A Lady of Neverwinter

Aribeth cried out against Sharwyn's breasts the moment Damon kissed her there. She'd let Fenthick pleasure her with his mouth before, but against Damon her lover was positively chaste, and the soft lapping of her cunt he'd once given her, years ago, could hardly have prepared her for the way this virile young guard feasted on her. There was no tenderness to him; Damon took her with all the greed expected of a hot-blooded youth with a beautiful elven maiden in his arms.

Aribeth cried out, her well-toned hips squirming against the boy's mouth, his lips and tongue slobbering along the folds of her cunt. He suckled on her labia, one at a time, kissed her small cunt full on his mouth, the wet muscle of his tongue thrashing between her folds. Sharwyn lifted her head with her mouth wet with her own saliva, the taste of Aribeth's breasts fresh on her tongue, her eyes rolling back at the pleasure of Aribeth's reprisal. Damon ate her, his jaw working back and forth along her inner thigh, and a squealing Aribeth took it all out on Sharwyn. Her lips and tongue assaulted the bard's breasts, biting softly at her flesh and tugging on her nipple with her teeth.

"Gods, Damon!" Sharwyn shrieked. "You're driving her wild!"

Aribeth bucked her hips against his face, smearing his mouth and chin with the nectars of her velvety sex before, abruptly, he pulled free, panting for air and wiping his mouth. Sharwyn peeled away from Aribeth then, her breasts jiggling as she freed them from the paladin's lips. Aribeth sat up on her elbows. Her dark auburn hair clung in thin strands along her forehead, giving her an unkempt look that Sharwyn found charming.

"I can do more than that," Damon said, panting. He combed his hand through his hair, and Aribeth found herself appreciating his muscular physique in contrapposto, the subtle tilt of his hips that revealed the contours of a chiseled abdomen. He'd trained hard. Aribeth liked that. She wondered how much of that delicious musculature was consequent of his vigorous workouts in Sharwyn's own athletic body.

Without another word, Damon slipped his trousers off. Aribeth gasped inwardly, her teeth biting her lower lip. The human youth sported a long, thick shaft, its dark pink head smeared with a thin coat of pre-cum, quivering gently with a steady pulse. It was smooth, flawless, a vision of human virility that her lover, sweet as he was, could never hope to match. She swallowed back her lust, felt a knot in her stomach as Damon, awaiting silent permission, dragged the length of his meat down her pelvis. She could feel its single, thick vein pulse against her cool skin, its head primed against the lips of her sex.

This was it then. She could end it here, pass tonight off as a momentary lapse in her inhibitions caused by her agitated state of mind in the hours prior, as well as a couple of drinks. Damon coaxed her shamelessly, smiling as he dragged his length up and down along her mound, mimicking a tame version of the things they'd do to her body, he and Sharwyn, these two irresistible forces.

Aribeth closed her eyes and nodded, and that was when she let Damon strip her of the last, lingering vestiges of her fidelity. Sharwyn and her lover were more than happy to liberate her. The bard mounted Aribeth's face as the paladin obligingly lifted her arms to wrap around the other's slim thighs.

Damon grinned, watching his lover coo in pleasure as she rode Aribeth's mouth. For her part, Aribeth seemed delightfully enthusiastic, her jaw working against Sharwyn's soft, wet twat, drawing little giggles and shrieks from the bard, who threw her red hair back, grasped Aribeth's heavy breasts to knead in her fists and rode her face with gusto. Damon wrapped his arm around Aribeth's small waist, primed the head of his cock against her netherlips and sunk himself inside, inch after straining inch, determined to fuck the memory of Fenthick right out of her mind.

But Gods, was she ever tight. Her walls gripped him like a wet glove, the consistency of fine elven silk squeezing him in a searing hot embrace. She was tighter and hotter than he'd imagined, gripping him with her entire cunt, struggling against his forceful entry. Beneath Sharwyn, Aribeth screamed in pleasure, her nails dragged down the bard's thighs. Sharwyn answered by forcing her cunt down against the paladin's mouth, both hands latched onto Aribeth's breasts, pumping and grasping as she rode away with smooth sashays of her dancerly hips.

Damon groaned, gritting his teeth as he pushed his way inside, insistent but careful nonetheless to avoid hurting her. He released his arm from her waist and instead grasped her by the hips, right where the shape of her hipbones interrupted the feminine curve from waist to hip to long, slender thigh. Damon loved that in a woman, the articulation of their hips, the little contours he could grab and hold while pounding away.

And that was exactly what he did to her. He managed, at last, to fit his entire cock inside his captain's impossibly tight twat. Hilting himself, his head kissed against her cervix, instantly forcing Aribeth to buck her hips in shock and squirm her legs.

Sharwyn rolled her eyes back. The feeling of Aribeth's tongue inside of her was divine. The paladin was inexperienced, and yet the grace with which Aribeth carried herself shared its quality with the vigor of her sex, graceful despite inexperience, with long, smooth strokes of her tongue within Sharwyn's hot folds, pausing occasionally to--in a way Sharwyn found oddly thoughtful of her--probe the girl's clit with the tip of her tongue. These little motions sent shivers of delight up Sharwyn's body, who was already feeling the early telltale tensions of burgeoning orgasm. Aribeth was making all the right moves, giving to Sharwyn exactly what she too craved.

"She's good, Damon," Sharwyn moaned, her eyes half lidded. leaning closer to her lover as her ass bounced up and down on Aribeth's mouth. For all of Aribeth's discipline, every thrust of Damon's strong hips drew a shriek of delight, arching the small of her back and grinding against him in a desperate want. Pleasure clouded her senses, mixed with small hints of pain when the head of his shaft pressed against her cervix--and then, goaded on by the fluttering tightness of her responses, hammered and punched against the end of her cunt.

Damon leaned over her, sharing a passionate kiss with Sharwyn, tongue lapping lewdly at tongue as groans poured forth from their mouths. There was no lovemaking here, not from them: no tender embraces gazing into her lover's eyes as they shared a mutual climax. She, Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, beloved paladin of Neverwinter and shining justicar of the Maimed God, was being fucked--raw, hard, a sweat-slick writhing of flesh against flesh against tangled bedsheets, the air steaming with the fragrance and heat of their sinful rutting.

Damon fucked her against the sheets, lifting her hips to crash his hardened pelvis against her sore labia. He grabbed her by the ankles and spread her legs back, and Sharwyn kissed the elf's smooth pinkish soles until her toes curled and she giggled between her hoarse moans.

They fucked long after sweat glistened from their bodies in the dim light, Aribeth's chin and neck soaked with Sharwyn's nectars, Damon's hips soaked with her own. Damon grunted when he took her, a low throaty snarl that sounded almost bestial, as if it should have come from the maw of an animal rutting with a female in heat. Aribeth found it rather crude at first, but nonetheless exciting. Humans were so energetic, so tireless, and the way they seemed to glow with a sheen of perspiration left her heart fluttering with a shameful lust. Damon came at last, after both women had writhed in the throes of many orgasms, the nectars coating Aribeth's face, dripping down her hair and along her cheeks, the splashes of nectar coursing down Damon's thighs a testament to their mutual fun. He pulled out of her with a wet slurp, her labia closing tight as he left her searing depths, grinding against her now. Pre-cum spattered against her mound before, groaning, Damon emptied his seed on Aribeth's stomach. Long, steaming ropes of cum sprayed out and splashed in sticky pearlescent trails along her toned abdomen and the heaving, jiggling curves of her breasts.

When they peeled away from one another, a certain soreness throbbed in Aribeth's hips. She and Sharwyn quickly embraced each other, tangling on the sheets as they kissed. Damon stroked his sensitive cock as he watched the two women, glowing with sweat, the hues of their lustrous locks clinging to long, fine necks, their limbs intertwined, the shapes of their fiery cunts grinding together in a lewd kiss.

"You're gorgeous," Sharwyn murmured.

"So are you," Aribeth said.

They were intoxicated with one another, hands grasping at each other's curves. Sharwyn's painted nails swept along the small of Aribeth's back, and the paladin, not to be outdone, squeezed and kneaded the bard's pert, tight ass with her dainty fingers.

Time seemed suspended within the walls of their bedroom. They cared not at all for the noise they made, slamming a headboard against the wall, or once, with Sharwyn and Damon writhing and laughing together, crashing into a nearby table that left it on its side and splintered.

Aribeth's mind became empty of any thoughts of guilt, or worries of consequence. She had immersed herself in the heat of a moment that stretched throughout the night. If they grew weary, they drank from a pitcher of that heady, spiced wine, their vigor redoubled. Once, with a devilish smirk on her lips, Sharwyn lay on the bed with her head over the edge, her red hair draping down to the floor and her mouth open. Aribeth watched, her nude form reclining just beside her, a hand pleasuring between her thighs as she listened and savored the sloppy moans of the bard, whose throat Damon summarily pounded with long and lusty strokes that echoed with a wet gagging from the bard. His hands kneaded Sharwyn's big breasts, fingers lifting the weight of her tits, slapping at them as he pounded away. Aribeth could only blush and watch in disbelief as the boy released his third load of the night in a thick stream pumped directly down Sharwyn's throat. She swallowed it all. Aribeth could see the tension and relaxation of her throat as it drank and drank, ending with a satisfied sigh and a lick of her lips.

Despite his incredible performance, Damon was the first to exhaust himself. It was very late when they stopped, at last, laying in bed together beneath blankets stained with broad strokes of sweat and spattered here and there with seed and nectar. Damon slept to the sound of elf and bard moaning together, the saccharine gasps between a mutual suckling of their tongues. Aribeth and Sharwyn embraced in bed, kissing one another to sleep, their thighs interlocked and brushing in tender strokes against the other's sore, well-fucked sex. It was morning when they slept.

***

Sharwyn slips her fingers through Aribeth's hair, down along her neck. She smiles at her, and the paladin, slowly, returns that smile.

"I should go," Aribeth mouths, then whispers. "It's late already."

"You regret last night?" says Sharwyn, searching her eyes. Aribeth shakes her head. Her smile is counterfeit. Already that familiar knot of guilt tightens in her stomach. Her conscience is alive and well this morning.

"Duties, Sharwyn," Aribeth says, slipping out of bed slowly. She staggers, leans against a chair for support and sighs. It was as if her legs had forgotten how to walk. She imagines herself staggering along the streets toward the Neverwinter Palace not unlike the disoriented gait of some bleary-eyed drunk confronting the stupor of a hangover. It is not so far from the truth. Then she considers, briefly, returning on horseback, but any thoughts of horses transform quickly into salacious imagery of Damon, who remains sleeping on one side of the bed totally oblivious.

"My dear," says Sharwyn, swinging her long legs from the bed and gliding toward Aribeth without a hint of discomfort following a night in which she endured no less vigorous a pounding than her elven companion, "you are allowed to take one day off, are you not?"

Aribeth smiles warmly. "I don't believe I am, dear Sharwyn." Then she sighs. "Kindly help me to the bath?"

Sharwyn grins broadly. "My pleasure," she says.

***