The Squire's Tale
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Chapter 2. Sir John, My Master
I fell to one knee before him and clenched my right hand and placed it over my heart and said, Sir John, I am Thomas, and am sent to serve you.
Arise, Thomas, said he, and share the brother kiss with me.
I nearly trembled as I faced him, for the knight who took me in his arms was like a heavenly being. And though the brother kiss, as Christians name it, was but an instant, to me it seemed as if the shadow on the dial had marked the passage of an hour.
Now, Thomas, thou art flush and blooming like a rose.
Sir, I replied, it is the glory of the sun that gives the rose its color, and the sun's warmth its bloom.
I knelt before my Master and pulled the soft leather boots over the bulge of his calves and feet. And I swear that the length of his foot was that of King Henry. And when I held his sole in both my hands, his toes and heel overstepped them.
I untied my Master's chausses and began to roll them down. I felt his eyes upon me as I knelt between his outstretched legs, my face close to his crotch. And each time I rolled the woolen hose I marveled how large and strong were his thighs. And I rolled the soft woolen chausses til his feet were bare. And his feet were long and beauteous like the feet of angels carved on churches and cathedrals, and like the feet of statues of the saints. And a great urge came over me to kiss the long perfect toes of his feet, and cup my hand round his heel, and lick his long beauteous feet and kiss the sole of his foot.
Next I untied his broad leather belt and placed it in a cedar chest. And because he was so tall I stood upon the chest to pull his tunic over his head. And when I took it off his body, I held it to me secretly and felt his warmth against my cheek, and the linen was soft as the petals of the blue flax flower, and I caressed it as a child caresses a wooly lamb. His schert was damp with sweat. I pulled it off and inhaled the sharp odor of his trunk. He sat before me in naught but his braies. And his body was so beauteous, the curving of his arms so gracious, the hair that grew upon his chest so fair.
Bring me that cloth Thomas, and I will tell you a riddle. And he began to wipe the sweat from his body.
What riddle, Sir?
It is this, Thomas -- Say I stand naked as Adam before the Fall, hold nothing in my hands, and speak not a word. Yet I can prove that I am Christian.
How can that be Master? Have you some secret power?
Nay, Thomas, said he, but what every man has. And he loosed the drawstrings of his braies and pulled down the front of them. His cock curved over his ballocks, heavy and thick. He held his member in his broad hand. Surely, I thought, when his cock awakens, it grows to be as tall and strong as any Norman's tower.
Yea, Master, said I. For you are uncircumcised, as are all Christian men. And it is the largest and most beautiful prick that I have ever seen.
How many pricks hast thou seen then, Thomas, that thou hast reason to compare?
Master, I replied, it is a common sight, for cocky lads stop along the road in the country and piss on the ground. And on bridges they thrust out their hips and stand prick in hand, aiming their stream between the posts, and piss into the river. And young squires piss even in the streets when they are drunk and staggering at eventide, pulling their dicks out from under their tunics and wobbling on their feet as they let loose great streams of piss. Once, a drunken village lad pissed in the road, and when he had finished and shaken the last pissdrops from his cock, swayed unsteadily over his hot puddle, and held his cock in his hand, and it stiffened, and he gestured with a motion of his head for me to come to him.
The knight wiped the sweat from under his arms.
Did you go to him, Thomas?
Nay, Master. For fear of being caught by others who might pass by. But I half-hid in a doorway and watched him handle himself before he staggered away, for he was tall and handsome. And when I was at Bumbly Castle as a page, I often saw the squires compare their cocks to see whose was the largest.
And knights also, those who are but 20 and whose blood races hotly through their veins, whose dicks have their own will, and harden when their squires remove their chausses. And who lie behind their squires and place them so they are like two spoons aligned, and rub against them in the night. For these young knights are inflamed from practicing combat with their peers. So stimulated is their blood and semen that not even Saint George's arm could keep their pricks disarmed, but they must satisfy their lust, and cannot keep their loins from thrusting against their squires and sliding their stiff members against them as they lie together naked.
Sir John raised his crystalline blue eyes and looked in mine.
And do the squires lie still while their knights treat them so? And wouldst thou?
Those knights are Masters of their squires, Sir John, as you are mine. Some squires reckon that they shall curry their Master's favor by submitting, and others welcome the power of his body and the heat of his rod. This inflames a young knight all the more, and he mounts his squire and fits his prick into his servant's hot crevice, and putting his strong thighs around him, presses his servant's buttocks together so that his prick fits all the tighter, and rocks him back and forth beneath him, and in his ardor enfolds him forcefully in his bare arms and breathes hotly against his squire's neck with an open mouth like a beast.
Thou shalt lie with me tonight, Thomas, said the Norman. And he took the linen cloth between his legs and wiped the sweat from off his ballocks.
But surely thou does not see these knightly pricks at night when they use their servants to satisfy their craving. Tell me more of the men whose pricks thou hast seen.
Yea, Master, masons powdered with white limestone dust I have espied spitting on their calloused hands and jerking their hard cocks, and carpenters who lay down their hammers and take up their pricks, and woodcutters too when they pause axeing and reach in their breeches and stroke themselves. I see the beautiful impress of their hard dicks on their breeches. And a musician of Bumbly Castle once enticed me to follow him into a tower and showed me his member and summoned me to touch it and --
Did you touch the player's trumpet then, Thomas?
Nay, Master, I did not, but ran away instead.
What else hast thou seen, Thomas?
The stable hands at Bumbly Castle would sometimes loll about, and two of them played with each other in secret. Their cocks were plain to see for they would lower their breeches and stand with the tips of their stiff upcurved cocks touching while they kissed, thinking no one saw them, til in their passion they embraced tightly and pressed their pricks on each other's bellies. And I peer at the servants of Chepstow when they awake in the Hall. Some proudly disport their high-spirited pricks that have hardened in the night, and others try to hide their erect cocks, furtively looking round them as they press their stubborn staffs down in their braies.
And the boys from Bumbly Village and the peasant boys who work in the fields, after they swim in the river when they are lying in the sun on the rocks with their members flopping to the side and swelling, and their ballocks resting on their thighs, some of them kissing and jerking their cocks and placing their hands on each other's necks to quench their desire. And once I did see the circumcised prick of a Saracen whose skin was the color of a ripening olive, and --
But stay, Thomas. What of thou? Canst thou likewise prove that thou art Christian?
Sir John, these remembrances have made my lance ready to joust, and of its own accord my spearhead has emerged from its hood.
Then, said he, there is a way to make thy bellend hide again.
He reached under my braies and his hand grasped the entire length of my hard cock. And as I knelt he pulled my prepuce back and forth over my cockpole. And I trembled as he handled me.
Kiss me yet again, Thomas, to seal our fidelity.
And saying this, he took my face in his hands and entwined my wavy hair in his long fingers as I knelt before him. His fingertips on my temples, his palms on my cheeks, and the heels of his hands on my neck. Slowly he lifted up my head till I looked into his eyes. He bent toward me and his blue irises glowed and grew larger as his eyes came next to mine. Softly he held me and cushioned his fulsome lips on mine.
He kept me as his willing prisoner in his hands, and tilted my head to see me anew and kissed me once again, pressing his parted lips upon my lips, and I sighed as he ravished me. Again he drew back and gazed at me and again his sweet lips met mine. He nuzzled his lips on mine and brushed his lips against my lips and cheeks as if he wished to paint me with his soul, and between his kisses he tilted my face from side to side in his big sweet hands to gaze on my half-closed eyes and blushing face, kissing my lips and neck and eyes again and again until the entire world was his mouth, his eyes, his lips, and I surrendered to his scent and his breath and his hands, and I should have swooned or died of ecstasy but that he grasped my hair and held it tightly and kissed me fervently and long, holding his parted lips on mine and his face against mine and his hot skin radiated and filled the air, and in my great happiness tears welled in my eyes.