“Aye, it is passing odd to get looks that both shower me with love and question my ever lovin sanity,” she mused, now turning in full to face the man who would marry them that day.
Himself dressed in a coat of scarlet velvet and a golden cap atop his baldhead, Bishop Charles was a short, stout gentleman well known to Catherine’s family. He in fact had christened her at birth, and oversaw the weekly church services conducted at Castle Ballamore.
Warm and kind, Bishop Charles had supplied a defined spiritual angle to her family’s holiday celebrations, hosting spectacular Christmas and Easter services in particular; and to her everyday life, as he often offered her advice and counsel to carry her through the trials and travails of youth.
In the early days of her engagement to Lord Gerald, Bishop Charles had offered the couple a great deal in the way of knowledge and encouragement in regards to their life together as a happily wedded couple—even going so far as to champion Catherine’s right to remain active and independent throughout the course of their married life.
“If ye donna wish a wife who is active and independent,” he advised Gerald with a wise smile, “Then ye’d best not be marryin’ our good Lady Catherine.”
Yet when she’d approached him for counsel and advice about her oh so slight change in wedding plans, he’d promptly plugged up his ears and began to sing the lyrics of a hymn devotional he counted among his favorites.
Catherine felt a shot of pain now as she saw uncertainty and even a touch of sadness reflected in the eyes of her longtime mentor and spiritual adviser; the same emotions that she’d noted in the gazes of her parents, her aunts and uncles, and her closest friends when they heard the news of her nuptials.
Yet even before Lord Charles she lifted her chin with pride, clutching the hands of her intended mates as she shifted her focus to the decorated altar that oversaw their ceremony that day; an engraved stone marker adorned with additional bouquets of Catherine’s precious ruby red roses, along with a plethora of lovely lavender water lilies intertwined with bountiful springs of heather and baby’s breath.
Finally, she focused on her two beloved men; both of whom graced her with long, loving gazes as they took her hands in theirs.
The trio listened intent as a visibly addled Bishop Charles recited traditional vows approved by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Church of England; offering their prompts and assents at all of the preapproved times.
Then the three turned away from the altar to face one another, their public surroundings dissolving around them--although, of course, they couldn’t help but notice the 10th consecutive look of horror that passed the face of Bishop Charles as they commenced with their own handwritten vows.
Nonetheless Catherine beamed at Gerald as she told him, “My love, this is the day that we have waited since the eve we did meet, five summers ago at that fateful royal feast. With you I have discovered romance, eternal bonding and the meaning of true and lasting love. And on this day I am proud beyond measure to declare myself your bride.”
Gerald’s eyes brimmed with tears as he replied, “My love, for the past five summers I have dreamed of nothing but making ye my wife. Ye already honor my life as a lover, a friend, a companion, and an intellectual equal.”
“A lover?” Catherine cringed as she heard her mother, the prim and proper Lady Sophia, whisper from the front pew. “Do ye think that she and Gerald already have been to bed?”
Yet she smiled seconds later as her father, the ever practical Lord Dirk replied, “Truly, my love? Our daughter stands now at the altar, ready to take two men as her husbands. And that is truly the part that shocks ye the most about this entire situation?”
Silently thanking her father for his eternal good sense, Catherine returned her attention to her longtime love; a man who now took her hand in his as he stared deep into her eyes.
“My blessed, beautiful Lady Catherine,” he breathed, erasing all distance between them at the altar as he added, “I hereby take ye as my beloved and eternal wife, to have and to hold, to love and to treasure, for the remainder of our natural lives.”
With these words he held forth a shiny gold ring that he slipped on her third finger, an ebullient token that glowed in the light of the surrounding chandeliers.
“Be my wife,” he told her, entwining their fingers in a binding stance as he leaned forward to claim her lips in an equally binding kiss. “I love ye, Catherine.”
Far from the brief, sweet peck often witnessed at the vast majority of marriage altars, this kiss proved deep and truly passionate; with Gerald plying his full, moist lips into hers, rubbing and massaging her own as their tongues entangled between them.
Their public surroundings dissolved around them as Catherine leaned into his kiss; a tapestry of their life together unfurling in her psyche as she pressed her lips to his. Their mouths, tongues and breaths entwined in what seemed an eternal bond.
Hearing yet another deep expressed breath—this one a frantic, ragged breath torn from the throat of her visibly chagrined mother—Catherine finally broke their kiss; standing back to sear Gerald with loving eyes as she told him, “Ye are now my husband, Gerald. And I love ye, so very much.”
Turning now to Gaston, the man who stood silent and patient at the opposite end of the altar, Catherine took his hand in hers and said, “My sweet, gorgeous Gaston. Ye have been a part of my life as far back as I can recall, my friend. We played together, grew together, schooled together; sharing in the process all of the innermost secrets that only the best friends, the fondest confidantes, can share. Throughout the course of our journey in this life, we have developed a bond that cannot and will not be broken. So it is truly only right and true, regardless of what others might say,” with this she snuck a swift, pointed gaze in the direction of a red-faced Bishop Charles, “that we now should join as husband and wife.”
Gaston nodded.
“My darling Lady Catherine,” he clutched her hand in his, drawing her closer to him. “All of my life I have adored ye from afar, guarding and protecting ye when what I truly wanted to do was love and court ye. Even as I basked in the grace of yer company, treasuring every moment I spent with ye and honoring my exalted and enviable position in yer life, that of your knight and eternal guardian, I secretly lamented that I never could assume a far superior position: that of the man in your life. It slayed my soul, the very notion that I never could kiss ye, caress ye, dance with ye, make love to ye….” He paused here, cringing with evident pain as he added, “I desired ye with such intense passion that it seized and broke my heart. Yet on that magical eve three moons ago, when ye and I made love, finally and fully….”
He paused again as a strangulated groan arose from the mother of his bride, a woman who quickly composed herself and waved, albeit shakily, for him to continue.
“When ye and I made love, finally and fully, I knew beyond a doubt that we were destined to be together,” he continued, adding as he graced her with a warm, gentle beam, “And I am so, so honored to become your husband. In this role, I can well continue to serve and protect ye, to care for ye and love ye, just as I always have. Yet now I can take my place beside ye as your second wedded husband; and, as an added benefit, I can make love to ye, as often as we like!”
Joining their guests in chuckling out loud at Gaston’s lightly spoken but meaningful words, Catherine warmed as her second husband also slid a ring of gold smooth onto her finger; simultaneously kissing the hand that bore it as he stared deep into her eyes.
“I love ye, Lady Catherine,” he whispered with a smile. “Be my wife.”
With these words he seized her lips with a warm, intense kiss, plying her mouth with his as their tongues entangled between them.
Leaning into his kiss, Catherine returned his affections in grand fashion as their lips and tongues merged and meld, creating between them a visible bond of love, passion and eternity.
“I love ye, my knight, so very, very much,” she told him, adding as she pulled away
to stare deep into his eyes, “Ye are now my husband, Gaston.”
Soon the trio turned with hands linked in the direction of the altar, where—much to their pleasant surprise—Bishop Charles greeted them with a broad beam as he nodded affirming in their direction.
“Lady Catherine, Lord Gerald, Sir Gaston,” he addressed them, adding as he made a grand sweeping gesture just above their heads, “I adore and hold all three of ye close to my heart, as I have all of your lives. Ye are three precious young people who glow in your warmth, your intellect, your success, and your promise. And while I first questioned the wisdom and sanctity of this marital union—the first, I must admit, that involves more than two people—I now see for myself the great and incredible love that passes among ye. Gaston and Gerald respect one another, and have immeasurable love for Catherine. And, I must say it, my dearest Lady Catherine never has looked happier.” He paused here, adding as he raised his hands above them, “I hereby declare ye husband and wife. And husband.”
5
That evening Catherine’s led her two grooms deep into the sanctity of her royal chamber; a palatial room that bespoke her station as a duchess of the high court.
Walls of glowing gold brocade enclosed her private sleeping place; an elegant boudoir that also boasted dew glistened bouquets of creamy carnations settled in shiny gold urns, a ceiling emblazoned with a hand painted scene captured from the English countryside, and a sterling centerpiece of a lace canopied bed ensconced in comforters of sweet pearl pink.
Sweeping her off her feet, her two husbands tossed her body at the center of this silken sleeping place, both standing tall and proud before her to strip themselves naked before her admiring eyes.
She stared in blatant admiration as the two glorious men revealed themselves to her; posing and flexing their sculpted pectorals, their defined abdominals, their long, trim legs, only for her pleasure. She took particular delight in seeing the two long, hard shafts that seemed to salute her presence.
Descending in a single smooth flourish at the head of his lady’s bed, Gaston stared down at her with adoring eyes; soothing the tendrils of her fire red hair as he bent low to kiss her lips and cheeks.
“Relax and allow us to adore ye, milady,” he whispered, unhooking the buttons at the back of her dress as he continued to kiss and lick her lips. “Allow us to do everything….”
“Everything for yer pleasure,” Gerald completed, kneeling naked before her as he freed her feet from the confines of her ruby hued slippers.
Soon Gaston had stripped away her chemise and bodice; caressing the heaving breasts and gentle rounded tummy this move revealed. As an adoring Gaston massaged her sturdy shoulders and caressed her heaving breasts, all the while continuing to kiss her senseless, Gerald suckled her toes and licked her pads as he stripped away her petticoats; licking his way up her bare legs before settling himself between her fleshy thighs and bowing his head at her folds.
As Gaston slipped his silken tongue between her lips, fondling her breasts and devouring her mouth with his, Gerald layered his own tongue across the surface of her heaving clit; also playing his agile fingertips around the border of her feminine slit.
Gaston swallowed her startled breath, and continued to kiss and caress her, as Gerald slipped his agile fingertip through the door of her feminine garden and probed her intimate walls; seeking the source of her ultimate ecstasy as he continued to lave her nub.
“Mmmmm.” She purred against Gaston’s lips as he kissed her lips and kneaded her breasts; writhing wild on the bed as an ardent Gerald worked and kneaded her dual pleasure points. “I love ye both, so much.”
“And we love ye, milady,” Gerald whispered against her clit, continuing to stroke her hungry insides as shards of heated erotic ecstasy soared upward to touch every fiber of her being. “Let us show ye just how much.”
As if on cue, Gaston plunged his tongue into her mouth as her nipples flew to hard, erect points beneath his loving touch. And as for Lord Gerald? Well he hit the spot.
Laying a long, resounding lick across the surface of her inflamed clit, he simultaneously stroked the sensitive spot just inside her pussy; igniting her G-spot just as her nub pulsated in response to his intimate touch.
Kneeling forward to embrace her bare, sweaty body and support her sturdy, trembling frame, Gaston clutched her to him as she rode the wave of an incredible, multi layered orgasm; one that shook her to the core as her heart and pulse pounded and her pussy gushed outright.
Soon her loyal knight swept her up in two strong arms, pulling her closer than close as he cradled her in his tender embrace. For a time, the two kissed and cuddled warm and tender as Gerald laid at her back; continuing his intimate massage as he ran tickling hands down her spine before rubbing and fondling her buxom behind.
“Let us love ye,” he whispered in her ear, cupping her flushed cheeks in two tender hands as he turned his face to hers.
As he engaged her trembling lips in a hot, passionate kiss, his full, moist mouth stroking hers in a smooth, intimate rhythm, Gaston wrapped her hands around her sturdy waist and settled his hard naked body between her parted thighs; pulling her close as her breasts crushed his massive chest and their hips and thighs locked between them.
Even as she kissed the lips of her devoted first husband, reaching back to stroke and caress the shaft that rose up to tease her waist, Catherine wrapped her free arm around Gaston’s massive shoulders to caress the lengths of his silken dark hair; sinking in the depths of his tight embrace as—finally and fully—he joined them as one.
Bowing his head to kiss and lick the nape of her sensitive neck, Gaston plunged the length of his long, hard cock to the depths of her wet femininity; their nipples scraping together and her hand scaling his sturdy back as she thrust his hips forward to meet his in a lush, decadent tango.
As Gaston gyrated his hips against hers, his shaft driving forth to her very core, Gerald’s long, wet tongue plundered her mouth as his hands canvassed her shoulders and back.
Finally, and with a joined sigh, Gaston exploded wild within her as the couple came together; an attentive Gerald joining in their bliss as both men clutched her between them.
Once again writhing wild in the joy of a heated climax, Catherine smiled serene as she held her two hands up to the light of an incoming window; admiring both of her rings of gold as she contemplated the circle of love that both did signify.
“Forever and always,” she sighed.
THREESOME RANCH
1
The morning sun was a friend to Judith Lance as she walked free and warm in its ethereal rays.
Aside from caressing and embracing a body just arrived from a colder climate, this luminous beacon served to showcase the whole of her surroundings.
A Minnesota native, newly freed from the oppressive bounds of a five-year marriage that had extended its welcome by two of those years, Judith decided to celebrate her freedom via a sun soaked Florida vacation. And in lieu of escaping to a beach sure to be crowded by far too many bronzed bikini babes roughly half her age and size, the practical office manager opted instead to rent a ranch style cabin at a Tampa-area resort known as Happy Trails.
Located on the grounds of a vast and expansive Western-style ranch, Happy Trails was advertised as a quiet haven of rolling heather strewn hills and ethereal natural surroundings; a place where people could escape the noise and traffic of the big city to enjoy peace and quiet in the great outdoors.
“And after suffering through a heated and frequently screaming argument with my husband, one that lasted roughly two and a quarter years, not counting the three weeks or so he ran home to his mother,” she reminded herself, rolling her eyes heavenward, “I’d say that I’m more than a bit overdue for a good bit o’ peace and quiet.”
Her opinion seemed verified this morning as she took a long walk across the grounds of Happy Trails resort.
Having just settled in at the provincial cabin that would be her home for the next weeks
, Judith now walked the length of the cobblestone path that lead straight down the center of the 100-acre resort.
She marveled at the vision of emerald grassed hills, lined with golden heather and blossoming forth with an array of floral gems that ranged from golden fluffy dandelions and robust sunflowers to lavender African violets and plush orchids, every hue of the rainbow.
Her gaze shifted upward to behold statuesque magnolia trees and lovely sable palms; their pristine tops kissing the jewel blue sky that hovered high and proud above her.
Tossing her head back to bask in the tendrils of a light Southern breeze, Judith smiled as a wave of peace and calm suffused her tall, fully made being; closing her eyes as she basked in the song of ivory feathered gulls flying low overhead.
“Beautiful,” she breathed, finally exhaling as months of stress, strain and worry dissolved from her body, lifting their shackles from every part of her being—and most especially her heart. “Just beautiful.”
Just then she opened her eyes to behold a vision even more beautiful in spectacle and effect. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure if she’d ever seen anything quite this—what was the phrase? —Visually pleasing.
“Of course, to deem what I see before me as visually pleasing would be just a bit like labeling Michelangelo’s Statue of David as ‘passing cute on a good hair day’,” she mused, running some soothing hands through her frazzled, windswept mane of wheat blonde hair as she took a closer look at the two men who loomed just ahead of her on the open trail.
Both sitting tall astride a pair of ivory maned stallions that trotted graceful down the pathway before her, the two young men both boasted bronzed muscular forms that they seemed eager to show off—and in grand style. Both rode ‘bareback’ on their trusty steeds, their hard muscled torsos—adorned only by fire red bandanas wrapped around their sturdy necks--glowing massive and golden in the light of the sun above them. And both of their peerless chests tapered down to trim waists and long sturdy legs adorned in the threads of some skintight blue jeans.
ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS Page 72
