The First Wife

Chapter 6

The queen reappeared carrying warm, wet towels in her hand. She wiped the sweat from her husband's face, moving down the strong column of his throat, over his chest to his softened cock. Cleaning him up while he lay gazing up at her in replete splendor, his fingertips caressing her cheek.

Taking another cloth, she wiggling out from under the general, his lips chasing after hers with an almost petulant whine of protest. Laughing, she pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him there on his stomach. She washed him with unconscious tenderness, moving his head from side to side, then over his finely muscled shoulders and back.

She met the queen's eye. In unison, they dropped the towels and continued washing the general clean with their mouths. Licking the king's cum off his balls where it trickled down to his thigh, taking turns to bury their tongues deep in his slit to lap up the rest.

The queen kissed her, twisting tongues coated with his salty spend, pungent and earthy.

"Which one tastes the best?" she murmured against her lips with a wicked smile. "The king is muskier, Justus a touch more bitter, don't you think?"

"Both," she mumbled, bending back down to mouth his sculpted ass.

The queen gave her a sultry smile. "I can't choose either."

As she ran her tongue along the hollow of the general's muscled cheek to the crease of his thigh, she could feel the king's eyes on them, heard his soft moan. She glanced over to see his length swelling, growing hard again before her eyes. 

He grasped the nape of his wife's neck, digging his fingers into her golden hair. The rough pull made her purr as she plunged her tongue into the general's gaping hole. His hips stuttered, arching in mindless need, pushing back against her.

The king made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I've never seen you this hard," he muttered. "They're going to be the death of us."

The general grunted in agreement, fists clenched in the sheets above his head. Unbearably aroused, their ministrations made him rut against the bedclothes in wild undulations until he begged for mercy.

The queen licked her lips and laughed with delight, granting his plea with teasing reluctance.

"Only because your Beauty needs you," she whispered in his ear with a flick of her tongue.

Kneeling upright, his blushing red cock twitched against his stomach. He squeezed it hard around the base and pulled on his balls to regain some control, staring at her with raw lust. Her turn had come and her cunt throbbed in anticipation.

"I'm desperate for you," the general ground out. "It might be better, more gentle, with the king."

It felt momentous. It felt right. Inevitable. As if she'd been waiting for him. She knew he couldn't feel the same, but decided to pretend she was important to him, special. It wasn't difficult. The hungry way he looked at her was very convincing. How could she ever have thought his eyes were cold?

"You, My Lord."

She held her breath, giving herself over to them. The king nosed her temple. The queen kissed her cheek. So tender and caring, it felt like love. They each held one of her legs, opening her thighs to him as he knelt before her. Like an offering.

The general's smokey eyes burned. He leaned over her, dipping his head to run his lips along her collarbone, over the crest of her breasts, breathing heavily against her skin. The king cupped her breast for the general to kiss. The queen stroked his hair.

With a shock of insight, she realized she was a gift. She'd been given a choice, yes, but this is what the king and queen had hoped for. They wanted her for him. Before she could wonder why, the general cupped her face in his large hands, eyes locked with hers.

Lost in the moment, in his eyes, time slowed, giving her the clarity to feel an undeniable connection to him. It felt more significant than she expected. Emotional. She realized she would be changed by the experience. By him. Perhaps unwisely, she wanted to be.

She held his intense gaze and nodded.

The head of his cock kissed her entrance. Rubbing himself against her clit,  he slid through her slick folds, teasing. Pushing inside slowly, smoothly. Her breath hitched in shallow gasps as he thrust deeper. Knowing they were all watching him sink into her, stretching her, taking her. Thick, hard, and unrelenting.

She reached down to feel their joining. To touch her splayed opening, swollen lips wet and soft, parted by his silky hardness. His soft grunt told her he could feel her exploring fingers.

Buried to the hilt, he closed his eyes before dragging them up to her face, searching for discomfort. But her dripping arousal and the way they had all worked her with their fingers made it easy. She arched her back in pleasure. It was a pleasure to be filled by him.

The unfamiliar sensations were a wave that threatened to drown her, punctuated by flashes of keen awareness. The stretch itself was euphoric. Smooth and natural. Softer, sweeter than rough and thrusting fingers. It felt like the beginning of perfection.

"More," she demanded, and the general gave her an approving smile.

She noticed a dimple form at the corner of his mouth, hidden by his closely trimmed beard, and was unaccountably distracted by how his smile mellowed his face. He seemed younger, boyish. Almost pretty. She felt the king snort a laugh into her neck, saw the queen give the general a knowing wink, and realized with a flush of embarrassment she'd spoken aloud.

"Pretty, am I?" the general growled with a wicked grin.

In retribution, he took her foot, licking a wide stripe along the arch, making her gasp, then squeal, then laugh. Lifting her leg to rest on his shoulder, he rolled his hips into her, plunging deep. She sighed, curling her other leg around his waist, pulling him in, savoring the total penetration. He rocked into her with gentle, steady pressure, pushing in as far as he could go. She could feel him pulsing inside her, her cunt contracting in delicious throbs around him. Full.

"Yes," she moaned, her head thrown back in mindless bliss at the sudden surge of heat licking at her skin. The shocks of pleasure racing through her body. "Fuck me... fuck me."

The general did as she asked, burying his cock inside her with rigid control, his forceful thrusts gradually increasing in speed and power. He grasped her hips, lifting her to meet him, mouthing her ankle on his shoulder. His face was harsh with barely contained, ravenous lust.

The solid pounding of his pelvis against her mound, his heavy balls hitting her ass, gave a pulsing beat of pleasure that drove her higher and higher. She didn't even notice the king and queen leave her side.

She pulled him down on top of her, craving his full weight, skin to skin. To feel utterly consumed by him. They breathed into each other's open mouths, lips barely touching, his hot and panting breath a fever on her skin.

The general's eyes never left hers, and the intimacy of it released volatile emotions she never expected to feel. Possessive need. A necessary fulfillment she couldn't bear to lose. She found herself in terrible danger but realized it too late.

She dug her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Gripping him tight in a vice of arms and legs when she came, shaking uncontrollably, gulping back tears. Euphoria emanated in wave upon wave from her core. The pleasure was a blinding, exquisite storm burning through her mind and body. A tempest tossing her about in its wake. The press of his solid weight and pounding heart was an anchor, the still center, that kept her from being swept away. Keeping her safe.

"Release inside me," she cried. "Let me feel it. Please, Justus!"

He lifted his head to look down at her in surprise, his eyes soft and full of wonder. Lank strands of his hair, wet with sweat, falling over his forehead. He blinked, unwilling to let her see more, and buried his face in her neck. Letting go with sharp irregular jerks of his hips, cock pulsing inside her, he filled her with his cum.