Of course.

Brigitte whistled as she walked into the clearing outside the cave you were waiting in, avoiding the heat of the sun on your armored skin. The young woman, clearly of marriageable age, unmarried because of her father’s arrogance (as you would discover afterwards, when she talked, a lot) was striking. Her dress had a scoop top that revealed the tops of both her magnificent breasts, more than a handful, easily and ended a good six inches above the ankle, revealing occasional flashed of delightfully pale skin above her boots as she swished through the clearing towards you. Only noblewomen bothered with undergarments, so you knew that under the dress she was naked as a jaybird. Her hair was bound in the long braid of a decent woman. She flew across the clearing as soon as she caught sight of you and kissed you thoroughly on the mouth.

Your hands, free of the gauntlets that now decorated the floor of the cave, ran down her back, over the rough linen of her dress to squeeze her firm, ripe ass. You spun, lifting her off the ground and moved back into the cool, sheltered comfort of the cave. Placing her firmly on one of the barrels of beer, you start to unlace your armor (carefully tossing the enchanted warning pendant across the entrance, so no one could sneak up on you and your swordbelt behind the wench, so you couldn’t get cut off from it).

“You ever done this before?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied with a smirk, as a booted heel cracked against the side of the barrel she was sitting on.

You raise a questioning brow.

“Daddy may not let me get married, but plenty of boys courted me, and you know, it just seemed mean not to give them anything for their trouble. I ain’t never done it here, bastards woulda stolen our beer, but, well, that stable held some very fond memories for me,” Brigitte answered as her hands undo the intricate work of her braid, and shakes her head to let her long hair cascade down her back, reveling in the obscenity of acting as if you were husband.

“Oh?”

“They may be married to good little girls,” she hopped off the barrel and pressed her chest against you, as her hands join yours in undoing your armor, “but I promise you, it’s me they’re thinking of when they’re jerking themselves cause the missus don’t wanna and it’s this little trick I got that they’re thinking when she does finally spread ‘em and lie there like a corpse,” Brigitte bragged as his armor hit the floor, followed swiftly by the padding underneath it.

“Lose the dress, unless you want it ripped,” you ordered, standing there, naked, save for your boots (and swinging cock).

“Sounds fun, but it would give us away, so,” she shrugged and her breasts rippled, before she shucked the dress over her head and tossed it aside, revealing her lush body and that the patch of hair surrounding her cunt was also red, providing an excellent target for your slowly hardening cock. Her legs spread as she leaned back against the barrel, giving you a clear shot at her pussy.