Date: Sun, 8 Mar 2015 23:35:10 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Love Conquers All

                        LOVE CONQUERS ALL
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
     Lady Eleanor was sitting by the window when John walked in. He held in
his hand a single, perfect red rose, the long stem denuded of all thorns by
his careful knife and he bore it before himself like a priest carries the
monstrance, with all veneration and hope. Love conquers all, he told
himself. Show her your love and you will carry the day.
     Lady Eleanor turned to face him. She was dressed in fine white satin
gilded with golden designs that gleamed and shimmered as she turned, and
John shuddered. "What did you bring me?" she asked him without any prelude
or courtesies.
     John walked to her and presented her with the rose. "The most perfect
rose from my father's garden." he said to her. "The perfect rose for the
perfect lady." He added gallantly.
     He didn't expect the reaction he got, he'd hoped for her to smile, or
laugh, or sigh happily at the compliment. She did none of these.
     She snorted. "Cheap enough, if it's from your father's garden. What
else did you bring me?"
     John rallied as best he could in light of this. "I bring to you
myself. I bring all my love, my heart, my life, my soul, my...." he said
ardently. He was leading up to starting his love poem he had composed so
carefully, so artfully, for her!
     "Cheap, cheap, cheap!" Lady Eleanor dismissed his heartfelt
outpouring. "You are the fourth son of the Earl of Sarahmount. The Earl
hasn't enough land to give his own daughters for dowry, much less giving
you anything more than room and board and..." She regarded John's clothing,
clean but unadorned blue sleeveless, waist-length tunic over white tights
and shirt and simple brown cloth shoes, "such clothing as you have, if
that's the best you have and I assume it is."
     "It is true that my purse is lighter than I would wish but if we marry
I shall be the very best of custodian of your lands and...."
     "So it's my lands you have your eyes on!" Lady Eleanor was not just
the most beautiful, golden-haired young lady in all the land, she was the
sole heir of her now-late father's estates. Her laugh was the cruel one of
a banker to which he, a penniless noble, was petitioning for a loan. "You
and that last one, Harold, he thought he could woo me and gain my lands by
a song he'd written and played for me on his lute. Well, I sent him packing
and you can do the same!"
     John flushed and hid his face as he fled this cruel lady's boudoir,
his heart still yearned to hold her! How could he explain to this wealthy
lady that it wasn't her wealth that he craved, but herself? He had seen her
at court the year before and his every waking moment since had been taken
with thoughts of her, he had penned to her numerous missives, declaring his
undying devotion, he had composed poetry that he'd sent to her and never
once received a single word of reply until the one that had bid him come
and lay out his suit for her hand or not as he chose.
     Tears of dismissed love poured down his cheeks as he left the lady's
house, strode down the street to the inn where he'd taken his room the
night before, and where now he could but gather his things and depart in
the morning, alone, bereft, forlorn and benighted. A mere twenty-two years
of age, and his very life was now over, for if he could not have the Lady
Eleanor for his wife, he didn't care to live any longer!
     He made it back to the inn, and before the fire he saw another young
man, his nobly handsome face and elegant bearing marking him as a fellow
nobleman, strumming upon a lute. Was this, perchance, Harold, fifth son of
the Count of Williambank, of whom the Lady had spoken with such derision?
     He could but ask in words abstruse if that were the case. He settled
himself by the fire and said, "You play the lute beautifully."
     "I thank thee," the youth said laconically.
     "Have you played your music for anyone else lately?" John sallied.
     "Aye." the youth replied. "But my music, though beautiful and from my
deepest soul, could not sway the Lady's cold heart. And so I mourn the only
way I can, through my music."
     "It is true that your song is sorrowful." John said, certain now that
this was Harold of Williambank indeed. "But may I hear it anyhow from your
lips, for my own heart is aching and it may heal my pain as well."
     And so Harold paused briefly in his strumming, then started his song
anew.
               "O cruel love!
               How could you be so heartless?
               O cruel love!
               How could you be so blind?
               I followed you, after my heart's longing,
               And there you crushed it, like a grinding stone.
               O cruel love!
               No longer shall I seek you!
               O cruel love!
               I'll live my life alone!"
     And Harold finished. "There will be more when I have the heart to work
on it further, but for now, my heart is still too pained to torment
longer."
     "Your song is beautiful and your voice wonderfully delightful." John
breathed. "Your song has eased some of my own heart's pain, for I too have
been to the Lady Eleanor and been turned away before I could speak to her
of my own desires. You have your songs and I have my poetry, perhaps if we
work on this together, your songs can erase my pain and my poems can still
your heart's yearnings."
     "I would delight if that could be so." Harold agreed. "But I have no
money for this inn and must leave now if I am to travel at all before the
sun goes down."
     "That is no trouble." John declared. "I have a room here and we can
share one bed as we share one torment."
     "I would be honored." Harold bowed from where he sat.
     After a sparse dinner (Harold had coins enough for that, at least),
they repaired to John's room and, seated side by side upon the bed (the
room had no chair or other furniture), John shared with Harold some of his
poetry and Harold even played for him the song he had written to woo the
Lady Eleanor. John could only sigh painfully as Harold played, for he had
captured Lady Eleanor's beauty in ways that brought her right into this
room with her. He returned the favor with his poem planned for the Lady but
never delivered, and was pleased to see Harold's eyes filling with tears
the way he had upon hearing Harold's song.
     "You have captured her entire!" he exclaimed when John had done.
     "As did you, and better." John demurred.
     "Sitting here and listening to you is almost like having the Lady
herself with me." Harold declared. "I could close my eyes and have her with
me."
     "Would that it could be so." John agreed.
     "I would take her hand and bestow upon it my ardent kisses." Harold
continued. To demonstrate, he picked John's hand nearest him and kissed it
as if it belonged upon the lady.
     "And if the Lady were willing for you to go further?" John inquired.
     "I should slowly walk my lips up to her slender wrists, so." Harold
showed with more kisses.
     "And so on up?"
     "And so on up." Harold kissed up John's arm, he could feel the lips
through his shirt.
     "You are audacious." John agreed. "But I would have dared more."
     "What would you have dared?"
     "I would have dared to taste the lady's lips for my own." John slid
his arms around Harold's warm body and pulled his friend to his bosom and
with their faces close, he placed his impetuously fervent lips and poured
all the need he had for the Lady onto his friend's velvet flesh.
     When he released Harold's mouth, Harold licked his lips slowly. "You
are indeed bolder than I. I would wait longer, but when I would be ready to
kiss the Lady, I would do it like this." And he reached for John's mouth
and kissed John, and John felt Harold's tongue slip between his lips and
into his mouth, and taste his inner mouth.
     John groaned as that tongue touched him intimately, and he held Harold
tighter and sent his own tongue into Harold's mouth in return. Harold
didn't resist him when he did, though his intrusion was coarse rather than
seductive, and indeed sucked blissfully upon John's tongue as it danced
about inside of him.
     John took Harold's lute and placed it upon the ground, removing it
from any danger and then he pushed himself up and over Harold, laying this
young singer out upon the bed. He levered himself up and on top of Harold
and their bodies pressed together hungrily.
     "Show me how you'd love the Lady." Harold sighed as John kissed
Harold's neck in his ardor. "Show me everything you know of love and of
life and of the way of a man with a woman. Show me this, my dearest John,
my friend and my fellow sufferer, show me and in showing me, ease me of my
pain of loss this day!"
     "I shall show you everything, and take my own comfort in this as
well." John promised him.
     The two young men fought their clothing, freeing themselves and each
other in a crazy tumble of loosened clothing and constricted limbs. If
they'd tried this an hour before, without the songs, without the poetry,
without the Lady still painfully upon their innermost minds, they'd have
never reached this point, a relaxation of all inhibitions and a
single-minded pursuit of this release that they could give each other.
     Naked, their clothing in a tangled, mixed heap upon the floor, John
pressed his body against Harold's again, feeling the hard, sharp tool of
his friend pressing hotly against his upper leg, and his own cock was
between Harold's thighs so high up that Harold's scrotum rubbed the top of
it as well, and John moaned at that touch, the tickle-and-tingle of aroused
manhood pulsing in its need and its delight.
     He thrust his hips back and forth, sending his dong in and out of that
warm sac of flesh, and Harold groaned as John moved upon him, his hands
caught hold of John's buttocks and began to lever himself against John's
body, rubbing his hard mantool upon John's thigh.
     "Ah, ah, merry, I need more." panted John. "May I enter you with my
pillar of love and if you let me, I think that the last of my pain of
losing the Lady Eleanor would depart me entire! Say that I may plunge
myself into you and pour out my agony entire!"
     "I would be honored." Harold sighed and parted his legs, sliding them
so that they surrounded John's legs and then he shifted a little and John
found the way inside Harold to be but the pushing forward of his body.
     Harold's mouth opened and he gasped as John knocked upon his nether
entrance, but he held firm and John pressed against the doorway and it
opened for him, and Harold moaned as John's tumescent tool spread him wide
with male virility.
     "Ah, ah, for love of the Lady!" he gasped out. "For love and for
honor, for beauty and for art, take me for your own and take me as you
will!"
     "I have and I will, always." promised John and his hips began to buck,
driving his dong in and out of Harold's tender, sweet ass. So very much
like the Lady, John thought as his passion overtook him, so much like the
Lady would have been, indeed!
     With such thoughts and need, it was no wonder that he continued for
but a moment and his joy was upon him. "Ah, ah, I burst, I burst!"
     "Pour it within me, all of it, I beg of thee!" Harold cried out. "I
need you within me, now and forever, fill me with your essence and I shall
be at peace!"
     "I burst, I, ah-ah-AH, HUHHHHHH!" John's body was wracked apart by his
orgasm, he plunged his cock deep into Harold's bowels and held it there,
sprayed his seed liberally from his body into his partner's, and felt with
the climax that all of his pains of love lost drained out of him with it.
     "You fill me, you fill me!" Harold cried out. "Uh-uh-GUUUUHHHHH!"
Harold cock pelted the two young men in a jerk-spray of jizz that flew all
about, peppering both with the hot spunk and Harold's fingers dug hard into
John's arms and the pain increased John's ecstasy instead of diminishing
it.
     Completed, John sagged down upon Harold and felt the hot dick of his
friend there, still firm and pulsing though drained of its power as
thoroughly as he.
     "Oh, blessed physician of the soul." John sighed to Harold. "You have
cured me of my pain, and made me whole again."
     "Say instead that we have cured each other, for I, too, am at peace
once more." Harold agreed. "I think that I could look upon the Lady Eleanor
and feel nothing but a sense of shame that I let that cruel maiden play
with my feelings so." John mused.
     "We are of one mind indeed." Harold smiled at his new partner. "I
think that we are cured, but I think as well that the cure is of only a
most temporary nature. There are some potions that work but must be
consumed for the entirety of the patient's life, and I feel certain that
this is such an illness that you and I bear."
     "Then I shall see to it that you are never without your medicine."
John promised. "If you will see that I am supplied as well."
     "With my songs and with my heart." Harold said as he kissed John
again. "Now and for always, for I love you true."
     "Love indeed conquers all it touches." John agreed. "Sleep for now, my
beloved, and we will renew our vows ere the sun rises."
                             THE END
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                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM