Orin The Great Ch. 03

He worked it out. Sundri's legs were scooped up onto his elbows, leaving them widespread, and while he kept her aloft with one arm, he used his free hand to encircle his stiff member. Orin was not gentle, as he prodded at her middle, or as he sunk his length into the old woman's heat. He heard her expel a long, delicious moan. This provoked him into losing what little calm he had left. His strokes were short and frantic, his own breathing accelerating and his mouth releasing quick grunts of pleasure. He pressed hard against Sundri, her legs shifting about until her calves were up against the side of his head, and still he churned into her, nearly violently, causing their flesh to smack together and creating small eruptions from the water still coursing between them.

Gritting his teeth, Orin felt his climax work its way through his cock and through his body, even as Sundri's moans lifted his mind into a higher state of ecstasy. Of a sudden, his cock went rigid, as if attempting to deny him his final delight, before it gave up its secrets and broke into a wave of pleasure that seemed to consume both the young man and the old woman alike.

Sundri was nearly screaming then, after having been kept from a man's passion for so long. Orin found his own lips releasing manly moans that were nearly as loud as hers. The young man's body continued to thrust until he was fully spent and left void. Even then, he kept his cock in that hot, wonderful place until it had shrunken to an empty mockery of what it had just been, and slipped out of that glorious crevice of flesh on its own.

Orin's hold on the witch loosened enough that her legs slid past his arms. Once she found her footing on the pond floor, she drew herself away from Bartram's grip and went to him. Sundri's arms went around Orin's middle. She grasped him tight, even as her head dug into his shoulder.

"Oh, Orin," She said. "Were I a young woman, I would follow you wherever you might go. You have blessed me, for I have not felt such ardor from a man in too many years. Everything I have to give is yours, young Orin, if you would but have me once again!"

Behind them, the all but forgotten Bartram laughed. "Are you so quick to fall in love, Sundri? I'll admit, youth does bring a certain fervor and immediacy into lovemaking, but I dare say I've learned a few tricks throughout all of my years. Unless, of course, you are too old to handle more than one man at a time."

The witch spun back toward the archer, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Oh, I can handle more than one, you handsome bastard!" She cried out in unconcealed joy, before she turned worriedly back to Orin. "Be not angry with me, Orin. You have cockled me well and good, but I have been deprived of a man's company for so long that I cannot so easily ignore Bartram's teasing. Will you come to me again, dear Orin, even if I bed with your partner?"

Orin was overcome with an intensity of emotions, nearly as much as when he'd slept with Rohanna. Unaccustomed as he was to the amorous ways of men, he did not at first comprehend the matter. He looked to Bartram. "I do not understand."

"Ah, another lesson presents itself, and it is an important one." The archer explained. "I hold that a woman should be free to express her love to any man she wishes. However, too many men will become jealous and will seek to keep a woman all to themselves, even if the woman is against being kept by them. Let this sink into your head, Orin. When you decide to bed down with a woman, be sure there is no jealous man in her shadow, for many men have killed and died due to their jealousy of a woman. If you are not careful, this could be your downfall as well."

"Do you even know what jealousy is?" Sundri wondered.

"Of course." Orin replied. "I've seen men arguing over who has the best sword or who is the best fighter, and come to blows because of that. But no women were allowed in my father's..." He almost said school, as in school of fighting, but he caught himself. "What I mean is, there were very few women in my village. The camaraderie among the men was such that no women were allowed to be present."

"Women can be troublesome as well." Bartram went on. "If they see a man's jealousy for them, they can stir up a hornet's nest of trouble, and even pit one man against his best friend. This is why you should be aware that a woman's want for you is genuine, and why Sundri asks that you not be angry with her, for some men would be violently angry if they saw their woman with another man."

Orin looked to her. "I suppose that when it comes to women, I really do not know what jealousy is. I would not keep you from Bartram, if you would want to bed with him. In fact, Bartram is turning out to be a very good friend to me, for he has taught me so many things that my father did not."

"Oh, this Orin is a prize, isn't he?" Sundri said. "Well-versed in manners, and capable of a man's reasoning even though he is still so young. Know this, young Orin. Were I possessing a spell that would turn back time, I would make myself young for you again, and even to the ends of the Earth I would follow you. In the entirety of my days, I have said this to a very scant few men. You, Orin, are one that is destined for greatness."

Bartram waded toward the edge of the pond. "Enough of that, Sundri. You'll only give him a fat head, and then we'll never hear the end of it."

The old woman kissed Orin full on the lips, before she went after Bartram.

Once they stood on dry ground, the archer pulled his coarse blanket from its place on his pack and spread it out. He directed Sundri to sit on its center. After Bartram had gotten his dagger, which was well-sharpened thanks to the man's diligence with it, and a crude wooden comb, he sat down behind her and began combing through her hair and cutting the longest and the worst of it.

"I am not the most skilled of cutters, but I will do my best for you." Bartram told the woman.

Orin removed himself from the pond as well. He spread his own blanket out and took a seat on it, as the rays of the sun grew in strength and helped to dry him. With fascination, he watched the transformation the old witch was going through, from when they'd first seen her until now.

"You're doing a grand job with her, Bartram." He commented. "Sundri has the look of an entirely different woman now."

"She does, doesn't she? And especially without her clothes on! A pity she has no woman's make-up, or else we might see her in a truly different light."

"I have make-up." Sundri admitted.

"Oh?" Bartram asked. "I didn't see any in your lean-to."

"I've kept it hidden." She sighed. "I no longer wanted to paint myself, for so bitter was I after I came here. I felt so ugly, and I wanted everything around me to be ugly as well. Thanks to both you and Orin, for you've made me feel as if I have some worth again."

"One day you must tell us your story." Bartram suggested. "It seems as if we all have something we are hiding, eh? Well, if you have make-up, then the only other thing we'll need is a nice gown to dress you up with, for when we take you to the wedding at Sleepy Glen."

"I have a few gowns as well, for I took them as payment from a man who wanted to know how his future would fare." Sundri said absently. This was when the fullness of Bartram's words reached her. The witch nearly poked herself with the archer's dagger as she swiveled around to face him. "Truly, you would take me to this wedding? You would be seen with me in public?"

"Well, of course." Bartram answered. "Why do you think I'm giving you so much of my time and attention? Just so you can go back to wallowing in your filth the moment Orin and I leave? No, you're coming with us, and if the residents of Sleepy Glen find you agreeable, then perhaps we'll find a place for you there. If not, we'll keep walking until we do find a place for you. You've been here long enough, woman. The Devil's Crag will just have to go on without you!"

"Oh, Bartram!" Sundri cried out excitedly, as she turned her body around. "You're doing all this for me?"

A moment later, she had pushed Bartram onto his back and was showering his face and neck with kisses. As they were both still nude, it was easy enough for Sundri to work herself into frenzy, and she caressed and groped all that was Bartram until the man's cock was fully rigid.

Orin reached over to snatch the soon forgotten dagger, which had fallen from the archer's grip, as he feared one of them might accidentally become impaled on it. After that, he watched with a rapt attention as the witch mounted his companion, in the same way that Rohanna had mounted him only the night before.

Sundri's movements were so different than Rohanna's, Orin compared. The old woman was feverish with action, as she pummeled her slender hips onto Bartram's waist. Her smaller breasts swung about as loose, bobbing apples. Her face was a tight mask of barely contained pleasure, as if she was defying what her body was feeling. So different was Sundri from Rohanna, who had been sweet and gentle in her movements, and in her expression. He wondered if all women loved differently, as his own cock began to rouse from the amorous noise being issued from his neighbors.

There were Sundri's mewls, as sugary and intoxicating as when Orin had made love to her in the pond. He found that he could hardly wait for Bartram to be finished, so that he could have the old witch to himself once again.

Bartram did not seem to mind that he was bedding a woman, instead of a man, Orin noticed. For a moment he wondered if the archer was as comfortable with the one as he was with the other. It was such a strange thing to contemplate, but he did not have long to think upon it. He saw the moment that Bartram clutched at Sundri's arms, even as the woman moaned above him. He heard the archer's voice strain, then break into a loud gasp, and watched as the man's body shuddered and spilt its seed into her.

They kissed, there on the blanket, with Bartram's hands and arms caressing Sundri much as the old woman had been caressing the straw doll the previous night. And Sundri's body lay sprawled over the archer, her back lean, her buttocks rounded and exposed, her legs spread wide.

Orin raised himself to his knees, his cock hard and venting, his desire wanting to push Bartram aside so that he could take the man's place. And Bartram saw him, saw the hardness of him, and whispered to his recent lover.

Sundri stayed, while the archer slipped away. When Bartram was gone, she came down on her hands and knees. Orin made his way to her, intending to shove the witch on her back.

"No, take her this way." Bartram told him. "From behind. Run your hands along the length of her body first."

Like a dog, Orin considered. He moved behind her, taking in and nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sight of her curved rump, and her sex open and exposed to him. He saw Bartram's expulsion seeping from her, but this did not dissuade him. He would still have her.

He tried, oh how he tried, to follow the archer's counsel. His hands slid across Sundri's raised buttocks and the old woman gasped. His palms crossed the expanse of her lower back to her upper back, and she gasped even more. When his fingers curled around the suppleness of Sundri's hanging breasts and she cried out, Orin could take no more.

He grasped the old woman by the waist, and pushed into her, feeling the slickness of both her wetness and Bartram's seed, and he wanted more than anything else to add his own into her sweet folds.

As before, his desire took over him, and he shoved into her, pummeled into her, incited even more desire from her as he heard his flesh loudly slapping against hers. Sundri's screams drove him as well, his cock plunging deep into her steamy depths as it sought to bring out even more love from her. They climaxed together, basking their surroundings with gasps of pleasure, bathing the landscape with warmth until even the sun's envious ire was drawn.

Orin kept his cock within her, until the last possible moment when it finally shrank away from her insides. He tumbled to one side and seemingly collapsed onto the blanket.

"What a pair of bastards you are!" Sundri cried out, her voice still a screech, but her tone one of playfulness and teasing. "You've cockled me silly!"

Bartram settled on the side of Sundri away from Orin. "You have a potion, have you not, that will keep us as virile as a bull?"

"I do, but I fancy I won't be needing it!" Sundri laughed out loud, her laughter further brightening the morning.

She was close enough to reach down to the waists of both men, and to grasp each of their withered, slimy cocks. "Which of these beauties will I be keeping? I had them both already, and I can't make up my mind between them!"

Even though he was spent, Orin's cock still relished in the tugs the old woman was giving it. Judging from the dreamy look on Bartram's face, he was enjoying it as well.

Impulsively, the archer slid his thigh over Sundri's leg, and leaned toward her to bathe her in the same hot kisses she'd been giving him earlier.

Orin hovered toward her as well, taking in one of Sundri's old breasts with his mouth and suckling at it as he'd done to his ghost lover Rohanna. The nipple was still firm, as was the areola around it. Not only did he suckle, but he licked at it and kissed it as well.

"Kiss me, Orin." Sundri insisted, once she released her hold on his cock and had taken a pause from kissing Bartram. She pushed his head up to gaze into his eyes. "You've yet to kiss me."

"I don't rightly know how." Orin admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "I've only had but one lover before you. I have no idea if I'd done a good enough job at that or not."

"Then I will teach you, but it will cost you a cockle!" Sundri burst out into laughter again. "And another from Bartram for watching!"

Her mirth was infectious, so that even Orin's reservations were quickly forgotten. They kissed, Sundri gave him her critique, and they kissed again. Once Orin had reached an acceptable level, Sundri ordered him to get as much practice at it as possible, for only then could he truly call himself proficient at the art.

And so they kissed, with frequent interruptions from Bartram.

And they frolicked, not one time, or two, but numerous times.

And the day grew long around them.

"Are you planning on setting down roots in Sleepy Glen?" Bartram asked.

"Of course not!" Orin beamed. "I am on the road to adventure!"

Trailing close behind them, Sundri snickered.

It was the morning of the day of the feast, and in a short duration they would reach town. All three were now presentably clean and washed, although the picture displayed by two of them was a grand contrast to how they'd looked the day before.

Bartram wore his usual duds, as this is what he was most comfortable with. They had been washed, however, and even their patches and mends had been tended to.

Orin had packed up his everyday hunting outfit, for he was no longer keeping himself hidden in the woods. Instead, he wore his secondary change of clothes. Unlike his other, looser garments, this attire had been tailored to suit him. His fancy clothes consisted of an off-white tunic, embroidered in silver accents at the hem, collar and sleeve ends. Over this went a velvety vest of a royal blue, and with the same style of silvery trim. His felt hat was also of a royal blue, as velvety and expensive as his vest, but alas, he had no grand feather to complement it. His leggings were of a soft gray, and finally, his boots were of supple black leather, and lined on their tops by a stretch of fine bear fur.

In this attire, Orin could pass for the messenger of a wealthy baron or lord, but not of a duke, certainly, or he could even pretend to be the son of a merchant from a modest town or village, but of nothing more populous than that. There was a certain pride or dignity, Orin thought, in wearing such fancy trappings. He would be seen as a man of means or a man of success, and people would perceive him as such and accord him the same respect they had once given his father. He turned to observe Sundri, who had made the greatest transformation of them all.

Sundri had not disclosed much about her past, only that she had been a conjurer of no small reputation in some faraway land. When she had become a recluse at the Devil's Crag, she was still sought out for her potions and spells, and she was paid handsomely for her knowledge and skills, and even gifted generously afterwards, once her magic had proven potent. Sundri had coin, jewelry and gold, expensive garments and other finery delivered to her in sturdy wooden trunks, but having had no immediate use for any of these things, she simply buried it all into the hill behind her lean-to. With the help of the two men, she unearthed her treasure, and before their stunned eyes she had sent most of it into some hidden dimension that she claimed would travel wherever she did.

Here is what she kept out, and was now wearing: A gown that stretched down to her ankles, made of a very fine silk that she claimed came from provinces of the Far East that most men had never heard of. It was white, but with a remarkable, soft green tinge to it that could only be seen at certain angles and in the sunlight. Sundri also wore a padded head-roll, with a thin, matching veil on it that covered most of her head, but not her face. On her feet were white sandals with gold stitching and tiny jewels set into them, of a design neither of the men had ever seen before.

What really set the woman apart, however, was her make-up and jewelry. She'd applied a powder of soft red ocher to her cheeks, and another of greenish malachite to her upper eyelids. The witch looked so sensuous and inviting that Orin could not help but stare at her. Besides this, Sundri wore golden bracelets, anklets, rings and earrings, and a golden necklace with a large stone set into its pendant that the woman claimed had fallen from the stars.

"She is a tempting sight, isn't she?" Bartram also looked to her with lust greedy in his eyes.

"Yes, she looks every bit the noblewoman." Orin agreed.

"I've corrupted you both." Sundri said, before she gave them both a very provocative stare.

Both Orin and Bartram halted, erotic thoughts filling their heads.

"You'll miss your feast." Sundri reminded them.

"There is that." Orin frowned, before he vowed, "You will have your come-uppance after the feast, you bedeviling enchantress."

Sundri laughed. "Two come-uppances, even!"

Bartram shook his head. "I've nearly forgotten what I wanted to tell you, Orin. Simply, it is this; since we will only be in Sleepy Glen for a short duration, you might use this time to study the people there, and particularly the women."

"Why?"

Bartram explained, "Because at your tender age, you seem to me much too susceptible to women, as if you might fall in love with them too quickly."

"I am in accord here." Sundri nodded. "It's best that you are aware of this now, otherwise the next woman you come to may very well bring about your downfall."

The words stung Orin more than he cared to admit. "Well, what am I to do about it?"

"Don't fall in love!" Sundri laughed. "As you did with Rohanna, and as you are doing with me. The signs are clearly written all over your face."

Orin lowered his head and frowned.

"Keep your wits about you, man." Bartram said. "Stand back and observe. See which women flaunt themselves before the men, and how they set snares for them, and how the men blindly step into them. Also, see the other women, who do not make spectacles of themselves, but who move about with tact and finesse..."

"And who set those very same snares." Sundri finished for him. "In a more discreet way."

"There is much to be learned about women." Bartram continued. "But much of it you will have to learn on your own. On top of this, you can sulk and become angry or depressed before us, Orin, for we have become your confidants, but you should not do these things in front of strangers."