LANCED-A-LOT
By: Silenos
This story is a work of fiction and involves teenagers in sexual situations. If that offends you, don't read it. If you are underage, don't read it (like that's going to happen). This story belongs solely to the author and may not be copied or reproduced in whole or in part without permission of the author.
Please contribute to Nifty, these guys work hard and need your copper, silver and gold so we can have these stories. https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Feedback is always gratefully appreciated: silenos69@protonmail.com
If you have been following this tale, you are aware of how it was found. For those who have not the origins of the work have been moved to the end of this chapter.
LANCED-A-LOT: Chapter 4
With the aid of a small lamp we found our little room. The furnishings were meager; a table, chair, and rather rickety bed. One small window allowed in enough light from the full moon to provide a modicum of illumination, or at least enough to prevent stubbed toes in pitch dark.
By the time Idris had placed the lamp on the table and turned back to me I had bolted the door, stripped off my new-old tunic and was rummaging in my bag for my little jug of oil. I knew what I wanted, and it had been too long. My prick was stiff and drooling with anticipation.
"Aren't we the eager Squire then?" He chuckled lustily at the sight of my dimpled posterior, bent in front of him while he shed his own garments. His member was as stiff and drooling as my own. Naked he stepped over to me as I rose and scooped my juices into his palm, then added his and brought the hand to his mouth, lapping it up before leaning in to kiss me and share. I thought I would explode right there. Kissing is an art which most men and boys do not do well and many will not engage in it at all with one of their own sex. Idris proved the exception to the rule, delighting in the taste of my lips and tongue as I did in his.
"You are so beautiful Bug" he gasped, whimpering as he pulled us together gently while with one hand I began caressing a very erect nipple.
Falling onto the bed we pressed our hard bodies together. Exploring every inch of each other with our hands and mouths. He was obviously interested in more than a quick release, no matter both of our cocks were hard and leaking. This was love making, not rutting.
I slithered down to take him in my mouth, and he spun around to take mine at the same time. Pulling off I gasped "You don't hav..."
"I want" was all he said before taking in my bellend then the entire shaft. This man knew his business and I quickly sucked him back into my hungry mouth. Cupping his enormous bollocks with one hand I felt them begin to draw up and immediately released his lance from my oral sheath and sat up, frantically reaching for the vial of oil I had dropped on the bed. Opening it I poured some in my hand first coating and penetrating my love hole, pausing only to bend and lick the tasty juices oozing from his manhood. I then coated it with more of the oil.
He leered at me with a playful grin saying "so, it is to be like that is it?"
"You object?"
"Not at all, in fact you must return the favor." I was shocked, most grown men reject the submissive position when they bid boyhood goodbye.
"You like it?"
"With someone who knows how to use it, I adore it." He kissed me quickly as he sat up and flipped me on my back, spreading and raising my legs to rest on his shoulders. His lance pushed against my desperate hole, penetrating me slowly, pausing for it to stretch, then slowly sliding all his sword in to the hilt and filling my hungry shaft.
Resting again for me to accommodate him he kissed me again asking "you are not 16 are you Bug?"
I was ready, needing him to fuck me and would have confessed anything, even this truth "I have 13 summers, I turn 14 when winter comes. I fear I have reached my full height as I have not grown in a year."
"No matter, you are now my beautiful pointy eared squire. We can have no secrets my precious elfling. Especially in the bed chamber."
"I agree on one condition," his stillness was driving me crazy!
"And that is?"
"You shut up and fuck me!" I squealed, and that he did. Slowly drawing out, then pushing back to begin. His lance was a perfect fit. Some men are too small, some too large, some too fat, some too lean. Each man's weapon is different as is each man's arse. His cock happened to be a perfect fit for my boy cunt, and as he accelerated his thrusting he massaged that magic spot in my hole in just the right way.
Most men think the height of passion is to spill one's seed. Speaking from experience I know them to be fools. Any boy with groin hair can manipulate himself to that goal. Men and boys have it within them to go much farther. That magic spot is real, it hardens becoming almost a nut, and when it is massaged properly it can send lightening bolts of sheer ecstasy roaring through one's body, sometimes unending to the point of disablement. One step beyond that is to spill one's seed while having those lightening shocks; even better to do so without benefit of touching one's lance.
Idris was a master, driving his lance in and out of me with fervor and design, I looked up and could see a demon of desire lighting up his eyes. I could but gasp and ride the storm of our sweat and hunger as he took me to the peak and my rod began spilling (no: "spitting" would be more accurate) between us, my arse clamped down around his shaft and he called out as he released violently into my guts.
Collapsing on me we both could only pant, trying to catch our breath. My eyes rolled back to their normal position as we lay there, a sweaty pile of come and man stink. "We really need to talk..." he began wheezing. I shut him up by kissing him into silence from whence we fell entangled into a deep sleep. I suppose that should be expected after the day we'd had.
Morpheus left us as the first light of day crept over the window sill, and that great lout of a Captain banged on our door; no doubt frustrated at it being bolted. "Sir Idris, time to rise!" he howled, "We must leave for Castlemount soon if we are to make it this day!"
"Shortly!" Idris answered before kissing me and rising. We heard the Captain stumble off as Idris shrugged and began to dress saying "I had hoped we'd have more time this morning."
"As did I." I mock pouted, making him laugh.
There was no one save the Innkeeper in the main room below when we came down. He served us morning ale and bread which we wolfed down. Idris bade me to check and saddle our beasts while he went in search of the "Captain".
I found Tho"mas and the Smith in the Barn/smithy and told them we were leaving. Both had an interesting glint in their eyes as if they'd be conspiring something. Thomas blushed (he was good at it) saying "We couldn't help but notice you no mount of your own and as it happens we might have a travel pony that would suit you."
"For a price." Injected the Smith. They were, of course, right. It would look rather odd for a squire to be gallivanting about the land with a squire for a saddle pack. So they showed me a little brown thing which seemed mild as a lamb, even nuzzling me, but quite sturdy.
"She seems suitable enough to me but my master must approve this mare first." I turned to fetch Idris but was halted my the Smith.
"Hang on there young master," he cooed. "You'll be needing a saddle and bit as well. Plus we must discuss the price." Thomas snorted, blushing again and covering his mouth. As it turned out I could meet half the price readily and the other half was just a few coins, an agreement willingly accepted by all parties before I scurried off to Idris.
Idris was lounging on a bench in front of the Inn while the Captain was taking longer to rouse his hung over men than he had thought it would. I told Idris I had struck a deal on a pony, which made him happy, and that it would take some time to get it and his animals ready, I whispered my bargain in his ear and watched his hose stretch, then hurried back to the barn.
Thomas and the Smith were both naked and hard with Thomas leaning over the table as he had the day before. The Smith was greasing his hole, two fingers sliding in and out of the boy's lust hole. I threw off my tunic and dropped my things. The man greased me as I urged them to hurry. "We must be quick before they come looking." I told them as I stepped up and pushed easily into Thomas who moaned with delight.
The Smith, now behind me, greased my hole. His probing fingers were welcomed as was his cock which pushed in after the withdrawal of his fingers. I was no stranger to being the one in the middle, having often been so between my Da and Brother John, and quite enjoyed it. In fact I quite liked this arrangement and would have preferred it more if we'd had more time.
The Smith set the pace and wasted no time as I reached around to clutch and wank Thomas' solid joint. It took no time for the boy to splatter in my hand and the Smith to shoot his seed into my bowels. Not a preferable way to experience the joys of sex, but one borne of haste and finance. So what if I was whoring myself for a saddle and a horse? At least I was a happy whore and enjoyed my job.
"I think," panted the Smith, "that might have been worth two saddles." You have to pity someone who thinks like that as it shows how poor his previous experiences must have been. Still, it was a bit of morning fun for all.
In short order I was mounted with the other beasts set to go. "Does this pony have a name?" I asked Thomas.
"Not that I know of." He replied.
"Then I shall call her Agatha after the only woman I know in this village."
"A good name lad." Grinned the Smith as I set off to find my master. I may be unused to the saddle, and no great horseman, but I did know how to ride, after a fashion, and so it was we set off for Castlemount.
Passing out of the village, such as it was, I spied Agatha leaning against one of the hovels. I returned her wave and her wink as we went by, knowing I would see her again soon.
The following tale came to me from a wealthy friend who found it bound in his family's extensive bookshelves. Nobody could read it as it was in a strange hand and written in a mix of the common tongue and Norman French of its day. His family has lived in the same place, if not home, for centuries and are what one might consider landed gentry. My friend brought it to me in hopes I might be able to transcribe it into the English of our own time as that sort of thing is what I do. I have updated it only in that I have made such things as measurements, expressions, and such understandable by our reckoning today. What I found in my labors was quite startling. It would be wise for the reader to remember that mores were different then, and that the perception of "age" was as well. Average life expectancy was about 33 years, and people were smaller too, the average height being about 5'7". Insofar as I can tell these pages were written after the Norman conquest, but not by much. England, Scotland, Wales and Cornwall were all very much their own kingdoms, with petty kingdoms within, and Vikings could still be something of a nuisance in some parts even though history says their terror ended in exactly 1066.