Knight's Bride, Beach Fury (L)

The afternoon sun beat down on the pristine white sand, reflecting the heat back into the already sweltering air. It was a day after the wedding, a day that felt both exhilarating and strangely empty. Lady Wetspot, still giddy from the previous night's passionate encounter with Sir Longrod, was busy washing dishes, the clatter of porcelain echoing through the opulent manor house. The scent of lavender and beeswax clung to the air, a stark contrast to the primal urges simmering beneath her skin. She'd spent the evening lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, exploring every inch of her body and his, each touch, each kiss, fueling an insatiable hunger. Now, the aftermath had left her restless, her mind replaying every sensation, every moan, every shared breath.

A messenger arrived, breathless and urgent, bearing a scroll sealed with the king’s crest. A rebellion had broken out in one of the outlying colonies, threatening to destabilize the entire realm. Sir Longrod was needed, immediately. Without hesitation, he donned his armor, saddled his warhorse, and rode off into the setting sun, leaving Lady Wetspot alone in the echoing silence of the manor.

As the hours stretched on, her desire intensified, a burning ache in her core that demanded release. She paced the lavish rooms, her thoughts consumed by the knight's absence. The memory of their passionate union, the heat, the sweat, the shared pleasure, felt both intoxicating and distant. She couldn’t bear the thought of waiting, of enduring this prolonged torment. An idea, dark and deliciously wicked, took root in her mind. She would send a message of her own, a desperate plea for immediate gratification.

She began writing a letter, pouring out her pent-up lust onto the parchment in furious strokes. It was a frank, explicit declaration of her desires, detailing every pleasure she craved, culminating in a specific request: a cum facial upon his return. To make it even more enticing, she drew a small, suggestive coupon, promising a particularly intense experience. With the letter sealed and delivered, she felt a small measure of relief, but her anticipation only grew stronger.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, she heard the distant sound of trumpets, signaling the arrival of the returning army. She rushed to the upper floor, peering through the arched windows at the approaching column of knights and their magnificent warhorses. A wave of excitement washed over her as she realized he was close. She waited impatiently, her body trembling with anticipation, her pussy aching with a desperate need.

The scent of smoke filled the air as she ventured out to the secluded beach behind the manor. She’d chosen this spot for its privacy and its inherent sensuality. It was a small, crescent-shaped cove, sheltered by towering pines and overlooked by a gentle slope. She set up a picnic basket, spreading a large towel on the sand, and began gathering dry wood for a fire. As she worked, the triumphant cheers of the soldiers echoed in the distance, confirming the swift victory.

Once the fire was blazing, casting a warm glow across the beach, she began shedding her clothes, discarding them one by one as she moved along the sand. Each discarded garment was a testament to her uninhibited desire, a blatant invitation to her beloved knight. The sight of her naked form, glistening with sweat and anticipation, must have been quite a spectacle for the returning soldiers.

As she lay back on the towel, her pussy throbbing with pleasure, she heard the familiar sound of hooves pounding the earth. It was him. Sir Longrod, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, rode his warhorse onto the beach, his face a mask of exhaustion and triumph. He dismounted, tossing his helmet and shield onto the sand, followed by his sword and pieces of his armor. The metallic clinking of the discarded equipment echoed in the stillness of the cove.

He looked down, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of Lady Wetspot, naked and vulnerable, awaiting his arrival. The scent of smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean and the musk of her own arousal. He saw the trail of discarded clothing, a clear and undeniable sign of her desire.

“Wetspot,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “you’ve been waiting for me.”

She responded with a gasp, a shiver running down her spine as she imagined the touch of his hand, the heat of his breath, the release of his pent-up energy. The next two hours were a blur of frenzied passion. They writhed together on the towel, their bodies intertwined, their moans and cries filling the air. He dominated, forcing her to submit, while she clung to him, desperate for connection. The horse, tethered to a nearby tree, watched with a detached curiosity, its nostrils twitching as it caught the scent of their pleasure.

He began by stripping off her clothes, his calloused hands caressing her skin with a raw intensity. Then, he started to pleasure her, using his hands and mouth to explore every inch of her body, his movements both forceful and tender. She arched her back, her legs wrapping around his waist, her nails digging into his chest. Her pussy was throbbing, begging for release.

As she reached her climax, she screamed, her body convulsing with pleasure. He responded by thrusting deep into her, their bodies locked in a desperate embrace. She moaned and cried, unable to tear herself away from his touch. The heat, the sweat, the shared ecstasy – it was everything she had craved, everything she had desired.

Finally, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the beach, they collapsed onto the sand, exhausted but deeply satisfied. The horse, still watching from afar, let out a soft whinny, as if acknowledging the primal power of their encounter. Lady Wetspot, her body slick with sweat and tears, lay beside her beloved knight, lost in a world of pleasure and abandon. The scent of smoke, the taste of salt, and the memory of their shared passion lingered in the air, a testament to their unforgettable night.

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