Fierce Enchantments Page 24

  Her home was clean and tidy—not large, but well stocked with food and surprisingly well-furnished, with many comforts. When the work was done she sat them down upon cushioned benches and laid before them a hearty supper—cheese and new-baked bread with churned butter, cold mutton and a loaf with dates and nuts therein. While the four of them ate, not one of the brothers could look away from her, for her brown eyes were as playful as the teasing bull-calf’s, and her breasts were ample and smooth, pillowing up from behind her low-cut bodice.

  “Is your husband home tonight?” asked the Eldest Brother, as they finished.

  “Nay,” she laughed. “I am not married.”

  “But you are too young to be widowed, surely?” said the Middle Brother gallantly.

  “I am not married yet,” she corrected herself. “The women of this realm do very well for themselves, with or without husbands, according to their abilities.” Seeing their mild frowns of confusion, she added, “Do you not know the custom in this land?”

  “No. We do not.”

  “Ah.” She laughed, and stretched like a cat, and they all found their eyes drawn as if under compulsion to the ripe quiver of her bosom. “This is the land of the merry maids. Here a woman’s most secret place is accounted a prize to be held safe for her husband and no other man.”

  “As it is everywhere,” said the Eldest Brother, while the Middle Brother frowned and the Youngest Brother blushed.

  “But here a woman, maiden or married, may give her mouth to pleasure any man and all men, and it is not counted a shame to her. The custom is only that the man must offer her a gift of some kind that she finds acceptable.”

  Suddenly each of the brothers felt as if there were wood between his thighs, not flesh. Where they came from, the maidens lived in terror of giving up pleasure to those who wanted it, and any such quest required wooing and persistent cajoling—and more often than not, with nothing to show for it at the end of all efforts.

  She ran her tongue across her plump upper lip, enjoying the expression upon their faces. “So: you are three fine young men, and I would be hard-put to say which of you is the most handsome. Which, if any, of you wishes to make me a gift and enjoy my mouth?”

  There was a moment’s silence. Then, “There are three of us …” the Eldest Brother said cautiously.

  Her teeth flashed white in merriment. “Three is nothing, my sweet! Why, the Prince himself rode past here last year with a whole company of hussars, and I serviced each man there. They paid a silver coin apiece, dropping it into the cleft of my bosom, and by the time I was done my bodice was so full the laces were straining.”

  “Oh,” said the Eldest Brother.

  “That’s … most impressive,” said the Middle Brother.

  “I wish I could have seen that,” said the Youngest Brother wistfully.

  She dimpled prettily at the compliment. “Well then?”

  “If you accept silver …” The eldest brother fished out the magical purse. His face fell a little. “I have only one coin, I fear.”

  “And you?” she asked the Middle Brother.

  Abruptly it seemed to him that possession of a magical spoon was a very small thing in comparison to the delights promised by those full carmine lips. “I have a spoon,” he said, drawing it from his belt. “Do not laugh—it is magical. Without any effort on your part, it can stir your pot all day so that nothing sticks or spoils.”

  “If only I could find a man so useful,” she said, with a wicked twinkle in her eyes that made the blood surge to his loins. “Very well then—a magical spoon. What about you, my sweet?”

  The Youngest Brother looked downcast. “I have nothing,” he admitted.

  “Nothing? I cannot give it away for naught. That is not our way.”

  “That was all our father gave us when we left—a purse of coin, a porridge spoon. That was it.”

  “Oh—you are brothers, then?”

  “We are brothers,” said the Eldest heavily. “And if one of us must go without, then I will refrain too.”

  She pursed her lips, then looked back at the Youngest with something like concern. “Had he nothing to spare for his third son? That seems cruel.”

  “There was nothing left! Nothing, except his blessing and a kiss.” Tentative hope flared in his blue eyes. “I could give you a kiss, Merry Maid.”

  For a long moment she looked at him, a half-smile on her lips, speculation in her eyes. “Show me your limb,” she said softly, “and I will consider.”

  With clumsy, eager hands, he unlaced his hose and let his cock bounce free. She leaned over the side of the table to watch. Though he was a slim youth, and the curls of his first blond beard were still soft and sparse on his jaw-line, the growth of other parts seemed to have been out of proportion. His ruddy length waved like a drunkard at her. His hands were shyer, nervous as they stroked his shaft and cupped his hairless balls for her to peruse.

  “My, yes,” she said in a gentle voice. “That is a fine young bough, full of sap. I will accept a kiss, for that.”

  His grin was like the sun coming out.

  “Shall we move the table back?” she asked them all. “I’m not crawling under there.”

  “What—we are not …? I mean—your room …?” The Eldest asked.

  “Are you shy? You are lusty young men—you must have seen each other’s limbs many a time.”

  He grimaced.

  “We are not ashamed, here.”

  “We see that,” said the Middle Brother, scrambling to his feet. The two older men took the oaken trestle board and stacked it against the wall, while the Youngest Brother stayed on his bench, nursing his hard-on as if it were an animal that might leap across the room and bite someone if he were to let it go. The maiden waited, a soft smile playing on her face, until all was cleared away. Then she approached the Eldest Brother.

  “Ah,” said he, as she put her hand upon his crotch. It was months since they’d left home, and in all that time they’d hardly had a woman glance at them.

  “I think they will enjoy watching,” she whispered. Then she slid gracefully to her knees, her face to his groin as she tugged at the lacing of his hose. He was a man full-grown, the Eldest Brother, with a blond beard—and a blond bush of hair, no less vigorous, at his crotch. His cock stood out from that like a roof-beam hewn of oak. The maid looked it in the eye and blinked, almost cross-eyed herself at that proximity. And then she opened her mouth and sucked that thick knot of a cock-head right in, swallowing it.

  “Uh!” grunted the Eldest, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  The Middle Brother, staring, realized that he must be patient, and backed off to a bench to sit down hard, rubbing his own strop through his clothes and tugging at the toggles. Age brought precedence. He and his brother could only watch, hardly remembering to breathe, as the Merry Maid worked their brother’s cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, making little “Um um” noises of appreciation, until she had it all, to the root. Then she pulled out, in a long slurp, and they simply could not understand where she had put that whole glistening length. There wasn’t room in her mouth for such a thing. She must be taking it right the way down her throat—without protest or gagging. In fact she seemed to be enjoying it, judging from the way her hips worked and her eyelids fluttered. Her barely-constrained breasts threatened to tumble from her blouse and bodice.

  She licked and she kissed and she sucked—and then she did it all over again, and this time they saw the stretch of her throat as it opened up around that solid girth.

  Setting his feet apart, the Eldest Brother put both hands on her head, in the manner of a priest giving a blessing, and began to stroke in and out. The rhythm was mesmeric. His breathing became harsher. She urged him on with muffled moans and quick sudden gasps as she rose for air. His thighs braced, straightened, braced again—and then suddenly he was thrusting, every
muscle in his body in motion, every part of him pushing toward his goal. Crossing that line, he roared as he emptied his balls down her throat.

  She sat back slowly, wiping her mouth, looking every bit as a satisfied as a cat who’d just stolen the cream from the dairy. Then she hitched up her skirts and turned to the Middle Brother, who sat waiting with his eyes wide and his legs spread. Kneeling before his open thighs, she looked down at the erect cock in his fist with clear appreciation.

  “I can tell you are brothers,” she said, smirking. “That’s one gift you all share.”

  “I … Will you … Would you take off your blouse for me?”

  That amused her. “Do you like to see my breasts?”

  He nodded vigorously, words eluding him for once.

  “Fine.” She took her time, tugging loose the lacing of her bodice, while the Eldest Brother collapsed on to a bench to watch, and the two younger ones polished their staves in anticipation. Pulling bodice and blouse straight off over her head, she shook her breasts, reveling in their freedom. She had big firm orbs, each bouncing proudly as she arched her back to display them for approval. The line of sun-darkened skin ran just above her nipples, which hardened to points even as the men watched. “Like that, my sweet?”

  “Oh yes!”

  “Now let me see to that big hard limb of yours.”

  “Please—!” He stopped her with a gesture. “Please just … lick it. I want to see.”

  “Heh. If that’s what you want.”

  This time was completely different. There was no urgency, just the opposite in fact. The Middle Brother was trying to draw his time out as long as possible, and she was in no hurry. Instead of swallowing his shaft and urging him to plunder her throat, she kissed and licked his private parts instead, stones and shaft and head, nibbling and sucking and playing with him as if it were all a game. Perhaps it was, of a sort: a contest in which he had to try to resist, and she teased and provoked him to the edge of endurance. Gradually she reduced him to heaving, sweating, trembling helplessness, and when finally his balls tightened and the surge came, she angled herself and his cock so that they could all see him spurting onto her tongue. There was more to his gush than she’d anticipated though, because he flooded her mouth and she tried in vain to stop it escaping, spasming as she choked and swallowed and licked at her second load of cream that night.

  “Do we taste the same?” the Eldest Brother asked, as she wiped at her chin. The Middle Brother was in no state to ask anything: he was still gasping and groaning.

  “No,” she giggled. Then she turned to the Youngest Brother.

  He handed her his cup of ale that had languished, forgotten, during the performance, and she drank from it gratefully. “Before we begin,” he said, “I would like to give you the kiss I promised.”

  “Very well.”

  “Sit you upon the end of this bench, Merry Maid.”

  But when she did so, looking at him a little askance, he went down on his own knees before her and threw up her skirts over her thighs.

  “Oh! I see!” said she, as he parted her legs. Then “Oh!” again as he pushed her back upon the cushion and went nuzzling up under her skirt, pressing his lips to her virgin puss. And “Oh!”—far longer and more drawn out—as his kiss struck home. To the bemusement of his brothers, their youngest sibling did not cease in his kissing, and the Merry Maid did not resist his blandishments. Her bare breasts heaving, she lay back upon the bench’s length, wriggling her hips with joy. Slowly it dawned upon them that her secret treasure, that thing that must remain inviolate until her wedding day, was more than capable of being pleasured without being entered by any cock. This sight was no hardship for their eyes either, nor for their nether parts, which despite being so recently drained were a-twitch with interest. The two brothers watched, grinning, as their youngest sibling gamahuched away.

  At length the Merry Maid gave a great cry and arched her spine and then collapsed, babbling and giggling. The Youngest Brother looked up from under her skirts with a big grin and a slick of juice plastered across his face, appearing for all the world as if he had been eating a basket of ripe plums.

  “Oh!” she said. “Oh, you have earned your pleasure with that kiss! Come here, my sweet, that I may repay you!”

  “But—No,” he said. “Not yet. I would rather do this …” And with those words he plunged back into the fray, and set to once more upon her virgin treasure with his lips. At first the Merry Maid shrieked and made as if to wriggle from his grasp, but as he persisted she surrendered in very short order, with many sighs and yelps of pleasure. This time, too, she caught her own breasts in her hands and pinched her own nipples.

  That was too much for the Middle Brother. Rising from his seat, he found the pot of butter that had been on the dinner table, and scooped out a big blob upon his fingertips. He used this to baste the maiden’s bosom, slathering her all over until her breasts were two slippery orbs that he could mold and press and squeeze together. She seemed most grateful for this attention, willingly giving up to the task to him. In fact she smeared butter from her skin onto her hand and used it to grease up his tool, working it with a firm grip.

  That was enough to bring the Eldest Brother back into action. Coming round the other side of the bench, he took his turn tugging upon a slippery nipple. Eagerly she grabbed his cock too. They arranged themselves either side of her head, and as the Youngest Brother ate her puss, they plied their trade upon her breasts as if milking a fine cow.

  “Yes!” the maiden groaned, pulling upon their cocks—lengths that were showing surprising solidity and girth, considering what they had already been through. She rolled her face to one side, urging The Eldest Brother’s length toward her open, hungry mouth. With one knee on the bench edge, he discovered her could crouch at the right angle to feed his bell-end to her lips. Her tongue darted out, lapping him. For a moment he rediscovered paradise—and then she rolled away, to the other side, searching out the Middle Brother’s cock in turn.

  That was how they brought her off for a second time, between them—slippery tits, slippery cocks, a kiss upon a wet and slippery puss. Turn and turn about, two stiff members to suck, back and forth between them, tasting butter and sweat and salt, until she opened up once more and, with a squeal, came. By that time she had worked their limbs so hard and so surely that it was not difficult for both the elder brothers to take themselves in hand and squeeze out their seed in slopping spasms into her open mouth.

  As they staggered back, the Youngest Brother rose at last to claim his own. Coming to the maiden’s head, he straddled it and aimed his turgid length down her throat, laying himself upon her to tuck his head back down between her thighs yet one more time. The Maiden began to gobble and the lad began to thrust. The Eldest Brother laughed in disbelief. The Middle Brother laughed as a wicked thought occurred to him.

  “Take her leg,” he told his older sibling. Then he took up the magic porridge spoon and smeared it copiously with butter. Going round to the Merry Maiden’s bottom, he lifted one of her thighs as his Eldest Brother lifted the other. Right underneath the Youngest Brother’s laboring face was the maiden’s brown wink. Sliding the handle of the spoon into it took no effort at all.

  “Stir, spoon, stir,” said the Middle Brother.

  So it did.

  With the Youngest Brother spurting his hot seed deep into her throat, and his mouth upon her pip, and the magic spoon swiveling in her ass, the Maiden roared a muffled roar and came one last time.

  The next morning the three brothers sought her out in the yard where she fed the chickens.

  “Marry me,” said the Eldest Brother.

  “Marry me,” said the Middle Brother.

  “Marry me,” said the Youngest Brother.

  She laughed then, a little, but looked thoughtful. “I would marry,” she said. “And all three of you are handsome and hard-working and w
ill make fine husbands for maidens hereabouts. You,” she said to the Eldest Brother, “are strong and would care for me as you care for all your family. You,” she said to the Middle Brother, “are clever and quick-witted, and will likely go far.”

  Then she turned to the Youngest Brother. “But you,” she said, “have a merry mouth and a generous heart, my sweet, and for that I will marry you.”

  The Youngest Brother kissed her. “I hope you will always welcome my brothers, though,” he said.

  “You mean in our home?”

  He touched her lips tenderly. “I mean right here.”

  “Of course,” the Merry Maid answered with a laugh and a wink. “They are welcome and more than welcome. My mouth is a harbor wherein they may berth their vessels whenever they desire.”

  “I think we shall all live happily ever after!”

  “And,” she added with a twinkle, “I can’t wait to meet your father.”

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  Janine Ashbless

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