[fM] Wild Roses pt. 3: Scabbard and Sword [fsub]

With a grunt, Willard squared his hips and thrust against Spring, and as the force of his motion hit her, she squealed with pleasure.

It had been a few weeks after the first time she offered himself to him he was willing to fuck her proper, and a few weeks still before he let her share his bed, but now, three months on, this was as much a part of the daily routine as training, meals and baths.

For an old man, he was still vigorous, and the nights when he took her on all fours, as he did tonight, had quickly become Spring’s favourite. Willard had learned this quickly enough, and tonight’s ride was her prize for a good training session. She had gotten in three solid heartstrikes, and hadn’t taken a single blow herself, a task that was easy enough when she put her mind to it, something that the new reward structure certainly helped with.

Willard gave another hard thrust, and Spring another loud squeal. She was drawing agonisingly close to her second orgasm, and as on the next thrust she felt Willard fill her up, it came. As her arms went from under her, she screamed her pleasure into the shaggy bed pelts, and as the old sword withdrew, she could feel his seed running down the inside of her thighs, wet, warm and sticky. When the aftershocks subsided, she managed to topple over on her side, leaving room for him to lay down, and when he did, she draped herself over his broad, muscled chest, and fell asleep at once.

In the morning, she found she had woken first, which was something of a rarity. By the time she awoke, he would usually have been up for at least an hour, often two, seeing to his own morning drills and training, but sometimes, especially after a ride like last night, he would end up oversleeping. With quiet excitement, Spring looked down his large body, and as expected she found his cock was rock hard in his sleep.

With careful, silent motions, she moved herself around and over him, and soon she had her lips wrapped around it, bobbing slowly and carefully up and down, her tongue playing over him wherever the girth gave it play in her mouth, and with a light touch she fondled his sack with one hand as the other lightly feathered his slick shaft. Soon she heard the familiar moans and felt the familiar twitches, and her excitement mounted as she carefully kept her steady pace.

It was a little game she played, trying to get him off without waking him, but thus far it had eluded her. As his moans deepened and his twitches grew more frequent, she thought she might have him, but just before the job was done, she felt the familiar touch of two thick fingers slipping into her cunt, and knew that he was awake. Distracted by the touch, she pulled away just as he came, and when he spurted it wasn’t her mouth that took it, but instead her face and chest bore the brunt of the salvo.

“Close, girl.” Willard said with an easy laugh. “You’ll get it yet.”

Willard withdrew his fingers as Spring sat up, wiping his cum from her right eye with her fingers, before licking them clean.

“Stealth is as important for a warrior as brawn is, right?” she sallied, as she wiped another glob of cum from her eyebrow.

“Stealth is for hunters and sneaks.” Willard admonished her. “A warrior faces the fight head on.”

Spring frowned. “Fine. In any case, I’ll need to run down for a bath.”

“Nay”, Willard said, sitting up, “you’ll need to get out your blunted steel and your leathers, practice is already late.”

With a huff, Spring clambered over him and out of bed, her woollen jerkin sticky against her skin when she pulled it on. Over it she pulled on her leather armour, her vambraces and her thigh guards, and stepped into her heavy training boots. Finally, she fastened her belt, with her blunt sword and dagger in it, and stepped out into the training yard behind the small house. As she stood waiting for Willard, she brushed some more of his seed from her chin and threw it to the ground, and another small glob she plucked out from between her breasts she licked off her fingertips.

“Four hearstrikes and no blows taken is the target.” Willard bellowed, as he stepped out dressed in his jerkin and breeches, tall and light soldiers boots on his feet, blunted bastard sword in hand.

“Three.” Spring suggested. “At least that was the target yesterday.”

“Four.” Willard reiterated, and stepped into the training yard. “At least one with the dagger.”

He looked her over. “Where are your trousers, girl?”

“What does it matter?” Spring sallied defiantly. “Target is no blows taken, and _that_ I have down.”

“Ah”, said Willard, stepping into his stance, “you do, do you?”

With a grunt, he moved into a vicious overhand swing, but Spring neatly sidestepped and drew the dagger from her belt, bringing the blunted point up to Willard’s sternum as she stepped in after the blade cleft the air.

“That’s one.” she said with a grin.

“Aye”, admitted Willard as he returned to stance, “but you seem to have something on your face.”

Spring ran a thumb along the side of her nose, picking up another glob of Willard’s warm seed. “Aye”, she said, after licking it off, “a gift from some old geezer who can’t even aim.”

Willard charged her again, and for the next three hours, steel rang against steel time and time again in the practice yard, Spring deftly parrying every blow, but the old sword was on a steel-eyed offensive, and she had precious few chances to strike out against his flurry of blows. By the time of their evening meal, she had taken no blows, but to her annoyance only gotten in two good strikes of her own.

As it had every evening for two weeks, the snow fell softly outside as they ate. The meals had grown richer over the months, and tonight Spring’s fare was half a chicken, along with a thick barley stew with bits of bacon and a full tankard of beer, to match Willard’s. After the meal, they trudged through the snow-covered streets to the bathhouse, which as always was deserted, but for a young woman from town with her four year old son.

Once in the tub and soaking, Spring found time to comment on the training session. “I almost had you, that last time.” she offered, and Willard nodded.

“Aye, girl, but ‘almost killing your enemy’ is just a long-winded way of saying ‘dyin’.”

Spring sank into the water, fuming slightly. “Well, tomorrow I’ll do four.”

“Aye”, said Willard, “you’ll try.”

Spring absently ran her hands over her body. Where there had once been a wealth of bruises and welts, there was now only smooth pale skin over taut and springy muscle, and with the richer diet, her body had filled out as well. Her breasts were still small, but not as small as they had been, and just as perky, and her hips was rounder and softer as well, to the point where Willard could no longer make jokes about mistaking her for a boy.

With annoyance, she sat eyeing the young woman and her child, knowing that she was keeping her from a surreptitious hand dance under the water of the tub, and instead she leant back and let the swirling mist envelop her, drawing the day’s effort from her skin. After a while, she left, but by then a pair of town guards had come in to take her place, so Spring gave it up, and instead just lay soaking. She’d be home in bed with Willard before long, and a little waiting wouldn’t hurt her.

“I have an errand.” Willard announced suddenly, as he clambered out of the tub. “You stay behind and relax, and we’ll meet at home.”

Spring gave a puzzled nod, and lay back in the water. Not until after the two guards, the miller and the temple priestess had been and gone was she tired of the warmth, but finally she managed to tear herself away from the tub and trudge her way back home. When she stepped in out of the snow, she found Willard already in bed and the room dark, so quietly she slipped out of her town wools and padded over to him.

“Target was three, right?” she asked with a grin, pearly white teeth glinting in the moonlight.

“Four.” Willard said. “You _got_ three.”

“Fine.” Spring said with a sigh as she clambered up into bed and straddled Willard’s knees. “If you’re so determined to be lazy about it.”

“A warrior never uses more energy than he needs too~h…” he began, but suddenly became unable to complete his sentence as Spring wrapped her lips around his hardening cock.

Before long she had it well from hardening to well hard, and shimmied up along his body. Placing her slender but muscled hands on his chest, she lifted herself up, and wiggling her hips brought herself down onto him with a sigh of a moan.

“This is pretty nice too.” Spring said with a smile, grinding her hips in tight circles, feeling all of Willard inside her. “Not as nice as getting plowed like a field, but nice.”

Willard put his slab-like hands on her hips with a smile. “Aye, this is nice.”

With her teacher setting the pace with his strong arms, Spring brought herself up and down, riding Willard with sure, comfortable strokes; slowly at first, but pace ever quickening, her fingers digging into his pecs as her passion mounted, her breath ragged and filled with eager sighs and squeals. It wasn’t long until it turned to moans and gasps, and finally she filled the small cottage with a scream of passion.

Through the waves of pleasure and the reverberations of the orgasm she kept riding Willard, unaided by his hands, who had moved to her breasts, toying and tweaking at her small, sensitive nipples, and as the last of it fled her, she felt him fill her up, and as he emptied himself into her with a groan, she collapsed on his chest, a second cacophony of sensation flowing over her as she came once more.

Spent, she lay on his chest, soothed by his steadying breathing, and his hands on her back and in her hair, his seed dribbling from her and onto the bed furs, the snow falling in heavy drifts outside, her heavy eyes drifting shut against the darkness, warmth, exertion and relief, she fell asleep.

Two months later, as the snows began to melt, the two of them stood on the forest edge of town, looking into the dark, green sea. For her journey home, Spring had chosen a light tunic of blue linen, and a simple pair of forester’s boots, and she stood looking wistfully into town.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bend me over a log for one last time before I head home?” she asked, lifting up the front of her tunic with a cheeky smile, offering Willard a last look at her cunt. “I can be quiet if I have to, you know.”

“Aye, I know, girl”, he said, tugging at the hem of her tunic to pull it down, “but after the goodbye roll last evening, the goodbye fuck last night and the goodbye suck this morning, I just don’t have it in me.”

“I guess I can see why you’re retired, if a little thing like that will tire you out.” Spring sallied, smoothing out the front of her tunic and adjusting her belt.

Willard laughed easily. “Is that so, girl? Nay, you’re wild enough to kill a man half my age.”

“Am not.” Spring protested.

“Aye, girl, you are.” Willard said. “But before you go, I have a gift for you.”

“Good!” Spring said, pulling up the front of her tunic again. “I have just the place for it!”

“That’d hurt, I think.” Willard said, as he got out the linen-wrapped bundle he had been carrying and opened it.

While she pulled her tunic back down, Spring marvelled at its content. A sword and dagger of fine steel, finely suited for Spring’s height and arm, pommel stone a rose carved from silver.

“They’re…” she began, but words failed her.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you, and a poor gift for a good student, but it’s the best I have for you.”

Spring pulled the dagger from the linen and inspected the blade. It was slender and fine, and felt right in her hand, and when she drew the sword, it was much the same.

“You know how to use these now, and I know they’ll serve you well.” Willard said with a wan smile.

Quickly, Spring had them in her belt, before she threw herself around Willard’s neck and gave him a long, warm hug, an eager, tender kiss, and a heartfelt thank you, and finally she set off into the forest, to return home.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5letzy/fm_wild_roses_pt_3_scabbard_and_sword_fsub