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Sir Nathan • 4

by Sean Reid Scott

 KnewKnight

 

IT WAS A DARK AND TUMULTUOUS DUSK when our heroes rubbed their hands over a campfire that cut through the gloomy darkness. A lone owl occasionally hooted. The only other sounds came from the crackling of the aforementioned fire.

Yet the occasional howl of a distant wolf gave pause to the assembled men.

As they stared at the fire, the men’s faces were lit by its robust flames. The clearing glowed with the uneven, flickering red and yellow light from the flames. Embers rose from the blaze; most went dark within a few feet of the flames; others rose well into the inky, yet starry sky.

There were just over one score men at the nighttime camp—a mere shadow of the original number in their party. After Sir Nathan’s Joyous Gard forces had freed him—along with a number of Northfield knights, squires and citizens of King Victor’s realm—the race was on.

The “Garders,”—those from Joyous Gard—had established a healthy lead that day, as they fled northeast from Northfield Castle. But as soon as the Garder snipers had left to join their comrades in retreat, King Victor ordered his men to assemble an army and pursue the fleeing homosexuals and their sympathizers—those who condone the “unspeakable acts.”

Since the Ascent of Barrowburns was a good day’s travel from the border of Northfield, Sir Nathan the Huge had ordered his men to split into four parties of various sizes. His strategy was that if they separated, it would be more difficult for King Victor’s Northfield armies to track them.

He was right. Northfield’s forces fell into disarray when they came upon the spot where Nathan’s knights had split up. Their hounds were confused by the switchback trails of the Garders’ scents and, later, by the fact that the scents went in four divergent directions. This had given the Garders precious hours.

As night fell, however, the Garders knew they needed to keep up their guard. Nathan’s camp, which included Northfield’s Sir Tanner, and Tanner’s squire Stephen, would only be able to enjoy their fire for a few more minutes. Then, as the night watch began, the fire would be extinguished, and the men would seek the warmth of their night sacks, if not the warmth of each other.

 

AT DAWN, SQUIRE STEPHEN AWOKE TO the smell of brewing coffee, spiced and salted pork strips cooking in a pan, and the aroma of hawk’s eggs as they popped and gurgled next to the pork. Stephen poked his head out of his tent to see Sir Nathan himself tending the victuals over the fire. The image was breathtaking. A few days ago, Squire Stephen had had his first man-sex encounter with Sir Tanner, back at Northfield Castle. The experience had solidified Stephen’s conviction that he was a “man’s man.” He had always had a penchant for men, yet he had been unwilling to admit it, even to himself. After experiencing Sir Tan, Stephen knew there was no use denying it any longer. He loved men. He loved big men. Men of stupendous, rippling muscle. Sir Tanner was definitely one of those men.

Although Squire Stephen had met Sir Nathan of Joyous Gard and had seen the huge knight in all his glory—a man who bested his own Sir Tanner in every way—the squire had never actually gotten to know Nathan. He suffered under no delusion that he’d ever actually get to know (in the Biblical sense) Nathan the Huge. The Joyous Gard knight was beyond anything to which Stephen could ever aspire. Yet, as Stephen’s late-teen, gorgeous face poked itself out from his tent, and he gazed upon the magnificent, strapping visage of more-muscle-than-should-be-allowed-in-one-single-story, he felt his cock tightening.

As the huge knight bent slightly over the simmering vittles, Nathan’s wide back was toward Stephen. The boy, lying in his tent as he stared at the inhuman compilation of muscle, pressed his growing boner into the ground, barely stifling a moan of desire. He gazed at Nathan’s back; his young eyes didn’t know where to land: On the impossibly-broad shoulders? On the obscenely muscular and protruding lat muscles as they pressed against the knight’s tunic at the top of his back? On the “V” shape of his lower back as it narrowed into the waist? On that svelte, taut waistline itself, that announced the glorious, bulbous buttocks below? On those twin balls of ass-meat themselves, the ultimate muscle-butt of all time? On the twin columns of hamstring muscles encased in lycra-like leggings? Or on the pair of calves that would put most men’s upper legs to shame?

Stephen was unable to silence a second moan of desire. Sir Nathan the Huge was beyond gorgeous.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he …”

Stephen turned his head with a jerk. Beside him, Sir Tanner was on his stomach as well, grinning at his young charge. Tanner looked back to Sir Nathan and continued, saying to Stephen softly, “Don’t worry, mate. I can’t blame you. Nathan is stupendous. No one should demand that you ignore that. I certainly won’t.”

Regardless, Stephen turned red with embarrassment. He didn’t wish to demean Tan. The Northfield knight was singular in his male pulchritude and unearthly muscular development. It’s just that Nathan was even more-so.

“Are you two going to sleep till the sun is high?” Sir Nathan had turned around and called to the two men. “I can understand why you might want to stay in there and enjoy each other’s company,” he continued, “but we should probably break camp soon.” He turned back to tend the breakfast.

Sir Tanner and his squire quickly pulled on their clothes and joined the huge man at the fire. In a minute, the whole camp was awake. Some ate, and some tended to cleaning up the camp while they waited their turn to eat.

An hour later, they were on the trail, heading up the Ascent of Barrowburn. Sir Nathan and Sir Tanner led the group, side-by-side. Squire Stephen and Sir Nathan’s squire, Daniel, rode directly behind their masters. Both squires enjoyed the view. That is, until an arrow brushed close to Daniel’s face, from the right. “Incoming!” he yelled. Immediately everyone snapped their steeds and took off at a gallop. Minutes later, the party came to a stop. The two knights at the rear had held back to take care of the bad guys. Nathan’s group waited. Finally the two men rode up the pathway.

“The bad guys have been eliminated,” one of the knights said.

“Good work,” Sir Nathan congratulated. “Their armorial bearings?”

“Northfield, sire.”

Nathan turned to Tanner and said, “We’d best make good speed to Joyous Gard. It appears King Victor’s men aren’t going to be satisfied with letting us go.”

“Agreed.”

It took another day and a half before Sir Nathan rejoined two of the split groups. By the time the turrets of Joyous Gard were visible in the distance, the other group had joined as well, including Northfield’s Sir Buck. There had been no casualties.

“Your castle is quite impressive,” Squire Stephen said to his new friend, Squire Daniel, as they got closer to Joyous Gard.

“Yes, it is,” Daniel said as they rode. “It’s the strongest fortress on the Eastern coastline. It’s never been breached.”

“And it certainly is beautiful.”

Daniel flashed a smile at Stephen. “Spoken like a true man’s man.”

Stephen flushed red with embarrassment.

“But that’s why you’re joining us,” Daniel reassured with his big smile.

The huge castle was still far in the distance, and it seemed to Stephen that the longer they rode toward it, the farther away it appeared. Finally, when the sun was lowering toward the mountains behind them, the brightly-colored flags which flew from every turret came into view.

The castle sat high on a hill that overlooked the whole valley. Behind it, the coastline pounded at the rocks on which it stood. The party of travelers arrived at the moat just as the night-sconces were being lit on the walls of the castle.

“Who approaches Joyous Gard?” a loud voice called.

“It is I, Sir Nathan the Huge, of the House of Strydom. I bring my party, and new guests from the Kingdom of Northfield.”

The enormous wooden door that had been flush against the main entrance began to lower over the moat to form a bridge. Chains rattled and gears ground with the slow movement of the magnificent object. Finally, it connected the ground across the moat. A heavy metal gate then began to lift in the arched doorway. When it was raised fully, two men rode out of the castle. They stopped in front of Sir Nathan, Sir Tanner, and Sir Buck who were at the front of the party. Satisfied that all was safe and well, the two men turned and led the party over the bridge, through the huge door, and into the castle yard.

Stephen was in awe. The vast yard was lit with torches; it was strewn with plants, greenery, flowers, and all manner of appointments and furnishings. “This place must be twice as big as Northfield,” Stephen whispered to Sir Tanner.

Tanner nodded.

“Welcome home, Sir Nathan,” a big, beautiful hunk of a man greeted. He sported a red beard. He strode out from one of the doors to the yard; Nathan dismounted and gave the man, who was nearly as tall and big as Nathan—but not quite—an enthusiastic hug. “You met with success, I take it!” the red-haired man grinned.

“We did,” Nathan smiled as the two men held each other at arm’s length, eyeing each other’s strapping physiques. Then Nathan released the grip and turned to Sirs Tanner and Buck. “Come. Dismount, my friends. Welcome to Joyous Gard.”

Tanner, Buck, and the rest of the party dismounted; a group of squires emerged to lead their horses to the stables.

“After you refresh and have an evening meal,” the red haired man said to Nathan, “His Majesty King Lancelot has requested your presence.”

“Ah, very well,” Nathan smiled. He turned to Tanner and said to the ginger, “These are my new friends, Sirs Tanner and Buck, of Northfield.” Tanner and Buck bowed slightly. Nathan said, “Sirs, greet Sir Burroughs of Joyous Gard.”

The men embraced in new friendship. Burroughs said, “Any friend of Nathan is my friend as well.” He stepped to the side and directed the visiting knights with one hand. “Come, let me show you to your apartments. We have prepared special quarters for you and your squires, and all of your party, while you acquaint yourselves with your new home.”

“I dare say King Victor himself doesn’t enjoy such posh quarters in his suites at Northfield,” Tanner said to Stephen after Sir Burroughs left their room. He looked up at the high ceiling, then at the luxurious furnishings. A large fire burned in a rock wall on one side. There were two very large beds against one wall. A gigantic wood and iron chandelier hung from the apex of the ceiling, lit with scores of candles. Torches and sconces also infused the big room with warm, glowing light.

“And sire,” Stephen had walked to a large window on the far wall, “look at the view!”

Tanner joined his squire and the two men gazed out the opening for many minutes. It was a stunning view. Their room looked out the front of the castle, over the moat, down over a large forest, then even farther, across the whole, wide valley. In the distance the Mountains of Barrowburn sat in their majesty. Tanner placed an arm around his squire’s shoulder as they gazed at the beauty.

“Sire? Are you going to miss Northfield?” Stephen finally asked.

“Yes, of course,” Tanner said softly. “How could I not?”

Stephen nodded. “I shall miss it terribly,” the teenager said. “But I think I shall never feel empty at Joyous Gard.” He continued to look at the darkening scene out the window. “This place is beautiful. The people are kind. And as long as I can be at your side,” he turned his face to Tanner’s now, “I know I will be safe.”

Tanner leaned down and kissed the teen’s forehead, then moved his lips down Stephen’s strong nose onto his lips. They embraced and kissed for nearly a full minute before Sir Tanner pulled back and turned to look at the luxurious, large room. “I think I’m going to like this unusual arrangement at Joyous Gard, where squires share the room with their knight.” He smiled, and his eyes twinkled in the firelight as he looked back at Stephen.

“Me too,” Stephen said.

A knock on the door brought Sir Tanner to it.

In stepped Squire Daniel. “Sire,” he said, then he looked to Stephen and nodded, “Squire.” He looked back to the knight and said. “A special meal has been prepared in honor of our new residents from Northfield. If you’ve had chance to get settled, you are invited to join us in the Great Dining Hall, post-haste.”

Squire Daniel led the two men to the hall. It was filled with many people. Laughter permeated the air, and steins of drink were being hoisted in toasts. Sir Tanner and his squire were led to the head table, where the entire party of Northfielders was seated. Also at this long table, Sir Nathan and a few other Joyous Gard knights sat, along with their squires.

Tanner and the others ate and drank; backs were slapped, jokes were told, and their harrowing escape from Northfield was regaled with enthusiastic exaggeration.

Then, when the meal was coming to a close, the far set of double doors opened; most of the hall quieted. Many eyes turned, including Tanner’s and Stephen’s. There, in the doorway, stood a man who was every bit as big as Sir Nathan. He looked to match Sir Nathan’s stature in height, width, weight and nearly all proportions. His body-hugging tunic revealed that he was impossibly positively built. Stephen gulped as he wrestled with a hypothetical battle between this man and Nathan. He was unable to formulate any conclusion as to which huge muscleman would prevail.

The knight entered the cavernous Hall and walked toward the head table. Not everyone hushed and stopped, but a good many did. The man’s long, light-blond hair brushed against his bulging trapezius muscles. His strong jaw and cheek bones were shrink-wrapped in golden-tan skin. He had succulent, big lips. As he walked, he occasionally nodded to someone, maybe gave a greeting as he was greeted, and when he did, his bright white teeth, perfect in their alignment, shown. Even from a distance, Stephen noted the knight’s lush, dark eyelashes and brows. Then, when the large man got close to the main table, his rich, sapphire-blue eyes were simply astounding.

He stood at the table and greeted Sir Nathan, welcoming him home—yet his demeanor was definitely reserved. His smile seemed to have been already spent on others when he’d entered.

“Ah, Sir Casey,” Nathan said to the stoic man. “You decided to join us.”

The new knight took a moment. He glanced up and down the table before responding to Nathan. “No, I haven’t,” he said.  “I came only to briefly greet our guests.”

Stephen thought Sir Casey used an unusual tone with Nathan. And when he said “greet,” it sounded insincere to the boy. It immediately became apparent that there was no love lost between Nathan and Casey. It made the squire uneasy.

The huge blond spread his palms wide. “Greetings, friends from Northfield. I hope you find your new lives here at Joyous Gard to be rich and fulfilling.”

As the Northfielders raised their steins and loudly proclaimed their approval, Casey’s eyes stopped at Sir Tanner’s handsome face. He gazed at the gorgeous Tanner, and as he did, his expression became very soft; a slight smile formed on his beautiful face. Stephen saw it; as did Tanner: Casey liked what he was seeing.

Then Sir Casey returned his gaze to Nathan. “You’ll remember that His Majesty has requested your presence this evening.”

Stephen leaned forward and peered down the table at Sir Nathan. The knight’s countenance was difficult to interpret. His speech was measured: “Yes, Casey. I remember.”

Yeah, no love lost.

With no more words, Sir Casey turned and strode back to the double doors.

Stephen and Sir Tanner caught each other’s eyes for a moment, communicating their shared apprehension with only a look.

“My friends,” Sir Nathan said as he stood. “I’m sorry to have to take my leave, but when the King calls, you gotta answer.” He was greeted with loud laughter. He looked at Tanner and said, “Sir Tan, I bid you and your squire a good evening. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He said the same to Buck.

Out of respect, Sir Tanner stood, and of course his squire had to as well at that point. The entire table followed Tanner, standing. Then they raised their glasses and steins in a final salute for the night.

 

“YOUR MAJESTY, I HARDLY THINK SIR CASEY is the one to take on this task,” Sir Nathan stood at attention, facing his king in His Majesty’s private chamber. King Lancelot sat behind a huge oak desk, wearing his casual, yet still regal, evening attire. Next to the king, a guard stood at attention, expressionless, not part of the conversation. Nathan continued, “He doesn’t even know any of the Northfielders. I have been with them for a number of days. I humbly request that His Majesty allow me to oversee the assimilation of the Northfielders into Gardian life.”

The king brought forefinger and thumb to his chin, contemplating an answer. He sighed and said, “Sir Nathan, you and Sir Casey are continually at odds with each other. Why is that?”

“Sire, I know that Casey and I have had our differences in the past,” Nathan said, “but that certainly has no bearing on this matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” The king stood and walked toward his window. “Sometimes methinks my job as your Sovereign is more like that of a school matron,” he faced Nathan now, “for all I seem to do with you two is settle your differences. Tonight’s discussion is most definitely a part of your ongoing discord. You two never agree on anything!”

Sir Nathan sighed. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I’m sorry to supply you with such angst. But doesn’t it just seem logical that I be the one to help our new residents to adapt? Why would Sir Casey be a better choice?”

“He has you to rights, Nathan.” The king moved to a large chair near the royal fireplace and sat. “He has bested you in the contests; won fair and square.”

“It is true, sire, that he won the contests. Yet, you have of course heard my protestations. Not all was fair and square in those contests.” He glared at his king, then softened. “Regardless, his position is not in dispute here. But I beseech thee: In all matters of Joyous Gard, Your Majesty has final authority to choose as He wishes. His wisdom is what should determine the course.”

The king thought for a moment, staring into the fire. “Yet, if I acquiesce to you, how shall I answer our Preeminent Knight? Of what value is Sir Casey’s position if I give his desired task to you?”

Nathan didn’t answer.

The king stood abruptly. “No. Sir Casey is Preeminent. He will be granted this request. His status demands this.”

Sir Nathan’s broad shoulders dropped. He drew a deep breath and said quietly, “Let the king’s will be done.” Without waiting for King Lancelot’s permission to take leave, Nathan turned quickly and exited. He resisted the very strong temptation to slam the heavy door as he left.

King Lancelot turned to the at-attention guard and said quietly, “I didn’t give him leave …”

The guard shrugged and gave an expression of Uh-oh!

 

A SOFT KNOCK on the heavy door startled both Sir Tanner and Squire Stephen. Tanner, who had been writing in his journal, closed it, stuck his quill in its holder, and stood, crossing to open the door. In the corridor, Sir Casey’s magnificent physique filled Tanner’s field of vision. Casey smiled. Tanner looked up at the man. Casey looked much larger now than he had in the Hall.

“Sir Tanner, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Sir Casey said.

Tanner wanted to gawk at Casey’s indescribable physical virtues. The man was definitely as huge as Nathan, a condition Tan hadn’t thought possible. And Casey’s face was swooningly handsome. Even the man’s face seemed muscular. But it wasn’t an ugly musculature at all. He was powerfully gorgeous.

“Not at all, Sir Casey. Would you care to come in?”

“Thank you, yes.”

Casey followed Tanner into the room. Squire Stephen tucked his iPhone under his pillow and stood. “Greetings, Sir Casey.”

“Thank you, squire.” Casey crossed to the fireplace where two chairs stood. It was obvious he wanted to sit.

“Please,” Tanner said, motioning to a chair.

Casey sat; Squire Stephen resumed his position on his bed, retrieving his device. Sir Tanner sat opposite Casey.

“To what do I attribute the honor of this visit?” Tan asked.

Casey’s painfully gorgeous face smiled. The firelight twinkled in his eyes. Tanner couldn’t believe such a handsome man existed. He could feel his cock twitch at Casey’s smile. The blond hair of this huge knight caressed a set of broad, muscular shoulders, and just sitting this close to the demigod made Tanner hard.

“I just wanted to get acquainted, sir,” Casey said. “I’ve been given the honor of overseeing your—and all the Northfielders’ —orientation to life at Joyous Gard.”

“Oh?” Tanner looked confused. “I was told by Sir Nathan that he'd be undertaking that task.”

Casey pursed his lips. Stephen, watching the interchange from his reclined position on his bed, could tell that Casey didn’t necessarily find the mention of Nathan’s name a pleasant thing. “His Majesty King Lancelot has decided to grant me the honor.” He paused, and when he didn’t receive a reaction from Tanner, added, “I’m sure you are aware that I am the Preeminent Knight of Joyous Gard.”

Tanner formed his thoughts. With an almost patronizing tone, he said, “I wasn’t actually told that fact.” Now, his eyes moved over, under and around all of the magnificent muscles of Casey’s impossibly massive and ripped body. “Yet, it doesn’t take a Seer to realize that you might hold that position.”

Casey’s smile was hollow. “Thank you.”

Tanner hadn’t necessarily wanted to give Casey a compliment, but his statement was truth. Casey was obviously just as muscular and big as Nathan. Stephen still had not resolved which knight was bigger, and stronger. Sir Casey’s proclamation that he was Joyous Gard’s Preeminent Knight would seem to settle that question, and the news didn’t sit well with the squire.

“Of course,” Tanner added, “Sir Nathan might be another contender for that position.”

“Actually, I hold that position over Nathan quite assuredly,” Casey continued with a sly smile. “And he hasn’t challenged me in nearly a year.” He gazed toward the darkness in the window, then back at Tanner. “Probably a wise choice on his part.”

Stephen could tell Tanner was liking this Casey knight less and less. Lying on his bed, the squire had been tempted to surreptitiously take a picture of the huge blond knight of Joyous Gard, but Casey’s hubris—however much it might have been deserved—was enough to return Stephen to his “Words with Friends” game instead of opening his camera app.

Having received none of the adulation he wanted for his efforts, Casey said, “Well … we start tomorrow, Sir Tanner. I look forward to giving you the castle tour, and then we’ll go to the Royal Library where I’ll teach you of our grand history.” He stood, and Tanner followed suit. Stephen as well.

Casey walked to the door, and Tanner followed, taking in the broad shoulders, wide back, and cock-tightening ass. “Sleep well, squire,” Casey called to Stephen.

“You as well, sire.”

Casey turned and said to Tanner, “And you as well, Sir Tan.” His leering eyes undressed Tanner. “I’ll see you in the castle courtyard at sun-up.” Then, before he opened the door, he stepped closer to Tanner. Ignoring the squire’s presence, Casey gazed longingly into Tanner’s beautiful eyes. Almost imperceptibly, Tanner shrunk back. But Casey moved even closer. Stephen heard him whisper to Tanner, “I have wanted you from the moment I saw you enter the yard on your steed.” With that, he leaned down and kissed Tanner’s lips. He took Tan’s head in his hands, holding him still.

Tanner tried to pull back, but he obviously needed to be cautious. The Northfielders didn’t know the political and social structure in their new home. Since Sir Casey was the Preeminent, Tanner dared not offend him by resisting too much. Casey’s warm tongue invaded Tanner’s mouth, and the Northfield knight found his cock tightening to a hardness it had never known. This man was the Preeminent, even over Nathan. And despite Casey’s ego, Tanner found himself drowning in lust.

Stephen watched, quietly peeking over the top of his device, watching the two muscle hunks embrace near the suite’s door.

Eventually, Casey broke the kiss, still holding Tanner’s head in his muscular hands. He smiled and said softly, “You make me harder than I have ever been, Tanner.” His smile broadened, “And I would wager I’m having the same effect on you, no?”

Tanner nodded slightly.

“Good,” Casey whispered. “I’ll send my squire for you in one hour. He’ll bring you to my apartment, where we can get to know one another … a little better.”

“ARE YOU GOING to him?” Squire Stephen asked a minute after Casey left.

Tanner cast a sideways glance at his squire. Then he sighed. He sat in his chair. “I don’t think I should,” he said. “Yet, I also don’t think I shouldn’t.”

Stephen thought a second. “Do you want to go to him?”

Tanner looked across the room at the lad. “He is astounding, isn’t he?”

Stephen nodded.

“He has me hard, even now, after he left minutes ago,” Tanner admitted. “My mind swirls with images of his muscles.”

“As does mine,” Stephen said quietly.

“Yet, I feel it would somehow be an affront to Sir Nathan. My intimacy with Nathan is quite special. I get the idea, from seeing the two of them at the Hall, and from Sir Casey’s demeanor just now, that they do not get along.”

“I have come to that same conclusion.”

“So, for me to be intimate with Nathan’s apparent nemesis …”

“… would seem to compromise your relationship with Sir Nathan,” Stephen finished the sentence for the knight.

Tanner nodded. Then he looked down at his evening tunic. His throbbing cock begged to be nursed. “But what to do about this?” he smiled. “A very large part of me cannot resist the invitation.”

Stephen smiled. “Yes, a very large part.”

 

“I TRUST YOU HAVE RECOVERED from your unfortunate headache,” Sir Casey stood at the center of the large castle courtyard, flanked by two squires; his thick arms were folded across his broad chest; he stared down at Sir Tanner. There were numerous Northfielders gathered nearby, including Sir Buck, all waiting for the castle tour and orientation.

“Yes, thank you,” Sir Tanner said, looking up at the huge man. “I apologize for my absence last evening, sire. Methinks the long days spent traveling from Northfield required that I get more rest.”

“I see.” Casey’s gaze was not friendly. Apparently the Preeminent didn’t like being turned down. But suddenly, as if discovering a brand-new thought, Casey’s countenance brightened. He dropped his arms and smiled. “Fortunately, your Sir Buck was more than willing to take your place in my suite.” He turned and nodded at Sir Buck. “He was very good company.”

Tanner’s eyes squinted while he thought. Was Sir Casey attempting to make him jealous? If so, it certainly wasn’t working.

Seeing that Sir Tan had not taken the bait, Casey extended his hand toward Sir Buck, bidding him come. “Sir Buck tells me that you Northfield knights are renowned for your strength and cunning.” Buck arrived at Casey’s side, and the larger man put his arm around Buck’s shoulder. “He says that you, Sir Tanner, are the Preeminent of Northfield.”

“I am,” Tanner answered. Buck nodded a slight smile at his friend.

“Well then, I look forward to scheduling an encounter with you — one I hope you’ll keep — so we can get to know one another, Preeminent to Preeminent.” His smile was beautiful, yet there was something slightly off about him… He continued: “Sir Buck is quite agile. Last night he demonstrated a unique flexible dexterity. I can only hope that his claims of your abilities are warranted.”

Sir Tanner didn’t respond. He did glance at Buck though, who was now blushing.

 

INDEED, WHEN BUCK HAD BEEN SUMMONED to Sir Casey’s apartment, after Squire Stephen had delivered Tanner’s regrets in being unable to accept the invitation, Sir Buck was astonished at the sight of the man who bade him enter.

Sir Buck, having been initiated into the realm of huge Joyous Gard knight-sex during his very public intimate encounter with Sir Nathan a few days previous, was beside himself when he first saw Sir Casey enter the Great Hall earlier in the evening. His heart raced as his eyes traveled up and down the mountains of muscle that comprised Casey’s physique. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d found the ultimate man in Nathan, and unless another rendezvous with Nathan would occur, he’d never again experience such wonderful muscle-sex. When he’d seen Casey in the Hall, though, he believed that it might be possible that sex with Nathan may have been merely penultimate.

So, when Casey’s squire inquired to Buck’s apartment, the muscular Northfield knight fastened his tunic (he’d been masturbating to fantasy images of Sir Casey when the lad had arrived) and followed the squire to Casey’s suite, high in the castle keep.

Casey had opened the door to his squire and Buck, draped in a long robe that was open at the front; The few inches of open robe hinted at unbelievable muscularity—huge muscles, no fat. He appeared to be wearing a very small holster—a pouch, as it were—seductively wrapped around his genitals, held on by very thin straps that traversed his taut waist. The huge knight dismissed his squire to fend for himself for the night, then bade Buck enter.

Inside the luxurious, massive suite, Casey led Buck to the fireplace. He stopped, then turned to the smaller man (smaller, definitely, yet certainly not small). Sir Casey’s slightly-open, silky robe was tauntingly sensual. Those few inches which the robe revealed showed a hairless chest that was so thick, so wide, so protruding, and so insanely wrapped with the thinnest layer of tan skin, that Buck’s already hard sex organ nearly began convulsing with ejaculations just at the sight of this “tease” of muscle between the lapels of the robe.

Apparently, Buck’s lust at the man’s pectorals was not well concealed. Casey said, “Your eyes tell me that you might be a chest man, no?” He gave a subtle flexing roll of his chest beneath the fabric.

“Sire,” Buck’s voice cracked, “I think… I would be unable to name a single feature of your physique that would be more difficult to resist than any other…”

Casey chuckled. “I see,” he said. “Well, perhaps we should spend the night finding out if you are able to resist… any of my features.” He pulled the lapels of his robe open a few more inches.

Buck gasped. The cantilevered chest hovered over a set of unparalleled abdominal muscles. The huge man didn’t seem to have any fat on his body.

Casey closed his robe. He wanted Buck’s eyes. As soon as the muscle was covered, Buck looked up to the mammoth blond muscleman’s face.

“Yes, I think that’s what we should do tonight,” Casey smiled. “I’d like to see exactly how much you are able to resist.” He crossed to a very large stuffed chair and sat in it, still keeping his robe pulled closed. He motioned for Buck to take an opposite chair. He smiled at Buck and said, “I’d like you to show me how strong you are—your strength of will—your ability to keep from cumming, over my muscles. I’m going to gradually reveal myself to you and let you touch. I want to see how long you can hold off.”

Sir Casey gazed at the fire that burned in the rock fireplace. As he did, he said, “The longest any man at Joyous Gard has been able to hold back his orgasm over my muscles has been 20 minutes.” He looked at Buck again. A smile formed. “And from the way you are touching yourself, and how dry your mouth looks, I’d say you’re going to have a difficult time besting that record.”

Buck’s face warmed with his blush. He removed his hand from his crotch.

“Can I get you some drink?” Casey asked, standing again with an apparently sudden thought. He retrieved two glasses and a bottle of some drink and poured one.

“Yes, thank you,” Buck said. Sir Casey poured the second and took it to Buck. Holding two glasses had left his robe slightly open again; Buck was barely able to grasp the offered drink for the painfully wonderful glimpse of muscle that revealed itself once again.

“You are one of the largest knights of Northfield, no?” Sir Casey said as he crossed to the fireplace and stood there.

“I believe that’s true,” Buck said.

“Sir Tanner, I am convinced, is the largest; he is your Preeminent, no?”

“Yes, sire, he is.”

Casey smiled. “I felt a special tightening of my loins when I saw him at the Great Hall tonight. He is quite handsome and one of the best-built men I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His eyes seemed to look to a distant place. Then he stopped for a second and looked back at Buck: “Yet, please take no offense. Your physique is an amazing compilation of huge, throbbing muscles. I will enjoy getting to know you.”

“No offense taken, sire. Sir Tanner is our Preeminent for a reason. His strength and muscles are renowned.”

“I trust you’ve been intimate with him?” Casey’s eyes got that misty, far-off look again.

Sir Buck hesitated. “I have not,” he said.

“But you’ve seen him naked?”

Again, Buck paused, visibly unsure of himself. “Forgive me, sire,” he said to Casey, “these things … at Northfield we do not usually discuss such things amongst ourselves.”

Casey smiled. “Perhaps this will be your first lesson about life at Joyous Gard. We are free to openly discuss these kinds of matters here.”

“I see. Methinks I will have to get used to that.” Buck took a sip of his alcoholic beverage. “But in answer to your question, yes, I have seen him naked. I was tasked with his voir dire in front of the subjects of Northfield. Your party rescued us shortly thereafter.”

“Ah,” Casey grinned. “So you have touched him… personally. If you were in charge of his voir dire, you no doubt brushed his organ while you attached the weights and such?”

Buck sighed. “Yes, sire. I did.”

Casey got glassy-eyed now. “I bet they are stupendous… his genitals.”

Buck said nothing; he slowly sipped his drink.

Then, as if waking from a stupor, Casey looked squarely at his guest. “But Sir Tanner is for another time. What kind of host am I that I would swoon over another man in the presence of my guest? Forgive me.”

“No apology is necessary, sire. Sir Tanner is indeed worthy of hearty swooning. He’s all that.”

Sir Casey smiled. He placed his glass on the mantle above the large fireplace. Now his eyes were glued to Sir Buck. His gaze seemed to pierce Buck. He slowly extended one hand to Buck, inviting him to stand. Buck did so, putting his glass on an occasional table. Buck took a step forward. Casey did likewise. The two men were close now, only inches apart.

Sir Casey’s immense, clean-shaven chest hovered in front of Buck’s widening eyes. This close, Buck could feel the warmth emanating from the thick slabs of pectoral muscle as if they were generating the heat of smoldering coals. Casey’s barely-open robe still blocked most of what Buck wanted to see, but what was visible was a collection of insane striations that plunged into a cleavage that was as deep as the moat which surrounded the castle in which the two men stood.

Neither man said anything. Casey stood still, generously allowing Sir Buck all the time he needed to appreciate his body. After a moment, Casey smiled down to his awe-struck worshipper and said softly, “My robe is made of the finest silk. You should feel how supple it is.”

Buck didn’t need to be asked twice. Yet, he was cautious. He was nervous. He’d only been “exposed” as a man’s man a few days ago. And other than the public sex wherein Nathan had inserted himself into Buck, and Buck had come, shooting his load between the two of them, he was nearly a virgin. Too, these Gardians were so open about mansex, so unafraid to do what was unspeakable at Northfield, it gave Buck pause. This was something quite new to him. And being initiated into such wonderful freedom of muscle worship and homosex, with the epic Sir Casey, a man who bested any dreams Buck had ever had about ultra-muscled men, the one who would welcome him into this new world of orgasmic delight–well, Sir Buck was beside himself with not only lust, but apprehension.

Still, Buck’s hands rose slowly; they ended up on the top—the shelf—of Casey’s chest, resting on the shiny, silky-blue fabric of the giant’s robe.

Buck’s fingers trembled. He spread them over the luxurious fabric that lay over Casey’s impossibly gorgeous pecs. He watched his fingers as they transited over the magnificent plates of muscle. The shelf of Casey’s chest was indeed that: a shelf, a protruding horizontal platform where any manner of small object—a glass, an ink well, a scroll, even a heavy dagger—could be placed, and rest freely until the colossal knight removed it. The heat of Casey’s body transferred through the silk into Buck’s worshipping fingers. Casey held very still, gazing warmly at the smaller man, letting Buck acquaint himself with the inconceivable beauty of his own body.

Spurred by Casey’s acceptance of his touch, Buck’s confidence began to grow. He moved both hands outward. It seemed to take hours, but eventually each hand was at the outer perimeter of Casey’s massive chest. Buck’s fingers moved down the outer ledge of each pectoral, sliding slowly over the fabric. When his hands got to the lower overhang of the twin plates, he gasped. His fingers pushed the loose fabric underneath the protuberance. The chest muscles cantilevered nearly the length of his fingers!

Buck’s cock begged for release. As he stood there, exploring the vast, warm, hard muscle, he could sense only two things: the impossibly erotic power of Casey’s chest muscles under the touch of his hands, and the impossibly hard pain of his own erection. He wondered that Casey might be right in his assessment of the smaller knight’s inability to hold back an involuntary orgasm. Buck felt so close to exploding his load that he was tempted to withdraw his hands. Yet, he couldn’t.

Seeming to sense how close to the edge Buck was, Sir Casey gently took Buck’s wrists and removed the man’s hands from his chest. “Not yet, my eager man,” he smiled downward. “Control yourself.”

Buck’s hands felt like they’d just been cut off—numb at the absence of Casey’s pecs. At that moment, he would have given is own soul to be able to return them to the twin stone plates. He dropped them at his sides, though, and looked up into Casey’s warm eyes.

Casey gazed down at Buck’s obviously tight and constrained crotch. He clucked his tongue. “That just won’t do,” he smiled. He slowly undid the binding at Buck’s waist. Being careful not to handle Buck’s cock and balls—even the most innocent contact with the man’s genitals would certainly bring him to orgasm—Sir Casey opened, and removed Buck’s trousers, and underclothing. In a minute, he had Buck’s upper tunic removed as well. Now, the smaller man stood Buck Naked in front of the muscle-god. Buck’s prodigious cock had immediately sprung to its hardest state, and now it was flush against his abs—pointing straight up at his own pectoral overhang. Pre-cum gurgled enthusiastically out of it, creating shiny trickles and streams of lubricating fluid that poured over the pink cock head, running all the way down his thickly-veined shaft, into his trimmed pubic forest.

Sir Casey gazed down at it with a smile. Standing close to the nude muscleman, he slowly moved an index finger to the slit, scooping up a generous amount of the clear liquid. He unhurriedly lifted his hand, and a silver thread extended between his fingertip and Buck’s cock-tip. The shiny strand reflected the flicker of the fire as Casey moved his hand higher, toward his face. The thread of lust didn’t break, even when Casey—with a sensual grin—inserted his finger into his own mouth to sample the gooey, salty syrup. Only when the great knight removed his finger—erotically twisting it between his pouting, thick lips as he did so—did the strand of fluid bow and lower under its own weight. Casey dropped his hand. A tiny glistening drop remained on his chin; he said with a smile, “Thank you for that. I take it that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck didn’t respond, but his cock did twitch, expelling yet another glob of desire out its piss slit.

“Let’s give you another feel of this fine silk,” Casey smiled. He turned toward the fireplace and spread his hands wide, leaning forward, resting them on the high mantle. His back was to Buck now, and the blue silk draped over his back side, showing the humongous breadth of his upper back, the sharp narrowing where the latissimus dorsi dove toward his waist, and the outline of the tightest, hardest, smallest-looking ass in all the known world. Casey spread his giant legs, and Buck actually drooled as the hamstrings bulged under the royal-blue silk. “I think you’ll agree that the seamstresses of Joyous Gard do wonderful work,” Casey teased. “And they use only the most expensive, highest quality materials.”

Buck was dumbstruck. He literally couldn’t move.

Casey turned his face back to his admirer and smiled. “Go ahead, sire. Please tell me what your hands experience when they touch the… um… fabric.”

Buck blinked hard, and shook his head to get the cobwebs out. He wanted to, but dared not, start with that jaw-dropping ass. Its twin balls of iron were the best-formed gluteal muscles he could have ever imagined possible. Instead, he reached out and placed his trembling palms on the outer flanks of the knight’s lats. They spread as wide as an eagle’s wings, but they were not feathers; they were mounds of rock-hard luxurious muscle. Sir Buck squeezed. He dragged his hands over, around, up, and down the singular back muscles: slowly to the center, then back out to those manta-like flanks. Buck had unknowingly leaned in to his work, and his erection was now drooling its worship offering all over Sir Casey’s silky robe. Dark rivulets began to form where the robe draped over Casey’s ass muscles, unbeknownst to Buck. Actually, an exceptional amount of fluid was now coming out of Buck’s cock. It was astonishing. Soon, a steady stream of pre-cum was virtually gurgling onto Casey’s twin globes of ass, again, unbeknownst to either man. It was nearly the amount of an actual orgasm.

What Buck did know was that his forward-leaning posture had placed his throbbing cock right at Casey’s ass crack. Involuntarily, Buck bucked slightly, and his boner pushed into the crack, burying itself in the now-wet, blue silk. As his penis nestled itself between the rocks of gluteus maximus, Buck pressed a bit harder.

That was all it took. Before Casey was even able to react to Buck’s hands tightening hard onto his spread-eagle lats, and before Buck was able to even consider pulling his lower torso back, his cock erupted with a hard, almost audible, long, squirting rope of bright white milk. The ejaculate covered the distance between the slit and Sir Casey’s gorgeous, long blond hair, simultaneously dropping its entire length, drawing a white line on the beautiful robe. Buck cried out, gripping Casey’s lats for dear life, and his screaming dick threw out a second wad—this one shooting farther than the first, depositing an even more-generous amount of cream onto Casey’s head, combining with remnants of the first blast. A third burst joined its brothers to form a triad of white ribbons that squiggled up the back of Sir Casey’s robe.

Except for a slight push-back and flexing of his glutes to harden around Buck’s cock, Casey remained still, to allow Buck to finish his orgasm.

Nothing in Buck’s very limited exposure to mansex—nor in his very unlimited self-pleasuring masturbatory sessions—had ever come remotely close to the overpowering convulsive ejaculations he was now experiencing. His entire body was flexed in an uncontrollable seizure of sexual climax. Burst after blast of ejaculate continued to spew from Buck onto Casey; at one point it was difficult to distinguish the difference from one shot to the next. They almost linked together in one continuous stream of steaming cum.

Sir Casey would be hard-pressed to remember having any man deposit such a phenomenal amount of fluid on his clothing, on his body, or anywhere for that matter. Later, when he would take off his robe to examine the “damage,” Casey would be astonished.

Eventually, Buck’s orgasm subsided. When it was all over, he literally collapsed, falling right on to Sir Casey’s muscular, and wet, backside. Buck turned his head to the side; his ear lay against Casey’s back. The only thing that brought Buck out of his stupor was the resonant laugh that he was now hearing as his ear pressed against the sinewy back. Buck opened his eyes and pushed himself off Casey, groggily standing tall. Casey pushed himself away from the mantle and stood tall as well. He turned around to examine Buck, still laughing.

“Why, you’re almost as fragile as a maiden!” he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man lose control like this.”

Buck, although embarrassed, was too exhausted to overtly react to Casey’s amusement. His shaft was as rigid as it had been. For the first time in his life, Buck believed that he would be able to come again, right away, if encouraged to do so. He was still so hard at Casey’s astounding physique that he almost couldn’t contain himself. And he hadn’t even seen the big knight’s body yet! Truth be told, if Casey had at that moment, pushed his robe off and let it drop to the floor, Buck would have definitely begun squirting again at the mere sight of all that exposed muscle.

But Casey didn’t. It’s possible that he knew Buck was quite unable to fend off another orgasm. Regardless, Sir Casey had plans for the rest of the night, and he wanted to give Buck a moment to collect himself before they continued with the muscle-orgasm-holding-back-torture.

And it would be torture for Buck—but only figuratively. It would be torture for him to resist coming all over Casey. There would be an unbelievable session of naked posing on the part of Casey, as well as all manner of feeling, caressing and touching the huge knight’s impossible physique. And it would last into the wee hours of the morning. In fact, Buck’s cock would blow its final wad of the night, only an hour or so before the first cock would crow.

But for now, Sir Casey paused.

“You should take some rest,” Casey said. “Here.” He directed Buck’s glistening, hard body over to the bed. The Northfielder’s muscular physique rippled as he lay back on the soft covers. His cock was still plastered against his narrow lower torso. Casey retrieved some water. Buck sat up and gulped it down. Casey tousled Buck’s hair with a laugh. “You are a beautiful man,” he said. “But you have no control over your own body. Tell me, are all the Northfield knights as unable to exercise restraint as you?”

Buck only gave Casey a sheepish pursing of the lips.

“I certainly hope Sir Tanner is longer-lasting than you, Buck,” Casey added.

Again with the Sir Tanner, Buck thought.

“Yet,” Sir Casey stood and set the water on an occasional table, “the evening is still young, my new friend. I look forward to seeing if I can teach you to reign in your desires.”

Buck looked up at the towering muscle-god and said, “Sire, I’m not sure I will be able to master that… certainly not here, alone with you in your quarters.”

Casey tossed his head back in laughter. “Well, said,” he said. “Indeed, you may be right.” He leaned toward Buck and said, “But you do have to admit, it will be fun to try.”

Buck smiled up at Casey. The Preeminent Gardian knight was beyond ripped and gorgeous. Sir Buck felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. To imagine a whole night spent with this rippling, huge and magnificent body…

It was over an hour later before Sir Casey finally removed his robe for Buck. In the interim, Casey teased Buck with brief glimpses, feels, and clothed flexing sessions. At one point, after a lengthy stretch of kissing, Buck came again, this time squirting up the open front slit in Casey’s robe, depositing chunky dollops of his come onto the larger knight’s abdominals, chest and chin.

But now, after Casey had cleaned that mess up, he stood in front of the dry-mouthed Buck, slowly pulling open the robe. “Are you alright, sire?” Casey asked with a sly grin. “Will you be able to hold back if you see more?”

Buck gulped. “I think so, Sir Casey. Yet I cannot guarantee. However, if you don’t disrobe soon, I fear my more immediate situation will involve not orgasming, but insanity. You are driving me crazy with desire.”

Casey chuckled. “I see. Well, I certainly don’t want to have to summon our Seers and medicine wizards to come to your aid should you collapse in a heap of anticipation over my muscles.” He pulled the lapels a bit wider, then stopped. “And yet, perhaps the revelation of my muscles will cause the aforementioned collapse even more certainly than the expectation. No?”

Buck wanted to blurt out something like, Listen, motherfucker, take it off now! but instead he demurred with: “You speak truth, sire. I make no claim as to my ability to resist your unspeakable muscular beauty.”

Sir Casey was nothing if not appreciative of all kinds of worship. And Buck’s physical manifestations of worship (his inability to hold off an involuntary orgasm) were obviously matched by his ability to quite eloquently verbally communicate his lust for the rippling knight. Casey pulled his robe wider.

Now, for the first time, Buck saw the succulent, gorgeous, dark, sand-dollar sized areolae. The pectoral muscles were so mammoth that they forced the nut-sized nipples at the center of the circles to point to the floor. Buck’s eyes moved between the two nipples, stopping at the horizontal lines of striations that dove into the cleavage, back and forth, stopping, moving, then stopping again. He gulped.

Casey pulled the robe’s lapels far back now, then let go, fastening them against the outer ridges of his chest; the pecs stuck out so far that they held back the silky fabric, exposing the ribcage of abdominals and intercostals that supported that insane bare chest.

Buck stood close enough to the eye-level pectorals that he could see individual pores in Casey’s warm, glowing, tight skin. The strapping man was the personification of health. His largest organ—the epidermis—was as strikingly beautiful as every other part of his immense physique. The golden-tan skin, thinner than parchment, and nearly transparent, showed off every mound and hollow of rippling muscle. The entire gaping cleavage seemed now to be even more obviously comprised of horizontal lines of stacked striations of muscle. They were stretched to their limit as skin and sinew dipped into the chasm between the twin breastplates. Buck considered that when flexed, those pectorals would be capable of wrapping around, and easily holding up, the weight of Excalibur itself; nor would the magic sword be able to cut through the sinew which held it captive.

Sir Casey’s broad shoulders and arms were still sheathed in silk, so Buck’s eyes decided (quite possibly without directive or permission from his brain) to move downward. The adoring pupils, cornea, cones and rods were not disappointed in what they found. Buck had to take a half-step backward in order to take in the sight. There, at the lower terminus of the giant’s torso, resting on what couldn’t have been a larger circumference than that of a small-sized tree, an itsy-bitsy, diminutive string rested around the knight’s waist on the hip bones. Buck couldn’t see what was going on at the back side of this petite raiment, but what he saw at the front was enough. At the fore, the silky threads held a pouch, into which Sir Casey’s cock and balls must surely have had to have been forced—undoubtedly with great protestation from said genitalia. Indeed, the silk pouch, unable to completely contain the horse-cock within, left a gap between torso and fabric, wherein Casey’s lusciously-trimmed brown-blond pubic hair could be seen, along with a thick vein which obviously fed the aforementioned organ.

The fabric of the thong was the same silky, royal-blue material that comprised the blond knight’s robe: a color that pulled the same from his eyes. The delicious color was the perfect complement to Casey’s golden mane. There’s nothing like a rich blue to bring out the best in a blue-eyed blond. No?

The entire time Buck examined the knight’s waist (and its accoutrements), Sir Casey stood erect and still. Yet, as Sir Buck continued his lusty inspection of the stupendous body before him, Sir Casey apparently became aroused at all this attention. His member twitched—more than once. As Buck watched, Casey’s thickening genital protrusion began to force the fabric of the pouch away from his torso even more.

“It seems the Gardian knight is susceptible to external forces—forces which apparently are combining to create a measure of arousal,” Buck teased.

Sir Casey smiled down. “Perhaps. Your reaction to my physique is indeed… appreciated,” he said. “Yet, I think you will find that this Gardian knight has quite a bit more self-control than the knight from Northfield.”

“Really?” Buck smiled up. “Are you quite sure?”

Casey chuckled. “I don’t really think you are in a position to assert any claim to self-control, my new friend. I suggest you keep any accusations toward me, to yourself.” He winked at Buck.

“Fair enough,” Buck smiled. He returned his eyes to Casey’s crotch. Then lower. As Casey’s Brobdingnagian upper legs came in to view, Sir Buck gasped once again. Quadriceps of astronomical proportions announced themselves with rolling, rippling, moving muscle. Casey tightened, then loosened, then tightened again, his legs. It almost appeared that animals were moving under the skin, and they were running to and fro.

Buck was beside himself with lust. He’d never even considered that a man could have such enormous, rippling legs. The twin columns of muscle looked so big and powerful that they’d be enough to uproot any tree in the kingdom. All Sir Casey would have to do is wrap his legs around said tree, lock his ankles, squeeze, then lift. No tree would be able to withstand his efforts. Root and ball would rise into the air, and Casey would easily lie the trunk on its side before releasing the defeated stronghold.

The concept gave Buck a shudder, then a tightening in his cock. His boner hadn’t subsided one iota since he’d arrived in Sir Casey’s apartment—even after multiple orgasms. And with his examination of those flexing legs, it nearly commenced squirting anew.

Casey bent forward and took one of Buck’s hands. He placed it on his quad, then resumed flexing, tightening and dancing the great muscles under Buck’s quivering palm and fingers.

“Oh. Oh, my god,” Buck whimpered as he felt the muscles gyrate against his hand.

Casey let go of Buck’s wrist; Buck kept his hand on the leg. The smaller man’s cock gurgled again with anticipatory pre-cum, wetting its entire length and girth with the clear fluid.

Buck was unable to keep his other hand out of the action, and quickly, both of his hands were moving over and around the flexing tree trunks. He fell to his knees. As Casey tightened the muscles, Buck would place a finger inside the deep fissures formed by the coalescing rock. Then, the nearly-whimpering knight would move his palms and fingers over the mounds and ridges, finding yet another cavern where he could bury his digits in muscle.

This must have gone on for as long as the sand would last in a time glass. Neither man seemed to tire of the exercise, although Casey did have to pull back a few times when Buck grew close to the precipice of ejaculating. Somehow, though, through Casey’s patient teaching, Buck was learning the discipline of holding off his orgasms. It wasn’t easy; nothing good ever is. (… if one could classify being able to hold back one’s pent-up orgasmic desires as “good.” Yet in this case, the goodness of resistance would be greatly rewarded, very soon.) Indeed, as the night progressed, Buck found a few moments where he was able to tamp down his lust—if only momentarily.

“I think you might be ready for more,” Casey smiled down at the kneeling Buck. “I’m getting a little warm anyway. I think it’s time to lose the robe.”

At this announcement, Buck stood up. He stepped back.

Without hesitating, Sir Casey pulled against his robe, opening it wider and wider. He abruptly shrugged it off his broad, thick shoulders. Then it slowly slid down over his mighty arms, at one point catching on their tremendous girth. The fabric finally released Casey’s unreal cannons. It fell to the floor.

As the entire body of Casey was revealed (save what was covered by the silky-blue thong), Buck gasped. His breath hitched, and then he actually gasped a second time. Sir Casey’s arms, which Buck had not seen bare before, were twin titanic sentries that hung from their respective boulder-sized, rounded, mounding shoulders. Each arm was Herculean in its size and definition. It looked to Buck as if each arm—if applied to the task—would be capable of fracturing the castle walls which protected Joyous Gard. Casey lightly shook out his arms, examining each one, admiring their apparent power and obvious beauty. He slightly wriggled his fingers, which had the effect of giving Buck a mind-boggling show of striations and vascular map work which not only made Buck’s own cock jump, but due to the smaller man’s reaction, made Sir Casey’s own member tighten slightly.

Down the full length of Casey’s gigantic, rippling, upper arms, ran a main blood vessel, thicker than the reeds that grew in the fens near Northfield. Standing directly in front of Sir Casey, Sir Buck was treated to a fantastic display of the Gardian’s triceps sticking out at his sides. The entire effect of Casey’s arm mass was mesmerizing. Just seeing them… Buck could have stood there forever, lusting after their size, proportions and obvious strength.

One corner of Sir Casey’s mouth tightened and slightly lifted. “See something you like?”

With a sickening moan, Buck expelled more air from his lungs than they actually held. He stumbled, then caught himself. He tried in vain to stand erect. Finally, he managed to contain himself. Then, once again, without warning, as he stood in front of his newly-discovered god, his turgid shaft exploded with a steady stream of milk. The spray of cum coated Sir Casey’s body with a vengeance. It seemed that no lump of muscle, no ridge, no couloir was safe. For his part, Casey appeared to enjoy the liquid offering that his worshipper was ejaculating. It coated his muscles, making them glisten with life. He smiled as Buck’s semen cooled his skin.

 

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU NORTHFIELDERS,” Sir Casey chuckled as he lifted Buck off the floor.

The smaller knight had collapsed in a heap of lust after his most recent orgasm had ended. He’d been out cold, for nearly a full minute. He choked and sputtered, trying to regain his composure as he regained his consciousness.

“Yet, in spite of your obvious inability to control your urges,” Casey continued, “you do seem to possess a remarkable capacity to continually produce—and reproduce—amazing amounts of semen. Are all Northfielders so … prolific?”

Buck reddened, again. “I cannot answer for my brethren. Yet I doubt any of them have ever been exposed to this kind of … stimulation, sire.”

Casey chuckled again. “Well, I look forward to investigating the desire of your brethren, Sir Buck. But for now, I dare say it might be advantageous—for both of us—to continue getting acquainted.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Your ministrations have had quite an effect on me,” Casey smiled. As you can see, my cock seems to be lengthening in anticipation of… uh… manual ministrations. I hope you are amenable to such activities.”

There was nothing in the world that could keep Buck from “ministering” to Sir Casey’s growing cock. Yet, such out-and-out unspeakable “pleasures” were still… well… unspeakable, for Northfielders. Never mind that the Northfield knight had already sprayed his lust all over Sir Casey’s body, multiple times.

Sir Buck demurred. “I know not of what you speak,” he whispered.

Sir Casey grinned. “I think you do, sire …”

“It’s just that us Northfielders… we aren’t used to discussing such things. We aren’t used to being accepted in this way. I’m overwhelmed, not only by your tremendous physique, but by the accepting welcome we have received here in Joyous Gard.”

“I think,” Sir Casey smiled, “you’re going to enjoy life here.” With those words, Casey pulled Buck to himself and the two men began kissing passionately. A moment later, Sir Casey was carrying Buck to the bed. He sat the smaller big man on the edge of the bed. Buck sat, upright, with his feet on the floor.

“I would like for you to give me head,” Casey said.

Buck could see that Sir Casey’s python cock had been growing even more during the past few minutes. The silk that hid it was failing. The tiny string was being pulled to its maximum stretch.

Sir Casey stood directly in front of Buck; the smaller man’s face was at the level of the huge man’s svelte waist and thickening cock. Buck lifted his hands slowly. They trembled; he tugged on the blue silk gently. Then he pulled with a bit more force. Gradually, he revealed more and more of what appeared to be the largest set of human genitalia he’d ever seen.

Once Buck slid the skimpy garment down to Casey’s feet, the blond knight’s erection thickened and lengthened, moving upward with the visible throbbing of Casey’s heart beats. Its piss slit glistened with pre-cum; it seemed to wave to Buck as it grew into its fullness.

Casey stood still.

Buck wanted to suck on that rod. He wanted to lick it, to wet every inch of the hardening cock that was only inches from his face.

Unable to wait any longer, Buck leaned forward, and began tracing Casey’s manhood with his tongue. He placed his fingertips on the shaft, holding it still as be began administering a very, very wet bath. He could feel Casey’s heartbeat in the cock, on his fingertips, and on his tongue. The veiny ridges roped around, up, and down, the turgid shaft, and Buck’s tongue relished every single ridge and valley.

For a man with limited experience in this field, Buck was taking Casey on a trip like he’d never experienced. The gigantic, muscular man lifted his face, groaning as he let his eyelids close half way. Now Buck brought his other hand to the task. He gently cupped one of Casey’s ample nut sacks in the fingertips of this hand, slipping them softly behind Casey’s testes, tickling the very sensitive ridge of skin between balls and anus. Casey responded with an even more resonant moan. Sir Casey’s entire, tan body tightened into just pure muscle, as the skin seemed to recede into the rippling sinew. Buck wanted to pause and look up at what must have been an insanely glorious whole-body-flex, but his tongue was too busy to allow an interruption. In seconds, Buck’s lips were being moistened by Casey’s shiny-wet pre-cum. Buck wriggled the tip of his tongue into Casey’s piss slit, eliciting yet another positive reaction from his idol.

Buck’s lips pulled more and more of Casey’s cock into his mouth; they wrapped around the entire helmet now, and slipped around the very pronounced red cut. Soon, Buck’s worshipping lips had transited about half of Casey’s shaft. But that would be the limit of what he could fit inside his mouth. The Preeminent Gardian’s penis was as prodigious as every other part of his body. The tip of Casey’s head hit the back of Buck’s throat, forcing Buck to pull back with a slight gagging reflex. Eventually, Buck began providing a slow, rhythmic motion to Casey. The huge knight moved one hand to the back of Buck’s head, to encourage even more cock love.

Buck continued to tickle Casey’s perineum as he sucked. Harder and harder now. Casey seemed to demand it. Buck delivered.

A lot quicker than Buck would have guessed it would happen, Casey moved toward climax. He became louder. His body glistened with sweat. His rigid-hard cock began to twitch. Then, the floodgates opened with a burst so powerful that Casey’s cum hit the back of Buck’s throat almost painfully. Buck reflexively yanked his mouth off the exploding organ and choked hard. He grabbed his throat with both hands, coughing and choking as he fell back on the bed.

Seems Casey’s semen had gone down the wrong pipe.

Buck threw himself up onto the bed, writhing as he tried to find breath. There was so much come in his mouth—from only one burst—that it gurgled everywhere: behind his teeth, between teeth and cheeks, and out over his lips. Casey’s initial ejaculation was so powerful that it not only popped Buck off the cock, but it forced spoonfuls of semen into Buck’s sinuses, and then dribbled out his nose.

Buck would be alright, but while he continued to convulse, he looked up at Sir Casey, whose body was flexed and rippling with a now-full-on uncontrollable orgasm. A steady stream of white, warm orgasmic fluid shot out of Casey’s cock with the force of a waterfall. The absence of Buck’s hands and mouth left Casey with nothing to push against, and the frustration was immediate and overwhelming. Without even thinking, Casey reached down to Buck’s naked body, grabbed Buck’s ankles, splayed them wide, lifting them high, and pressed his still-spurting cock against the smaller man’s sphincter. The cum blast out sideways, but Casey quickly shoved his rigid log inside Buck’s ass, bringing a shriek from Buck’s white mouth.

Now, Sir Casey held Buck’s legs against his own muscular chest and fucked the daylights out of that quivering ass, ramming his pile-driver in and out with such power that Buck feared injury might come to his internal organs. He silently prayed—between screams of pain—that the medicine men of Joyous Gard would be well-trained and talented enough to handle such affliction.

This nearly unbearable pummeling lasted until Buck was nearly pounded into unconsciousness. Casey’s long blond hair was wet with sweat and globs of Buck’s come from earlier in the evening. The larger knight’s body glistened. Finally, Casey pushed himself hard and left it there. He stared at Buck’s nearly insentient face and squeezed the last of his cream into Buck’s ass. Then, when he had deposited his last, he fell on top of Buck. Buck’s legs flared out at Casey’s narrow hips. Buck found a bit more lucidity; the two men embraced. Buck caressed the wide wet back. Occasionally, Casey rotated his hips ever-so-slightly, squeezing a drop or two more of his essence into Buck’s rectum.

 

THE MORNING SUN streamed down on the courtyard now, shining on Sir Casey’s long, beautiful, golden locks. “Well, I look forward to that time where I can compare Sir Buck’s ample talents and abilities to your own, Sir Tanner,” he said. He looked at Buck and added, “Thank you for last night.” He gave Buck a delicious kiss that made Tanner start to get hard. Then, Casey turned to the group and said, “Well, I see no reason for further delay.” The huge Gardian removed his arm from Buck’s shoulder and motioned for Sir Tanner, Sir Buck and the rest of the initiates to follow as he led them all out of the courtyard toward their first stop on the castle tour.

 

[There'll prolly be more of this story...]

 

18SrSseal

 

[Supporters for Sir Nathan's coat of arms by the artist "Matt." Gosh, I wish he'd come back.]

© 2018 Sean Reid Scott

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