The Iron Dragon

The Iron Dream

Tender was that Autumn Night in the Crown City, it’s air smooth and gentle like a maiden’s curves. Silent were the streets of the Palace-district, leaving no disturbances to distract him.

Soft were the blankets and quilts that surrounded him, touching softly at his sweat-drenched body, allowing Lord Oswuld to lay in complete comfort, as Queen Gwynevere’s tongue encircled the head of his rod, tired from a night of pure passion.

Oswuld pulled himself lazily from his bed, wiping the remains of his post-ejaculatory sweat from his heavy brow, only to look upon a sight that was beautifully familiar, though awfully tiresome considering their recent activities.

Gwynevere’s hands locked onto Oswald's heavy phallus, smiling venomously as she proceeded to slip his cock, hard as a War-Hammer, between her cherry lips “God’s above woman, do You never tire?” Oswuld muttered, half exhausted though with the dregs of leftover desire in his tone, watching keenly as Gwynevere Queen-Mother of the Ninefold, naked as the day she was born and glistening with sweat, gagged harshly on Oswuld's mighty shaft.

Lord Oswuld and Queen Gwynevere, both highborn Royalty of great esteem, the former by Blood and the latter by marriage… had been fucking tirelessly like raging animals for hours, playing and toying, giggling like youth frolicking in stables, in spite of their age.

The Queen mighty queen might as well have been a seemstress, an unparalleled Auburn beauty and one of greatest lovers in the Kingdom’s Ninefold, many a man would have failed to satisfy a noblewoman of such calibre and stamina, but most men were not the Lord-Regent Oswuld Regis, Regent-Ruler of the Nine kingdom’s of Britannia and of course, the legendary Iron-Dragon.

Emerald eyes shimmering with lust, gazed up at the Lord’s dark auric orbs, her cheeks flushed cherry red, burning with want and painted with a coating of sweat. The Iron Dragon's knew that glint of wanton fury, oh He knew it better than any, she was about to hit him, and She was about to hit him hard.

Her Royal-Majesty strengthened her grip, pumping and massaging his pole expertly; her cheeks suctioning hard, hunting for his final climax.

Oswuld’s lips pressed together, He could feel it, her cheeky little tongue encircling his head like a restless viper. Oswuld knew that if Her pretty little mouth wasn’t so busy that She would have a great big smile on her face, her plan to draw out his seed was working, Saints, it was working.

“Gwen, Gwen I’m gonna....” Lord Oz muttered weakly, but before he could utter another word, letting free her grip of his convulsing rod, pouncing upward to meet his face.

In one swift motion, Gwynevere sank the Lord-Regent’s already pulsing member between the lips of her labia, the soft muscles of her entrance, miraculously tight even after their hours of relentless fucking. “Ah, ah… Best… not to… oh god…n-not to waste, My Sweet…” She managed to speak through her girlish moans, biting her Red lips; her round hips and undeniably fat ass gyrated mercilessly to milk him for his seed.

Oz lay back on his bed, left in a sex induced daze as the Autumn Queen rode him for his cum, painted with sweat, spit, and lust as she drove him on like a stallion.

But eventually, snapping from his stupor, The Lord grabbed at Gwen’s hips, which rippled beautifully with her slamming, holding her firmly in place as He fixed her with a smile from under his great Iron-Grey beard “My turn.”

With every shred of his earthly power, Oswuld began to slam into Gwynevere’s vice tight pussy, each hard, wet, clap of their collision making Her cry out in joy, she was dripping; quivering, her body shaking and convulsing as his Monster of a cock buried itself in her womb.

The Queen gasped and groaned, joyful tears welling in her eyes as she came for the third and last time.

The Lord-Regent roared as He blew his load, painting the Queen’s womb with his powerful seed, his iron grip on her waist only tightening and his eyes blazing with passion, his lust-filled roar filling the Royal wing’s walls and venturing out into the night air for all to hear….

Oswuld overlooked his city wearily, His broad form standing at the large window, unlatched so that He could take in the flow of the night, autumn air.

The Kingdom's Capital shone like a jewel in dark, the Golden palace-district gleaming with wealth, The Silver Royal and Trader's districts respectively twinkling under the moonlight’s gentle gaze, and finally, the Common and Paupers district, decorated none, but illuminated by hundred’s of torchlights, illuminating the Nine great bronze towers that encircled the Polygonal city, one for each of its kingdoms, the Forest around the city, littered with small buildings, the Outskirts of old Hornhil.

As he stared out into the nocturnal luminescence, Oz began to wonder on the children, Evangeline already knew of his and Gwen’s relationship. Being as responsible and level headed as Angie was, they felt no need to hide it, Princess Maggie, however, was the opposite, wild and instinctual, but she was a good girl and the time to speak to Her of the love that He and Her mother shared, would come soon.

But The Youngest Prince, Oz couldn’t help but hesitate when it came to the Boy, He was indeed his nephew, but He might as well have been his own son, then again, Oswuld had considered Edwyn with just as much fatherly affection… even still, despite the risks, if The Young Prince was to be King, then He would have to know the truth soon.

Even as he stared at the gleaming City, no beauty compared to the woman that lay on his bed behind him, smiling gently as the sound of Gwynevere's melodic humming filled his ears.

The Lord-Regent fastened his heavy silken robe, the dark violet of the soft fabric had always made him feel warm and at home, but it was the sombre tune of His queen’s humming that relaxed his liege this night.

"You know I don't like You standing at that window, Ozzie." Spoke the Queen, Her voice gentle; soft as Ptumirian Silk

"Oh?" Oz smiled

"...Then where would You have me gather My thoughts, My Queen?" Oswuld had a Commander's voice, solid and to the point, but deep and patient also

"Perhaps speak to Me of Your thoughts instead of wasting them on that window?"

Oz looked over to his bed, Gwynevere lay on her side, covered only by the bed furs, her body still glistening in the low-light and face beaming with feminine grace.

A more mystifying woman He had never met before, Her lips ruby red, her Eyes emerald green and luscious mane of hair, a sea of brown. Like all of the House Tawny, her face was avian and olive of complextion, lightly dotted with small brown freckles "Well, don’t you know it’s rude to stare, come, Your Queen commands his lordship's company" He snapped out of his daydreaming,

"Of course."

Gwynevere lay her head on Oswuld’s bulky chest, allowing him to run his fingers through Her soft Locks of Mahogany brown hair “I know that You're worried about the kids, Ozzy," The Queen said, looking up to him.

Oz grinned grumbling at the ease of which she picked at his mind "The girl's love You, and My Son? You might as well be his father..." Oswuld’s smile faded slightly

"But I am not, Gwen." Oz spoke sadly "I love the Boy and the Girls, I'd die for them, but I am not Uther... they deserve their King. they deserve their father."

Gwynevere sat up, her soft slender hand touching the Lord's scruffy cheek "He would be proud of you Oswuld, I feel it... I Know it in fact.” She gestured adamantly, making the lord-regent chuckle

“Is that so?” He asked

“It is.” It was settled then, no arguing with the Queen-Mother when she had made up her mind.

Gwen sighed, however, “…and I'm sure that Shadow of a Spymaster whispered something about us in the Boy’s ear before departing on her little trip."

Oswuld rolled his eyes, would she never let that go? "Never mind The Spymaster, your midnight cries would have tipped off the whole kingdom by now" The Queen shot up, opening her mouth wide with an embarrassing shock

"You cheeky bastard!"

The Two play fought and then kissed deeply once more, but by the end, though once again Gwynevere paused when she gazed into his eyes “have You been having the dreams again?” Lord Oswuld grimaced sadly, though he hid nothing from her, she knew how hard it was for him to speak of, “…About Edwyn?” yeah, that.

"Stay with me tonight?” He pleaded with eyes heavy with sloth,

“You know I can’t. as much as I wish I could, I love You Ozzy but I'm still the Queen-Mother and,” Oswuld cut off the autumn Queen with another kiss, before laying down his head, the exhaustion of the many hours of sex finally catching up to him

"I love You too, Gwen" the last sight of the night being that of his love, just before he was swept off into the sea of his dreams.