Hilda

You feel drawn to Hilda.

You really should not, considering she is a married woman, the wife of your swordsmanship mentor, Farlen. However, she is young and flirtatious, dressed in a low-cut dress, licking her lips as she watches you train shirtless. You enjoy her looking at you, and you enjoy looking at her: her ample cleavage that seems to almost spill out of her dress, her generous hips that sway as she walks. You are a young man with desires, after all, not immune to the sexual charms of your mentor’s beautiful young wife.

Gilly, on the other hand, does not seem interested in you, and you are not interested in her either.

You have been living in Farlen’s cottage for a while, training under him in swordsmanship. You learn a lot from the old man. And you also learn a lot about his alluring wife.

Hilda is barely twenty, more than three decades younger than her husband, Farlen. You soon learn she is obsessed with knights and swordsmen. Farlen was the closest thing she could get in Dunford, so she seduced and married him after the passing of his first wife, Hannah, despite Farlen being much older and having a daughter only a month younger than Hilda.

You and Hilda are close in age. And while you train shirtless every day with her husband, she looks at you with more interest than she looks at him, licking her lips in appreciation.

You have been living in Farlen’s cottage and training under him. One night, after training heavily all day, you are awakened by muffled sounds, sounds that seem to be coming from the adjacent bedroom. Curious, you stand on a table and look through a hole in the wall.

Inside, you see Farlen and Hilda in bed, both of them completely unclothed. You feel embarrassed and guilty watching a husband and wife being intimate. But curiosity and a young man’s desires **** you to keep watching them in secret.

Hilda is even more ravishing than you imagined: curvaceous, shapely, with full breasts, dark nipples, and ample hips. Her naked body is hypnotic in the candlelight, youthful and fertile. Farlen, in contrast, is old and gnarled, with liver spots and wrinkles, despite being fit for his age as a former soldier. Together, Farlen and Hilda look more like father and daughter than husband and wife.

"Give it a rest, wife," Farlen sighs as Hilda plays with his manhood. It is thick and might have been long and hard once, but now it is wrinkled and bent, twitching between the young woman’s fingers. "I can’t get it up tonight. I’m old. I don’t have a young man’s stamina. I can’t do it every night."

"Let me try, husband," Hilda does not give up. She diligently fiddles with her husband’s wrinkled manhood, rubbing and squeezing it with her fingers, spitting on it for lubrication, using her breasts to rub it, kissing it, licking it, using her mouth and tongue. The display instantly makes you hard as rock, but Farlen takes a long time to get hard. Hilda smirks triumphantly. "See, husband? I told you I would get you hard."

She expertly guides her husband’s wrinkled manhood inside her wet cunt. But to her disappointment, Farlen ejaculates after just two thrusts. "Is that all?" she asks, disappointed and unsatisfied with the meager amount of frail seed her husband has managed to produce.

"That’s all," Farlen sighs, his cock limp and small. "When I was younger, I could have gone for hours, but now this is all I can give you, wife."

"Let’s try again in the morning," Hilda mutters. "I want to have your baby, husband. A hero’s baby. You need to come more in my belly."

"Maybe later," Farlen sighs and goes to sleep. His young wife sleeps next to him, clearly unsatisfied.

You return to bed with a hard, throbbing manhood, filled with unsatisfied lust, guiltily fantasizing about the nude body of the young wife of your aging mentor.

In the morning, while you wash yourself in the yard with a bucket of water, you notice Hilda watching you. She licks her lips in appreciation of your strong, young, muscular body. She smiles at you when your eyes meet, and you feel your desire burning for her.

A few days later, Farlen has to visit the nearest town to buy some supplies. "I will be away for a few days, lad. Look after Gilly and Hilda while I’m away," the old swordsman says.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you imagine being alone in the cottage with Hilda for a few days, well, mostly alone. Gilly will also be there, but Hilda's husband will not, and that is what excites you. "I will look after them," you promise the old man.

"You are a good lad, Cedric," Farlen nods, taking his leave without suspecting anything. You feel guilty about being attracted to his wife while he trusts you so much.

Shortly after he leaves, Hilda comes to you with a smile. "We should get to know each other better while my husband is away," she says suggestively with a wink.

You stare at her cleavage, even lower than usual, showing a hint of her dark nipples, and any doubts you had about betraying your mentor’s trust evaporate. "We should," you agree with Hilda, returning her smile.

That night, after Gilly retreats to her room and the cottage falls into silence, you lie awake. Your body is still aroused by the memory of Hilda’s lingering glances and the temptation in her voice. The door to your room creaks open, and there she stands, her form silhouetted by the flickering candlelight. She does not knock. She does not ask to be let in. She simply steps inside, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor, and closes the door behind her with a soft click.

Hilda does not waste a moment. She crosses the small space between you in two strides, her hands already reaching for your face as she presses her nubile body against yours. Her lips crash into yours, hungry and demanding. Your mouths open, and your tongues twist together in a wet, lustful, **** dance. For a fleeting second, the memory of watching those same lips wrapped around Farlen’s shriveled, wrinkled cock flashes through your mind, and a pang of revulsion twists in your gut. But then her tongue flicks against yours, her saliva sweet and warm, and the thought dissolves like mist in the morning sun. You moan into her mouth, your hands gripping her waist and pulling her closer as you savor the forbidden taste of your mentor’s wife.

"Fuck me, Cedric," she gasps, breaking the kiss only long enough to whisper the words against your lips. Her breath is hot and ragged. Your heart hammers against your ribs, the thrill of betrayal and lust coiling tight in your stomach. She does not wait for an answer. Instead, she takes your hand and leads you toward the room she shares with her husband. The bed is still unmade from the night before, the sheets rumpled where Farlen’s old body once lay. The thought that you are about to defile his marital bed sends a jolt of dark excitement through you.

Hilda turns to face you, her fingers already working at the laces of her dress. The fabric slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and she stands before you completely naked. Her body is bathed in the golden glow of the candlelight. You drink in the sight of her: her full, heavy breasts, the dark nipples already hard with arousal; the gentle curve of her waist flaring into wide, fertile hips; the dark triangle of hair between her thighs, glistening with her excitement. Hilda is the very embodiment of lust and sin, and she is all yours for the taking.

"You’re so beautiful," you murmur, your voice thick with desire as you step forward. Your hands reach out to claim what you have fantasized about for so long. Your palms cup her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, your thumbs circling her nipples until she lets out a needy whimper. She arches into your touch, her head tilting back as you trail your hands down her body, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the softness of her thighs. She does not shy away. She does not act the part of the modest wife. Instead, she grins up at you, her eyes dark with lust, unashamed by the fact that it is you, a man not her husband, who is touching her so intimately.

Her fingers move to your shirt, deftly unbuttoning it before pushing it off your shoulders. Her hands glide over your chest, her nails scraping lightly over your muscles. "So young, fit, and strong," she purrs, her voice dripping with appreciation as she contrasts your hard, sculpted body with the shriveled, wrinkled flesh of her aging husband. Her hands drift lower, unbuttoning your breeches and pushing them down your hips. Your cock springs free, already thick and heavy with arousal, and her eyes widen.

"It’s so big," Hilda breathes, her fingers wrapping around your shaft, her thumb tracing the thick vein that runs along its length.

"A lot bigger than your husband’s, isn’t it?" The grin that spreads across your face is wicked, the pride of knowing that you outmeasure the old man in every way filling you with a dark, intoxicating thrill.

"Yes," Hilda agrees, her voice rough with lust as she strokes you. Her touch sends sparks of pleasure through your body. "So much bigger than my husband’s wrinkled, worthless old penis."

Hilda licks her lips, her gaze locked on your cock as she sinks to her knees before you. She presses a reverent kiss to the tip, her tongue darting out to catch the bead of pre-cum that has already formed there. You groan, your head falling back as the married woman takes you into her mouth. Her lips stretch around your girth. She works you with her tongue and lips, her free hand cupping your heavy balls and massaging them as she takes you deeper. Her throat flutters around the head of your cock. The sight of your mentor’s wife on her knees, servicing you like a common whore, is almost too much to bear. You tangle your fingers in her hair, guiding her movements, fucking her mouth in slow, deep thrusts.

"Ah, just like that," you groan, your voice thick with pleasure as Hilda hollows her cheeks around you. Her tongue swirls around your shaft. She looks up at you, her eyes watering slightly as she takes you deeper, her nose pressing against the base of your cock. The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working you fill the room, and you cannot help but imagine how Farlen must feel, knowing that his young wife is so skilled at pleasing a man. The thought only makes you harder.

When you are so hard it borders on pain, Hilda pulls back with a wet pop, her lips lustful and glistening. She stands, her body pressing against yours as she guides you toward the bed. "Fuck me hard, Cedric," she demands, her voice a low, **** growl. "Make me forget about my old, wrinkled husband, you strong, handsome young bull." The words send a surge of dark triumph through you. You are no longer just Cedric, the farm boy turned aspiring duelist. You are the stallion she craves, the young stud who can give her what her husband cannot.

She lies back on the bed, her thighs spreading wide for you, her warm cunt already dripping with arousal. You crawl over her, your body covering hers, your cock pressing against her slick entrance. "How does it feel," you murmur, your voice a dark chuckle as you tease her, "being fucked by a young man for a change?"

Her nails dig into your back, her hips lifting to try and impale herself on you. "It’s so much better!" she moans, her voice raw with need. "Now stop teasing me and fuck me!"

You do not need to be told twice. With a single, powerful thrust, you bury yourself inside her to the hilt. She cries out, her back arching off the bed as she takes you. Her tight, wet heat envelops your cock in a vice-like grip. The bed creaks beneath you, the same bed where Farlen has failed to satisfy her time and time again. The thought that you are now the one filling her, stretching her, and claiming her in a way her husband never could sends a fresh wave of lust crashing through you.

You set a punishing pace, your hips snapping against hers. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. Hilda’s moans grow louder, her body writhing beneath you as you pound into her, your cock hitting that sensitive spot inside her over and over again. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screams, her voice echoing through the cottage. You hope Gilly is a heavy sleeper. The last thing you need is for Farlen’s daughter to hear the sounds of you fucking her stepmother while her father is away.

Hilda’s legs wrap around your waist, her heels digging into your back as she pulls you deeper. Her nails rake down your shoulders. "Harder!" she begs, her voice breaking. "Fuck me like the young stud you are! Fill me up, Cedric! Breed me!"

The words send you over the edge. Your balls draw up tight, the pleasure coiling in your spine until it is almost unbearable. "Where do you want my sperm, Hilda?" you growl, your voice rough with lust as you slam into her, your cock buried to the root inside her tight cunt. "Inside your womb or outside on your belly?"

"Inside!" she pleads, her eyes wild with need. "I want your baby, Cedric. I want a young hero’s baby growing in my belly!" The thought of knocking up your mentor’s wife, of planting your seed in her womb while he remains oblivious, sends you spiraling into ecstasy. With a moan, you come, your cock pulsing as you spill your thick, hot cum deep inside her, filling her with your virile seed. You stay buried inside her, your hips grinding against hers as you empty every last drop into her fertile depths.

When you finally pull out, your cock glistening with her arousal and your cum, Hilda lets out a satisfied sigh. Her body is limp and sated beneath you. You collapse beside her, pulling her into your arms as you kiss her deeply. Your tongue claims her mouth just as thoroughly as your cock claimed her cunt. "Your cunt felt amazing," you murmur against her lips, and she grins up at you. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your chest.

"Let’s fuck again, Cedric," she purrs, her voice already thick with renewed desire. "You can go for a few more rounds, right? You’re not old and easily tired like Farlen." The challenge in her voice is clear, and you rise to it with a grin of your own.

"I’m not," you agree, your hand sliding down to cup her breast, your thumb rolling her nipple between your fingers. "I’m going to fuck you all night tonight."

And you do.

Over the next few days, while Farlen is away, you and Hilda indulge in every carnal pleasure imaginable. You fuck her in Farlen’s bed, the sheets still smelling faintly of the old man’s sweat. The irony of defiling his marital space only heightens your arousal. You take her in your own bed, her body pressed against the thin walls as she moans your name, her voice barely muffled by the hand you clamp over her mouth to keep her quiet. You bend her over the haystacks in the barn, her ass in the air as you pound into her from behind, her cries of pleasure lost in the rustling straw. You fuck her cunt, her mouth, her ass, every part of her.

Each time is better than the last. You explore every inch of her body, memorizing the way she tastes, the way she feels, and the way she sounds when she is on the verge of coming. You learn the exact angle that makes her scream and the precise pressure that makes her beg. You fuck her with your cock, your fingers, and your tongue until she is a trembling, sobbing mess beneath you. Her body is spent and satisfied in ways her husband has never managed.

And each time, you come inside her, spilling your seed deep in her womb. The thought of her swelling with your child drives you wild with lust. By the time Farlen returns, you have lost count of how many times you have filled her, how many times you have claimed her as yours. But one thing is certain: Hilda will never look at her husband the same way again.

"Thank you for looking after my wife and daughter, lad," Farlen tells you, completely oblivious to how many times you have fucked his wife.

You respond with a smile. "It was my pleasure."

You soon resume your training with Farlen.

The six months pass in a blur.

You train harder than you ever thought possible. Every morning, before the sun rises, you are out in the yard, sword in hand, sweat running down your chest. Farlen drills you without mercy, pushing you past your limits. Your muscles harden. Your stance sharpens. You learn to read your opponents, to fight with precision and speed rather than brute ****.

And whenever you have the chance, you and Hilda have sex, with him none the wiser.

Having sex with her actually helps you in ways you did not expect. For starters, your stamina is pushed to the limit, and you soon reach the point where you can go for hours without requiring rest. You also learn to sneak around, to fuck without causing sound, improving your stealth and quick thinking.

You genuinely grow to be a much better fighter because of your secret fuck sessions with Hilda, along with the public training sessions with Farlen.

And now… the day has come.

The tourney is upon you.

The village gathers at dawn to see you off. Farlen fastens your sword belt. Hilda stands nearby, holding a bundle of food and a flask of water.

Her belly is several months pregnant.

“Good luck, Cedric,” she winks at you, her hand resting on her pregnant belly.

Farlen suspects nothing and believes the child growing in his wife’s belly was sired by his seed. However, you have a feeling that it is your young, strong seed, not his meager old seed, that impregnated Hilda with a child.

You do not have the time to dwell on the unborn child, though.

Today, you fight to earn your name.

You arrive at the tourney grounds of Caerleon Vale, a city of stone spires and high banners fluttering in the spring wind. The field is surrounded by pavilions of silk and velvet, each one bearing the crest of some noble house: lions, gryphons, crossed lances, and golden suns. Music drifts from distant lutes, and hawkers call out their wares: roasted nuts, boiled wine, fine cloth, and painted shields.

This is not Dunford.

This is a world of lords and ladies, of prestige and pageantry. Tourneys are sport to them, a nobleman’s game: entertainment with blood. You feel the stares as you register for the melee. A farm boy. No armor. A plain steel sword at your hip. Your name means nothing here. Your village means less.

They smirk. They whisper. But they let you enter.

You feel their laughter vanish in the first round.

The knight in polished plate charges you like a boar. You sidestep, let his momentum carry him forward, and land a strike to his helm. He stumbles. You take the match.

Gasps. Silence. Then murmurs.

The second match is harder. A grizzled knight with years of experience. He nearly breaks your guard, but you recover, duck low, and strike at his legs. When he falls, the crowd erupts.

By the third round, you are no longer a joke.

The nobles begin to watch with real interest. Lords and ladies lean forward in their seats, whispering, pointing, and asking where you are from and whose son you are. No one knows. That only makes them more curious.

Each duel is harder than the last, but Farlen’s lessons carry you: grit, timing, precision. Stamina, speed, and stealth from your secret meetings with his wife. And your strength, your farmer’s strength, never fails you.

And then, the final.

Your opponent is Sir Renaut of Langwynde, a knight from distant coasts, famed for his speed and elegance with the blade. His armor is silvered steel, his sword encrusted with sapphires. He bows before you as if you are an equal.

You bow back. Then the duel begins.

It is like dancing with ****: fast, brutal, dazzling. You nearly fall, twice. But you hold on. You endure. You wait for the opening. Your stamina is boundless.

When it comes, you strike.

Steel meets flesh. Sir Renaut goes down.

Victory.

The field roars with applause. Nobles rise to their feet. The herald proclaims your name, Cedric of Dunford, and throws open his arms: “The Champion of Caerleon Vale!”

A servant of the Crown brings forth a heavy bag of gold, more than you have ever dreamed of. Your hands tremble as you take it.

And then she approaches.

The crowd parts for her.

She wears a velvet dress embroidered with silver thread. Her eyes are violet. Her hair is silver, her gaze cold and calculating.

“I am Lady Yseldra of Greyhaven,” she says, voice smooth as silk. You've heard of her. She is the Widow of Lord Mavron, who had died young after six months of marriage. She is one of the highest and richest nobles in the realm and her lands in Greyhaven are tenfold the size of Lord Addam’s.

You bow low. “Milady.”

“You fought like a true knight today,” she says, studying you with sharp interest.

“I’m not a knight,” you admit. “Only a swordsman.”

“Is that so?” Her lips curl into a thoughtful smile. “Still, I have a proposal. I am in need of skilled men, men who can defend my lands and uphold my banner. Come serve me, live in my castle at Greyhaven. I will have you knighted. You will have land, gold, title. Comfort.”

She pauses, watching your face.

“You have proven your worth. Let me raise you to where you belong.”

It is more than a generous offer. It is the offer of a lifetime.

But you feel a weight in your chest. A memory.

Hilda. The nights you spent fucking her while her husband was away. The secret fuck sessions behind his back. The way her belly is now heavily pregnant.

"Please give me some time to think," you request of Lady Yseldra. "I need to return to my village first and settle my affairs."

"Of course," the noblewoman nods.

You return to Dunford two days later, carrying your reward: a bag heavy with gold coins. The road is long and sun-drenched, the spring fields alive with birdsong. Children cry your name as you pass. A young shepherd lad runs ahead, shouting, “He’s back! Cedric’s back!”

The village erupts in celebration as you enter. The air is thick with the scent of roasting meat and the sound of laughter. Children swarm around you, their small hands tugging at your cloak, their voices a chorus of excitement. "Cedric! Cedric!" they chant, their eyes wide with hero worship.

The elders watch you with pride. Your father, Beron, stands at the forefront, his stern face softened by something akin to admiration. The mayor, Oswin, claps you on the shoulder, his grip firm. "You’ve brought honor to Dunford, lad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. The younger men eye you with a mixture of envy and respect, while the women, both young and old, regard you with newfound awe. The younger ones, in particular, cast lustful glances your way that are not hard to misinterpret.

But your gaze is drawn to one figure above all others.

Hilda stands near the center of the square, her hands resting on her swollen belly. She winks at you, her eyes sparkling with a secret knowledge that only the two of you share. The sight of her, heavy with child, sends a jolt through you. The child could be yours. It most likely is yours.

Farlen approaches, his face beaming with pride. He claps you on the back, his grip strong. "Good work, lad," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve made Dunford proud. And soon, I’ll be a father again." He looks at Hilda, his eyes soft with affection. "My wife has given me the greatest gift. An heir, perhaps."

You feel a pang of guilt twist in your gut. Farlen, the man who trained you, who believed in you, who trusted you with his wife and daughter, has no idea of the betrayal that happened under his own roof. The child his wife is carrying in her belly is most likely yours, not his. The thought gnaws at you, a dark secret that threatens to consume you.

The villagers continue to celebrate around you, their voices a blur of excitement and pride. But for you, the moment is frozen, the weight of your choices pressing down on you. You look at Farlen, his face alight with joy and pride, and then at Hilda, her smile knowing and mischievous.

You wonder what you should do. Congratulate your mentor on fatherhood, let him believe the child is his, and continue the charade? If this is a boy this time, he will have an heir. Or do you come clean and confess the truth, tell him the truth about your relationship with his wife, and face the consequences of your actions?

You must choose.

Congratulate or Confess?