Vixen and Queen Alice - Sex Stories

Vixen and Queen Alice

... have our roles, and my sweet Lady’s duty is to produce an heir. Her only job. Other than silencing crowds with her beauty and giving something for the knights to fight over. And the king, well he’s an old bull – bless him – more interested in fighting than fucking. Twice her age and all. More, probly. Queen Alice is his fifth wife. You can guess what happened to the others. When they turned out to be ‘barren’. So that is our pickle. We got to get the Queen up the duff, somehow, secret like, or it don’t bear thinking about. My lovely Lady cannot be seen to be involved in any plot or contrivance that pops a man between her thighs. However, way I see it: If her virtue is plundered, by some stout heart. Plucked. Well, then it’s the plucker’s risk, innit? Also, sweet Lady Alice, she’s a romantic. She dreams of being relentlessly plucked by someone who cannot stop himself, no matter what the risk. Well don’t we all. But cuckolding the king is a dangerous game and not one that many want to play. Rising to this challenge calls for balls the size of melons and the brain of a walnut. Enter the King’s noble warriors, his stable of prize stallions. His knights. And it was jousting season. I hatched a plan. Well stitched one. A plan of the castle – and a secret route through it - sewed onto the Queen’s favour, a sash of crimson silk. At the joust today, my Lady took her pick, planted the favour on this good specimen’s lance like a kiss. To my surprise, he was bright enough to understand ...

... it, and here we all are. My Lady was having the time of her life with two wriggly eels at her bits, and she soon cackled into one of her frothy little climaxes. Now she was good and buttered up, my job at the front was done. I slipped out of the bath and frantically unbuckled everything I could find on the good knight’s ceremonial armour, dripping (umm) while he continued to eat my Lady. Normally she’s not keen on too much down there after cumming but today she was bent double, and offering her split peach like a desperate harlot. Looking back on it, this did not bode well. I cursed at the blessed metal plate all over this bloke - I mean what manner of ceremony requires one’s nethers to be sheathed in steel – then; with a final clank I had him all undone, and took my leave. I didn’t stray far; my Lady likes to know I’m close. Usually with a keen blade in my knickers, should I need to neuter some brute. I ducked behind a screen, shaking myself dry (…), and kept watch. For the King too, should he surprise us. This knight was a fine looking man, handsome and none too scarred. And a giant. My Lady turned round and he stood up and she still had to lift her head to kiss him even though she was raised in the bath. He smelt good too! The pocket of gold I had given the castle whores this afternoon, to scrub him down, was money nicely spent, I’d say. I glowed in pride at my own cleverness as I watched my Lady playing with the only hard thing left on this shelled man. His great club, ...