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Complementarity
Always on the lookout for masculine characters!
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2016
- Location
- Italy (I'm fluent in English, tho)
All of the unmarried warriors of the city attended to the annual tournament, jousting, fighting in their heavy armor and ultimately, showing off.
Among the spectators, a dozen maidens sitting on wooden bleachers set apart from the others. Young, naïve, easily impressed, and most importantly: fertile, ovulating. They were but prize. It was not them that the knights had to impress, but their families, their noble fathers.
An imposing figure removed his helmet, revealing a bearded, flushed face traversed by a scowl. The stranger bowed, grabbing Helen’s gentle, pale hand in his calloused paw, kissing it unceremoniously.
The brute bent on her hand was definitely not the gentleman she was hoping for. How could her father let this happen?
Helen, distressed, suppressed a whimper.
Helen’s whimpering turned into ecstatic screams as soon as the thrusts between her thighs became more pronounced, sharper. The warrior was desperately seeking to reach the deepest recesses of her passage, knocking at the gates to her fertile womb, spankings her buttocks with his big scrotum, swollen with seed. Remembering that she was at the peak of her fertile period, Helen let the brute squeeze her round curves, she let him grab her childbearing hips, arching her firm breasts against his hairy chest. She convulsed in hopelessness while being choked by a merciless orgasm, as the man on top of her was rushing toward his only goal: inseminating his filly by flooding her sex with his virile essence. Her smooth limbs ended up wrapped around his body, while her sheath milked his shaft to extract as much semen it could.
The lion roared, giving one last, powerful thrust, and delivered the final spurt.
The heaving man tried to catch his breath, his heartbeat quickly slowing down to a relaxed rhythm. In the dim light that filtered inside of the tent, his arrogant grin was barely noticeable as he starred in the eyes of the flustered girl. The knight closed his eyes in contemplation of the holiness of the deed he had just performed. They both could almost feel the potent semen aggressively racing for the egg, ready to assault it, fertilize it. A sperm could seize her womb, make her swell with his child, his heir.
With a wet suction noise, the warrior pulled out from the intoxicatingly soft, warm, welcoming flesh of his female, standing up with a strained grunt and clumsily putting on a pair of slacks. He walked outside of the tent without turning back, so Helen immediately grabbed the pelt she was laying on top of, shielding her naked, sensual frame, blinded by a flash of sunset light while the crowd outside cheered, finally able to celebrate. The maid barely caught a glimpse of her knight triumphantly walking outside with his arm in the air, welcoming the jubilation, then turning to shake hands, accepting blessings and congratulations from a group of peers.
Now everyone knew she was claimed, Helen thought, sinking her face in the fur, mortified, as she feelt a small stream of thick seed trickle out of her sex, dripping from her moist lips.
Among the spectators, a dozen maidens sitting on wooden bleachers set apart from the others. Young, naïve, easily impressed, and most importantly: fertile, ovulating. They were but prize. It was not them that the knights had to impress, but their families, their noble fathers.
The brute bent on her hand was definitely not the gentleman she was hoping for. How could her father let this happen?
Helen, distressed, suppressed a whimper.
Helen’s whimpering turned into ecstatic screams as soon as the thrusts between her thighs became more pronounced, sharper. The warrior was desperately seeking to reach the deepest recesses of her passage, knocking at the gates to her fertile womb, spankings her buttocks with his big scrotum, swollen with seed. Remembering that she was at the peak of her fertile period, Helen let the brute squeeze her round curves, she let him grab her childbearing hips, arching her firm breasts against his hairy chest. She convulsed in hopelessness while being choked by a merciless orgasm, as the man on top of her was rushing toward his only goal: inseminating his filly by flooding her sex with his virile essence. Her smooth limbs ended up wrapped around his body, while her sheath milked his shaft to extract as much semen it could.
The lion roared, giving one last, powerful thrust, and delivered the final spurt.
The heaving man tried to catch his breath, his heartbeat quickly slowing down to a relaxed rhythm. In the dim light that filtered inside of the tent, his arrogant grin was barely noticeable as he starred in the eyes of the flustered girl. The knight closed his eyes in contemplation of the holiness of the deed he had just performed. They both could almost feel the potent semen aggressively racing for the egg, ready to assault it, fertilize it. A sperm could seize her womb, make her swell with his child, his heir.
With a wet suction noise, the warrior pulled out from the intoxicatingly soft, warm, welcoming flesh of his female, standing up with a strained grunt and clumsily putting on a pair of slacks. He walked outside of the tent without turning back, so Helen immediately grabbed the pelt she was laying on top of, shielding her naked, sensual frame, blinded by a flash of sunset light while the crowd outside cheered, finally able to celebrate. The maid barely caught a glimpse of her knight triumphantly walking outside with his arm in the air, welcoming the jubilation, then turning to shake hands, accepting blessings and congratulations from a group of peers.
Now everyone knew she was claimed, Helen thought, sinking her face in the fur, mortified, as she feelt a small stream of thick seed trickle out of her sex, dripping from her moist lips.