The squishing, sloshing sounds of my two fingers pounding in and out of my sopping cunt could be heard over the din of the crowd. In my own tiny, personal pavilion, roughly four feet in diameter with just enough space to seat one or two people comfortably, I was shaded from the blazing sun, and the covered front table hid me from view. Only my head, shoulders, and torso could be seen. To any onlookers, I looked like a proper, medieval lady watching the Crown Tournament at the Ren Faire. Obscured from prying eyes, my hands were between my legs, fingering my wet snatch with a fury that matched the men's sword fighting a few yards away from my vantage.

This was my third Ren Faire with the medieval group that I was now a part of—my second as a member of the staff. Also being a fighter, I’d donned my gleaming steel armor and trudged out onto the battlefield, taking my shot at being crowned the first-ever, ruling Queen. I was incredibly turned on before that, but fighting always makes me horny, or hornier, in truth. My husband was also playing along with my innuendo, as he always does, and by the time I was out of the tourney, I feared the wet nectar pouring out of my cunt would rust my armor.

My first match was with my new friend, Angela. She and my second opponent, Lord Wesley, had recently left their group for ours, as the in-character persona we adopt, a sort of role-playing along with the medieval re-creation aspects, appealed to them. Angie resembles a younger, sexier version of myself, owning the body and beauty I wished I had. I am, however, her slight superior in fighting, and I slew her in good time.

As I awaited my second fight, my husband, Glade, looking sexier than ever in his demonic, black armor, had me in a sexual stupor. There are a scant, few people that women respond to with instant, horny, overpowering lust; he’s one of them. That perfectly-sculpted, muscular body coupled with those hypnotic, hazel eyes and finely-chiseled features that make one instantly fantasize about humping your pussy against his face is just the beginning. Mentally, physically, sexually, and emotionally, he’s eye candy delicious, and pretty much every woman’s roguish, bad-boy with a heart of gold fantasy.

His personality and life are straight out of a romance novel, and he looks like the cover model of one. In armor, looking all wet-dreamy, it was all I could do to not drag him someplace somewhat private and fuck that magic, endless-orgasm-inducing cock; damn the tournament. Congratulating me on my win by holding me close and kissing me so passionately that my mind splintered into a million bliss-filled shards, my heart thundered in my chest, and my legs quivered along with my clit.

“If I win the second round, what do I get?” I made sure my longing desires dripped from every syllable.

Expecting the typical male answer of, “Anything you want,” his response not only surprised me, but it sent my lust into ecstatic overdrive. Most men attempt to arouse a woman’s body, but not her mind. Glade, my husband, instinctively knows when a woman wants to go dirty and when she’s just playing. He knew I was in a filthy, nasty mood.

“Do you remember when we first met, and you asked me to tie you to the center pole of my tent and treat you like my personal sex slave?”

I nodded, biting my lip to keep from moaning. The recollection of that night was vividly imprinted in my psyche. Although I tried to deny it to myself, I was deeply in love with him, although I’d only known him for a few weeks. Even worse, the man had me in such a sexual frenzy that all I could think about was sex, kinky fucking, and nasty, deviant debauchery.

“Now, that I know how you get off on being completely submissive, I’ll do it again, properly this time.”

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned. “Wait!” I countered myself, “Angie’s staying with us; we can’t. What are you going to do, chain me up and torture me in front of her?”

He laughed that impish chortle of his, then flashed me that roguish, crooked smile that instantly turns off your mind and turns on horny desire. “I just love how you think,” was all he said, but the gleam in his Devil-dancing eyes melted my soul. “She can watch.”

Another searing kiss that made fireworks explode in my loins sent my mind reeling. Then, he strolled off to tend to the tournament; even his ass looked fantastic in his black leather armor. Like most women, I’m not typically aroused by visuals, but his presence, charisma, and manly confidence of him, coupled with those stunning good looks never failed to turn the tables and make me go into sexually-aggressive slut mode to get him to fuck me.

“No man should be legally allowed to be that hot,” a feminine voice gently said from behind me. I turned to face Angela. “Can I watch?” she asked.

“What the fucking fuck? Did he fucking put you up to that?”

My new friend looked confused, but still sexier than me. “Huh? No, I just wanted to watch you fight to pick up some pointers.”

“Oh, that.” I nervously laughed at myself. “Feel free. Actually, why don’t you second me, so you’ll get a close-up view.”

My bout with Lord Wesley was pretty quick, maybe because I psyched him out before the match began. When we met in the center of the arena, he asked me if I was okay because I was breathing heavily and panting.

“No,” I replied. “I’m just fucking horny. I almost forfeited this match, so I could go masturbate.”

That put him off-kilter. Wesley also used a giant battleaxe, which he wielded slowly and clumsily. That match ended with me leaving a fist-sized dent in his plate armor. My third match, which was against Sir Reginald, was my final fight. I was thoroughly and quickly trounced. I’d gone further than I had expected, so I was happy. After that match, I went into the private pavilion and changed out of my armor and into Ren Faire wench garb.

A sheer chemise, an under-dress, with a flowing, emerald green skirt and purple bodice covered the naughty bits the diaphanous chemise revealed. Free to imbibe intoxicating mead and honeyed wine, as well as snack on lovely, medieval-themed morsels, I could enjoy the rest of the tournament in lavish style. I was relatively hidden from view with a great view of the battlegrounds, shielded from the heat of the sun, and I could finally attend to the scorching need between my thighs.

I edged myself, my fingers alternating between fucking my aching hole and rubbing my clit. Every time I moved my hips, the small, non-medieval butt plug I’d inserted in my ass sent shivers through my body. My nipples were so hard that they pushed out of the front of my bodice, and I’m sure the pale skin on my freckled face was flush with excitement.

Sir Maris, a friend of mine as well as my husband’s nemesis and rival, took up position in the center of the field. I heard the Herald announce that Glade would be fighting him. I’m neither the first nor the last woman to touch herself while looking at my husband. He is delightfully entertaining and so sexy to observe.

I watched with sexual passion consuming me. My man was out there, playing the rebellious fool for the crowd. Leaving Maris to simmer in the center, Glade went around the perimeter of the arena, laughing and joking with the men, instantly seducing the women, and just being overall entertaining. “People expect a spectacle,” he once told me, and he definitely gave them that.

“May I join you?” a young, masculine voice queried.

Grunting over the interruption of my masturbatory edging, I looked up to see Sammy, my friend, Sylva's, younger brother. He’d turned eighteen nearly a year ago, and my gift to him was to fuck and suck him all night. His slim body was covered with a black, muscled breastplate, and a silly gladiator helmet covered his cute, boyish face.

“Lick my hot, wet cunt, and it’s a deal,” I moaned.

“Are you serious?”

I laughed. “No, I’m Krystal. We’ve met.” I paused. “Are you going to eat my pussy or not?”

He jumped over the table into the tiny tent, nearly toppling it. The resin helmet he was wearing landed on the table with a clunk. I pulled up my skirts, enjoying the feverishly hungry look in his eyes.

“Well, it won’t lick itself. Make sure you finger-fuck my pussy, too.”

People milled around, walking by, some of them glancing my way. This wasn’t the first time I’d gotten naughty like this, and the thrill of possibly being caught added to my heat.

Sammy’s young tongue wasn’t the most skilled that I’d ever had on my clit, but his enthusiasm made up for it. Immediately stampeding to my clit, his tongue snaked out and began flicking around the already-swollen nub, making my legs shake.

“Oooh, so good,” I encouraged. “You remembered what I taught you. Harder, a little faster. Fuck, you’re going to make me cum, soon. Fuck my cunt while you lick me. Shove your fingers in hard and deep.”

“Mmmm-hmmm, ah, um,” he mumbled, never stopping his full-force attack on my sex.

When his other hand bumped the plug in my ass, I couldn’t help but cry out in ecstasy. I heard the Herald announce the battle. Glade had kept Sir Maris waiting for close to ten minutes, long enough to win over the crowd and aggravate Maris to the point of rage.

When the Marshall, a sort of referee, yelled, “Fight!” the crowd erupted with renewed enthusiasm, and I had an intense orgasm that ripped through my core.

“Fuck! Cumming. Don’t stop; please, don’t stop.”

My eighteen-year-old lover kept up his oral pleasuring and I screamed and cursed, and my body shook in the throes of a soul-wrenching orgasm, made all the more intense from the risky thrill of it being semi-public.

“Pull out your cock and let me ride you while we watch.”

Stunned to immobility, Sammy just knelt there, so I got up, pushed him into my chair, pulled down his pants and modern underwear, and straddled his hard, throbbing cock. Plunging my soaked cunt down his shaft, I quickly buried the entire length inside me, moaning out how great he felt.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck my slutty cunt while I watch my husband.”

Sammy moaned, and his entire body shivered when I said that.

“Does that make you hot?” I temporarily lost the ability to form words as he found his pace and began humping his hips up. Each stroke caused whimpering sighs. “Fucking me in view of my husband.”

His upward thrusts were countered with me slamming my hips down on his groin. Each impact wiggled the plug in my ass, making it feel as if I were being fucked by two cocks at once. I grabbed Sammy’s hand and shoved his fingers over my clit.

“Make me cum,” I urged.

I moaned and chanted how much I loved his cock inside me. Sammy could only sigh and moan in response, his attempts at words guttural. Our rhythm found, I quickly forgot about the surrounding Ren Faire visitors, my husband fighting yards away from me, and the possibility of being caught. However, an ear-shattering, unanimous wailing from the crowd watching the tournament erupted, pulling us both out of our horny trance.

“Ambush! It’s an ambush!” the herald cried.

We stopped our rocking fuck, both of us taken aback. While permitted under the group’s fighting charter rules, an ambush amid a tournament was unheard of. I stood, shocked and worried about my husband. Creamy wetness, my own natural lubricant that flows like a waterfall when I’m horny, dripped down my thighs.

Flabbergasted, my jaw dropped. Five other armored knights, all of them friends of Sir Maris, jumped onto the field, surrounding Glade. It looked like a fully staged and planned rebellion. My husband is the king’s champion, fighting in the stead of our king, Tim, who doesn’t do battle, himself.

With a mirthful, “a-ha!” my husband launched himself at Maris, who towered over him. Knocking him to the ground, Glade then spun around and charged the nearest one.

“If that cock isn’t back inside my cunt in three seconds, I’m kicking you out of my tent,” I told my likewise-stunned companion.

“But, but, your husband. People might see us.”

“Let them watch. Fucking fuck me, now!”

Sammy’s timing was perfect. His swollen cock head penetrated my dripping cunt at the precise moment that my husband was within attacking range of the first rebel seeking to usurp the crown by foully assassinating the king’s champion in a dishonorable ambush.

The crowd made “ooh” and “aah” noises, but I screamed, “fuck me harder,” as I felt his shaft drive deep into my volcanic wetness. Glade didn’t engage the man he was charging, but dropped to the ground, sliding on his knees, and hacked the villain’s legs out from under him.

“Slam that fucking cock into me, Sammy. Fuck me like the slut I am.”

His hands grappled at my hips, pulling me into his crotch, his bare flesh slamming against my ass.

“Fuck me, fuck my cunt; fuck my cunt.” I was chanting obscenities in my passionate fervor.

Springing to his feet and doing a hand-spring off of his fallen foe’s back, my leather-armored Prince Charming catapulted away from danger just before the second attacker swung. The blow missed, striking the slain knight, instead. Glade landed to the side and slightly behind, just before the would-be Glade-killer could recover, and my husband struck him in the side, then on his shield arm, and, finally, his lightning-quick blade arced up and then down, crowning the would-be king with lethal strike on top of his melon.

“Finger my fucking clit. Make me cum while I watch Glade take out the usurpers.”

“Fuck, your pussy’s so tight. I can’t hold off much longer.”

“Then you’d better make me cum before the fight is over, or you’ll be licking out your own cream pie.”

My filthy mouth caused Sammy’s cock to swell even thicker. I could feel it expanding inside my velvety canal. I was screaming loudly, although my impassioned cries were lost in the din of the crowd.

Glade picked up a fallen sword and dual-wielded it, his whirling multi-angled attacks shredding Sir Richard’s unmoving defensive stance. While the remaining two, Sir Reginald, who had bested me, and Maris, took up a two-man defensive formation and slowly advanced, my husband addressed the very excited onlookers.

“Shall I offer them quarter and spare them, or cut the dishonorable, rebel dogs down? You decide, good people.”

The crowd went insane, shouting out death wishes and desires for mercy.

“I’m cumming. Fuck me hard. Don’t stop. Never stop fucking me,” I screamed.

Had it not been for the table, I’d have fallen to the ground, overcome with debilitating waves of pleasure. I could only lay over the table, feeling that cock slam into my pulsating, spasming cunt, and moan. When I regained control over my body, once more, I spun around and dropped to my knees. The clanging of sword fighting reached my ears.

“Cum on my face,” I urged. “The last time we were together, you mentioned that you always wanted to do that.”

“Uh-huh,” he moaned. Sammy looked around nervously, shrugged, and then began stroking his manhood.

“Cum for me; cum on me, you big, fucking stud. Show me how much I turn you on by covering my slutty face with jizz.”

Due to his youth, Sylva’s little brother doesn’t last long. In his defense, he had a sexy, horny redhead talking dirty to him and sucking on his balls. He groaned and grunted, signaling his pending orgasms. I quickly stopped sucking his sack, massaging it with one hand, and opened my mouth, awaiting his hot, sticky gifts.

Spurt after spurt of hot good sprayed my face, covering my cheeks, chin, and lips. On his third geyser-like eruption, I sucked the head of his cumming cock into my mouth and swirled my tongue over it, making his knees buckle and eliciting blissful cries. I sucked all the cum out of his shaft, then let it fall from my lips, bringing my fingers up to scoop the creamy juice from my face, licking it off my fingers.

“Mmm, your cum tastes so good. Give me more.”

Instead of instantly appeasing me, Sammy, in an attempt to be gallant, handed me a towel. I giggled and wiped his cum from my face. On the field of battle, Sir Reginald was on the ground, and Glade was making mince meat out of Maris.

The knight’s sword went flying wide, and Maris was soon kneeling in surrender at my husband’s feet. Rather than stop the battle, Glade made Marie remove his helmet and apologize to the king for such a dishonorable attempt to steal the throne. With that, my berserker husband helped his rival to his feet and handed him his weapons. The two left the field together, arms over each other’s shoulders as if they were the best of friends.

“Hey, who’s that?” Angela said. “Did you see Glade fight? Wow.”

“Angie, meet Sammy. He’s Sylva’s brother.”

We hugged and kissed in greeting as Sammy looked on.

“Krys, why do your lips taste like cum?” I only smiled, knowingly. “You dirty, fucking whore. While your husband was fighting?”

“Pleased to meet you. Angie, is it?” Sammy stepped in, stopping the mock-slut-shaming.

“Jealous?” I winked at her.

“Oh, Glade’s coming over.” She turned to Sammy. “I’m thirsty. Buy me an ale?”

They locked arms and left the tiny pavilion.

Glade was covered in sweat and dirt, his long, medium-blond hair a mass of strands on his too-handsome face. “Yep,” he mused, “they, indeed, had an ambush planned. Did you have a good fuck?”

I smiled broadly. “You saw that?”

“You know I’m always watching you. I love watching you.”

I ran around the table and embraced my husband. “Don’t worry, you know how horny I get. I hope you’re not exhausted from fighting six guys at once.”

“Nonsense,” he hand-waved to pontificate. “I’ve seen you take on six guys and still scream for more. I’m not even winded.”

“Great. Let’s go buy some steel manacles, so you can enslave me properly. Do you have time for a quickie before your next fight?”