was spent, wanting to see what would happen next. One last decadence before my final ride? Can I summon the courage? Will lust decide for me? Or will I even have a choice in the matter?

Elfhelm’s cock was on fire. Jaw clenched, he strained to delay his imminent explosion, fighting to prolong the delirious burning for the duration of one more stroke, and another, and another...

Then he felt the vibration.

Éowyn was shaking, inside and out. There was a sort of rippling vibration all around his pistoning rod, and whatever paper-thin vestiges of control he’d hoped to retain were ripped away. With a mighty shout he reared back, rammed his prick straight into her core, and unleashed a mighty flood of semen deep in her bowels.

She writhed, shrieking helplessly, convulsing against his spurting cock, clawing the ground as she endured the immense force of her climax. For long minutes they maintained this erotic tableau, until with an obscene sucking noise he extracted his pulsing dick from her dilated opening. A thick rivulet of ejaculate pursued his exit as Éowyn sank back to the ground like a dead thing.