“You just had to get more Phlegm Cotton-gin,” I shouted as I ran. One hand clutched my fashionable chapeau, a ladies’ top hat that matched my green bodice. The other tightly gripped the hilt of my sword. Despite being armed, I was running for my life.

“Phlebotinum. Bloody Phlebotinum,” Kayla shouted, her words sounding muted due to the deafening cacophony of the erupting volcanoes and the twenty-foot-tall fire demons chasing us. The creatures bellowed, spitting fire from their mouths, splashes of molten magma flying about with their every stomp.

A burning, comet-like boulder narrowly missed me, singeing my clothing as it flew by. Hurled by one of our pursuers, it splashed into the lava river beside us, sending droplets of fire everywhere. Our stony path meandered and curved before us, the Argo ahead in the distance. At the rate the fire demons were gaining, my feeble splinter of steel no use against them, my Needler ineffective, they’d more than likely intercept us before we got to our ship.

“Chuck!” Kayla began screaming. “Emergency jump, Chuck. Emergency jump.”

A shrill shriek, one that rattled my nerves, echoed across the barren plane of fire. Looking skyward to the source, I saw a fire drake, a dragon comprised of fire. As if called by the flaming dragon, a charred-looking, skeletal figure with fiery hair and glowing embers for eyes rose from the lava flow. It brandished a club of obsidian and joined its brethren in literally hot pursuit.

When we were only yards from the Argo, the side door opened. I could see Chuckaboo peek his head out, then dart back inside. Kayla was running faster than I’d ever seen her move, before. Her skirts were smoldering, soot covering her body. In her thickly-gloved hands, she held a large chunk of the mysterious, burning rock that never seemed to lose heat or mass.

Seeing that they’d reach us before we could escape, I slowed enough to let my friend and lover pass me, then, I stopped and turned, drawing my saber and needle gun.

“Go, escape. Find my father for me.” I prepared to meet my final fate. There were far worse ways to go. Falling in a battle against titanic fire demons had a certain flare to it.

She bounded inside.

“Bring it on, you big, red apes! “ I challenged. My foes were less than intimidated.

Suddenly, thick, concentrated geysers of steam shot forth from the body of the Argo. While my defiance, blade, and weaponry didn’t faze them in the least, it seemed that creatures borne of fire were terrified of water. I took advantage of their pause and dove inside the Argo, the door folding shut behind me.

“So much for fighting fire with fire,” Kayla smiled as she pulled me completely inside. Her hand was on the Emergency Steam Release lever. “Hit it, Chuck!”

The now-familiar, acrid odor and nausea ambushed me, this time accompanied by a feeling of relief. I’d cheated death. The enraged inhabitants of the Volcano World had reorganized and renewed their attack. I could see them through the windshields as they clambered toward us, ready to smash our vessel with their fiery fists. Then, reality disintegrated into the black void of nothingness, the matrix.

“I hoped releasing the reserve steam would stave them off,” Kayla triumphantly announced. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, lover. Drat,” I cursed. “I broke a nail. Thanks for helping to save us, Chuckaboo.” Our furry comrade did a little shimmy dance, clacking out some alien sounds. Then, he curled back up inside his box and chewed on his toy ball.

“By the way,” my friend casually mentioned, “that big, blue button, there, will automatically shoot us a world or two away. It’s the emergency jump button.”

“Good to know. Where is it taking us?”

“We’ll find out, shortly. Hopefully, it has a good supply of fresh water; we need to refill the reserve water tank. No matter where we go, it has to be better than being smashed by elementals.”

Almost instantaneously, physical reality manifested. We were in virtually the same world. I only noted two immediately discernible differences. This world had more of an orange hue to everything than the last one, which was primarily in fiery reds, and, instead of gargantuan fire demons and charred skeletal humanoids, the fire demons were varied in size and body types. There were flying things, things that hopped, and lava rock monsters riding nightmare steeds. They were still enraged at us and in hot pursuit.

“Nope, not better! Give me the damn controls. Switch to manual.” I tugged on the drawer that held the old manual controls. It blossomed outward, revealing the levers I had used on my prior journey. “Now, where’s the accelerator pedal?”

“The what?”

“The foot pedal that controls the power of the drive; where is it?”

“The dial on the side of the control plate.”

“A dial? Fuck! No damn good!” The new versions of the fire demons raced to attack. I turned the dial almost all the way up, hearing the drive gurgle. That acrid odor hit my nostrils once more as our harrowing reality faded.

Having gotten used to the foot pedal, it took me some precious moments to find the sweet spot. I found the proper setting right as they attacked the Argo. At the proper power level, one can see ghostly bits of the world manifesting around them and a lot more of the nothingness of the void. Kayla screamed in terror as the fire-peaked claws of the demons passed through the now-spectral Argo, their heat and crushing blows passing through us, part of another, a now-immaterial world that we could only glimpse.

Gently manipulating the levers, I slowly moved them back and forth, side to side, until a familiar-looking landscape occurred. The matrix, the nothingness of the timeless space between realities, was everywhere, the second Volcano World and a lush, vibrant medieval world with spectral, dreamlike visions superimposed upon it.

“Inconceivable,” Kayla exclaimed as she stared. “You’re manually picking a world, running through the infinite possibilities. The odds of successfully navigating manually are approximately three-seven-two-zero to one.”

“Never tell me the odds.” Dark, sooty sweat beaded down my forehead as I fought with the controls.

“Alright, then, Miss Mary Kingsley, where are we going?”

I struggled with the ghostly terrain for a long series of moments. The controls were not finely tuned, more of the on/ off variety than a nice gradient of settings. “Hopefully, Medieval World. I have some friends there, but the best part is no fire demons. It’s pretty close to Volcano World.”

“Elementals, Ariel. They are sentient entities that inhabit the elemental worlds of fire.”

“Looks like a demon, bellows like a demon, and attacks like a demon. Must be a demon.”

Finding the hopefully correct settings, I powered the engines up the rest of the way. The matrix, the timeless nowhere between physical worlds, consumed the visions, leaving only absolute blackness. For some reason, we reached our destination after only a few C-cycles. Both of us were thankful.

The air in this alternate-reality world was fresh and clean, the sky a deep azure with marshmallow clouds. Deep browns, greens, and a kaleidoscope of colors painted the landscape. Birds of unknown types, similar to the ones of my home world but brightly colored and oddly shaped, and other fauna could be seen and heard.

“We’re here, or, at least, someplace very similar. I recall the sweetness of the air and the lay of the land. Let’s go.” It looked exactly like the medieval reality where I had encountered, then rescued, Lord Calvin. “I think my friend’s manor is just down that road.”

We exited the Argo, locking it, and followed the nearby dirt road. A stream ran along the far side of the path, a ready solution to our need for more water. Chuckaboo pranced about, running hither and yon, but always staying in sight. To me, something seemed off. I couldn’t quite find any specific details, but abstract, unknown little details nagged at me.

The feeling was eerie. Everything was almost – but not quite – how I remembered. We found the road I remembered, but it seemed wider and more traveled. Turning northward, I noted that the small river ran at a different angle than I recalled. Likewise, the sky seemed to be a slightly deeper blue, the sun more of a golden-yellow than the flaxen amber my memory served up. Still, the lay of the land was the same, despite the mountains in the distance seeming to jut higher into the sky and the clouds looking puffier, a more vibrant, pure white.

“Either I’m imagining things, or this isn’t the same world,” I mentioned to Kayla.

She stopped, mid-stride, and turned to me. “What do you mean, exactly?”

I began walking as I responded. My dark-haired friend followed. “This world looks almost exact, but some things seem slightly different. It’s probably just me, though.”

“Different how?” She listened intently as I detailed all the little, subtle things that seemed to be altered. “Eureka,” she shouted, holding up two balled fists in triumph. “You went a few worlds too far or not far enough.”

“I think I went too high. We're still in the Medieval World, Cambria, but I think I rose us to an offshoot of that reality. I probably had the pitch of the yaw incorrect.”

“No,” she contradicted. Then, she paused. “Unless…what do you mean, an offshoot?”

“You mentioned worlds of possibility, right? How does that work?”

Kayla grew pensive. “In smaller words, it means that since the creation of the universe, every possible outcome for everything is probably represented. I think there’s also some crossover. So, there should be a world that’s your original Medieval World, and infinite variations of that are slightly different.”

“Uh-huh? If you say so. We should find out right after that turn up ahead. There should be an intersection and a sign pointing to Calvin’s manor house. One thing I discovered is that if one heads off in a different tangent than your original course, you end up in worlds very similar to the one you just left.”

”That makes sense,” Kayla said as she absorbed the beautiful scenery. “Each infinite possibility serves as its nexus of sorts, and spawns another infinite set of possibilities, which, in turn, create even more infinities.”

“Do you think, perhaps, there’s a world where we’re clowns filled with candy?”

“Yes, of course, Ariel. Any possibility, realistic, possible, imaginable, or not, exists someplace in the multiverse.”

“Good. That means that there is a world out there where everything you just said makes sense.”

We followed the road, Kayla going on and on about how each world we visit is only one possibility of infinite ones, and those, in turn also have infinite variations. She also detailed that the singularity back home was like a beacon, ready to call us back to the proper place and time when we were ready. When we rounded the bend, it was my turn to stop in my tracks.

The sign was there, more or less. Rather than a somewhat crudely carved sign pointing to “Brock Manor,” an ornate sign was in its stead. “Brock Castle” was carved into it.

“This is interesting,” I observed.

“What?”

“The sign,” I pointed. “Lord Calvin Brock is a minor nobleman, and he lives on his estate, not in a castle.”

“You mean that castle?” Kayla pointed. Off in the distance, I could see a sprawling castle with multiple spires and towers. It looked majestic off in the distance. While that piqued my interest, the riders galloping toward us, just down the road a few hundred yards, were of more immediate concern. “Friends of yours, I hope.”

“No,” I said. “It can’t be! I think it is. Maybe.”

“Ariel, this is no time to leave out details.”

“I don’t know, yet. We’ll have to wait and see if they’re friends, foes, or something entirely different.” The eight mounted knights didn’t seem particularly hostile, but I loosened my saber in its scabbard, just in case. My Needler was primed and at the ready, a full clip of barbed darts ready to unleash piercing Hell on any unsavory opponent.

They wore tabards of crimson with a yellow sun emblem on the left breast. I recalled that Lord Calvin’s crest was a multi-ray sun; that gave me some comfort. Beneath their surcoats, most of them wore armor of small plates linked together with chain mail. Their leader wore a yellow tabard with a red sun. Unlike the others, he was clad in a steel breastplate.

They approached, slowing. I stood my ground, ready to attack or defend. Kayla hid behind me as if I could offer some protection against charging steeds; behind her, Chuckaboo cowered, looking out from behind her calf. They ground to a halt just before us, not drawing any weapons.

Their leader, the one in plate mail, pulled off his plumed spangenhelm. His face was finely chiseled and very handsome, a shock of light blond hair cascading behind him. He appraised us, a neutral expression on his face, then smiled and tilted his head in acknowledgment. His face was hauntingly familiar, although much more handsome and sexy than I recalled.

“The lady Ariel, I presume,” he bowed in the saddle, one arm extending with a flourish. “King Calvin the Fifth awaits thee for the feast in your honor. We are all honored to meet you and joyous that you decided to accept his invitation.”

Kayla stared at me, her mouth agape, which reminded me to not imitate her reaction. “I thank you, good sir. Are you to accompany us to Calvin’s home?”

“Yes, our lady and savior. My sword swings on your behalf.”

“Well, I’d be daft to refuse a fifth! Lead on, sir…” Kayla laughed at my joke, the others looked confused at my humor.

“Ty,” he finished. “I am Lord Tiberius of the house of Kirkland, Captain of the Royal Guard. My peers call me Ty.”

The riders about-faced and led us slowly up the road.

“Please tell me you know what’s going on,” Kayla said very softly to me.

“I don’t know for certain,” I told her, “as it’s quite the fifteen puzzle, but I think we’re in a different version of what I’ve already gone through. Except for the fact that everything is altered a bit, this is almost exactly what happened, before.”

“Details, Ariel. I need the data.”

“It was Lord Calvin, not King Calvin the fifth, for one. I rescued him from some bandits, on the road not too far from here, and Captain Tiberius was named Tigerion, the sergeant-at-arms in his manor. It’s like a fairy tale version of what I’ve already gone through. We’ll call it a win; it really takes the egg.”

“So you’ve done a dress rehearsal of this, already. I get it; umble-cum-stumble.”

“Yes. The last time this happened, I was with a brunette serving wench named Kori. Calvin really took a liking to her, and shortly after Tigerion and I dueled, they went off together and…” I laughed. “Oh, Kayla, I think you’re about to have an excellent, mafficking time!”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Relax. Calvin, at least the Calvin I knew, is a sweet gentleman with a penchant for cuckolding and a severe submissive streak. He has a thing for buxom, dark-haired women, not scrawny redheads.

“Wait! Duel? What duel did you fight? I can’t take you anyplace, not even another world, without you getting bricky and swinging your sword all over creation. So, we’re not only in a different version of Medieval World, but all your acquaintances have been promoted to royalty.”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “You need to make one of your key cards for this realm. I wonder who will win the bout this time around.”

“I’ve got it! You steered us into a world that is very closely related to the one you’ve already visited. In this world, you’ve supplanted your doppelgänger.”

“No, Kayla. That’s preposterous enough to make a stuffed bird laugh. I didn’t have a double-gang-bang-er the entire time I was here, or there, rather.”

“Ah, there she is,” one of the men said to us, pointing. “Castle Brock, the shining jewel in the crown of Cambria.”

We were greeted with fanfare and a parade. The streets of the town surrounding Castle Brock were lined with people. They cheered and waved, throwing flowers and waving brightly colored bits of cloth as we passed. Just ahead of our troop, a trio of trumpeters, a royal herald shouting our presence, led the way. I was thankful for the herald, as I had no idea what it is I’d supposedly done in this world. I listened intently.

“Did you really do all of that?” Kayla asked me as she waved to the onlookers. “You saved the king, nursed him back from death’s doorway, and fought off an entire legion of his enemies.”

“Well, I saved him from a group of rag-tag bandits, stitched up his superficial wound, and then vanquished two other brigands looking for payback…so, basically, yes. They just have the details wrong.”

“How long ago would this have been?”

“I was here, or there, for about a month or so. If this is when I think it is, it’s about six days after I rescued Calvin. He invited me to his manor house as a means to thank me. I don’t know; everything here is off on its own tangent.”

“Tangent! You’re a genius, Ariel. We’re on a tangential world based on your medieval world, not off ours.”

“Whatever. I just hope we’re not walking into a trap.”

“But, Ariel, you just said that…”

“Not every place is what it seems. Keep your guard up. You might rule the lab and even the bedroom, but here in the field, trust me. It’s always possible that we’re in peril, a very perilous peril.”

My trepidation was unwarranted. King Calvin met us with open arms. He, and his royal entourage, met us at the gates. His Highness was a large improvement over the original Lord Calvin. This version was more handsome, regal-looking, and jovial than his otherworldly counterpart.

“Lady Ariel,” he smiled, bowing to me. “I owe you my life, my kingdom, and anything you may desire. The kingdom and I are forever in your debt.” With a flourish, he removed his jeweled, golden crown and offered it to me. “Take the crown and I shall abdicate.”

A murmur arose from the crowd of onlookers, Kayla growing silent. I took the crown, gently, and placed it back upon his head. “Long live the king,” I cried out to the applause of everyone around me. I knelt before him, smiling. “I didn’t come to steal your kingdom; we came for dinner.”

“Good people,” Calvin shouted to his subjects. “In honor of Lady Ariel, I decree this day a holiday.” More cheers erupted. He pulled me up to my feet. “You should never bow to me. Who’s your friend?”

I stood aside and gestured to Kayla. “May I present my friend and comrade, Kayla, also of Summerland.”

The king kissed my hand and immediately approached her. “Lady Kayla. I am honored to meet your acquaintance. Tell me, are you wed? Betrothed? If not, I can truly treat you like a king should.” He hooked his arm into hers and led her inside as I laughed.

The celebration was of legendary proportions. Minstrels and dancers wove throughout the gargantuan ballroom; nobles of every station were in attendance, all of them raucously feasting and making merry. It was, indeed, the very time I had assumed, only everything had evolved into fairy tale proportions. Calvin and Kayla occupied his throne; she sat upon his royal lap, wiggling, laughing, and smiling. Their hands explored each other’s bodies.

“Now,” Calvin announced, “Jarnaeth the minstrel will play his now-famous song, the Ballad of Ariel.” There was thunderous applause as a foppish, silk-clad man, his hair in oiled curls, entered.

Holding a lute before him, he bowed with a flourish, nodded at the people, and began playing a rousing, galloping beat. All listened intently, many sets of eyes upon me as he sang and played. Charismatic and confident, he played to the crowd, wandering about the large room, finishing his song in front of me.

Not knowing exactly how to respond, I applauded, got up, and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. Jarnaeth blushed, bowed, and kissed my hand, then began strolling about the huge room, playing another song. I looked around, noting that the revelry was far less inhibited than in our world. Men and women were in various stages of undress, some of them sexually pleasuring one another.

Enjoying the spotlight, as well as the tasty food and potent drink, I sat on my chair once more, turning my attention, once more, to Lord Ty, who was seated to my right.

“I’ve been wondering about that song,” he said to me. “Is it true?”

Flabbergasted, I attempted diplomacy. “Which part, my lord?”

“Please, call me Ty. Titles are far too formal for the likes of me. The part about not laying with any man unless he can best you in combat.”

“Oh, that,” I blushed. “Why?” I teased. “Do you fancy me or just want to test your skill against the ‘legendary Lady Ariel’?” I put my hand on his firm bicep as I said it, smiling to let him know I wasn’t serious.

“Perhaps both,” he said with a sly grin. He launched himself upright, his long, broad blade drawn from its scabbard without a sound. The tip of the sword threatened me, moving in small, precise circles in front of my face. “If I best the legendary warrior, do I win the right of at least a kiss?”

Conversation ceased as all attention was focused on us. This was not at all how it had happened the first time; this way seemed to be much more fun. I swung my legs around, turning in my plush chair to face him.

Amused, I replied, “A kiss? Upon which set of lips?” I spread my pants-covered legs wide to get my meaning across.

Nonplussed, Ty thrust his sword toward my face. It was a masterful stroke, the blade turning as the point veered to the side to avoid my face and not cut me if it didn’t. Reflexively, I turned my shoulders to avoid the somewhat-wide blow, but I was quick enough to grab my hat and hang it upon the point of his sword as the blade passed near my face.

I ducked beneath his extended arm and rolled out of my chair, landing in a spinning squat. As I turned, I freed my much smaller saber and slapped his rump with it. He catapulted forward a step, disrupting the table with a chattering of plates, goblets, and flatware.

“Both,” he countered. “Minstrels, play something lively!”

“When I win,” I smirked, my blade severing one of the shoulder straps of his steel breastplate, despite his attempted parry. “I expect you to wash my feet.”

Ty laughed, thrusting the tip of his blade into the tabletop. “Agreed.”

“You’ll start at my hair and work your way down.” My hand patted my red tresses. He guffawed at that and stripped off his breastplate.

“En garde!”

Lord Tiberius was an exceptionally skilled swordsman. He led with a feint-thrust, followed by a spiraling bounce off my riposte, turning down into a horizontal slash aimed at my midriff. I jumped atop the table, kicking a chalice filled with wine in his general direction as his blade chunked into the table’s edge.

I stomped on his blade before he could free it and stared down at the very sexy nobleman. Beneath his armor, he wore a blowsy-sleeved shirt with ties in the front and cuffs. Deftly, my sword snaked out and severed the top tie. His shirt gaped open, revealing fine, hard muscle beneath.

“Nice physique,” I taunted. “I expect you to be shirtless when you bathe me.” I allowed him to free his weapon and ready himself.

With a grunt, he somersaulted himself onto the table, landing with his blade held out, his free hand beckoning me. “As do I for my kiss.”

His lunge was perfectly timed and had he meant business, it would have impaled me. Rather than defeat me, though, he attacked the clasps of my bodice. He had managed to open all but one of them with admirable precision. The loose garment hindered my counters, putting me on the defensive.

Back and forth we fenced across the long table. The noble-persons were cheering and making bets; the minstrels were enthusiastically playing fight music. Slashes to each other’s heads, stop-thrusts to the chest, and wild attacks followed by wilder parries made their own harmony to the bards’ melody.

A second tie on his was severed, followed by a third. I narrowly missed a cross-slash after he successfully feinted an opening en quarte. My tattered bodice went flying off to one side, and an uproar rose from the crowd as one young duke caught it.

Tiberius launched into a series of alternating overhead blows, using the advantage of his weapon’s mass to beat my smaller blade aside. As I neared the end of the table, I tossed my sword like a javelin into the nearest table, back-flipping off the table, and landing facing him, my hand on the hilt of my saber.

“Nicely done.” He saluted with his sword. Ty nodded to me and tossed me his sword, taking a running leap off the table. He catapulted himself up high, turning twice in the air as I caught his weapon by the hilt. He landed with grace, his feet barely thudding on the slate tile floor. With a sweeping movement, he tore the remnants of his shirt from his torso. The sight of his bare chest and muscular abs set my pussy on fire. I tossed his weapon back to him.

Back and forth, over and around, we fenced, fought, thrust, swung, and parried. He was excellent, gallant, and honorable. Many were the times that I could have finished the bout, but his skill and reflexes were so finely honed that I drew out the match, reveling in the joy of his mastery. I dazzled him with fancy footwork and acrobatics; Ty matched me blow for blow and move for move.

Candles were slashed, clothing was rent, and we were both breathing heavily, neither one of us willing to surrender to the other. In a tête-à-tête, his free hand reached down and cupped my ass, a broad grin on his face. Not to be outdone, I reached between us and fondled his manhood.

“I see your sword isn’t the only thing big, long, and as hard as steel.” Ty leaned in to steal a kiss, but I thwarted his efforts by twirling away, pulling his sword belt off him in the process.

It wasn’t a duel, it was violent foreplay; neither of us could get enough. However, as if we’d reached some non-verbal agreement, the both of us attacked the other, at full speed. Our blades and bodies clashed, our flesh slamming into the other's. His swordplay was dazzling, mine just as good.

I gained the advantage, my attacks coming in low, then high, then from the side. He beat them back, sometimes parrying in the nick of time, as he retreated to the end of the room. Then, the tables turned, and I was defending for all I was worth, his massive blade bashing through my physically weaker defenses.

During another clash, I slipped on spilled wine, losing my blade. Ty cast his sword aside, reaching out to catch me. “Please, retrieve your weapon, my lady.”

We went to our swords and picked them up, saluting each other with respect. “I offer you quarter,” I teased.

“The only quartering in my future,” he smirked, “comes right after being drawn. Unless you’d like to call a draw, defend yourself!”

“I’ll concede to that; you’ll need at least some energy left to wash my feet.”

“Shall we retire, then? Most excellent swordplay on your part, Lady Ariel.”

“If you fuck as good as you fence, we’ll have a long night.”

As soon as we crossed the threshold to his nice but spartan chambers, he was all over me. Rough, manly hands tore to what remained of my clothing as I unlaced his breeches to unleash his extremely hard cock. Our lips met in a passionate kiss, soft moans escaping my throat as our tongues caressed and probed.

His body was hard, his cock turgid in my grip. Both of my hands encircled it, pumping up and down the shaft. Impatient and needy, Ty opted to tear the clothes from my body rather than undress me. Standing nude before him, his hard shaft throbbing in my grip, our hands caressed, kneaded, and probed each other’s nudity.

His lobe in my teeth as I sighed into his ear, I whispered to him, “Wash me.”

He disengaged himself from my embrace, his eyes taking in the sight of me. “I have not sponge nor water here.”

“Use your tongue.”

His kisses were as hot and torrid as his swordsmanship. Taking his time, his hands constantly roaming over my flesh, he closed my eyes with kisses three, licked and nibbled his way to my lips, then slowly licked, sucked, and kissed his way down my neck and onto my heaving breasts.

My hips bucked against his strong fingers when they found my clit, my voice crying out his name, begging him to do more, be rougher, to fucking take me. Still, he lavished lust upon my tits, his saliva growing cold on my goose-pimpled bare flesh until his hands squeezed the moisture away. When he gently clenched my stiff nipples between his teeth, I nearly had an orgasm. By the time he’d kissed his way down my stomach, his fingers had proven their worth three times over. Each ensuing orgasm was quicker and stronger than the last. As I shrieked and gyrated in the throes of my extremely intense third orgasm, Ty had to hold me upright; my legs could no longer support me.

Throwing me onto his very soft, warm bed as if I were weightless, Ty stepped out of his trousers and approached. Pulling on my feet until my knees were over the bed, he took one of my feet and sucked on my toes. Losing myself in the sensations, my hands cupped my breasts and squeezed my nipples.

One by one, he sucked on, then licked, then kissed each of my toes. He moaned when my hand plunged between my thighs and began furiously fucking my cunt. The sloshing sounds mixed with my moans.

“You, umm, missed a spot,” I moaned.

“Where, my sweet vision?”

I pulled my fingers out of my dripping snatch and pointed at my slit. “Right there. You missed that spot.”

“The lady wishes me to kiss her sacred flower?”

“No, Ty, I want you to eat my cunt! Now, put your head between my legs and lick my clit like a good soldier.”

He knelt further up, positioning himself perfectly. Sensing his hesitation, I grabbed his long, blond locks and gently pulled his mouth onto my snatch. “Lick up and down, yes, like that. When you find my clit, the hard nub over my hole, lick and suck on it gently.”

There’s one thing to be said about military men; they’re good at taking orders. In a short time, he had me writhing and moaning, an orgasm building inside my loins.

“That’s it, lick my cunt, you fucking, sexy beast. Fingers, finger fuck my hole. Put your fingers inside me and fuck me until I cum. Yes, yes, YES!”

As I came, he was relentless. His tongue became a whirlwind, attacking my sensitive spots with lightning speed and the perfect amount of pressure. My orgasm crested, then began to subside, only to be shoved back towards another crescendo.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Skewer me with your fleshy sword. I need you inside me.”

He climbed on top of me, his face wet with my dew. We kissed deep and long, my mouth moaning into his as he thrust his hardness inside me with one deep thrust. I grabbed his firm, muscular buttocks in my hands and pulled him into me, hard, fast, and deep.

Soon, we were moaning and grunting in wild abandon as he pummeled my flesh. His strokes hit every magical spot in my core, sending shivers of passionate delight through my body.

“Don’t cum in me,” I told him. “I want you to shoot it all over my tits and face. Own me. Fuck me, Ty; fucking fuck me.”

He lasted a while longer, lost in lust, and managed to pull out a second before his cock erupted. I scrambled to meet his ejaculation, aiming his pulsing cock at my nipples and taking his hot, sticky jizz on my breasts, chest, and lips. As his spurts grew smaller, I clamped my lips around his shaft and sucked as hard as I could while my tongue writhed over the shaft.

“Aah, I’ve never had…feels so good. Unngghh.”

Later, still nude, he showed me around his chambers. Of extreme interest was one of his war trophies. A large antechamber, nothing more than walls of stone, was filled with his various trophies of war. Mostly it was weaponry and shields, a few rows of jars, containing soil from the various lands he’d battled in, and other trinkets. Dominating the center was a contraption that tugged at familiarity.

“This carcass is a Beholder. The Landers seem to have tamed them, and they ride beneath them, in armored baskets, raining down death, fire, and destruction. Luckily, I listened to the minstrel, Jarnaeth. The Landers were the sworn enemies of Cambria, the ones I supposedly fought off by the battalion. “Such a vile beast. Note the huge, central eye.”

I looked at the thing, stunned into silence. Long, curving ribs of supporting beams kept the thing in shape. The “central eye” of the Beholder was merely painted on, albeit very realistically. Its “skin” was a light, canvas, similar to a lightweight ship’s sail. There was a huge, brunt rent in the fabric.

I knew instantly what it was.

“This is no beast; it’s a dirigible. Do you have the cabin?”

“Cabin?”

“The lower portion that housed the pilots and warriors…your basket.”

“No, but here’s a sketch of it.” He pointed to a piece of parchment on a small stand near the trophy. As soon as I saw it, my heart leaped into my throat.

Screaming in glee, I ran from the antechamber, through his private rooms, and into the hall, charging towards the king’s chambers.

“Kayla, Kayla, Kayla! Quit whipping Calvin and get your slutty ass out here! Dad was here!”

To be continued…