Disclaimer: If you are under 18, don't read it. If you are offended by homsexual stuff, don't read it. If your city/principality/region/whatever forbids you to read fantasy stories involving sex acts between males, don't read it.
Chapter 5. The Peasant Boy's Trick
In the merry month of May, when all the birds are singing, and when the dogwood opens its four petals inscribed with the wounds of Our Savior, and the flowers called bleeding hearts droop along their stems dropping semen pearls, and spears of larkspur push up from the earth and beckon bees to slurp, then do young men yearn to gambol in the forest.
And since it was a holy day, being the feast day of St. Philip and St. James, after Mass the squires set out to take pleasure in the mild weather. We found a pleasant clearing and supped on bread and cheese and ale. We removed our belts and tunics and sat in the grass in our scherts, and unbuttoned our woolen chausses and rolled them down. We played at dice and laid down to rest in the sun. Soon my fellows were asleep. Timothy and James lay on their backs side by side. Jacques lay on his side with hands in prayer under his cheek, and William, oh, William my foe, had propped himself against a tree. Their soft snores mingled with the buzzing of the bees.
I could not sleep, for the longer I gazed upon their comely forms, and the more I heard their lovely snoring and the buzzing bees, the more I was filled with lust, and wished only to hold them and put my hand about their members and feel the form of their legs and lovely buttocks and kiss them about their necks and faces, so tantalizing were they as they slept.
So I went wandering through the forest and came upon a brook that babbled through a sheltered glade. A peasant boy lay sleeping naked in the grove beneath a greeny bough. Iwis, he had been bathing in the brook, for his moist skin glistened, and he had laid his rough clothes in the sun to dry. And next to his pale figure was a basket filled with raspberries.
He had a wild and rustic mien. The tops of his ears were like spearpoints and his hair was the color of a fox's coat, and it was as if a witch had hacked it, for on some parts it grew shaggy and in other patches it was chopped short. His brows were of the same hue but of a lighter shade, and they angled upward. His feet were pointed, and his soles and dainty toes moss-stained. Sun and shadow played on his figure, so that it seemed he was but a vision made up of ever-shifting dapples that might at any moment scatter among the crowns of the forest canopy. I wondered if the boy was a fairie, for gnats flitted in weird patterns over his shifting form, as if weaving spells to keep him wrapped in slumber.
And he started and opened his eyes suddenly and the cloud of gnats flew up and disappeared. His eyes were golden like those of a kid. His ears perked and he sniffed the air.
Hail fellow! said I.
He turned on one side and propped himself upon his elbow. His nipples were like amaryllis, and o'er his soft cock and its swirling prepuce grew a fresh thatch of hair the color of persimmon.
Well met! said I. If thou art thirsty, I have in my flask ale to slake your thirst.
His golden eyes lit up and he smiled broadly, and he said, I shall drink from thy flask, but thou must eat one of these berries.
I shall eat thy berry, said I. And I uncorked my flask and he threw back his head and quaffed the ale.
Lie as thou were before, said I, and I shall kiss thy arse.
He shifted back onto his stomach and splayed his legs, bending one knee upward so that the groove between his buttocks was spread. I placed the berry on his butthole and with my hands holding firm his hips, I smashed the berry against his arsehole with my tongue and scooped it up and savored it. His bung was tight and fresh and like a rosebud. I puckered my lips and kissed it, tasting the sweet-sour berry juice and the spice of his warm flesh. Fine yellow-red hairs within the warm valley of his arsecheeks tickled against my face, and I kissed the walls of that valley and the downy hairs were soft against my lips. I nuzzled my face far into his luscious crack and pressed my lips hard against his bung, and kissed his tender walls.
All day could I have lived in the warmth of his sweet arse, and tasted him, and smelled him, for he smelled of cardamom and cinnamon and spices brought back from Jerusalem.
And I pushed my nose against his rosy bunghole and sniffed his pungency and licked betwixt his bunghole and his ballocks and I felt him hardening and swelling.
Kiss my backside now, said he, and his golden eyes looked over his shoulder to see how might I love his arse. I held his buttocks between my hands and pressed his cheeks together and kissed the soft mounds of his backside. I lingered first on one side, then the other, and I fell upon them and kissed them passionately til he began to yip, and he wriggled his hips with delight. And I covered his smooth round buttocks with kisses til not one spot was left on them that had not felt my lips.
He pushed his hips against the mossy earth and clenched his buttocks tight. But I wedged my nose between the closed portals and resolutely wiggled back and forth until they yielded to my siege. I pushed my face inside that secret place and lay with my face in his arse crack, kissing his fay pucker and stroking his soft bottom and his rounded thigh. And he began to jut his hips back and forth as he rubbed his cock against the mossy ground, and each backward thrust pushed his hole into my puckered lips.
I parted his mounds, and I licked his crevice with the flat of my tongue as a glutton licks marmalade off of a plate, wetting his fine arsehairs with my tongue. Yea, my face became wet with my saliva, as my nose and cheeks and mouth traversed the course betwixt his tight ballocks and the cleft in his back. For I was in love with this fox-lad's arse and the space between his legs and his crevice and his hairless mounds and his smell of juniper and nutmeg.
And with my face in his arse and my hair falling on his buttocks I reached up and put my hands on his sides and I felt his ribs against my fingers and his quick shallow breaths.
And I lifted up his hips with my hands and put my arms around his loins, holding his warm wet crack against my face, and he reached down and touched my hair and with a whimper he convulsed and his semen spurted and I felt my ballocks contract and spurts of hot sperm filled my braies. And my ardor compelled me to hold him longer with his crevice against my face as he panted.
At last he said, Oh Sir, I should have thee lick my ass and kiss my arsehole and backside every day, and I should then have thee lick my ballocks as well, and all along my belly and my thighs. Tell me thy name so that I know who has given me such pleasure.
I am Sir Nobody, I replied. So that if any person asks thee who thou came upon in the forest today thou canst answer truthfully, Nobody. And no one in thy village will know what transpired between us.
Take three of my berries, he said, and put them in thy pouch and draw it shut. And with his thumb he traced a sorcerer's figure in the air.
Ah, he was so graceful and lithe! And his vulpine face so delicate and roseate!
And when that night I opened my pouch, by Saint Stephen's stones, the berries had vanished and in their place there were three coral beads. I laughed at the wood-sprite's trick, and I was glad that I had consumed the magic berry that bound me in his spell. For now from time to time he appears at night and visits me while I dream. He kneels athwart my chest and lowers his arse and seats himself upon my face and shifts his hips back and forth as he strokes his prick. All this I know and feel while I am dreaming.
And when I awake --