A flash of lightning tore the sky apart, momentarily lighting up the castle’s ramparts. The storm was still far away over the sea, but the approaching clouds would release showers of fine spray, wetting the stones. The young king continued his walk around the ramparts, checking that all guards were in place. He cursed the blast of wet wind that hit his face. Why had his father’s grandfather built his castle in this godawful place. He knew the answer.

Situated on this promontory with sheer cliffs on three sides plunging into the breaking waves, no ship could draw near without being dashed onto the large boulders jutting up from the roiling ocean. Only a third of the castle could be approached by land, and was therefore easily defensible.

Another lightning flash caused the king to flinch. He cursed again. His thoughts returned to the problem he faced. Custom dictated he choose a wife from the pool of approved candidates, none of whom appealed to him. The time he could wait had passed and a decision must be made.

He decided to give up his tour and return to his bedchamber. As he reached the next portal he noticed the guard standing duty. He was only a couple years younger than the king. He was dressed in a glistening metal breastplate and a short leather skirt, leaving much of his young hard body exposed to the cold wind and rain. He wasn’t wearing the required helmet, and the king wondered why. He could see his handsome face in the light of the flickering torch mounted on the wall to his right. Cold he must be, but he stood stoically and smartly saluted the king as he drew near.

The king paused and said, “Ease soldier. A brutal night, no?”

The soldier remained looking straight ahead. “Yes, Sire. Brutal.”

“Aye, and it will get worse before the morn,” the king said, looking out through the blackness toward the invisible horizon.

The king pushed past the young soldier and went down the dark damp passageway, down the curved stairs and along another corridor to his chamber. There was another soldier standing guard outside the door. This one was a brute of a mature man with a nasty scar running down one cheek.

The king stopped with his hand on the door handle and turned back, saying, “Soldier, follow me.”

He retraced his steps down the corridor, up the stairs and the other corridor to the entrance.

He said to the elder soldier, “I’m changing your position. Stand guard here.” To the young soldier he said, “Follow me.”

The young soldier replied, “Yes, Sire, at your service.”

The older guard frowned and grumbled under his breath, but no one heard him over the howling wind. The king led the way back to his bedchamber.

Upon arriving he told the young soldier, “You’re to stand guard here tonight, to protect your king.”

The soldier stood at attention, saluted and said, “Yes, my Liege, at your service.” He revered his king. It never occurred to him that his king was only a couple years older than he was. He was like one of the gods.

The king went into his chamber, closing the heavy wooden door. Even here in the deep interior of the castle it was cold and damp, but there was no wind. There was a fire burning on the grate of the grand fireplace, and the walls were hung with heavy drapes and tapestries depicting victorious battles fought by his ancestors, so some of the chill was abated, but the damp smell persisted.

The king unhooked his cape and threw it onto the chair. The old man that had served the previous king and now was the young king’s personal servant had long ago retired to his cubicle behind one of the heavy drapes and was fast asleep. The king struggled to undo the metal breastplate that covered his firm muscled chest, but the clasps were awkward to reach. He cursed quietly, and then gave up. He went to the door and pulled it open. The guard was standing erect, holding his spear in his left hand.

“Guard,” the king commanded, “come in here. I need your assistance.”

The guard turned and followed the king into the room. The king said, “Shut the door behind you. And bolt it.”

The guard did as told. The king wondered again why he wasn’t wearing a helmet, but his immediate concern was getting out of his restrictive clothing and into his bed.

“Undo these accursed buckles so I can get out of this gear,” he said.

“Yes, Sire,” the soldier answered. He leaned his spear against the long oaken table with its one chair where the king breakfasted. The spear slid to one side and clattered to the stone floor. He quickly bent and retrieved it, too flustered to know what to say.

“Lay it on the table and leave it,” the king sighed.

The young guard undid the buckles and watched as the king disrobed. He stood naked before the fire, and the soldier didn’t know where to look, but he noticed the fine physique of the king, with the golden hair covering his chest and stomach glittering in the firelight.

“Hand me my nightgown,” the king requested.

The soldier picked it up from the bed and helped the king drop it over his head, covering his nakedness. The soldier waited to be dismissed so he could return to his post outside the door.

The king walked over to the bed, as though he had forgotten the soldier was there, but then turned and said, “You can guard me from here in the room. I feel alone and vulnerable tonight. You do not have to stand. You can sit in that chair, but remain alert.”

The king climbed up onto his large bed with the heavy brocaded curtains hanging at each corner post. The guard turned, picked up the discarded cloak and folded it and placed it on the table. He took his spear and sat down in the chair with his back to the fire, his spear across his lap.

The king did not extinguish the candles burning by his bed. He lay there for a few minutes, not closing his eyes. He alternated between looking up at the canopy over his bed, watching the flickering shadows cast by the candles, and looking at the young buck sitting in his royal chair. He looked at the strong legs extending from under the short leather skirt, and the muscular arms that the silver colored breastplate exposed. He wondered about the hidden chest.

Out of the dim silence the king spoke. “I am tired and achy tonight. I do not think I am able to sleep in this condition. I need my back and neck massaged. Come here and tend to it.”

The surprised guard stood, laid his spear carefully on the table and went to the bed. The king sat up in the middle of the bed and pulled his nightgown off over his head. The guard stood immobilized at the side of the bed. There was no way he could reach the king from there.

The king looked at him. “Soldier, you’ll have to get on the bed to get behind me. The bed isn’t sacred. Get on it!”

The soldier bowed his head and said, “Yes Sire, at your service.”

He started to climb onto the bed, but remembered his sandals that were laced up his legs. He sat on the bed and undid them, kicking them free from his feet. He got behind the king and began to massage his back, not sure he knew what he was doing.

The king sighed and said, “That feels good. Do my neck.”

The solder moved his strong hands up to the king’s neck and the king leaned back into him, but then jumped forward.

“Your armor is cold and scratches. Take it off.”

“Sir?” asked the soldier.

“Take it off,” repeated the king.

“But Sir,” protested the soldier.

“Divest yourself of it, soldier!” demanded the king.

The soldier got off the bed and slowly removed his covering, revealing his naked body. The young king looked at him. He was thinner than the king, but with hard muscles. His body was smooth and hairless except for a dark patch that surrounded his manhood, which hung down thick and limp.

“That’s better,” said the king. “Now continue.”

The soldier climbed back onto the center of the large bed and resumed his ministrations to his king. After several minutes of massaging his neck and back the king grasped the young man’s hands and pulled them around so they were on his square chest.

“Massage my chest muscles. Let me feel your strong hands there.”

The soldier did as commanded, occasionally letting his hands slide down, caressing the king’s stomach, and back up to his chest, feeling the soft ringlets of hair and noting how the king’s nipples had grown hard under his fingers.

He leaned forward against the king’s back to reach further down his stomach muscles and saw the king was sporting an erection. The royal cock was sticking up against his lower stomach. Without warning the soldier’s manhood grew both in length and thickness to become fully hard, pressing against the king’s back.

He scrambled off the bed, stammering, “Oh my Liege, I am truly sorry. I did not mean to offend you, Sire. I do not know what has happened. Forgive me, Sire.”

The king turned and looked at him, focusing on the hard shaft that stuck out from his firm body. It was a good two inches longer than the king’s, though not quite as big around. The skin that normally covered the head had pulled partially back revealing a rosy head with a pronounced piss slit. The king moved onto his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bed and took the soldier’s shaft in his hand, pulling the beautiful young man up to the bed. He leaned forward and placed the smooth head in his mouth, savoring the faint taste of dried sweat and piss.

The soldier gasped. “Oh, my Liege,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.

His knees felt weak, as though he had run miles. He placed one hand on the bed to steady himself, and laid the other lightly on his king’s head, immediately withdrawing it. The king hadn’t noticed the breach and put his hands on the soldier’s hips pulling his pelvis forward so more of his long member went into his mouth and stopped only when touching the back of his throat.

Without thinking, the soldier pulled back slightly and then pushed forward again so his hard tube went even farther down the king’s throat, which miraculously opened to accept it. After half a dozen entrances and exits the king pulled his head back and let the long, slick piece of delicious meat fall free from his lips and slid his tongue down the underside until he arrived at the soldier’s low-hanging sack that contained his large precious ballocks. The king sucked one and then the other into his mouth, switching back and forth.

When he let the spit covered sack go he grabbed the soldier’s strong right arm and scooted back on the bed, pulling the soldier with him. The young man put up no resistance and followed the king. The king lay back, continuing to pull the soldier so he was over the king, his slippery manhood pressing on his king’s face. The king opened his mouth wide and the soldier took hold of his piece and pushed it into the king’s open mouth again.

He slowly and easily fucked the king’s mouth. The only other sexual experience he had had was when he had fucked one of the kitchen wenches that all of the soldiers fucked. He had done it because it had been expected of him. But it hadn’t felt at all the way the king’s mouth felt on his tube. This was what he had thought sex would be like. This is what he had craved.

The king loved the feel of the soldier’s shaft in his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get enough of this body. Never had he had an experience with another warm body, but everything he was doing was what he had dreamed of for years. As prince he had wanted to touch the young knights whom he was surrounded by. After practicing sword fighting and jousting with them they had often bathed together and he had had trouble keeping his erections hidden. Sometimes he had failed, but there had been only ribald kidding, with some of the randy ones getting hard and making comparisons. Now he had what he had always wanted, and he intended to take full advantage of it.

He pushed the soldier up so his member left his mouth and moved him up slightly so he could once again suck on his ballocks. The rain had washed the young man’s body, but there was a subtle musty smell in his crotch and armpits. After sucking and licking his ballocks the king urged him to move up again so he could taste the mustiness under his ballocks-sack. He then moved him another inch in order that his tongue could find the young man’s bunghole.

He licked it and flicked his tongue over it, making the soldier’s head swoon. To steady himself he moved so he was squatting over the king’s face. The king pushed his tongue into the puckered opening as far as it would go. The able young man swiveled around so he was facing the king’s feet and leaned forward and down until his mouth enveloped his majesty’s fat scepter. He bobbed his head up and down a dozen times and then pulled off and pulled up the king’s butt, so that he too could eat the king’s bunghole.

The king pulled his tongue out of the soldier’s ass and pleaded, “Fuck me, shove your spear up my ass.”

He could have commanded, but he didn’t seem able to do so. He was at the soldier’s mercy – but neither commanding nor pleading was necessary. The soldier was more than happy to serve his king.

With the king still lying on his back the soldier moved so he was between his legs and lifted his butt again. He once again licked and spit on the king’s tight pink hole until it was dripping with his saliva. He came up for air and placed the tip of the rosy head of his shaft, or spear as the king had called it, up to the hole and pushed.

“Harder,” the king commanded. “Shove it in me, all the way. Give me all you possess.”

The young man pushed, and he entered. The slick warmth of the king’s anus enwrapped his hard muscle and sent shivers through his body. He continued sliding in until he could go no further. He looked down, but could only see his patch of dark hair pressing against the king’s round buttocks. He pulled back and marveled at the sight of his dagger sliding out of the king’s sheath, and then disappearing back into it. The feeling he was experiencing was beyond anything he had ever felt in his short life. If he died now he’d die fulfilled, but he had no intention of dying. He was going to deposit his seed deep in his beloved king’s ass.

As his young soldier thrust back and forth, then grinding his pole in the king’s ass, the king could only grunt with each attack. He had known he wanted to be fucked, but he had had no idea how good it would feel. No, not good, but great – fantastic. He wanted this to go on forever, but his sperm were frantic to spew out of his pintle. He grasped it and jerked it wildly, reaching a climax like nothing he had ever had before, sending white ropes of man-cream cascading onto his stomach.

The soldier loved watching his king’s stomach being coated with his semen. He plunged deep into the king’s gut and shot off time after time, each spurt sending shocks of satisfied lust through his body. Completely spent, he collapsed on top of his king, squishing the king’s juices between their stomachs. Recovering and fearful of what he had done he rose up, but the king grasped him and held him fast. He raised his head and their lips met. The king opened his mouth and forced his tongue between the soldier’s lips. He opened his mouth and welcomed the king’s tongue in. The ground their mouths together, bruising their lips with their teeth, then pulling back and sucking each other’s bruised lips, running their tongues over them to sooth them.

The king said, “I have to piss.”

The soldier rolled off him and sat up. The king crawled across to the other side of the bed, pulled a chamber pot from under the bed, and directed a steady stream of hot piss into the pot.

He looked up at the soldier watching him and said, “This is difficult. I am pissing, but I don’t want your deposit to escape my ass. I’m having to clinch my ass muscles to keep it in there.”

He smiled, and the soldier did too. The king finished and put the pot back under the bed. He picked up his night gown from the bed and wiped his juice from his stomach, then tossed it to the soldier to clean his stomach also. The soldier bent and picked up his leather skirt.

The king shook his head. “No, tonight you’re going to guard your king’s body. You are to sleep with me.”

He began to feel the cold for the first time in an hour. He climbed back on the bed, crawled under the bed covers and looked back up at the soldier.

He threw back the covers and said, “Get in. You are to sleep here, holding me to keep me safe from any enemies who might breach the ramparts.”

The young soldier climbed into the bed and lay behind the king, putting one arm over the king. The king lifted his arm and laid it over the soldier’s. The soldier put his hand on one of the king’s breasts, nestling his fingers in those golden curls. The king placed his hand over the soldier’s, holding him there.

“And in the morning you are going to fuck me again,” the king whispered.

The soldier pressed his lips against the back of the king’s neck and said, “Yes, Sire – at your service.”