"Forget the condom. Just. Get. In. Me. Now!"I stepped backwards until my shoulders were pressing against the wall, my legs spread, and my hands guiding yours to my ass. When you were pressed up tight against me, I whispered "Lift," and you did. I pressed up on your shoulders, my legs wrapping tightly around your waist, until your erection was lined up with my entrance. I relaxed my thighs' grip on your waist, and sank slowly down onto your erection. We both groaned in bliss as you entered me. You pressed your face briefly into the crook of my neck as we stayed motionless, savouring the feeling of being joined. Shortly, however, my patience ran out, and I squeezed my muscles, massaging your erection buried inside me. The powerful feeling overcame you, and our mouths again met as our hips started grinding together, slowly at first, and then speeding up slightly. Before long you were holding me against the wall with the power of your thrusts, and I cried out every time you bottomed out. As the clatter of hooves filled the stable yard with echoes of the horses that had been taken away by two armies, Groat went about his business. His principal aim was to keep the troopers busy in the yard, if they roamed the house as they were wont to do they could get up to no end of mischief. Fortunately the first person he saw as he entered the big kitchen was Maggie Thorne. Behind his back they called themselves the ‘lame ducks’, many of the staff that now ran the big house behind the scenes were refugees or victims of the war. All had been given a home at the castle, and though Groat knew some were not to be trusted, he knew most were as loyal as he was. Maggie was such a victim, homeless and penniless, rough as a bear’s arse, but she had a heart of gold. Groat took the girl to one side. ‘Maggie, draw a couple of pitchers of beer and make sure that our guests are properly entertained.’ ‘Right you are Mister Groat. Not to leave the yard sir?’ Groat smiled, Maggie would take care.
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