There was once a far-away land, full of green meadows and dark misty forests, where knights wandered in pursuit of adventures, and fair damsels governed thriving estates, weaving their lives around the traditions of courtly love. Honor and bravery ruled over this enchanting realm, in a time where chivalry and gallantry actually mattered, as well as honorable vows.
It was in these lands that King Arthur ruled over the Kingdom of Logres, which extended over southern and eastern Britain (or Albion, as it was also known). For almost 40 years he had successfully fended off repeated Anglo-Saxon invasions, bringing a measure of order and stability over his realm. But all that seemed to have crumbled, as a brutal civil war was now in the offing. The brotherhood of the Round Table, that band of brothers who had shared in so many adventures together, and who had fought against the most fiendish and dangerous foes, was no more. Nobody could have foreseen it. Those few knights, those happy few, had broken their once solid allegiance, and would soon be locked in mortal combat. A whole civilization was about to be swept away, gone in the wind.
As the war neared, Lancelot rode hastily through the beautiful glades of Cumbria, while the grey clouds hung menacingly low over the chilly autumn sky. Heading to Carlisle Castle, he passed by forests and lakes, and the countless meadows of the lush English countryside. Riding a strong white horse, he wore full body armor, except for his helmet. His long hair fluttered in the wind as he picked up the pace. Naturally, he was accompanied by a retinue of 10 knights. They were his guard, his closest and most trusted companions, all of whom would have given their lives for their beloved leader. As they rode carrying Lancelot’s impressive blue-white banners, the sound of the horses’ hoofs hitting the ground could be heard from afar.
They arrived at Carlisle Castle late in the evening. Lancelot dismounted off his horse and immediately went to see the queen. The cold autumn breeze was blowing strong, making everyone feel cold and chilly. He passed by the castle’s courtyard, where people huddled around campfires to stay warm, and there on the second floor he saw Queen Guinevere. She was waiting for him at the top of the staircase, on the landing, accompanied by her young and faithful handmaiden. Guinevere was radiantly beautiful as she stood there, the very embodiment of youth and fertility. She had long auburn hair, which reached down to her lower back. It looked mostly silky brown-red under direct sunlight, but shifted to a sultry, dark tone in the shadows. Her eyes were grey, and her skin was beautifully pale. She was well proportioned, slender, with straight shoulders, a narrow waist, and long rounded arms. She was the living embodiment of Keltic beauty.
Part of her enchanting grace lay also in the fact that she was of noble character. And that was not out of any supercilious snobbery, for, on the contrary, she was always friendly, courteous and obliging. The fact was that being of noble birth, she had been educated since early childhood to be a queen; so she always had a lovely refined, dignified, aristocratic bearing about her, which added to her charm and sensuality. Everyone who came close to her became spellbound by her beauty and regal elegance, which was her true natural demeanor.
Upon reaching the top flight of stairs, Lancelot saw that she was shedding tears of joy. He knelt in front of her and kissed her hand. But as he stood up, the Queen came up to him, and kissed him warmly on his lips. It was a passionate embrace of two lovers that had not seen each other for months. And it was this love, this forbidden adulterous love, that was at the center of the upcoming civil war.
You see, Queen Guinevere was King Arthur’s wife. But as time passed, she had become infatuated with Sir Lancelot, and secretly began an affair with him. As the affair was discovered, the two lovers were convicted of high treason. Lancelot was proscribed, banished and outlawed, whilst she was condemned to be burned at the stake. In a dramatic show of defiance, Lancelot and his knights later saved Guinevere right before the flames were about to steal her away. The feud was now open, the allegiance totally broken, and war all but inevitable. Like in the legend of the Trojan War, where the love of a woman was at the center of a conflict, Guinevere’s love for Lancelot was the cause of the coming war. The only difference was that the Iliad was a legend, whereas this time it was all for real.
That night there was a big banquet at the castle. In a big hall illuminated by great candle chandeliers, the tables were arranged in an inverted horseshoe shape, and right in the middle of its base Queen Guinevere and Lancelot sat, preceding the occasion, before a great fire. They ate English roasted wild boar with vegetable stew. They also drank lots of wine. In the seriousness of the situation, there was still time for laughter and merriment: a jester recited poems recounting ancient lore, and a small troupe of minstrels was playing wonderful Medieval songs, many of which are now forgotten. Outside, the first snows of winter were falling over the frozen ground.
In truth, Guinevere and Lancelot wanted the dinner to end soon, for they yearned to be together and to make sweet love. It had been over a month since they had seen each other, and now they were already aroused by the expectation of their upcoming lovemaking. How nice it is when both know that they are soon about to have sex; the coming anticipation is maddeningly erotic. The queen’s hard nipples were visible through her beautiful burgundy dress, and her cheeks blushed beautifully, betraying her excited libido. Time seemed to pass slowly, but soon enough, after a little patience, they finally left the banquet and went to the queen’s chambers, accompanied at all times by the queen’s trusted handmaiden, Elowyn.
Elowyn was young, in her late teens. She was actually more beautiful and cuter than the queen. She had been Guinevere’s female personal servant since she was a child. With time, she had become the queen’s closest attendant and confidant. Now, as her maid, she barely left Guinevere’s side. It befell on her the duty to silently undress the two aroused lovers, as they passionately kissed and caressed each other’s bodies.
Once totally naked, the queen’s body was breathtaking. Her breasts were the size of two small melons, very plump and lush, firm and pointy, with big erect swollen nipples that yearned to be sucked. Between her legs, dark auburn pubic hair decorated her wet slit, which yearned to be fed with a gentle hard cock. She also longed to be penetrated in her beautiful anus. Thus, fully naked and excited, she climbed on the bed doggy style, and resting her chest and one side of her face on the bed, she spread her ass cheeks wide with her two hands, showing her lover her beautiful woman-flower. Even in that position she was ever so graceful and regal; she never lost her delicate and sophisticated aristocratic demeanor. She exposed her wanting sex ever so elegantly.
Lancelot, now also naked, climbed on the bed as well. He knew that there was only one thing better in the world than a woman’s pussy, and that was the pussy of a queen. He passionately french-kissed and licked her wanting, wet vulva. Oh, it was so musky and nice! He sucked and tenderly caressed with his tongue and mouth the regal soft labia, which guarded like petals the wonderful warm wet fissure of her slit. As he licked and lovingly titillated her budding clitoris, he was rewarded by her intimate balms. Guinevere moaned and squirmed in ecstasy. She was so beautiful, so feminine! Oh, what a nice feeling it was to have her ripe feminine fruit eaten by the man she most loved and trusted in the world!
Through this wonderful cunnilingus, Lancelot expressed his adoration to the Queen. He also licked her intimate rosy anus, sending waves of pleasure and delight to her. The Queen had never been licked this way. It felt so wild and savage, and yet so nice!
At a certain point, they both stopped. Turning around, Guinevere admired Lancelot’s sculptured body. She found him so sexy! Little Elowyn had been masturbating our hero’s penis whilst he was practicing the cunnilingus, so now the faithful maid showed her mistress his cock in full erection. What a spectacle! The queen loved it; it was big, but not as big as Arthur’s.
Yes, King Arthur’s cock was abnormally big; he had what one might call a monster cock. It was so huge that it could never reach a full erection. And although Guinevere truly liked it, most of the time its sheer size actually caused her pain during intercourse. It had all been Merlin’s fault. You see, after the successful quest for the Holy Grail, Merlin wanted to thank Arthur by conceding him a wish. And Arthur could ask for nothing better than a whacking great penis. Since then, it became difficult for her to have sex with Arthur’s donkey cock, and their relationship began to nose-dive as they drifted apart. Now instead, the queen definitely preferred Lancelot’s phallus. It was big, but not freakishly big, and it gave her so much joy and womanly pleasure!
The Queen lay on her back, as Elowyn guided Lancelot’s burning spear to her mistress’ pussy. Guinevere had never felt her lover’s penis penetrate her soft vagina so sweetly. Receiving his gentle but forceful thrusts aroused her sexually. She felt the warm, glowing sexual energy spread from between her legs, to her anus, all over her torso, and reach at the very tips of her erect nipples. She had never felt so sexually excited like this before; maybe it had been that month without sex. But being penetrated and possessed like that was such a delight! The contrast between Lancelot’s hard penis and the softness of her warm, safe womb excited her.
But what made it all so special was that Lancelot expressed his love for Guinevere through his thrusting. Yes, through the coitus they were communicating. It was in a language without words, or rather in a language where his heart and cock did the talking, and she answered back with her receiving vagina. As he thrust romantically into her, he was transmitting so much affection to her! It was mainly a series of rhythmic, wholesome penetrations that were alternated every once in a while by a deep, hard one. In these intense ones, he stopped when he was fully deep inside her, and he held still, pushing in as if he were trying to reach his cock-head almost to her uterus. And then, after those blissful seconds, he returned to the initial rhythmic lighter penetrations. Guinevere was thus brought to the Seventh Heaven. Her vagina was so completely lubricated and excited that its fluids covered our hero’s cock in a luscious, lovely white cream. Her nipples were hard as corals.
Guinevere was pinned down. With tears in her eyes and overcome with emotions, she told her knight in shining armor, her lovely hero, her beautiful father, that she loved him with all her heart. It might not mean much to the reader, but to Lancelot it made all the difference in the world. To know that she loved him back made everything feel so wet, so sensitive and delicate, so lovingly lustful. Lancelot’s cock grew as never before inside Guinevere’s vaginal sheath. It was so protective, so accommodating in her receiving, that all he wanted was to release his semen and wet his fair damsel, his beloved queen, with a loving ejaculation of sperm.
After some fifteen minutes of intense pleasure, Guinevere expressed her desire to suck on Lancelot’s cock. They both got into position, and she began to suck and lick him. It was all so beautiful! The queen was particularly good at giving fellatio. It was curious that such an elegant, regal, and refined monarch should be so deft at sucking cock, and that was because she enjoyed it so much. She caressed the gland with her soft lips, taking the penis all in into her wet, warm mouth. She then twirled her tongue, sometimes around it, other times flicking the underside of the inflamed, mushroom-shaped cock-head. At one point, she stopped, and making a circle with her thumb and index finger, she began to masturbate Lancelot’s cock-head with the quick, light movements of her beautiful and elegant aristocratic hand. Sensing that he was about to cum, she called her servant to come to the bed quickly.
Little Elowyn, who had been standing by the door touching herself as she watched, came and gently lay on the bed, with her head close to her mistress’ head, as Guinevere suddenly pointed the head of the penis towards her, right at the very moment when Lancelot began to ejaculate. His loving sperm mostly erupted and trickled down beautifully by the side of his hard shaft, as Elowyn dutifully kissed and licked the swollen phallus, drinking his cum whilst cleaning it with her lapping tongue. She liked the taste of this mighty warrior’s cum, which was sweetish and not so salty. She later learned that it was because Lancelot ate so much Celery.
As Elowyn intimately cleaned Lancelot’s penis, she then also proceeded to lick clean Guinevere’s bushy woman flower, to the point of making her orgasm. After that, she helped them both get dressed, and then left to continue with her orderly duties, not before masturbating herself to the point of orgasm in her private room, to relieve herself of all that beautiful sexual tension. Elowyn was happy because she was secretly in love with the queen. She was happy to attend and serve her in every way. This sometimes entailed lending her body to be fucked by Lancelot, when Guinevere felt tired. And this happened quite a few times, even though she was still so young, delicate and sweet (or maybe, precisely because of it...).
As the night passed, Lancelot and Guinevere spoke to each other with tender love. They mostly talked about the upcoming war. It was a custom before a great battle for the two best knights of each army to face each other in a duel. Lancelot knew that it would be him against his erstwhile friend, Sir Gawain. He had known Sir Gawain since he was a young boy, and had taught him everything there was to know about sword fighting. Now Gawain had grown up and become one of the most formidable knights ever, even far surpassing Lancelot in technique and skill. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Sir Lancelot was worried and concerned.
Before leaving her chambers, Lancelot gave Guinevere the handkerchief that she had given him the first time they met at the Pentecost joust. It had been love at first sight. Now he begged her to wear it over her pussy for one whole week, without taking it off for a single moment, so that it would become impregnated with her intimate perfume. Lancelot loved the pungent musky smell of his monarch’s sex. The queen blushed at this request, but magnanimously complied. The air of royal elegance never left her demeanor…
……..
Weeks later, the day of the battle and the final duel had arrived. It took place outside the gates of the castle of Joyous Gard. The wind was blowing through the vast open battlefield, making the banners flutter lively. Lancelot held Guinevere’s handkerchief close to his nose, covering his nostrils with it. Breathing in the most intimate musky scent of his beloved woman-queen. It reminded him what he was fighting for. At that moment, he wished so much to be able to survive the upcoming battle, so as to return to Guinevere and be intimately close with her again. He tucked the handkerchief inside his breastplate, put on his helmet and readied for combat.
As is usually the case, the tragedy of any civil war is that it’s always a battle between family and friends, between the same kindred folk who know each other, and where bonds of affection exist. And this was no different in the duel. His once best friend, Gawain, was now his deadly opponent; and what made it worse was that he was wielding the sword Excalibur. For the first time in his life, Lancelot felt that he might not actually survive. The feeling of death clung so very close to him, that it made his heart ache. And that made his wanting to be with Guinevere all the more compelling.
The horn was fatally blown… the battle had begun... Lancelot walked forward and immediately felt the extreme savage blows with which Gawain had aggressively opened the duel... blood started to trickle down his body… He saw his friends all around watching aghast in horror as he was smitten with blow after blow… At one moment, another mighty blow threw him painfully to the ground… dazed and confused, all Lancelot could see were the peaceful clouds hovering above in the sky… it was then that it all came to him… why was there so much violence and war on this earth, why was there so much hate and suffering, while above us there were only peaceful skies?… It was then that he longingly thought of his beloved queen, and of her lovely, richly perfumed, auburn pubic haired pussy...
