Barton and Zora. Magical fugitives in pursuit of greener pastures.

High atop the hill overlooking the town of Bomlin a cold wind buffeted the festive little tea house. It gave an ever so slight shutter. Inside customers relaxed on soft leather and fluffy animal skin chairs, warm cups of many-flavored tea nestled in their hands. Huddled around a warm blazing hearth that seemed to crackle like a friendly motherly heartbeat the customers sat. Their soft talk drifted through the eaves and the clouds of steam were welcome during what was sure to be the coldest autumn in a decade. A winter to match was a worry the patrons of the little teahouse were eager to forget amongst the rich smells, and warm butter-honey cakes.

No waiter manned the counter taking customer’s orders or ferrying trays. A problem, as the small business had but the one.

“You have beautiful eyes you know. Like clear blue mountain water, flecked with starlight.” Barton said. He leaned closer. His lips a hands breadth from her lips. Her eyes fixed on his stubbly blonde beard and diamond jaw. He was in her personal space now. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, and her rosy cheeks turned to red as the color rose from her neck into her soft round face. “And your hair… like spun gold. Are you sure you are from this town? You seem like a princess to me. Wandering royalty perhaps?”

She tittered. What a cornball. By the gods he was handsome though. Built like a well muscled farm boy but into his years, a soldier perhaps. A sturdy fighting man. His sleeves were extremely tight, his apron folded on the table. She looked at the corded muscles in his forearms, and his big calloused hands. Calloused from a life of knowing. Knowing what? Bridgette wanted to find out. Those thick digits danced lightly across the table, a pianist’s fingers, they drummed a soft tap-tap beat. They flitted under the table and came to rest on her upper thigh. It was just resting but his hand and arm were heavy. They exchanged glances at further intrusion to her bubble. She blinked, and fluttered her lashes. He gave her his best soulful look, his eyes were also blue, a deep, pure blue, a dark midnight.

He moved down her leg and gripped her knee. She squared her shoulders and thrust her large breasts towards him. He wanted a piece of her fresh face and well rounded curves. She wanted to see if all of him could be as boastful as his arms and sweet words. Both their eyes flicked up to the stairs. Customers had begun to pile out, journeying back down the hill into the cold blustery winds. His hand slid along her thigh until it cupped her fat round ass. She gasped, mostly for show, and put a hand on his chest. They both stood. She made her way towards the stairs to the second floor which was really the first and a half floor from how stout the building was. He showed her the way; guiding from behind.

The house groaned.

They undressed in a hurry, but did not make it to all the way naked before Barton got fed up and folded her in half on the bed. Her legs in the air, his fingers wrapping all the way around her smooth ankles. He undid the drawstring of his pants and let them fall. She gasped, but not for show this time. He had chosen not to showcase or brag about truly the most impressive part of his anatomy. No boy in the village would have resisted. But this was no boy. It was a first as he lined himself up to meet her. A tight squeeze, painful, but she was here for the experience, for the heat and the blood pounding in her ears.

They both took a loud intake of breath as he **** his way into her, she tried to be receptive, yielding. There was only so much a girl could do. Not that she wasn’t extremely ready. They began to grunt and moan as he sawed back and forth inside her with deep, well articulated thrusts. He was flattening all her spots the other boys had to aim for, he was stretching her, so deep and thick it blanked her mind. She began to mindlessly huff as the thick rod plumbed her.

Barton picked up speed. His hold on her ankles immobilized the voluptuous village girl and gave him leverage to do what he wanted to her. Which was to stuff as much of his firm pulsating manhood into her soft body as he could. He thumped into her rocking his small bed and drawing moans from low in her throat. She was a loud one and her screams bounced off the tinted tea house windows which seemed to rattle angrily about the girl inside and the cold winds outside. Those same windows began to steam up from the heat of two bodies slapping together.

She had a moment of clarity and squealed, “not inside!” When his thrusts increased in tempo. She knew what it meant when the boys did that. He grunted and crossed his eyes as he pulled out from inside her with a loud long squelch. One hand went to his long, thick meat and the other to the little bundle of nerves above her gaping pussy. He stroked them both roughly. Rubbing her in fast circles and rubbing himself in long, **** pumps.

He grunted from his abdomen and his cock flexed hard. He erupted hot white all over her tummy and pretty face. She didn’t even notice as she howled in ecstasy; that bundle of nerves flaring so high it became a painful piercing whine all along her skin and spine. The rosy red that had been creeping up her neck on the teahouse main floor was now her entire face, her ears blazing scarlet.

They relaxed for a moment, afterwards, her in his muscled arms as he lit up a paper blunt rolled loosely with pipe weed. A sweet after fucking cuddle. But that was not what this was about. She left a few moments later with a slightly waddling limp to her step, like a baby doe. He looked out the steamed up window. He had a perfect view down the hill where a cluster of her friends were waiting. Huddled together they met her with a loud chorus of giggles, and she was pulled into the center. He smiled a brightly down at the scene. Maybe if she told the story just as it happened a curious friend would be waiting for him at closing tomorrow.

The house shuddered as it had the same thought and then began to rumble. His bed shook and he grabbed the posts to keep from being bucked off, but it was no good as the bed kicked and jumped before bodily heaving him out a window that flew open, just so he could fly through it; hard onto the cold ground below. Naked, bruised, and now freezing cold he stood and made an angry gesture at the teahouse.

“The fuck was that for!?” He marched over and tried the door handle. Locked. “Come on! I thought you were asleep!” The door didn’t budge. “Really I did.” Still didn’t budge. “Come on, I am a man you know! A man with needs! I don’t live anywhere else. I don’t have another bed.” The house began to shift and then ever so slowly sidle away from him, wrenching the door from his grip. He chased after it a few feet, cold, naked, wet member swinging between his legs. “I’m sorry! Okay! I’m sorry. I should have asked or taken her to an inn. I’m sorry okay.”

The house stopped sliding away from him. The door opened with a creak. He hurried inside where it was warm. He sat his muscular naked ass by the fire in a big leather chair, warming himself.

The fire crackled, swayed, grew, and then spoke. “Disgusting Barton. Disgusting.” She, the teahouse, said with a thick Ikovian accent. “I sleep. You run the business. You can’t flirt with the customers. You can’t kiss the customers. And I had hoped that you knew that you can’t fuck the customers! This is me Barton. I am the teahouse. You can’t just fuck! I have to listen to that! I have to watch that! Fuck Barton, I’m trying to sleep and suddenly the bed is skidding across the floor and the headboard is rattling the walls. Do you know what that feels like?” But she was lying. Zora had been awake for longer than that. Watching.

“Zora, I am sorry. I am weak, okay. It won’t happen again.”

“Barton, I know you only have the one bed. I know you are, ahem, possessed with hot blood. I know it, because I have it too. Magical blood craves. But please at least ask next time. Give me time to block my eyes and stuff my ears. Okay?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” He agreed. Then paused. “Next time?”

The fire flicked a hot ember at his naked body. He jumped. “Get dressed Barton!”

If you enjoyed my writing please leave a comment or a like it really helps!