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This story contains explicit descriptions of male/female sexual situations and violence.
Lapse of Devotion
It was late when I arrived at the village tavern. Only a few of the locals remained in quiet conversation. Although it had been a long day of travel, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep, I settled down at a table in the corner to sip some ale, and work on my scroll.
Perhaps an hour passed in the dimly lit common room. I sat there in a daze, without distraction, writing little but deep in thought, until my attention was drawn by the arrival of a cloaked figure. She entered from the rain and threw back her hood to reveal a beautiful face, and blond hair cropped short. At first glance I would have said that she seemed innocent, before I saw the way her green eyes flashed with a dull anger. Without looking around she walked wearily to the bar, and ordered a stiff drink. She sat in her cloak and stared into space, taking an occasional sip, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.
For maybe half an hour I sat and watched her from my corner. Any intention I'd had of concentrating on my work was a hopelessly lost. Her body was obscured by the cloak she wore, but her face was angelic. She was the most beautiful thing I had seen in days, and the ale had started a spinning in my head that, although I should have known better, made me wonder if this wasn't love. Briefly I considered heading to my room, and calling it a night. The woman didn't exactly seem in the mood: for talking, much less for what I had in mind. Thoughts of lying awake in bed, wondering about the chance that I had passed up, however, convinced me to at least attempt a conversation. Perhaps her strange mood would be an advantage.
So I gathered up my scroll and wandered over to the bar, addressing her with some lame excuse for an opening. "Are you upset? You seem lonely, want some company?": a pathetic attempt to get her attention, which she took an unusually long time in responding to. Finally she looked up, breaking her blank stare and noticing me for the first time. Her eyes fell on my half written scroll.
"I used to be a bard," she said, subtle resentment in her voice, and asked with indifference "What is it about? Your story."
I tried to explain about it, an epic poem, strong love interest, but she didn't seem to care. My talk of love elicited an eyebrow raised in criticism. "Love," she spat. "Don't ever love. Be shallow, and don't expect more of anyone else… you'll only be disappointed."
Attempting in vain to make conversation I told her of how I was traveling to Athens from my small hometown, in hopes of finding an audience for my poetry. But even with this she took issue, telling me that adventure is fleeting, and that ultimately I'd regret leaving my home.
Ready to give up I smiled at her sadly, telling her how I should retire, having a long days journey ahead of me. At this, beyond my wildest hopes given our depressing exchange, she asked whether it would be ok if she joined me. I slowly flashed her a smile in earnest, which she returned, not quite making eye contact, but staring a little to the side, in the same detached manner that she had maintained since entering the tavern. "I don't even know your name," I commented as we made our way to my room.
The room was clean and simple, typical of a small village tavern, furnished with only a bed and table. I went to the table and lit the candle resting there. Turning around I found that Gabrielle had dropped her cloak and slipped off her boots revealing her strong athletic body, covered only by a reddish brown halter and skirt. The candlelight flickered over her impressive abs. Her body wasn't as soft and curvy as I had imagined, but more intriguing for its strength. Its appearance was enough to convince me that her earlier advise on adventure had been from experience.
I went to her and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She paused absently for a few seconds, not hesitating, but not responding, until, shaking free of her preoccupation, she kissed me back, forcefully, shoving her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her to me and we continued to kiss as I ran my hands over her bare back, and grabbed her tits through the fabric, rubbing my painfully erect cock against her belly through the my pants.
I began to turn her so that her back was to the bed, fumbling with the strings that held her halter on. She drew away to let the covering fall to the ground, and took advantage of our separation to pull my tunic over my head and push her skirt down. My eyes were glued to her legs as the skirt slid down and was nudged lightly away leaving her body completely bare. I glanced up to her cunt, obscured in the dark by a thick but trimmed strawberry blond muff. She frustrated my immediate intentions, pushing against my thrust, guiding me back around so that my back faced the bed.
"She never let me be on top," Gabrielle mumbled absently, as she forced me down onto the bed. She straddled me before realizing that the barrier of my pants remained, and we kissed savagely for a few seconds before she drew back to urgently rip and tug at my pants, freeing one leg before mounting me again. My hips bucked instinctively toward her as she bent down to lick my chest. I wanted to fuck her badly; I wanted to dominate her, but she was so powerful. I was almost afraid to try. With one hand she held me down, pushing my shoulder hard into the rough blanket. The other slid up my leg grazing my balls. Her fingers coiled around my dick, and slowly stroked it and guided it into her tight moist recess. Her firm healthy breasts were amazing, glistening in the candlelight, nipples erect, and I strained my head upward to suck them each in turn as she fondled my cock.
She moaned softly as she eased down on me, placing her second hand against my other shoulder, firmly grinding me into the bed. "Maybe I'll get pregnant, see how the fuck she likes that," she said. Not as romantic an exclamation as I might have hoped, but the incredible and continuous sensations she delivered distracted me almost immediately. I felt her muscles tighten around my cock as she surrounded me fully, griping me. She pumped up and down, a few tentative strokes. I raised my hips to meet her. Soon she was riding me at a good pace. The sight of her tits oscillating above me as she bounced up and down was intoxicating, far more so than the ale whose effect was still washing over me. Again I felt overwhelmingly attracted to this woman, and pled with the Gods that our relationship would last beyond the night. But I knew that her heart wasn't in our act of love, that if I was lucky she'd be gone by morning, and I'd never see her again.
She rode me roughly. Something in her intensity suggested that she was fighting for emotional release in addition to the physical. Perhaps a release of the dull anger I'd seen in my first glimpse of her green eyes. I struggled to keep up with her rhythm as she bucked down on my erection, her pace becoming frenzied. Just as I was about to climax she paused for an instant. She arched her back, her muscles contracting even more tightly around my cock, and I exploded into her womb as her pussy began convulsing around me. Her spasms continued for at least a minute, punctuated by sharp gasps and an occasional shuddering bodily thrust. She was milking my cock dry. Breathing hard I lay back and closed my eyes, soaking in the afterglow of my amazing orgasm.
Straightening up, she sat still on top of me while I recovered, and when I finally looked up I saw tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked, afraid that she already regretted our experience. She wouldn't answer, but lay down over me, crushing her breasts against me, and resting her head on my shoulder. I put my arms around her and did what I could to comfort her, gently stroking her back. In truth, though, it was difficult to keep my mind on her emotional state with her limp naked body draped over mine.
Presently she seemed to calm down, and we just held each other for maybe ten minutes before I let my hands wander down to her ass. I rubbed and squeezed her cheeks, then felt further around for her pussy. It was still wet, and I wondered whether, now that she was less emotionally resolved, I could take her, the way I had wanted to, the way she had taken me.
Despite my wandering hands, she remained passive, arms around my neck. Since she didn't seem to be resisting I gently rolled her over, and kissed her lips. I looked into her eyes, and saw that she had stopped crying. Her beautiful body lay beneath me, much of her original detachment returned. She kissed me back lightly. I mouthed her, working my way down from her face to her breasts. I kissed them, then took one in each hand and lifted my upper body off of her. Kneading her tits roughly, I positioned my renewed erection at her opening. Seeing my intention she spread her legs for me, and lifted her tight ass off the bed a little, allowing me better access. I shoved it in hard, and swiftly worked up a quick rhythm of long deeply penetrating strokes, all the while continuing to lean on her tits. She lay there, taking me as if she knew she deserved it.
Wanting to take full advantage of this beautiful willing body at my disposal, and maybe even slightly disappointed at her total willing submission, I decided to try out something a little different. I pulled out of her and gently rolled her over again, folding her knees to her stomach under her. Her gorgeous ass pointing into the air, I gave her left cheek a quick kiss, and positioned my cock, slick with her juices, at the entrance to her tight rectum. As I began to push it in, she moaned, "uhnngng", and turned her head back, but the expression of shock and protest faded into resignation the moment it appeared. She turned back and laid her head sideways on the pillow. I slowly pushed the head of my cock into her, and continued deeper. She clenched and unclenched spasmodically, practically gobbling my hard shaft into her tight ass hole; I could see her powerful muscles flexing. The sensation was unbelievable. Slowly I began to pump back and forth, keeping deep inside of her, to the accompaniment of her surprised moans of pleasure. My release was quickly approaching.
Then something happened.
It didn't really hurt, not like you'd think it would. What I noticed first was the wetness, as if something had been spilled all over my shoulder, and was dripping down my torso. Wetness everywhere. It stopped me from fucking, that's for sure. I recall all to vividly the swift softening of my member. Although to be honest my conception of time must have been somewhat obscured, because it seemed forever that I knelt there over Gabrielle, the head of my flaccid manhood still clenched in her puckered hole. She turned her head to see what was going on. The wetness was covering her too, as it poured out of me, painting her back red and trickling down to her shoulders, accumulating in the indentation where her buttocks met. I managed to turn my head at some point to see the bladed metal disc lodged six inches deep in my shoulder, a more ornate weapon than I would ever have imagined as my end. The last thing I remember was the look in Gabrielle's eyes as my murderer approached. I want to say it was fear I saw in her eyes. Not only was that my first impression, but it only seems appropriate given the circumstances. In truth, though, I could tell that the fear was a superficial mask over her deeper emotion. Maybe she wanted it to be fear, or anger, in her eyes. I know it was love.