Caped Crusader
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The Crusader free porn video
The fallen had become the flowers of Antioch. They lay s**ttered like wildflowers on the putrid planes. There’s no need for bees or butterflies in the garden of the dead, flies are suffice.
A sad end for men who had followed to Cross to the bitter end.
However, I’m no knight of the Cross. I’m not even particularly religious. I was born poor and had to learn to make my own luck. I’m an opportunist. Made a small fortune by climbing on a merchant’s daughter, knocking her up and gaining a foothold in the family firm. Whatsmore the father in law also had connections with the Prince of Taranto’s household. So when the prince joined the crusade my father in-law pushed me to join his followers, probably in hope I wouldn’t return.
But I was happy to go. I sensed it was an opportunity, not just to cleanse my soul… but also to gain riches.
Through the in-law’s connections I got into the prince’s kitchen, syphoning off what little I could during the months of campaigning. The odd groat here, a piece of silver there, usually for giving out extra rations of meat..
Fortunately, Prince Bohemond is a winner. I was quick to understand that. We went from success to success andy travel chest soon became ladened with loot.
With success came women, most of whom were unwilling - but that’s just war.
I might have smuggled away a small fortune but life was hard. The sun was unrelenting and the nights came with a biting wind. Food soon became hard to come buy. Water even more so. The retreating muslims burned the earth and poisoned the wells.
The a****ls suffered most of course. Chargers began to die through exhaustion which at least provided the kitchen with a short supply of horsemeat… but meant we were another mount down. Famous knights were reduced to riding pack mules into battle. A ridiculous sight. But a sign of the times.
I remained safe and relatively comfortable in the caravan… and the wives.
But, Dorylaeum changed all that. Dorylaeum made me a man.
At Dorylaeum we faced the Turkish hoard. Their cavalry swarmed over us like a biblical plague. That was bad enough, but we had also been abandoned by the Latins... left to fend for ourselves.
Vastly out numbered, all looked lost.
Under the intense heat we thought like devils. But Franks fell in their droves and soon holes began to appear in our ranks. Several times the Turks broke through and caused havoc in the camp..
I was forced to pick up a sword from from a fallen brother and defended the caravans from the marauders. When I was a c***d my father had taught me the way of the sword, it felt natural to me. I soon found I was a better killer than a cook. Slaughtering men felt more satisfying than butchering pigs.
In the maelstrom I found myself at Bohemond’s side. The pauper and the prince shoulder to shoulder. We fought together, like brothers and defended each other’s flank.
Preachers recited their prayers amongst us - reaffirming our faith. We battled from sunrise to sunset until we were ankle deep in God knows what.
But we stood our ground, baptizing the earth with our own blood… yet we survived, Just.
Unable to break us. They turned a left before nightfall… almost as if they were scared of the dark. But we had paid a huge price for our stubbornness.
In the aftermath, Bohemond crowned me Michael the Merciless, and promoted to his personal bodyguard. Covered in blood and shit, I could barely stand, and nearly collapsed as I took to one knee before him. It was an understatement to say it had been a momentous day.
But there was no time to rest. The next day we marched on to Antioch. And lay siege to the great city.
~
Even though the Latins joined us, we still didn't have the manpower nor the resources to encircle the whole city. We merely harassed their caravans and disrupted their supply. Months passed but the city did not bend and break to our will. The Muslims remained entrenched in their fortifications.
Both sides tried to break the resolve of the other by committing barbaric acts. We catapulted muslim prisoners against the city walls… and laughed as they splattered against the sandstone walls. They would retaliate by erecting crosses on their battlements then desecrate them with shit and piss. On another day they beheaded what was left of the native syriac christians.
We didn’t break. But neither did they.
The months rolled on. After six months, fear stalked our ranks. As did hunger, thirst and disease. We’re little more than shadows of the men who left Normandy three years earlier.And the chances of a second muslim army coming to rescue Antioch increased.
Then one morning we got the dreaded news. A hunting party had spotted dust clouds on the horizon, and it wasn’t the conditions for desert storm. It could only be one thing.
A huge Muslim army from Mosul was on its way to relieve Antioch. In fact, rumour even had it the relief force was less than two days march from here. Rested and well equipt, the Muslims would surely trample us into this dusty earth.
Our hearts might burn with righteous flames, but we were only a fraction of our former selves. We lacked everything one could think of for a siege... horses, heavy siege machinery and men. But as I said, we did have hope… we had Bohemond.
A man so tall and powerful some thought Bohemond a giant. So brave, others thought him mad. But those who really knew Bohemond thought of him as an astute individual and a natural leader of men.
We had to act fast if we wanted succeed. And we had to pray hard.
~
As the sun set, Bohemond gathered the raiding party for one final prayer. Le Puy, the battling bishop, gave us God’s blessings. “For the Cross,” he confidently stated. We had taken the oath, given our all. Many a man had already given their last breath for the Cross. Our graves already dug just in case tonight would be our last.
I watched wistfully, as the sun dipped below the red hills… wondering if I’d ever see it rise.
~
We left the safety of the line and delved into the smothering darkness. Stealthily, we crept through the shadows of the dead and on towards the mammoth walls of Antioch. The faint torch-glow above the pa****ts gave us our bearings which would lead us to the humongous double breasted tower we called the Two Sisters.
Silence was strictly observed as if the order had come from the lips of God. Then again, it almost had done, Bohemond of Taranto was a man we would follow to the gates of hell. Somehow Bohemond, the cunning fox he is, had a man on the inside of the walls. A tower commander called Firouz. Bohemond didn’t know why Firouz wanted to betray his city, and normally wouldn’t trust such a man without better understanding his motives. But we were desperate and time was against us. We had to view our luck as a miracle. One of many we had had over recent years.
After what felt like an hour of crawling and creeping through the stench, we finally reached the tower without incident. We quickly lined up against the walls. pressing our soot- darkened chain-mail against to cold stone. We muttered silent prayers while waiting until the crescent moon reached it’s zenith. That would be our signal to enact the plan.
As the moon reached midnight, we raised the huge scaling ladder… and with that, the assault began. Bohemond was the first to climb the ladder. I followed on his heels. Every rung of the ladder felt like my ascent to heaven.
Would we be met with blades and flame, or welcomed by a smiling Firouz..? Only God could answer that.
~
I followed Bohemond over the battlements and we were met by Firouz and two guards. All three immediately raised their hands then dropped to their knees. I secured the ladder and waited for three more more Franks to climb onto the battlements. Then I drew my dagger. As agreed, Forouz was spared, but no clemency would be given to the guards. In perfect harmony with the Prince we covered the mouths of the guards and slit their throats like pigs. We held them tight until their life had slipped away, before dropping them like a sacks of dung.
The raiding party then went about their deadly work, silently killing the rest of guards as they slept, only stopping when the tower was fully secured.
The plan was going well. Without as much as a minor hitch.
Bohemond marched Firouz down the stone staircase to open the small butt-door. Once the door was open, the Prince kicked the treacherous rat over the threshold and into the night. And within seconds a column of Franks trampled over him as they rushed the steps.
At the sound of the bugle, a huge cry of “God Wills It.” broke the night.
This was the start of the diversionary attack. distracting the defenders while we infiltrated the belly of b**st.
~
We went from tower to tower, killing the unsuspecting guards with so much ease that it felt like murder.
Panic spread.
The Muslims were quickly routed and calamity ensued the city. The main body of the garrison fell back into the confines of the citadel that sat upon the hill, abandoning the city us. It was total chaos.
Not since Constantinople had I seen such grandeur. True it was not quite as spectacular, but it's magnificence was undeniable.
But now it, cried, bled and burned.
The sound of death… the screams of ****. Franks were everywhere, slaughtering, plundering, and r****g the women in the street.. But it was the c***dren’s cries that cause me most sadness. This… this was just carnage.
Yet it was also time for me to get my fill.
I found myself on a street of large houses. It looked like a good place to start. I picked a solidly built house. Looked the sort of place a notary would live.
It soon became clear the door was barricaded, but nothing a hefty shoulder charge couldn’t budge. And so it proved.
I was inside. The room was barren, the shelves disappointingly bare. The flames from a neighboring house lit the room through it’s windows. Brandishing my sword I crossed the flickering light of room.
Picking up the faint sound of female sobs I realised I was not alone. All was not lost, at least I could empty my balls.
I followed the whimpers into the rear bedroom, then towards a wardrobe.. and opened it.
Out jumped a screaming banshee of a woman. She slapped, kicked and went to bite me. I stumbled backwards and tripped but did not fall. The woman was surprising strong but I gradually overpowered her, before throwing her onto the bed.
Where she froze under a small glass window that cast her in moonlight. Why didn’t she at least escape? Or at least kick up a fuss? Was she waiting for someone to rescue her? Maybe she just accepted her fate. Possibly, And with some merit, maybe she the v******e that waited for her outside was worse than anything that could happen to her within the these walls. Afterall, I wasn’t going to kill her. I just wanted to treat her like a whore
She remained deadly still. Frozen by the moonlight… or more probably fear.
It was the first time I could see her. She had olive skin, seemed young, a good deal under twenty, but most probably of c***dbearing age. A brunette beauty with refined features that needed to be defiled.
Which is exactly what I planned to do. .
She wore a long white dress of virgin white, Her black silky hair appeared as dark as pitch and fell in gentle waves like a nocturnal sea. She seemed delicate as if she hadn’t worked a day in her life. Well kept given the desperate circumstances.
Was she a princess or minor royal? She was angelic enough. The girl was ripe as a summer fruit..
I stepped up to the bed. She cowered into a defence ball. I unfastened my cumbersome swordbelt and placed it on the table which stood close to the bed. “There, there, girl. You’ll escape with you life… But not your dignity.”
Of course we speak different languages… so wasn't expecting an answer. But I dropped my breaches leaving no need for translation. However, I then noticed my new coat of chain-mail hung halfway down thigh. Not ideal for what I had planned. “Fuck sake.” I
knew it was a risk losing my mail and sword, but this girl was worth it. A fuck is never better than when there’s a air of danger.
As I pulled the mail over my head the girl sprung up like woodland a****l and sprinted for the door.
But i’m a wily old man. My outstretch leg tripped her, sending her crashing to floor. Her Arabic scream set my heart alight. Free from my mail and spun around, then grabbed her my her bare ankles. And pulled her back onto the bed.
I climbed on top her only wearing my blood splattered boots, courtesy of a dead Turk. Thanks to the granite floor her perfect face now had a fat lip. But she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever set eyes on.
Thankfully the girl didn’t struggle. All she did was spit words in her native tongue. I’m sure she was calling me all sorts… but all did was serve as dirty talk.
I went to kiss her but she turned her head away. I suppose it wasn’t going to be that sort of romance.
With one big tug I ripped open her dress from the neck down to her navel. Her bare tits were youthful almost to the point of making this sinful act all that more wrong. However, upon death if I burned in the hellfire.. At least I would burn with the memories of tonight.
I wasted no time in inspecting her tits. The girl’s pinkish areolas were a little larger than I have seen before and sat on her tits as if they were the yolks of fried eggs. I ducked down and lapped at her like a hungry dog, sucking on her puffy nipples, pinching them between my unclean teeth. She froze solid and again offered little resistance. Only whimpering between breaths.
She tasted earthy, almost herby. I must have got a little excited and my teeth caught her nipple, drawing a yelp and flinched but nothing more.
My cock had long been aching aching. I wanted her pretty face to milk me dry. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Not before she turned me fucking Jewish with a snap of her pearly teeth..
No. It was time to seal the deal on this sordid night.
Following the Cross had taught me many things. Many, many things. But one of the more surprising is that these heathen women shave their bits… what a fucking revelation that has been? No rug to lie your head on at night. I guess this girl would be no different.
I lifted her dress which caused her to protest. She kept her legs closed. I batted her hands away and pulled her under-rags down her skinny light-brown legs. She kicked out at me, her foot striking me in the face, eventually drawing blood from my nose.
Her reluctance was starting to piss me off now,
Flipping over her light frame I brought her to the edge of the bed with her pert arse in the air, I grabbed both her tiny ankles a pulled the apart, moving my way in between her legs.
Quickly, I then grabbed her waist enabling me to manipulate her better, pushing my way between her lithe thighs.
I was in a rush. Having my back to the door was dangerous. So, whatever hole i found first was going to get it.
And it just happened it was her arse. She screamed in protest. Tried to break away. But I had her where I wanted. There was no escape and within a minute or so she relented., and once again froze. Submitted to me.
I guess she just wanted it to end. She needn't have worried. It wasn’t going to take long… I only ever last a few minutes. Five would be a stretch. Then I would be out of her life for good.
Her arse was tight and dry, dryer than a mountain goat’s. Don’t judge me… I’ve been away from the wife for three years and women are hard to come by.
Her arse proved a stubborn wretch. So I spat several times on the small of her back and watched my saliva dribble down her tanned crevice, eventually coating my shaft.
I soon got into my stride. But It still burned a little. Can’t imagine what I was putting the poor girl through. She sobbed with every thrust of my cock, every slap of my hairy sack. But I bucked away regardless.
Then I heard something, a slight knock in the next room. But cuaght in the throws of sordid passion I did not stop. Couldn’t stop.
I finally burst my banks. Filled her her up, good and proper. Pushed my cum deep into her guts, marking sure I left my mark. Her ordeal was over… unless I could muster a second course. I probably could. But not before I investigated that blasted sound.
The carnal pleasure was dampened by sudden fear, as I got that feeling of dread. The one gets when they feel they’re being watched. I listened to the night. The girl’s sobs matched those of the distant cries of her unfortunate kindred.
The fun over and I reluctantly pulled out, leaving the warmth of her arse for the cold of the night. I climbed from the bed and went to reach for my sword. But it was gone. Had I forgot where I’d placed it? No soldier worth their salt would make such a mistake.
I hadn’t, of course. And as I turned around I was met with the stabbing point of my own blade. An elderly man, perhaps the girl’s father, brandished my own sword in both his hands. In normal circumstances he’d be no match for me, but he’s literally caught me with my pants down. He was in no mood to negotiate either… after sodomising his daughter who could blame him?
One feared the worse.
I raised my hand hands and felt my cock shrink. But as I did he lunged for me. I sidestepped the blade but tripped over my clothes. In attempt to tackle the father I rolled over to reach for his legs. But he brought the blade down on my arm, cutting to the bone.
The pain felt intense. But it drove me on like a cornered dog. I growled like the a****l I was, and threw myself forward. But another thrust of the sword dug deep into my chest.. He then pushed it further, until I heard the back of my tunic rip.
I watched as the old man pulled the sword out… it’s blade crimson red. I took a step back, then collapsed against wall, landing on my arse with no expectation of ever standing again.
. But before my world faded into darkness I watched the young girl climb from the bed. She ran into the arms of the man. Hugged him tight.
She then left him and came towards me where she then beat me with her fists. Then proceeded to spit on me.. I could not hear her screams… I’d suspect I had already lost that sense.
The girls saliva gathered, pooling on my upper lip. Then ran over my curled smile as I sat waiting for death’s embrace.
A sad end for men who had followed to Cross to the bitter end.
However, I’m no knight of the Cross. I’m not even particularly religious. I was born poor and had to learn to make my own luck. I’m an opportunist. Made a small fortune by climbing on a merchant’s daughter, knocking her up and gaining a foothold in the family firm. Whatsmore the father in law also had connections with the Prince of Taranto’s household. So when the prince joined the crusade my father in-law pushed me to join his followers, probably in hope I wouldn’t return.
But I was happy to go. I sensed it was an opportunity, not just to cleanse my soul… but also to gain riches.
Through the in-law’s connections I got into the prince’s kitchen, syphoning off what little I could during the months of campaigning. The odd groat here, a piece of silver there, usually for giving out extra rations of meat..
Fortunately, Prince Bohemond is a winner. I was quick to understand that. We went from success to success andy travel chest soon became ladened with loot.
With success came women, most of whom were unwilling - but that’s just war.
I might have smuggled away a small fortune but life was hard. The sun was unrelenting and the nights came with a biting wind. Food soon became hard to come buy. Water even more so. The retreating muslims burned the earth and poisoned the wells.
The a****ls suffered most of course. Chargers began to die through exhaustion which at least provided the kitchen with a short supply of horsemeat… but meant we were another mount down. Famous knights were reduced to riding pack mules into battle. A ridiculous sight. But a sign of the times.
I remained safe and relatively comfortable in the caravan… and the wives.
But, Dorylaeum changed all that. Dorylaeum made me a man.
At Dorylaeum we faced the Turkish hoard. Their cavalry swarmed over us like a biblical plague. That was bad enough, but we had also been abandoned by the Latins... left to fend for ourselves.
Vastly out numbered, all looked lost.
Under the intense heat we thought like devils. But Franks fell in their droves and soon holes began to appear in our ranks. Several times the Turks broke through and caused havoc in the camp..
I was forced to pick up a sword from from a fallen brother and defended the caravans from the marauders. When I was a c***d my father had taught me the way of the sword, it felt natural to me. I soon found I was a better killer than a cook. Slaughtering men felt more satisfying than butchering pigs.
In the maelstrom I found myself at Bohemond’s side. The pauper and the prince shoulder to shoulder. We fought together, like brothers and defended each other’s flank.
Preachers recited their prayers amongst us - reaffirming our faith. We battled from sunrise to sunset until we were ankle deep in God knows what.
But we stood our ground, baptizing the earth with our own blood… yet we survived, Just.
Unable to break us. They turned a left before nightfall… almost as if they were scared of the dark. But we had paid a huge price for our stubbornness.
In the aftermath, Bohemond crowned me Michael the Merciless, and promoted to his personal bodyguard. Covered in blood and shit, I could barely stand, and nearly collapsed as I took to one knee before him. It was an understatement to say it had been a momentous day.
But there was no time to rest. The next day we marched on to Antioch. And lay siege to the great city.
~
Even though the Latins joined us, we still didn't have the manpower nor the resources to encircle the whole city. We merely harassed their caravans and disrupted their supply. Months passed but the city did not bend and break to our will. The Muslims remained entrenched in their fortifications.
Both sides tried to break the resolve of the other by committing barbaric acts. We catapulted muslim prisoners against the city walls… and laughed as they splattered against the sandstone walls. They would retaliate by erecting crosses on their battlements then desecrate them with shit and piss. On another day they beheaded what was left of the native syriac christians.
We didn’t break. But neither did they.
The months rolled on. After six months, fear stalked our ranks. As did hunger, thirst and disease. We’re little more than shadows of the men who left Normandy three years earlier.And the chances of a second muslim army coming to rescue Antioch increased.
Then one morning we got the dreaded news. A hunting party had spotted dust clouds on the horizon, and it wasn’t the conditions for desert storm. It could only be one thing.
A huge Muslim army from Mosul was on its way to relieve Antioch. In fact, rumour even had it the relief force was less than two days march from here. Rested and well equipt, the Muslims would surely trample us into this dusty earth.
Our hearts might burn with righteous flames, but we were only a fraction of our former selves. We lacked everything one could think of for a siege... horses, heavy siege machinery and men. But as I said, we did have hope… we had Bohemond.
A man so tall and powerful some thought Bohemond a giant. So brave, others thought him mad. But those who really knew Bohemond thought of him as an astute individual and a natural leader of men.
We had to act fast if we wanted succeed. And we had to pray hard.
~
As the sun set, Bohemond gathered the raiding party for one final prayer. Le Puy, the battling bishop, gave us God’s blessings. “For the Cross,” he confidently stated. We had taken the oath, given our all. Many a man had already given their last breath for the Cross. Our graves already dug just in case tonight would be our last.
I watched wistfully, as the sun dipped below the red hills… wondering if I’d ever see it rise.
~
We left the safety of the line and delved into the smothering darkness. Stealthily, we crept through the shadows of the dead and on towards the mammoth walls of Antioch. The faint torch-glow above the pa****ts gave us our bearings which would lead us to the humongous double breasted tower we called the Two Sisters.
Silence was strictly observed as if the order had come from the lips of God. Then again, it almost had done, Bohemond of Taranto was a man we would follow to the gates of hell. Somehow Bohemond, the cunning fox he is, had a man on the inside of the walls. A tower commander called Firouz. Bohemond didn’t know why Firouz wanted to betray his city, and normally wouldn’t trust such a man without better understanding his motives. But we were desperate and time was against us. We had to view our luck as a miracle. One of many we had had over recent years.
After what felt like an hour of crawling and creeping through the stench, we finally reached the tower without incident. We quickly lined up against the walls. pressing our soot- darkened chain-mail against to cold stone. We muttered silent prayers while waiting until the crescent moon reached it’s zenith. That would be our signal to enact the plan.
As the moon reached midnight, we raised the huge scaling ladder… and with that, the assault began. Bohemond was the first to climb the ladder. I followed on his heels. Every rung of the ladder felt like my ascent to heaven.
Would we be met with blades and flame, or welcomed by a smiling Firouz..? Only God could answer that.
~
I followed Bohemond over the battlements and we were met by Firouz and two guards. All three immediately raised their hands then dropped to their knees. I secured the ladder and waited for three more more Franks to climb onto the battlements. Then I drew my dagger. As agreed, Forouz was spared, but no clemency would be given to the guards. In perfect harmony with the Prince we covered the mouths of the guards and slit their throats like pigs. We held them tight until their life had slipped away, before dropping them like a sacks of dung.
The raiding party then went about their deadly work, silently killing the rest of guards as they slept, only stopping when the tower was fully secured.
The plan was going well. Without as much as a minor hitch.
Bohemond marched Firouz down the stone staircase to open the small butt-door. Once the door was open, the Prince kicked the treacherous rat over the threshold and into the night. And within seconds a column of Franks trampled over him as they rushed the steps.
At the sound of the bugle, a huge cry of “God Wills It.” broke the night.
This was the start of the diversionary attack. distracting the defenders while we infiltrated the belly of b**st.
~
We went from tower to tower, killing the unsuspecting guards with so much ease that it felt like murder.
Panic spread.
The Muslims were quickly routed and calamity ensued the city. The main body of the garrison fell back into the confines of the citadel that sat upon the hill, abandoning the city us. It was total chaos.
Not since Constantinople had I seen such grandeur. True it was not quite as spectacular, but it's magnificence was undeniable.
But now it, cried, bled and burned.
The sound of death… the screams of ****. Franks were everywhere, slaughtering, plundering, and r****g the women in the street.. But it was the c***dren’s cries that cause me most sadness. This… this was just carnage.
Yet it was also time for me to get my fill.
I found myself on a street of large houses. It looked like a good place to start. I picked a solidly built house. Looked the sort of place a notary would live.
It soon became clear the door was barricaded, but nothing a hefty shoulder charge couldn’t budge. And so it proved.
I was inside. The room was barren, the shelves disappointingly bare. The flames from a neighboring house lit the room through it’s windows. Brandishing my sword I crossed the flickering light of room.
Picking up the faint sound of female sobs I realised I was not alone. All was not lost, at least I could empty my balls.
I followed the whimpers into the rear bedroom, then towards a wardrobe.. and opened it.
Out jumped a screaming banshee of a woman. She slapped, kicked and went to bite me. I stumbled backwards and tripped but did not fall. The woman was surprising strong but I gradually overpowered her, before throwing her onto the bed.
Where she froze under a small glass window that cast her in moonlight. Why didn’t she at least escape? Or at least kick up a fuss? Was she waiting for someone to rescue her? Maybe she just accepted her fate. Possibly, And with some merit, maybe she the v******e that waited for her outside was worse than anything that could happen to her within the these walls. Afterall, I wasn’t going to kill her. I just wanted to treat her like a whore
She remained deadly still. Frozen by the moonlight… or more probably fear.
It was the first time I could see her. She had olive skin, seemed young, a good deal under twenty, but most probably of c***dbearing age. A brunette beauty with refined features that needed to be defiled.
Which is exactly what I planned to do. .
She wore a long white dress of virgin white, Her black silky hair appeared as dark as pitch and fell in gentle waves like a nocturnal sea. She seemed delicate as if she hadn’t worked a day in her life. Well kept given the desperate circumstances.
Was she a princess or minor royal? She was angelic enough. The girl was ripe as a summer fruit..
I stepped up to the bed. She cowered into a defence ball. I unfastened my cumbersome swordbelt and placed it on the table which stood close to the bed. “There, there, girl. You’ll escape with you life… But not your dignity.”
Of course we speak different languages… so wasn't expecting an answer. But I dropped my breaches leaving no need for translation. However, I then noticed my new coat of chain-mail hung halfway down thigh. Not ideal for what I had planned. “Fuck sake.” I
knew it was a risk losing my mail and sword, but this girl was worth it. A fuck is never better than when there’s a air of danger.
As I pulled the mail over my head the girl sprung up like woodland a****l and sprinted for the door.
But i’m a wily old man. My outstretch leg tripped her, sending her crashing to floor. Her Arabic scream set my heart alight. Free from my mail and spun around, then grabbed her my her bare ankles. And pulled her back onto the bed.
I climbed on top her only wearing my blood splattered boots, courtesy of a dead Turk. Thanks to the granite floor her perfect face now had a fat lip. But she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever set eyes on.
Thankfully the girl didn’t struggle. All she did was spit words in her native tongue. I’m sure she was calling me all sorts… but all did was serve as dirty talk.
I went to kiss her but she turned her head away. I suppose it wasn’t going to be that sort of romance.
With one big tug I ripped open her dress from the neck down to her navel. Her bare tits were youthful almost to the point of making this sinful act all that more wrong. However, upon death if I burned in the hellfire.. At least I would burn with the memories of tonight.
I wasted no time in inspecting her tits. The girl’s pinkish areolas were a little larger than I have seen before and sat on her tits as if they were the yolks of fried eggs. I ducked down and lapped at her like a hungry dog, sucking on her puffy nipples, pinching them between my unclean teeth. She froze solid and again offered little resistance. Only whimpering between breaths.
She tasted earthy, almost herby. I must have got a little excited and my teeth caught her nipple, drawing a yelp and flinched but nothing more.
My cock had long been aching aching. I wanted her pretty face to milk me dry. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Not before she turned me fucking Jewish with a snap of her pearly teeth..
No. It was time to seal the deal on this sordid night.
Following the Cross had taught me many things. Many, many things. But one of the more surprising is that these heathen women shave their bits… what a fucking revelation that has been? No rug to lie your head on at night. I guess this girl would be no different.
I lifted her dress which caused her to protest. She kept her legs closed. I batted her hands away and pulled her under-rags down her skinny light-brown legs. She kicked out at me, her foot striking me in the face, eventually drawing blood from my nose.
Her reluctance was starting to piss me off now,
Flipping over her light frame I brought her to the edge of the bed with her pert arse in the air, I grabbed both her tiny ankles a pulled the apart, moving my way in between her legs.
Quickly, I then grabbed her waist enabling me to manipulate her better, pushing my way between her lithe thighs.
I was in a rush. Having my back to the door was dangerous. So, whatever hole i found first was going to get it.
And it just happened it was her arse. She screamed in protest. Tried to break away. But I had her where I wanted. There was no escape and within a minute or so she relented., and once again froze. Submitted to me.
I guess she just wanted it to end. She needn't have worried. It wasn’t going to take long… I only ever last a few minutes. Five would be a stretch. Then I would be out of her life for good.
Her arse was tight and dry, dryer than a mountain goat’s. Don’t judge me… I’ve been away from the wife for three years and women are hard to come by.
Her arse proved a stubborn wretch. So I spat several times on the small of her back and watched my saliva dribble down her tanned crevice, eventually coating my shaft.
I soon got into my stride. But It still burned a little. Can’t imagine what I was putting the poor girl through. She sobbed with every thrust of my cock, every slap of my hairy sack. But I bucked away regardless.
Then I heard something, a slight knock in the next room. But cuaght in the throws of sordid passion I did not stop. Couldn’t stop.
I finally burst my banks. Filled her her up, good and proper. Pushed my cum deep into her guts, marking sure I left my mark. Her ordeal was over… unless I could muster a second course. I probably could. But not before I investigated that blasted sound.
The carnal pleasure was dampened by sudden fear, as I got that feeling of dread. The one gets when they feel they’re being watched. I listened to the night. The girl’s sobs matched those of the distant cries of her unfortunate kindred.
The fun over and I reluctantly pulled out, leaving the warmth of her arse for the cold of the night. I climbed from the bed and went to reach for my sword. But it was gone. Had I forgot where I’d placed it? No soldier worth their salt would make such a mistake.
I hadn’t, of course. And as I turned around I was met with the stabbing point of my own blade. An elderly man, perhaps the girl’s father, brandished my own sword in both his hands. In normal circumstances he’d be no match for me, but he’s literally caught me with my pants down. He was in no mood to negotiate either… after sodomising his daughter who could blame him?
One feared the worse.
I raised my hand hands and felt my cock shrink. But as I did he lunged for me. I sidestepped the blade but tripped over my clothes. In attempt to tackle the father I rolled over to reach for his legs. But he brought the blade down on my arm, cutting to the bone.
The pain felt intense. But it drove me on like a cornered dog. I growled like the a****l I was, and threw myself forward. But another thrust of the sword dug deep into my chest.. He then pushed it further, until I heard the back of my tunic rip.
I watched as the old man pulled the sword out… it’s blade crimson red. I took a step back, then collapsed against wall, landing on my arse with no expectation of ever standing again.
. But before my world faded into darkness I watched the young girl climb from the bed. She ran into the arms of the man. Hugged him tight.
She then left him and came towards me where she then beat me with her fists. Then proceeded to spit on me.. I could not hear her screams… I’d suspect I had already lost that sense.
The girls saliva gathered, pooling on my upper lip. Then ran over my curled smile as I sat waiting for death’s embrace.
Wynona
- 20.10.2020
- 21
- 0
