alcala0001
11-09-2010, 06:45 PM
Ok - this story is a severely edited version of a piece of fictional erotica that I wrote today. I tried to keep it acceptably clean. As this was erotica in its previous, unedited state, (and the good bits that I removed were fully half of this entire story's length) I think I did a pretty good job.
Its good to be back - I have been busy lately and I look forward to catching up on the wonderful stories you all have written!
Two soldiers on the rocky grass plain stop to dismount and rest behind the shade of a large boulder. The dark green forest's edge is in the distance, covering the rolling hills in a thick verdant blanket. The sky above is a deep azure, with wispy clouds drifting lazily across the sun. Their large warhorses, a dapple grey and a chestnut mare, nip at the tall yellow-green grass that reaches skyward between the cold, grey rock. Both are heavily armored, both are tired and both have seen hell today. They remove their helmets and rest in the cool shade of an immense boulder, the cool air refreshing them. The taller, broader one has short, salt and pepper hair. The slimmer of the two is awash in long, brownish-red curls, sweat making the hair shiny and dark. Smoke rises from deep in the forest, the occasional battle horn blares in the distance, barely audible from their rocky retreat. He reaches down to kiss her, his stubble prickling her smooth skin. He smells her sweat through the horse lather and blood that slicks their armor in places. Steel grinds on steel as she puts her arms around him, surrendering to him like she would to no other. Not on the battlefield - and certainly not in her everyday life.
This was not the first battle they had fought together; they had often drawn steel, protecting each other, being each others guardian angel in the heat of battle - and in the heat of passion. Still locked in her lips, he manages to remove his steel gauntlet, the limp fingers falling open onto the ground in the grassy shade. Now he can reach up and feel her delicate skin in his hand as he grabs her jaw, his fingers caressing behind her ear. He needs to feel more than her lips, and she needs more of him too. His brown eyes bore into the grey hazel of her soul as they kiss, frantically reaching for straps and buckles, bits of armor falling away with clanks and thuds. Blood and sweat stain their fingers as they remove the polished but nicked, scratched and dented armor from each other. The battle in the forest has been won - only the cleaning up is left to be tended to. None will think to look for them here. She takes over for him and his trembling, eager hands, removing her gauntlets and the thick wool padding from her thin frame, revealing her short, sweat-soaked slip beneath. Her breasts are vividly displayed as the wet silk hugs her curves, her arousal clearly evident.
He removes his padding as well, revealing a hairy chest - also salt and peppered, strong muscles and a bit of a paunch. He is an old lion, having fought many battles and survived. Scars crisscross his chest, along with fresh welts and bruises from the day's fighting. She brings her mouth back to his, running delicate fingers and sharp nails over the sweaty curls of his chest. He fumbles at her belt, loosening her leather breeches and with much squeaking and pinging, manages to remove the heavy leather trousers. The armor-clad pants fall away from her hips and she wiggles out of her steel boots boots, never-minding the scrape of metal on her shins and calves as she works them off, still in his arms, still kissing for all she's worth. She does the same for him, pulling down his leather breeches and the armor encasing them. Soon they are in each other's arms, unfettered by the steel shells that saw them through harms way countless times in recent hours. With their clothes, they also shed the musk and tang of horse and blood scents. leaving behind the primal smell of a woman and a man.
Both kiss into each other, hands exploring, tracing scars, welts and scratches, relishing the plain as well as the pleasure as bruises are brushed and sore muscles are caressed. Thoughts of slaughter and mayhem are replaced by the promise of carnal delights promised by the hints left by sure hands and playful mouths. They lower down to the soft blanket, their bodies not feeling the sharp bite of rock through wool - only the softer, tender touch of the other. They taste the salt of each other as they take turns exploring with lips, tongue and teeth, leaving not an inch of skin untended in their playful teasing - relishing each dreadfully delicious moment. Hands take over where lips are not busy and they writhe in a mass of flesh like some undulating serpent, coiling and twisting. When they can stand it no longer, they both give in to their desires as they find each other and become one.
They grope and bite, caress and kiss as they give and take of each other, building up to the apex of their lust. As if invisible ropes were cut, they both collapse in a mess of spent limbs and thick hair, both of them panting as their sweat mingles on each other's skin. Through the blood pounding in their ears they hear another rumble - a deeper rumble. Columns of riders bearing the enemy standard thunder past them, not a stone's throw from their secret tryst. Hidden behind the shadow of the large boulders, they wait several minutes for the army to pass. They quickly force their tired muscles to react as they scramble up in a knot of arms and legs, reaching for clothing and armor, frantically buckling and strapping each other together. The two of them share a last kiss as they pull themselves upon their mounts, eager to join the fight again, both relishing the thought of further victory - and celebration in each other's arms. As they ride across the plain, they pass a wine skin and food bundle back and forth. They are going to need to keep their strength up. It's going to be a long day (and night).
Its good to be back - I have been busy lately and I look forward to catching up on the wonderful stories you all have written!
Two soldiers on the rocky grass plain stop to dismount and rest behind the shade of a large boulder. The dark green forest's edge is in the distance, covering the rolling hills in a thick verdant blanket. The sky above is a deep azure, with wispy clouds drifting lazily across the sun. Their large warhorses, a dapple grey and a chestnut mare, nip at the tall yellow-green grass that reaches skyward between the cold, grey rock. Both are heavily armored, both are tired and both have seen hell today. They remove their helmets and rest in the cool shade of an immense boulder, the cool air refreshing them. The taller, broader one has short, salt and pepper hair. The slimmer of the two is awash in long, brownish-red curls, sweat making the hair shiny and dark. Smoke rises from deep in the forest, the occasional battle horn blares in the distance, barely audible from their rocky retreat. He reaches down to kiss her, his stubble prickling her smooth skin. He smells her sweat through the horse lather and blood that slicks their armor in places. Steel grinds on steel as she puts her arms around him, surrendering to him like she would to no other. Not on the battlefield - and certainly not in her everyday life.
This was not the first battle they had fought together; they had often drawn steel, protecting each other, being each others guardian angel in the heat of battle - and in the heat of passion. Still locked in her lips, he manages to remove his steel gauntlet, the limp fingers falling open onto the ground in the grassy shade. Now he can reach up and feel her delicate skin in his hand as he grabs her jaw, his fingers caressing behind her ear. He needs to feel more than her lips, and she needs more of him too. His brown eyes bore into the grey hazel of her soul as they kiss, frantically reaching for straps and buckles, bits of armor falling away with clanks and thuds. Blood and sweat stain their fingers as they remove the polished but nicked, scratched and dented armor from each other. The battle in the forest has been won - only the cleaning up is left to be tended to. None will think to look for them here. She takes over for him and his trembling, eager hands, removing her gauntlets and the thick wool padding from her thin frame, revealing her short, sweat-soaked slip beneath. Her breasts are vividly displayed as the wet silk hugs her curves, her arousal clearly evident.
He removes his padding as well, revealing a hairy chest - also salt and peppered, strong muscles and a bit of a paunch. He is an old lion, having fought many battles and survived. Scars crisscross his chest, along with fresh welts and bruises from the day's fighting. She brings her mouth back to his, running delicate fingers and sharp nails over the sweaty curls of his chest. He fumbles at her belt, loosening her leather breeches and with much squeaking and pinging, manages to remove the heavy leather trousers. The armor-clad pants fall away from her hips and she wiggles out of her steel boots boots, never-minding the scrape of metal on her shins and calves as she works them off, still in his arms, still kissing for all she's worth. She does the same for him, pulling down his leather breeches and the armor encasing them. Soon they are in each other's arms, unfettered by the steel shells that saw them through harms way countless times in recent hours. With their clothes, they also shed the musk and tang of horse and blood scents. leaving behind the primal smell of a woman and a man.
Both kiss into each other, hands exploring, tracing scars, welts and scratches, relishing the plain as well as the pleasure as bruises are brushed and sore muscles are caressed. Thoughts of slaughter and mayhem are replaced by the promise of carnal delights promised by the hints left by sure hands and playful mouths. They lower down to the soft blanket, their bodies not feeling the sharp bite of rock through wool - only the softer, tender touch of the other. They taste the salt of each other as they take turns exploring with lips, tongue and teeth, leaving not an inch of skin untended in their playful teasing - relishing each dreadfully delicious moment. Hands take over where lips are not busy and they writhe in a mass of flesh like some undulating serpent, coiling and twisting. When they can stand it no longer, they both give in to their desires as they find each other and become one.
They grope and bite, caress and kiss as they give and take of each other, building up to the apex of their lust. As if invisible ropes were cut, they both collapse in a mess of spent limbs and thick hair, both of them panting as their sweat mingles on each other's skin. Through the blood pounding in their ears they hear another rumble - a deeper rumble. Columns of riders bearing the enemy standard thunder past them, not a stone's throw from their secret tryst. Hidden behind the shadow of the large boulders, they wait several minutes for the army to pass. They quickly force their tired muscles to react as they scramble up in a knot of arms and legs, reaching for clothing and armor, frantically buckling and strapping each other together. The two of them share a last kiss as they pull themselves upon their mounts, eager to join the fight again, both relishing the thought of further victory - and celebration in each other's arms. As they ride across the plain, they pass a wine skin and food bundle back and forth. They are going to need to keep their strength up. It's going to be a long day (and night).