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. All at once my head jerked to the side, knocking Cleo off her feet for a moment.Next thing I knew, my face was squashed between two powerful thighs and my mouth was lips-to-lips with her labia, a fuzzy bush tickling my nose. I was still half on my seat, but I couldn't balance anymore and I fell to my knees.As I hit the floor, a cry of mild pain was forced out of me. The sound was swallowed up as I got a mouthful of quim.You know the saying, the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice? This was one sweet blackberry.I couldn't resist. My tongue snaked out and licked.Cleo had been struggling -- to regain her footing, I guess -- but immediately she froze. I pulled back my tongue and tensed, ready for her to scream, beat on me, whatever. I had no defense for that lick. What could I say, it was a slip of the tongue?But she didn't scream.And she didn't beat on me.Her thighs spread apart, and as she opened herself her hands came down and applied gentle pressure to the back of my head.Not. She stands up, smiling and giving me a little kiss on the lips. I don't dare complain or say anything about the duration, but she must know what I'm thinking. “Don't worry,” she assures me. “There will be more of that.”“Ooo, I can't wait! That's amazing.” I kiss my fingers and plant them between her legs, right on her pussy lips. “And I have some of that for you, with my tongue. I'll have to try to make your pussy feel as good as you just did to me.”She turns the water off and looks at me intensely, a glow in her eyes and a vicious smile on her face. “Ooo, then I can't wait, either.” Pushing me against the wall of the shower, she leans into me with a deep, hard French kiss, her tongue almost fighting with mine. She sucks on my bottom lip and takes it into her mouth with her teeth, holding and pulling till she realizes it hurts a bit.We break the kiss and I follow her out of the shower. “I have a question before breakfast,” I tell her as we retrieve two towels and begin drying each.
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He could not fight for the King, but neither could he fight against him. His oath was not rescinded by his expulsion, his oath was personal, he had promised to be loyal to the monarch. In two hundred years, no-one had broken that oath, though he was not the first to be expelled.He returned to training a band of new recruits. They would catch on, in time. He had shouted at them, reduced one or two to tears. It was part of the toughening up process. In that, he had noticed one or two with potential. Now he was teaching them about the armour. The breast plate, the helmet, the - “Why is there no back plate?” asked a voice, a thin, weedy looking, sixteen year old stood looking at him, finding himself unaccountably alone as the others subtly moved back. They waited for the explosion. The boy had an intelligent face, it was a good question, actually.“If you have a back plate, you are protected when you run away. If you have protection only on the front, you stand and fight.” That was the.

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