Carcassonne, Chapter Five – A Warm, Wet, Welcome
© Bad Hobbit
We reached Carcassonne around two weeks after we had left. We had disguised ourselves as simple travellers and had attached ourselves to a small group of pilgrims moving towards Santiago de Compostella.
Returning to the inn, sporting luxuriant beards and still in disguise as pilgrims, we surprised Marie at work, sweeping out the tap-room and scrubbing the tables from the previous night. Little had changed since our earlier visit; everything still had the air of wholesome and clean shabbiness about it.
At first the ladies did not recognise us, and I was well pleased with our disguises. When Marie brought the two newly-arrived pilgrims a flagon of ale each, I made her shriek by slapping my hand on her skinny rump. “Monsieur! Do you mind? You make too free!”
“Ma’m'selle, I’m only reacquainting myself with a place I have already visited. Indeed, my companion here has ventured much deeper, as I trust you recall?”
She looked at us again with renewed scrutiny. “Don Carlos? Rodrigo? Mon Dieu! Maman! They have returned!”
She threw her arms around me and kissed me joyfully, then repeated the embrace with Rodrigo. Eleanor appeared, wiping her hands, and rushed over to us. I held her in my arms for some time, kissing her with renewed passion. When I drew back there were tears running down her face.
“Madame, it seems whenever I embrace you I bring tears to your eyes!”
“Don Carlos,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “Marie and I have prayed daily for your safe return. I am happy beyond words that you are indeed here.”
We kissed again, then she brought wine for herself and Marie, and we drank each other’s health as she told her tale. “We saw the men you spoke of, though they did not trouble us unduly. They were uncouth and dangerous-looking creatures, their leader particularly ill-starred. We followed your instructions and told them what you asked us to say, and they left in a hurry by the North Gate after words with the gatekeeper. Marie saw them again two days later.”
“They returned to the city, took fresh horses and rode East. The leader’s face was like thunder,” the girl said, gravely.
I smiled. “I gave two messengers, disguised to look like Rodrigo and myself, identical packages to take to Toulouse. Each package contained a number of letters, the main one addressed to the man you saw, Don Felipe, head of the guard for the Duke of Bilbao, who I expected to overtake our heralds before they reached their destination. He has been pursuing us for some time, for reasons I will not go into. The letters told him we had sent him on a wild-goose chase to Toulouse while we made for Marseilles, with a view to travelling to the Orient. I wanted to ensure we arrived at the port well ahead of him, but that we should have a chance to deal with him there. Suffice it to say that the man and his lieutenant are now both dead, apparently killed by ruffians, and his comrades are returning to the Duke to tell him we have gone to the Orient – or at least the Levant – never to return. He will never have any cause to return to Carcassonne to seek us out, which is as well, as Rodrigo and I have had enough danger and excitement to last a lifetime. Ladies, we are travel sore and would appreciate the opportunity to bathe, if you please.”
And after we’d bathed, we fucked. Rodrigo and I were still in our respective tubs, pouring steaming water from the jugs provided over our weary bodies, when the ladies entered, closed the door, and proceeded first to wash us and then to masturbate our members. They helped us from the tubs, and both began to pleasure us with their mouths. This was a delight I’d not anticipated, at least so soon. Eleanor seemed eager to show me how much of my member she could accommodate, to remind me of her clever mouth, and Marie’s shyness was now a thing of the past as she eagerly sucked on Rodrigo’s rigid staff.
But this was just the first course, for the ladies, pleased with their mouth work, took little time in removing their dresses and embracing us warmly. The feel of Eleanor’s breasts on my chest was delightful, and her kisses were honey to my parched lips. Then I was led without preamble to the bed, with a naked Eleanor preceding me onto the mattress, opening, spreading and welcoming me home. I saw that she had maintained the smooth, shaven nature of her quim, which to my delight was wet, hot, silken and so, so welcoming. She enveloped me in her body, untroubled by my girth, relishing the stretch I forced upon her and indeed into her. Her arms and legs surrounded me, her mouth was hungry on mine, and she bucked her hips like a young filly with a new rider in the saddle.
I was only dimly aware of the fate of Rodrigo. I saw that Marie had unrolled a palliasse from under the bed, pressed him back upon it and mounted him. It was the first time that he had explored that particular orifice, the first time they had coupled as God intended, and from what I could see of their faces between Eleanor’s voracious kisses, both were enraptured by the experience.
And Eleanor clung to me as if her life depended on it. Her heels rode high up my back, pressing my buttocks as if she spurred a stallion. She arched herself off the bed, driving her quim upwards to meet my increasingly-urgent thrusts. Her long nipples were hard against my chest, and her arms held me so tight that her full breasts were flattened against me.
And between kisses – luscious, languid kisses that seemed liquid and luxurious as her tight cunt – she spurred me on with the most divine poetry I’ve ever heard. “Fuck me, my dear Don Carlos. Fill me with your delightful cock. Push your mighty shaft so far into me that it pounds my aching heart. Take my body, my dear lord, take it and use it how you will, for it is yours and yours alone. No man can ever fill me or fulfil me like you. Whatever you desire of me, I also desire it. Take me! Fill me! Fuck me!”
No man, had he a heart of stone and a cock of putty, could fail to be moved by Eleanor’s words. Indeed, I believe they also worked their magic on her, as she reached her climax shortly after. As I tried to withdraw, so that I could spend my seed over her delightful skin, she refused to release me. “Eleanor!” I gasped, “I must withdraw. My climax is so near!”
“Spend inside me, my love. I want to feel your delightful cock giving me its divine juices.” I had no chance to argue, for at that moment a spasm of almost celestial pleasure jolted through me. Eleanor’s tight silken cunt was still rippling with her own aftershocks as I unloaded spurt after spurt of my semen within her. The sensations were heavenly, but almost immediately I was concerned for what I have done.
“My dear Eleanor, it was not my intent to impregnate you. Why would you not release me?”
“My dear Don Carlos, neither have you done so. It is not my time of the month to conceive, and indeed perhaps I may never do so, since my husband failed to give me a child for over six years. But if I were to bear child for you, I would consider it an honour and privilege. I love you, Don Carlos.”
I looked into her beautiful dark eyes and felt deeply moved. In our times of deepest danger I had thought often of Eleanor and Marie and the delightful night we had spent together. It was an unspoken agreement between Rodrigo and myself that we would return to Carcassonne once our dealings with the Duke’s men were over, and perhaps settle here. I pressed forward and kissed Eleanor again, softly, tenderly.
Our reverie was broken by wild cries from our bedroom companions. We looked to see Rodrigo standing behind Marie, sodomising her enthusiastically while the pair of them whooped and cried their mutual climax to the town.
“You depraved boy, Rodrigo! Can’t you keep that skinny cock of yours out of the poor girl’s arse? God gave you another tight hole to slip it in – is that not enough for you?”
“But monsieur,” protested Marie, “I adore it! It feels so good when he slips it into my little hole. Honestly, monsieur, it was my suggestion!” The look on her face was a picture, as she seemed so serious about protecting her lover from my criticisms, even though they were only of a humorous intent.
“Marie, you are a hot little vixen. I’ve a good mind to plunder that little hole of yours myself, as you seem to like it so much.”
“Oh monsieur! Please no! With Rodrigo it feels so nice, but I fear monsieur that – you are so big – and it might …”
I laughed out loud, and Marie saw that my threat was in jest. “My sweet, your lovely little cunt was tight enough for me.” I saw her catch her breath at the obscenity. ‘Amusing,’ I thought, ‘that she is offended by the use of an old word for her vagina just after she has actively encouraged a man to fuck her arse! I’ll never understand women.’ “Besides, if you and Rodrigo carry on with the obvious enthusiasm you’ve shown so far, within a month both of your holes should be slack enough for me to slide in without touching the sides.”
Rodrigo guffawed and even Eleanor chuckled at my ribaldry, while Marie looked a little shocked. Perhaps she thought that I was seriously suggesting this would happen. I looked down at Eleanor and felt renewed stirrings of emotion.
“Rodrigo. Take Marie into the other room and fuck her little body in every hole you can find as often as you can both stand short of actually catching fire. Eleanor and I have some business to attend to. We will see you at supper time.”
For perhaps half an hour, Eleanor and I lay in each other’s arms, kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes. My cock remained inside her, swelling again in the soft, warm wetness, as her legs continued to embrace me.
“You came back,” she said after the others had gone. “We have saved your belongings. Will you take them away with you, or do you intend to stay longer?”
“I had to return, not just for my belongings, but for you. Our night together was not enough. Not enough by a very long way. You touched my heart, Eleanor.”
“And you touched mine, Don Carlos – and not just with that enormous cock of yours!” We both smiled. “I’d never met a man who cared so much about what a woman should feel. Your tenderness with me and with Marie set you apart. I now feel ashamed of my earlier behaviour, selling my step-daughter to men unworthy of her. None of them showed the compassion and gentleness that you displayed to us both. And since my husband died, no man has ever called me beautiful, or made me feel as cherished as you did that night. I thought about you constantly while you were away, and feared so much for your safety. Will you really stay here?”
“Here? Inside your sweet cunt? Absolutely, my beautiful Eleanor.” I gave a little thrust that made her gasp.
“No, please stop teasing me – but no, please do that again. Oh yes! Oh yes!”
“Eleanor, I’ll stay right here, at your inn, for as long as you’ll have me. I love Carcassonne, I love the inn – Eleanor, I think I love you. As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve fucked many women. I’ve given and received a lot of pleasure, but found little love. With you, your tearful eyes and your lovely accommodating body, your shyness and your boldness, and your desire to give more than you take, and your joy at receiving more than you expect. Yes, Eleanor, I really want to stay here – with you.”
We kissed, softly, tenderly, and again the tears flowed. Again, I kissed them away and began licking her neck. Then I arched my back and licked her nipples.
“But now, Eleanor, I have an urgent need to make love to you, passionately and fully to completion. Will you have me?”
In reply, Eleanor unhooked her heels from my back and placed her feet on the mattress, pushed my hips back so that I slid almost out of her, then pushed up with her hips to swallow me to the hilt in her luscious and very wet cunt.
“Let this be your answer, Don Carlos. My cunt is the instrument of my love for you. I want to absorb you into my whole being. Let my cunt swallow you, devour you. Let us take this day to be our blessing, when all other cares fall away, and let me worship you with my body.”
And she did. She slowly rolled us over until I was on my back, still embedded to the hilt in her. Then she sat up and slowly began to ride me, up and down, up and down. “Oh Don Carlos,” she said. “Such a long journey, all the way from the top to the bottom and back again. My legs will tire of going so far up and down!”
The sight of her breasts jiggling and her loose hair flying as she bounced on my cock; the sound of her breathing and her little cries becoming more shrill as she approached her orgasm; the sight of her sweet, wet pink quim, which she had kept still fully shaven for me, devouring my cock at each down thrust; her face, flushed and increasingly passionate as she relished her self-imposed task; these memories I will treasure to the grave. As she neared her climax, I reached out to touch her clitoris, but instead she put her own hand there, as I had shown Marie, and once again I was treated to the sensations of her climax and the sight of her fingers, worn from too much hard work, turning into instruments of her own pleasure. Only then did I let go, and succumb to the sweet ministrations of her luscious hole, firing a second blast of my seed into her womb.
Throughout the afternoon, we made love. She sucked me to hardness and beyond. I licked and teased at her quim, still tasting my earlier deposits there mingled with her own sweet juices as her firm and ripe body writhed and she moaned and cried out my name. And finally, when we were almost spent, she offered me that tightest of treasures, her pink rosebud again, this time admitting me after I had tested her with just two fingers. I believe that as a result my entry was more of a trial for her, but she insisted I enter from in front, looking into her eyes as I probed and stretched her oh-so-tight entrance. She bore it with love and I again eventually brought her to climax – different from before, but a new experience for both of us. My climax was almost dry, as she had drained every drop of seed from me.