The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

The Tale of Queen Arta Ch. 02

... he'd wasted none, pounding into her hard and fast. His bulk stretched her and filled her, his probing tip striking the folds of her passage, glancing as it did that spongy indentation at the fore of her sex even as his hand coerced and caressed her delicate clit. She'd cum, swiftly, rapidly, staying silent only by biting her lip just shy of bleeding. And yet he hadn't stopped, railing in and in and in and in. One orgasm had multiplied into two, three, four... wash and wave and pulse and surge, one after the other in a way she'd never before experienced. Sometime between three and four and four's aftershocks, he'd tried to warn her he was about to cum himself. And she hadn't listened. Or, at least, the conscious part of her mind hadn't. The primal, bestial part had, forcing her hands backwards around him, dragging his hips and cock forward, deeper, further until she had felt him spill inside her for the first, and only, time.

Sometime during this remembered moment, the hands adoring her shifted once more. The callouses began to fade, the fingers' tapers no longer so coarse, an impossible softness setting in. These were no man's hands but also they were not Arta's. If these hands worked by day, they worked not by sword or wooden shaft. Yet they bore with them a sensation that neither Arta's nor Lancelot's had. It was hard to describe, especially not when as muddled and addled as Arta's mind was, dashing haphazardly through its erotic haze. These hands had an impossible ...

... heat, an unearthly slickness, and an impossible... awareness of Arta's body and her current needs. They were even more plentiful in number, even more aggressive, even more pleasing, and even more determined to build that wave of pleasure to unimaginable heights.

Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, her own hands were no longer restrained. Arta's limbs moved on their own, one flying to her clit and the other into her snatch, three dainty fingers slipping in as deep as they could while the other hand rubbed as quickly and roughly as possible. The ethereal fingers thus displaced but continuing their assault on the other erogenous zones of her body, the dam could no longer keep up. Her fingers danced, they wove, they moved in ways that Arta had never moved them before, the symphony of release she was conducting of a depth and complexity she'd never before experienced. And it came crashing down so hard and so unexpectedly that she could not help but wail out in absolute ecstasy. Her hands froze, the ethereal fingers stopped. Hell. Time itself could not tick forward as the surge burst through her. Every nerve cried out in pleasure. Every muscle twitched and released. The stars shown in her eyes as every sensation other than sheer orgasmic rage in her body failed her. The aftershocks were minimally less powerful, each wave cresting and battering the already-slipping walls of consciousness... The last sensations she could process before the waves washed her into the unwitting realm ...