Of mental anguish, I was amply blessed, but those who have tend to receive—a form of Karmic compound interest. I’d spent twenty years getting my head straightened out to evolve into a woman who was strong, independent, comfortable in her sexuality, and who wore the slut label with pride. It only took one man and his merry band of misfits, over a few hours, to unravel me, completely. He didn’t play fair, and it had me off-balance, teetering with glorious abandon.

It wasn’t just that he was so gorgeous, although looking at him made me need an orgasm. I had heard enough men talk about the rutting, primal urges they feel when an extremely sexy woman comes into view, and I felt exactly like that, only exponentially increased. The man somehow saw straight into my soul with those hypnotic, hazel eyes that danced with impish mischief, and he accepted and liked what he’d discovered. He was simultaneously everything, to the point of being disconcerting.

He and his friends treated me with perfect acceptance, empathy, respect, and permissiveness. My physical appearance was celebrated and adored with a respectful calmness that made me bask in the attention. Glade’s mannerisms, his perfectly poetic words, and his uncanny ability to instantly sense my desires, or the emotional undercurrents churning in my soul, had me in a state of disbelief. Despite the evidence in front of my eyes, I couldn’t comprehend that anybody, man or woman, would be that perfect and amazing.

You’ve known him for what, like eight hours? You are not in love; it’s lust. My inner voice of reason lectured me as I walked beside him, my hand still gripping his with all my strength. How many times have you done this? You meet somebody and convince yourself that you’re in love. How well is that working out for you?

“I’m not in love; I’m not in love,” I muttered to myself. The thing was, my heart didn’t believe me, my mind disagreed with my words, and even my ears detected the lack of veracity in my voice.

The night was perfect. A warming breeze meandered through the midnight air, and the stars, seeming more brilliant than I recall ever noting, twinkled to the beating of my heart. Hazarding a glance, his handsome, beautiful face was alight with laughter as he guffawed at my quips. Unlike other men, knowing that they were about to have sex, Glade didn’t charge toward his bed, pulling me along. Instead, we strolled, hand in hand, admiring the quiet calm of the night, the tranquility of nature and the stars, and the anticipation.

“I want you to see something,” he told me.

He was a natural leader, charismatic, empathetic, and kind. Unlike nearly all the men I’d encountered in my long and storied career of slutdom, Glade felt no need to prove himself or constantly pound on his chest, screaming, “I’m the Alpha Male, bow before me.” He also wasn’t the type to follow. To me, it was enigmatic. He was kind, thoughtful, and romantic. I seriously pondered if, perhaps, he was psychic and could read my thoughts. Attentiveness will get you so far, but it was like we were perfectly synchronized. He seemed to know what I wanted before the desires sprung into my mind.

We’re going to fuck, and, then, you’ll see that he’s just like everyone else. He’s not your Mr. Right, only Mr. Right Now.

“Let me guess. You’re going to show me your cock and then give me the night of my life.”

“Aren’t we the horny wench? All of that in due time; this is just too majestic to pass up.”

“Are you daft, insane, or just oblivious?” I stomped my feet, coming to a stop, and looked at him. Very slowly, I said, “I… NEED… your… cock. You medieval nerds are all about chivalry and honor, so give the lady what she wants, right fucking now.”

“When you see this, you’ll thank me. I promise. Please, accompany me.”

“No! Fuck me like the slut I am, right here, right now.” I was desperately trying not to laugh. His face was so humorous, filled with delight, and that roguish smile of his made my clit throb with more intensity than most of my vibrators. “Please, please, please, fuck me. Don’t make me beg!” 

He smirked at my sarcasm, acknowledging it, but making me simmer in my own, boiling juices. Pulling my voluptuous body against his, I could feel his steel-like body pressing against my panting one. His scent, like an enchanted forest, was even perfect.

“I think…” My voice of reason interrupted me.

Don’t you fucking say ‘Love you’ or we quit, and you’re on your fucking own, sister.

“I think I refuse,” I finished, speaking in haughty tones. "Just kidding. Fucking fuck me. I want to be fucked."

I felt his strong, firm, but gentle hands on the small of my back. Weakness permeated my knees, and my heart was thundering so loudly in my chest that it was audible. My mind switched off, only lust, passion, and something else—some feeling I’d never known—remained.

“Fuck,” he said, repeating my words with a whimsical pensiveness. “Fucked. To fuck.” 

His lips were inches from mine, and, wrapped in his strong, muscular arms, I felt calm, safe, protected, and desired. He saw me, all of me, the real me. I knew that I was spiraling out of control, but I was utterly powerless to prevent it. If I could have prevented it, I doubt I would have. I was helplessly smitten, wondering if the Glade’s Groupies Club charged a membership fee. 

I could feel it. Call it witchy powers, woman’s intuition, or the fact that I’d been fantasizing about it for hours. He was going to kiss me! His lips pouted slightly, a masculine pouting, which gave his chiseled features the perfect amount of softness. With his pronounced cheekbones, those glowing eyes, and that unruly hair that was lip-bitingly sexy, I lost my sense of time, reality, and self, just looking at him.

Fucking kiss me, already. My head’s leaning back, my lips are parting, and I know you can feel my hard nipples poking into your dreamy, fucking, muscular chest. Fucking take me! 

The fucker didn’t kiss me. There was no way he couldn’t know that I wanted it. He knew when I wanted another drink without saying or doing anything, and he could read me like I was an open book. He fucking knew but denied me, the motherfucking bastard.

Instead, his left hand left my waist and gently caressed my cheek as he penetrated me with his eyes. “We can fuck, but is that all you want?”

“Huh?” I said more out of surprise that he didn't kiss me than anything else. I shouldn’t have been surprised; it took me hours just to get him to touch me. I solved that problem by taking his hand and slamming it on my thigh. “Yes, fuck. What else is there?”

His fingertips, so light and airy in their touch that it felt like the lightest of feathers running over my face and chin, ran over my features.

“We can make love if you’d like. Slow, gentle, and sensual—the union of two souls sharing pleasure and themselves.”

Glade’s hands wrapped around my torso once more, more firm and intensely than before. He squeezed my wanton flesh against him, and I could feel his manhood pressing against my body. It felt big, which made my mouth water with desire.

“We can have sex.”

His hands grabbed my butt, making me moan. His touch was electric; lightning bolts danced over my skin. His lips grazed over my lips, eliciting an impassioned sigh.

He continued, now whispering into my ear. “Two people, expressing their desire for one another, a torrid, passionate romp of release, needs, and carnal delight, where we celebrate each other’s bodies and the solace of the great rite.”

I moaned, wrapping my arms around him. The awareness that I was humping my clit against his crotch gave me pause. I was so horny that I wasn’t even aware of my own body. His back felt like a brick wall, so hard and solid. His broad shoulders tapered down to a tiny waist, only rippling muscles between them. I ran my hands over all of it, mentally cursing the hindrance of clothing.

“Or we could, as you suggested, fuck. Nasty, dirty, no-holds-barred fucking, like two animals, solely focused on taking pleasure, but gaining pleasure from allowing the other to use them.”

I reached for his cock, a surprised exclamation shouted when I realized that he wasn’t even hard, just huge.

“All of that. I want all of that and more. I just don’t…”

To this day, I cannot recall what I was going to say. I think that I was about to finally protest the entire situation. I was in way over my head, and all I knew, from hundreds of repetitions, was that what I was feeling could not be real. However, he chose that moment to kiss me.

That first kiss splintered my heart, shattered my soul, and broke my reality. It was that good. For all of my life, I’d dreamed of such a kiss. That was the moment I understood; he made me feel. Lost within that moment that I wished had never ended, I felt. I was truly alive, truly in the moment, sharing it with somebody who saw and understood all of me. I knew that couldn’t be possible, but, yet, it was happening. 

His moist, full lips delicately covered mine. One of his hands held me, safely, protectively, in place, resting between the small of my back and the top of my ass. His hand placement was perfect. It was high enough to still be gallant and gentlemanly, but low enough for my flesh to scream for more, wishing that his hand would cup my buttocks, again. It was the perfect combination of horny desire and respect, and it made me go insane.

His other hand gently cupped the back of my neck. I could feel his strength, iron-like, but his fingers barely pressed into my flesh. My head could rest against him, my entire body weight if my quivering legs gave out, and he’d keep me in place, so I could enjoy the sensation.

An unbidden moan echoed in his mouth as mine opened, inviting his passion. I grabbed him with all the need, fury, and desire that had theretofore gone unfulfilled. A lifetime of loneliness and pain ebbed away as his lips pressed into my sighing mouth. Just that light, sensual touch of flesh on flesh was better than most of the sex I’d had, and I’d had more than most women.

Instinctively, my tongue timidly probed into his mouth, caressing his lips and tongue, and licking my passion in runic glyphs. As his tongue mirrored my probing, my entire body gave out. Refusing to see, lest they destroy the tactile, erotic feelings, my eyes could not open. My body, heart, soul, and mind erupted, and I saw stars and entire universes being born, and my entire existence was reduced to just melting in his arms as warmth and lusty bliss consumed me. 

With just one kiss, this silly, whimsical fool, dressed in medieval garb, had given me my life’s sole desire. I felt love, true, real love, and while I’d pined away for it, I was emotionally unprepared.

“We’re almost there,” he chimed, not at all devastated by our kiss, which left me panting, confused, and unaware of the rest of the world. “Just around here.” He strode off.

“You fucking motherfucker!”

“I swear, I’ve never met your mother, let alone bedded her. Come see.”

I hurried to catch up, reliving the events of the day in an attempt to determine exactly when I’d lost control. The moment you fucking saw him, you stupid slut, my inner voice of reason reminded me.

“This better be good because I need to get fucked. Any other man on the planet would be in a big, fucking hurry to get between my legs, but no, not you. You’re just a fucking… oh, wow.”

“I knew you’d love this view.”

We’d been following a little, winding path on the outskirts of the Ren Faire site. It ended near the river on one of the borders, just before it ended at the lake it fed. There was a tiny waterfall, merrily splashing away, a foliage-covered clearing, and the trees were majestic. The distant light from the town, a mile or so away, lit up the canopy, giving the entire scene a magical glow. The moon, at its zenith, glimmered above the entirety. All it needed was a few, big mushrooms and a unicorn prancing about, and it would have been the perfect fantasy painting come to life.

“You were right,” I admitted, “I love this spot.”

“I saw it last night and thought that it was perfect, magical. It pales to the perfection that is you, but I knew you’d love it.”

“Hello,” I retorted with sarcasm. “I’ve already begged you, for hours, to fuck me. You can stop seducing me.”

“Just speaking the truth. Your outer beauty is pure perfection, but your inner glow eclipses even such divine artistry. While the gods have imbued this place with their perfection, you are the muse that inspired them.”

I turned my back to him. No man that I’d just met, not even that one, would see me cry. It wasn’t his words, not just those. His sincerity, tone, body language, and that fucking aura of his, emanating such lusty power, had me enthralled. To cover the fact that I was both insane and an emotional train wreck, unable to handle experiencing everything she’d ever wanted, I untied my top and shirked it off, exposing my lithe back to him.

Topless, shaking out my red hair because everyone goes crazy over me being a natural redhead, I turned to him, knowing that my tits weren’t as big as the other women’s, not as shapely, and that I was close to double the age of his usual harem. Although I’d used every weapon in my arsenal, finally resorting to being a scandalous whore, I was terrified that he wouldn’t like my body.

“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

I smiled. “Oh, so you like my tits, then?” I caressed them, squeezing them and lifting them, then releasing them, so they’d bounce. My fingers tugged on my nipples, and I moaned, pleadingly, as I stood before him, inviting him to ravage me.

“I meant you. You are so strong, so open and giving. You’re neither afraid nor ashamed of your true self. Your soul’s glow is so immense that you light the midnight sky even brighter than the city does.”

“So you don’t like my tits, then?” I was smiling, trying not to cry over his poetic words singing my praises. I felt as if I were in a dream or, perhaps, in some romantic Hollywood movie. 

I had two options, one of which was to openly weep, throw my arms around him, and confess that I was feeling things with him that were completely foreign to me, and I only knew that I never wanted those feelings to end. Instead of making a fool of myself, knowing that he was too good to be true, I sat down in the clearing, feeling the cold dew saturate my skirt and chill my overheated flesh, spread my legs, and pulled up my skirt.

“I want you to fuck me. I’m so fucking horny that I fucking swear I’m going to explode. I want your fucking cock.”

He stood there, gazing down at my writhing, needy body, overcome with lust and desire. An inky wisp of cloud obscured the moonlight, momentarily, and he peeled off his tunic, revealing a physique that was so toned without being too bulky that I could feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets. His chest was chiseled from granite, his abs forged from steel, and I gasped at how pussy-soaking perfect he was. Dressed, he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen, in real life or pictures, but shirtless, just the sight of him made my cunt catch fire, liquid fire pouring out of my sex.

“I know what you want, but the lady shall receive what she needs, first.”

“What do you…oooh… aah.” I lost the power of speech.

He knelt beside me, lowering his hands to my flesh. His sexual power shot from his fingers when they touched my writhing flesh, sending electric jolts, like lusty lightning, into my core. His face was a silver-washed mask of passion, the moon choosing that moment to reemerge and cast its glow on him. All I could do was lie there and moan. I was powerless to do anything but receive.

His strong, firm, sword-wielding hands explored my body, traceries of flame leaving trails of pleasure in their wake. His burning lips kissed their way from my forehead to my feet, lingering for brief, ecstatic infinities every step of the way. With joy, delight, and agonizing slowness, he took my volcanic arousal and stoked the bonfire burning through my soul into a nuclear explosion.

One of his hands was lightly stroking my inner thighs, teasing my aching cunt to heightened need. His other hand fondled my breasts, making my body lurch upward, defying gravity in an attempt to feel his touch even more intensely. When his lips kissed the side of my tit, I howled my passion at the moon, mentally willing him to take me.

He took my mounting pleasure, that vibrating crescendo within me, and raised my infinite, never-quenchable passions to an unseen summit. I became aware of an intense, lusty explosion building in my quivering stomach. Its heat spread outwards, singeing my limbs and making my pussy clench. When his soft, subtle kisses meandered to my nipple, and he sucked the tingling, swollen nub between his lips, his hand lightly flicked over my clit.

“Oh fuck!” was all I could manage to scream before my moans overtook my consciousness.

From the moment I first laid my eyes on him, my horny desire had been building. The thing about Glade is that he’s seemingly perfectly aware of the perfect thing to say or do at any given moment. Sexually, he was no different. Just being around him made me ignore all my self-respect, what little I had. He made me so uncontrollably horny that my body refused to listen to my mind. At that moment, nothing mattered; my mind could go fuck itself, because just a brief, delicate touch from him shoved me, head-first, into the most intense, overwhelming, powerful, body-wrenching orgasm I’d ever had.

I don’t know how he did it, only that I loved it, but his lips, tongue, and hands rode the waves of my orgasmic release, somehow still caressing my thrashing, screaming, moaning body. After an eternity of being able to experience nothing but bliss, I realized that my level of arousal hadn’t subsided as much as it normally does. Although I’d just cum so long and hard that I should be feeling serene and relaxed, my body still quivered, remaining on the cusp of another orgasm.

My eyes closed, savoring the delight, and I fell into a sort of reverie, only experiencing more pleasure.

“Oh, fucking yes! Please make me cum. Please, please, please. Oh, fuck. Lick my cunt. Fuck, you’re good!”

I didn’t know exactly when his head moved between my thighs. His physical stimulation was so intense, utterly perfect, that I couldn’t even remember my name. His hands still caressed my undulating flesh, not a single millimeter of skin left unattended, but his tongue gently lashed out and lapped up and down my swollen, sensitive clit. I’d barely realized that he was eating my cunt before another orgasm, even more intense than the last one, ambushed my body, catching me off guard.

Still in the throes of that intensity, his hands, lips, and tongue renewed their attack on my stomach, limbs, and boobs. I was screaming in passion, writhing uncontrollably, and my pussy was flowing with so much sexual nectar that my skirt was saturated. 

He straddled my prone body, enabling me to wrap my arms around him, pulling him into me. Glade had other ideas, and his hand gently squeezed my tits, lightly rolling my erect nipples between his thumb and fingers as his mouth feasted on my flesh. When his pants-covered hardness pressed against my mound, my hips responded by frenetically humping against his groin, urgent in my need to be fucked.

To my stunned incredulity, his non-stop pleasuring of all of my body at once caused me to cum again, humping against his body. In the throes of that release, I felt his hands rake down my body, his mouth once more returning to my throbbing, soaked pussy.

His finger slid into my hole easily. Before he’d even touched me, all through the day, he had me so soaked that I was embarrassed. Once he started actually fucking me, it was as if all the fluid in my body decided to pour out of my needy, aching pussy. The triple action of one hand loving my body, another fingering my velvet tunnel and teasing my asshole, plus his tongue imitating a perfectly-paced-and-pressured whirlwind on my clit made me erupt again, this time in a series of never-ending orgasms that blazed through my mind, body, and soul like horny machine gun fire.

When it was over, I lay there, panting, sighing, smiling, and moaning. I thought about standing, but it felt so blissful to just lie there on the ground, stewing in the gallons of my sex juice. Besides, I knew my legs wouldn’t be able to support my weight.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” I confessed, giggling at myself in remembrance of his whores’ bragging about how amazing he was in bed. I laughed at myself when I realized that he still had his pants on. “Was that making love, sex, or fucking?”

“None of the above, my delightful goddess of Eros. That was foreplay.”

“Foreplay? Wow. Give me a minute, please. My legs are too weak.”

“Allow me.”

Still on his knees, he took me into his arms, lifting me as if I were weightless. To my amazement, he stood with me still in his arms, then kicked my discarded top into the air. It landed on his shoulder, almost perfectly positioned; he shrugged his shoulder, letting it fall over my exposed, passion-reddened boobs.

“My hero; my knight.”

He laughed. “I’m no knight. I’m just a rogue. Shall we adjourn to my pavilion?”

“Put me down, and I’ll walk with you.”

“Nonsense,” he chortled. “My hand is on your perfect ass. I sooner die than give that up.”

It took more than a few minutes to get to his campsite. His step never faltered, and, every few yards, we’d stop and kiss. Three others in the group, two men and one woman between them, were giddily headed toward their destination, obviously intending to have a threesome.

“I’ve had a few threesomes,” I observed. “I like them and hope to get gang fucked someday.”

“Why not now? I’m positive that all those long stares of desire you were receiving were not lost on you.”

“Just us, okay?”

“As you wish.”

“Nice tits, Krystal,” one of the revelers shouted.

“Thank you,” I shouted back. I looked at Glade and giggled. I was worried that he’d be jealous, but no.

“Although he lacks the words, he’s correct. Your breasts had to have been hand-sculpted by the divine. Never has such perfection been made flesh.”

His pavilion was amazing, especially considering that it was simply a medieval tent. The ground was covered with ornate rugs, various weapons, and gear hung from hooks set into the support poles. A set of iron manacles hung from the center pole.

“So, I see you’re a kinky fucker that likes bondage.”

“Yes, I am, but only if she also wants it.”

Without any warning, his arms extended, and he tossed me onto his bed. It was large, soft, and covered in furs, and I landed on it, bouncing and laughing.

“Take your pants off. I need to be fucked. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything you desire. I swear this to you.”

“Promise me that you’ll brutally fuck me like you own me. Fuck me like the slut I am.”

“As you wish.”

A single candle gave the interior a dreamlike glow, and I watched with eager anticipation, hoping his cock was as perfect as the rest of him. He slowly untied his leather pants, turning around, teasing me with flashes of his body, his face silly but so fucking sexy.

“Holy fucking fuck, that’s fucking huge,” I shouted.

I’d had sex with dozens upon dozens of men. I’ve had shafts that were so thin that I could barely feel them, or so short that my fingers penetrated deeper. I’ve had them thick enough that they stretched my interior walls, filling me with horny vibrations. I once had a cock long enough to hit places that others could never reach. I loved them all, just not necessarily the men they were attached to.

Glade’s cock, however, could only be described as a huge, thick, mutant monster. It was as thick around as well, my can of Skintimate shaving gel at home and, I thought, longer. If that wasn’t intimidating enough, it was beautiful. Never before had I ever thought of a penis as beautiful. Perhaps it was because I knew, even though I couldn’t admit it to myself, that I was already off the rails for him, and I had just met him a few hours ago. Whatever the reason, his manhood was as thick as my arm, about as long, and I needed it. I didn’t care that he’d split in two; my lust was so overpowering that he could have a flagpole in his pants, and I’d have still impaled myself on it.

“I don’t think I can open my mouth wide enough to suck you,” I lamented. “I don’t know if I can take that beast. Are you in porn or something, with a dick like that?”

Without ceremony, he grabbed my skirt and, literally, ripped it off of me. His brutal gesture caused my heart to jump into my throat, and my body responded with pure sexual heat. My beloved romance novels were called bodice-rippers for a reason, and he was doing all the things I loved, needed, and craved without prompting. Never mind that I was without clothing and would have to do a nude walk of shame to my car in the morning. 

Slowly and sensuously, he made love to me, his entire body, and all of his focus solely focused on overloading me with pleasure. I lost count of my orgasm, and my ears rang from me desperately begging him, in shouts, to fucking fuck me. His hands possessed my flesh, the head of his huge cock nuzzled against my pulsing hole, and his mouth, teeth, lips, and tongue owned me, causing, then quenching flames of lust all over.

He’d exhausted me, making me cum more times than I ever had in one session before the thick head of his cock penetrated my eager cunt. He stretched me beyond belief, but he’d gotten me so aroused, so out of my mind with passion, that my legs wrapped around his magnificent ass and pulled him in deeper.

The head of his cock inside me, plus his constant, perfect adoration over the rest of my body, gave me a vaginal orgasm before he’d even plunged halfway in. More followed, and all I could do was wail, moan, scream, beg, plead, and receive. 

He made love to me until I couldn’t take any more pleasure. I nearly passed out from the endorphin rush. My body was covered in sweat and dirt, and my mind was caught in a loop, only repeating, “More, more, more, please let this last forever,” over and over. I caught my dim reflection in a bottle; my makeup was smeared from my orgasmic tears, but my essence glowed.

Glade served me honey mead and some fruit and vegetables. We conversed, laughing and joking and bonding, his hands and eyes always on me, worshiping my flesh, respecting my intellect, and making me fucking horny.

“Your turn. Let me make you cum.”

“My sweet goddess, we’re just getting started.”

“You have the energy for more?” I only asked because I wasn’t positive that I did.

He smiled, and I knew from the way he affected me that I’d gleefully do whatever he wanted. So, rather than mentally justify the fact that I wanted more—he could fuck me to death, and my final words would be “More! Harder!”—I lay back, cleaning my thighs with my skirt, and smiled.

“Now we have sex.”

I don’t know what the two, prior sessions were, but if that were foreplay and making love, his version of sex was all-consuming. He quickly took those embers, the afterglow of what I’d just experienced, and shot it skyward until the previous heights of my arousal, already beyond comprehension, were a tiny, distant memory. 

Once he got all of that mutant cock of his inside me, I felt nothing but pleasure pounding into me. He didn’t just touch and reach places others couldn’t, he filled me with horny bliss, stretched me to the point that every nerve in my cunt was being stimulated at the same time, and he somehow knew exactly when and how I wanted or needed every stroke.

I surrendered to him, utterly, totally, and completely. I begged to be spanked, to be bitten, to be slapped, even. I pled for him to hammer that huge shaft into me from behind, my fingers all over him and my clit. Nothing was off-limits, I opened my entire body to him, urging him to take me, harder, deeper, and more roughly.

I ceased to exist. My brain only knew how to respond to the pleasure he poured over me in guttural growls and primal fucking. The flesh of my body was on fire, every nerve fiber so sensitive that even the air surrounding my body gave me pleasure. My pussy finally knew what it meant to be royally fucked. He became my world, my knight, my king. I think I may have even chanted, “I fucking love you,” between my dirty curse words.

He still hadn’t had enough of me. After we had sex, we went straight into brutal, animal fucking. I was so far gone that I started it, calling myself a slut, a trashy whore, and begging him to brutalize me. 

I don’t know how long we fucked, but the sky was lightening before I finally made him cum. I’d screamed myself hoarse in passion, been fucked so hard that the bones in my body turned into rubber, and my legs couldn’t stop shaking. Nonetheless, I grabbed his cock, needing both hands to encircle it, and violently stroked it, aiming it at my open mouth.

I stretched my jaw open so wide that it hurt, but I managed to get my mouth around that massive head, and I plunged my face over his now-shaking manhood as far as I could. He erupted into my mouth, and I gagged because his fingers were once more at my clit, causing an almost-instant orgasm as I choked on his cock.

I swallowed as much as I could, and his jizz tasted both sweet and salty, actually making me crave more. Some of it dribbled over my lips and down my chin, but I didn’t care. I was a dirty slut, and he had somehow coaxed new levels of sluttiness out of me that I had never even imagined. Glade had turned me into a begging, slutty animal completely consumed with horny need.

Then, he gently cleaned me up, kissed me in a romantic and passionate kiss, and gently caressed me, holding me in his arms, as I drifted off to sleep. I hadn't drifted off to slumber with a smile on my face in so long that I couldn’t remember the last time I had. For the first time in my life, I felt contented. 

I don’t know how long I slept, but, when I woke, he was gone. His tent was still around me, so the entire thing hadn’t been a dream. I took advantage of my solitude to masturbate. All that my mind could grasp was that I had just had the best, most intense, kinky, wonderful, and amazing sex of my entire life. No wonder, the fucking sluts were actively competing against each other to sleep with him. Every nuance, each caress, and all that brutal pounding replayed in my mind as I fingered myself. I was even proud of the fact that Krystal had ceased to exist, a horny, slutty whore in her stead. I gave my all, but I received so much more in return.

After two orgasms, I looked around, trying to learn something about this mysterious Glade. Then, I saw his gifts. A hearty breakfast, still slightly warm, was beside the bed on a tiny table. Beside the covered dish was a bouquet of flowers, even with a card.

I munched on my meal, marveling over how good it tasted, and pondered the flowers. It was a dozen red roses, a white one in the center. The entirety was wrapped in twine, the card sticking up from between two strands. It read, “In every bunch, one stands out. You are the one.”

Although I was thirty-eight, nobody had ever given me flowers before. Breakfast in bed was the stuff of movies, not my life. My heart burst, and I sat in his bed, crying my eyes out. They were happy tears. I’d just regained control of my emotions when I saw a new outfit, a skirt, blouse, and bodice hanging on the center pole. He was thoughtful enough to consider my needs. 

I wiped away my tears, dressed, and walked outside. He was still there; I hadn’t been abandoned. Glade was a few yards away, helping one of his friends take down their pavilion.

“Did you get even more perfect than last night? I swear by the gods, themselves, that you’re even more stunning, infinitely more perfect than last evening.”

“Wait! What’s wrong with this picture? Aren’t you supposed to carve another notch in your bedpost and ignore me? I’m a slut, remember?”

He approached me, his shirtless torso still making me wet. “Nonsense. I love everything about you.”

His arms once more wrapped me in warm safety, and I knew, if just for a moment, that everything was perfect. I could be happy; I just needed to find my prince. All I’d done before that was to kiss a lot of toads. 

Don’t you dare fool yourself into thinking that you’re in love with him just because he’s hot, sexy, handsome, sweet, romantic, has a huge fucking cock, fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before! Oh, fuck it! We’re in love.

“Oh, Glade,” I sang out. “I know the Ren Faire is over, but are you free tonight?”

I may be a horny, scandalous, foolish slut, but I’m no fool. He’d given me the best day of my life, followed by the best night. I knew, at that precise moment, entwined in his arms, getting that romance, thoughtfulness, seduction deadly combination, non-stop, that my life, as far as I knew it, was over.

One year later, to the day and my complete surprise, we were married at the same, exact spot we’d met, and, this brazen, super-slut lived, at least thus far, happily ever after.  Well, I’m not only still a slut, a Sexually Liberated Uninhibited Temptress, but my debauchery knows no bounds.  We lived, at least thus far, sluttily ever after.

The End