Date: Sat, 19 Feb 2011 11:16:17 +1000
From: Jeff Albertson <albertson194@gmail.com>
Subject: Third Son

Third Son

a story by Henry Plantagenet

Disclaimer. This story is fiction. It is for adult use only.

The Viking chief's lodge was much more spacious inside than it appeared
from without. Many of the Chief's other guests circulated or sat or stood
in the big fire-warmed room, along with a large cohort of circulating
servants, who looked like slaves, judging by their outlander
complexions. Whereas the guests were comfortably attired in light furs (for
it was early Summer), the servants wore only brief goatskin loincloths,
leaving both males and females bare-chested. Many of the guests flirted
shamelessly with the female slaves (and more than a few with the males).

As I stood in the Chief's small circle of conversants, I noticed one
servant in particular, on the other side of the lodge. Smaller than the
adult slaves elsewhere in the room, this one did not appear to be an
outlander, but a viking, though still young. The other oddity about him was
that he wore no covering on his loins - he was completely nude. He looked
to have passed about 12 winters, his slender frame graceful and quick, his
honey-coloured hair falling to his shoulders in the Viking style, long and
wavy. No garment touched his skin save for a leather thong tied around his
neck, not tightly, its ends hanging down as far as his flat stomach.

Intrigued, I asked the Chief about this singular servant - why his
nakedness, his youth, his comeliness, compared to his fellow slaves.

"He is no slave, but my son", sighed the Chief in reply.

I immediately begged the Chief's pardon, fearing that I may somehow have
caused offence by drawing his attention to the boy. Perhaps it was some
kind of punishment? But from my observation, the boy seemed quite happy in
his role, even enthusiastic, unlike most slaves I have known.

"No, not a punishment - at least not on the boy. On me, perhaps," was the
Chief's sorrow-filled answer.

I observed the boy again as he went about his serving tasks, giving this
one a mug of ale, that one a skewer of meat, to another a damp cloth for
his soiled fingers. From behind, he was just as handsome as in front - his
slender calves, thighs firm and unblemished, his waist shapely, his
buttocks round and uplifted with an enticingly mysterious crevice between
them. His stones did not yet hang low as a young man's would, so I could
not see them from this vantage, but when he turned to offer a guest a joint
of venison, his pouch could readily be seen under his pizzle, small and
tight but full. No hair had the boy as yet, neither above his pizzle nor
under his arms. His face likewise was still some years away from needing
the razor.

The Chief's other guests had drifted to their separate conversations in
other parts of the lodge, leaving the two of us alone. Rather recklessly, I
persisted in my enquiries about the young princeling - desire had overruled
my prudence, desire to touch the boy and perhaps awaken his lust, if he be
willing.

"If not punishment, my lord, what then? A test of courage? Some ritual,
perhaps?"

The Chief shook his head, frowning deeply. "No test, Gunther, nor ritual,
unless you call blind obedience to custom a kind of ritual. Perhaps it is,
in a way".

I gazed at the Chief intently, mentally willing him to continue. After a
pause to collect his thoughts, he did so.

"You are from across the big water, Gunther, so I understand you may not be
aware of all our older customs. Some of them are quite ancient, venerable
as the forests, and must be obeyed without exception by all men, from the
lowliest farmer to the mightiest chief. This particular custom is concerned
with the distribution of a man's wealth after he has taken his final
journey to meet the gods. When a man has property, it is expected that on
his death all of it will pass to his oldest son. This is natural and
ordained by the gods themselves.. A second son, while he may be a blessing
from the gods and a useful helper to his father, may also bring disharmony
to the family, competing with his older brother for the father's affection
and property."

I nodded, trying to look wise and thoughtful.

The Chief continued. "To deal with the potential problems caused by the
second son, our custom decrees that all second-born boys join our millitary
forces. Given the savage nature of warfare, such boys sooner or later go to
meet the gods, thus solving the problem caused by their birth, and bringing
glory to our tribe through their valiant sacrifice. If the gods are kind,
all subsequent children will be girls, who can be married off strategically
to secure alliances between tribes".

"And if the gods are unkind?" I prompted.

The Chief sighed again. "If the gods are unkind, they send a man's wife a
third son. Such a boy can never inherit, nor can he serve as a soldier lest
his feats outshine that of his older brother and bring shame on the
family. From his birth, the third son learns that his future will never
include taking a wife, but rather depends on attracting the attentions of a
certain type of man - a man with no wife of his own who will take him into
his house and be a husband to him"

"Your youngest boy expects this, my Lord?" I asked, incredulous.

The Chief nodded slowly. "Expects it, even earnestly desires it - since he
was old enough to understand, my wife and I have explained his destiny to
him. Every boy born third in our tribe waits for the day when his husband
comes for him and leads him away. That is the significance of the cord
around his neck."

I ran a hand through my hair, attempting (with little success) to
understand what the chief had explained. "Sir, I beg your forebearance, but
if third-born sons are so ill-favoured, why suffer them to live? There are
many simple ways of ending an infant's life, after all?"

The chief frowned. "Indeed there are, Gunther, but the people of my village
are loath to use them. Our legends are full of tales from bygone times
recounting the gods' displeasure with those would would act in this way. In
these tales, parents who exposed their third-born boys on the mountainside,
offering them back to the gods, usually found some misfortune befalling
their first two sons, thus leaving them without any sons. The villagers
have learned this lesson well. However much a third-born is despised, we do
not tempt the gods by taking his life - that power belongs exclusively to
those who dwell in the halls above. But enough of our distateful legends -
what has caused your interest in such things? Perhaps your interest in my
son goes beyond formal courtesy? Do you find his looks comely? Speak
frankly - I will take no offence"

Encouraged by the chief's words, I spoke from my heart. "Comely to be sure,
Sir, and more. He is the most handsome boy I have seen in all my travels.
His beauty goes beyond words. If it would not grieve you, I would speak
with him to gauge his interest in me, if any."

"Oh, I think he will be interested, Gunther. Indeed, it appears that his
curiosity in you already draws him hither. May I say that he is virgin,
both fore and aft, desires no female, and is sweet of breath. His teeth are
sound, and his limbs strong."

I could see the nude boy across the room slowly turn in our direction. I
caught his eye and smiled my encouragement. He smiled back shyly, and
passed another mug of ale to a guest, then began moving slowly towards his
father (and me). "My Lord, how exactly does the boy know who his future
husband will be?" I whispered, as the naked nymph gracefully closed the
space between us.

A small grin played on the Chief's face as he listened to my question. "The
gods will point the way, Gunther. The boy only has to follow where the gods
point."

The golden-haired youth had arrived, and greeted his father respectfully.
"My son, this is Gunther, one of our tribe's allies from across the big
water. He has no wife, and if I am not mistaken, I believe he has noticed
your beauty. Gunther, may I introduce my third son, Focke"

The boy extended his hand limply to me, batting his eyelids and smiling
demurely. As soon as my own hand touched the boy's cool flesh, I saw the
lad's limp pizzle begin to rise, gradually stiffening until it achieved the
size of my middle finger as it aimed straight at me.

"The gods have spoken" murmured the Chief. He took the ends of the leather
cord and placed them in my other hand. "Take Focke to your bedchamber. May
dawn's first glimmer bear witness that our two tribes have joined as one".

In a trance-like state, I led the boy by his neck-cord towards the nearby
bedchamber which the chief had assigned to me. Other guests turned to watch
us pass by, some smiling openly, others smirking behind their hands. A few
men slapped me on the back. One huge viking man called out "Keep him hard
until moonrise Focke, and I'll name my next longship after you!" which drew
a hearty laugh from the room.

Embarassed by the remarks from the Chief's guests, I failed to notice the
Chief's wife fall in behind Focke as I entered the bedchamber with the boy
in tow. It was not until I heard the door being bolted that I realised
there were now three of us in the room. "Helga!" I exclaimed. "By the gods,
what are you doing in here?"

The Chief's wife set a small dish by the bedside and gave me a look of
surprise. "To prepare Focke for his first bedding, of course. It is a
mother's duty" she replied, as though it was obvious. "The boy has never
known man nor woman, and may be frightened by your virility. Oh, I remember
my wedding night with his father as though it were yesterday - my older
sister prepared me, as my own mother had already journeyed to the gods'
abode...such memories...I screamed so loudly it kept the whole village
awake all night! And the blood! You've never seen-"

I unbolted the door and pushed her out of the bedchamber as gently as I
could. "Your son will...do you proud, Helga. Now I ask you to leave us
to...consummate the union of our two tribes". The Chief's wife reluctantly
yielded as I shut the door between us and turned, finally, to face the
beautiful boy once more.

"Focke", I whispered, raising my hands to his throat to untie the leather
cord. "Do you know what...will happen here tonight?"

The boy lowered his eyes. His bone-like pizzle gave little jerks as it
hardened even more, if that was possible. He shook his mane of golden hair
as I released the cord from his neck. His first words took me fully by
surprise. "Do you...wish to bind me, my lord?" he whispered, his voice high
and musical.

"Bind you?" I answered, puzzlement evident in my voice.

"My father often took me with him when he visited his mistresses. With
some, he enjoyed tying their hands high on a post while he...entered them
from behind. He said some day my husband might also want to...take me in
this way. If it pleases you, my lord..." his words trailled off.

I began removing my clothes, pointing to the bed and indicating to the boy
that he should sit there. "What else did your father show you?" I asked
gently. The boy saw my bare chest and gave a little gasp. One of his
delicate hands made a motion towards me, as though he wanted to run it
through my hair, but he drew back, still afraid. He spoke again.

"With some of his women, he expected them to...to make him hard with their
mouths, to prepare him for..." the boy struggled with the words, not
knowing whether he was saying too much, which might offend me, or too
little, thus evading my question.

"He made them suck on his pizzle until it hardened?" I helped him. The boy
nodded vigorously. "And with some, I take it that he continued until he
spent his seed in their mouths?" Nodding again from the boy, though this
time less assured. "Did he tell you that your, er, husband would expect
this service from you?"

Focke gave a small nod of his head. "Father said it was my duty to please
my husband in whatever ways he might desire. That I should always be eager
to use my mouth and tongue on his pizzle and...and..."

"Swallow his seed?" I asked, now loosening my britches. The boy nodded as
his eyes followed every movement of my fingers as they unlaced my lower
garments. I eased the leathers down my thighs as the boy stared. A sudden
intake of breath from him indicated that he could now see the object he
feared and perhaps also desired. I stepped out of the trousers and sat
beside Focke on the bed, taking his dainty hand in mine.

"Focke, you may speak plainly and without fear. Did your father tell you
exactly what your future husband would do with his pizzle? Where he would
put it?"

The boy looked me full in the face, shaking his head again to let his hair
fall back from his face in a gesture I was beginning to find most
endearing. "He told me many times, my lord Gunther, and in great detail. I
think it pleased him to do so. He also showed me with many of his
women. Sometimes he would also take me to a place where men used boys for
their pleasure, and bid those men demonstrate the act to me. Father said I
was to welcome my husband's pizzle in my bottom whenever my husband desired
me. But I never realised that a man could have a weapon as large as yours,
my Lord. My father's is as a child's next to it. Even the men in the
pleasure-house would envy it."

I took Focke's chin in my hand and lifted his face slightly so that our
eyes met. "Focke, put your hand on my pizzle" I directed him, and he
complied, gingerly holding my hard cock with his slender fingers, his thumb
curling around to get a good grip. "Focke, did your Father ever kiss
his...women?"

For the first time the boy looked astonished. "Kiss them, my lord Gunther?
Why would he do such a thing?"

I frowned at him - not severely, but enough to register my displeasure that
he had evaded a direct question from his husband. "You did not answer me,
Focke"

The boy's face crumpled in shame and dismay. "I beg your forgiveness, my
lord Gunther, I...I...was so surprised by your question. No, Father never
kisses anyone but my mother."

Thinking I had the boy in a more talkative and honest mood, I pressed my
advantage. "And has anyone ever kissed you, Focke? On the lips?"

"No my Lord!" the lad replied, seemingly affronted by the very idea.

"I take it that when you visited the men's pleasure-house, you saw boys
pleasuring the men's pizzles with their mouths. Has anyone ever done this
to you?"

The boy's pretty mouth widened in shock. "No my Lord, never!" he declared.

I put my arm on the boy's shoulders, making him quake a little. "Tonight,
Focke, you and I will be kissing each other on the mouth many times. Does
that proposal meet with your approval?"

The boy lowered his face but gave a tentative nod. I continued. "And then
we shall be taking each other's pizzles in our mouths and giving pleasure
to one another. Does that sound satisfactory to you?" This time the boy's
nod was accompanied by a sly little grin.

"My pizzle does not yet produce the manly seed, my Lord. I hope this will
not cause you displeasure?" he asked shyly.

I smiled at his frankness, to reassure him and encourage further
revelations. "No, Focke, I am not dismayed in the least. Does the idea of
taking my seed in your mouth displease you?"

The boy looked away briefly, then turned his face directly to mine. "No my
Lord Gunther. I hope to accept your manly tool in my mouth and drink of its
seed every day. May the gods keep you rigid as the mountain fir so this may
come to pass."

I reached for the boy's pizzle with my free hand - Focke had not
relinquished my weapon at any time while we spoke. Though small, the boy's
cock was hot and stiff. "You tell me you have seen men at the
pleasure-house putting their manly weapon within the bottom hole of boys,
boys like yourself. What were your impressions of this activity? Did those
boys appear to enjoy what was being done to them? Speak plainly."

Focke gave my tool a small squeeze. "I saw different reactions, my Lord
Gunther. Some boys enjoyed it immensely, judging by their cries of joy and
their urgings of those men to greater depths and increased vigour. A few
boys seemed indifferent, as though the act generated no more feeling than
milking a goat or trimming a beard. There were also boys who appeared to be
in great distress, begging for an end to their misery. These boys
interested me most of all, because it semed to me that their entreaties had
the opposite effect on the men forcing themselves on them - the more the
boys cried out in agony for surcease, the more those men pounded their
virility into the boys' bottoms. It seemed to me that those boys may have
been deliberately provoking their men to mightier efforts, rather than
asking for an end to their supposed torments."

This was the longest speech the boy had made to me, and I felt that I was
starting to gain his confidence. I pulled his shoulder back a little so
that we both fell slowly backwards onto the bed. Laying side by side, our
legs dangling over the bed's edge, I pursued my interrogation. "And have
you ever experienced a man's virile member in your bottom, Focke?" I
half-turned towards the boy, my cock (still in his hand) now drooling onto
the boy's taut belly. The chief, his father, had already assured my of the
boy's innocent condition, but I wished to hear it from his own full lips.

"No. my Lord, never. But I have thought often about it. Many a night have I
lain awake in my own bed imagining the man who would some day be my
husband, planting his seed deep in my bowel, his virility joining me to him
forever". Focke squeezed my cock again.

I leaned over his face and took his pouty lower lip between my own, sucking
on it before kissing down his jawline lightly and across his throat. I felt
the boy shudder. "And which boy are you, Focke? The urgently desirous boy,
the indifferent boy, or the one pretending pain to stimulate his Lord to
greater vigour?" I kissed both of Focke's tiny nipples, making him gasp
before answering.

"Oh, my Lord, I...oh, oh...I would be whichever boy my Lord, ohhhh,
whichever, oh my Lord Gunther"

"Only one more question before we begin our wedding night's passion in
earnest, Focke. Do not be alarmed, it is a very simple one", I tried to
reassure the lad. He looked at me pensively. "I take it that you have often
appeared naked at your father's feasts"

"Since before I can remember, my Lord", the boy replied, now slowly rocking
my cock up and down.

"Has your pizzle ever pointed at a man before tonight?" I asked, trying to
keep the tremble out of my voice.

The boy stopped his stroking of my cock to answer. "No my Lord Gunther. You
are the first man that ever made my pizzle hard. No other man has looked at
me the same way you did this night. From the minute I saw you talking to my
father while looking at me, I knew the gods had sent you to me. I have
prayed every night that my husband would be a man such as you, virile yet
gentle, manly but compassionate, fair of face yet strong in sinew, and the
gods have answered my most fervent prayers. Many times my father bade me
watch him while he demonstrated his prowess with his mistresses, and as I
watched his animal rutting, I imagined my husband taking me in the same
way, forcefully, relentlessly, over and over, bathing me inside and out
with his seed."

I smiled at the boy. "You have answered well, Focke. Tonight I shall make
you my own. Tonight your cries of passion will shake the casements of your
father's lodge for all his guests to hear. Tonight, rivers of my seed will
flow in your pretty mouth and up your tight bottom. The gods themselves
will envy me."

The boy gave out a little sob. "Then suffer me to wait no longer, my Lord!"
he moaned, flinging his face on my loins and engulfing the top half of my
manhood in his mouth, holding the bottom half in both his delicate hands. I
reached for the boy's hips and lifted them up to my face, depositing the
boy's slender body above me so that his pizzle found my lips. We each used
our tongues to stimulate the other's manly tools, Focke stopping every few
moments to announce his passion as I tormented his pizzle with my lips.

"Oh, my lord, it is...oh, oh, my lord, aaahh...the gods..." the boy moaned,
bucking his hips as he achieved his little joy. Regaining his wind, he
returned his attention to my weapon, slavering all over it and taking as
much as he could within his mouth. His ministrations were so enthusiastic I
felt my seed rising quite soon, and with my own shout emptied my stones
into his throat. Focke put all his concentraion into staying in position on
my heaving loins, gathering all my seed within his mouth and consuming it
even as my weapon pumped it out. When the last surges of my tool had
quietened, I turned the boy's body around so that our faces met, kissing
him on his lips.

"Now you have tasted my seed, Focke. Does it meet with your approval?" I
teased the lad.

The boy sighed as he licked the inside of his own mouth. "Even were it
bitter as pinesap would I delight in your seed, my lord. But it is not
bitter - it reminds me of...goatsmilk that has a little salt added to it. I
am sure I will enjoy it more every day! My mother told me to pray daily to
the gods for a husband whose manly seed was palatable, so that I would
enjoy the act of sucking it from his pizzle, and they have truly answered
my prayers".

I placed the boy's hand back on my slimy tool. "In my village, a man's
weapon is called a cock, Focke. You may use this word for my weapon. It
would please me," I advised the boy.

"Cock? Like the bird that ruts with the hen? It is a good name, my
lord. Cock! Yes, I will use this word". He looked down at his own narrow
hips, where my fingers still fondled his tool. "If your weapon be a Cock,
my own is but a Sparrow next to it. Does my little sparrow please my lord?"

I smiled at the boy, now enjoying that he was more at ease in my
comapny. "Yes, Focke, I am very pleased with your sparrow. Very much
pleased."

"Then does my lord wish to have me gelded? I will submit, if it would
please you", the boy declared.

I was astonished by his offer, and spoke more sternly to the boy than I
intended. "Gelded? In the name of all the gods, what are you talking about,
Focke?"

The boy showed no upset at my tone, indeed he seemed eager to explain
himself. "Gelding is the cutting of a boy's stones out of his pouch, my
lord. Do you not have this word in your village across the big water?"

Still shocked, I replied "Yes, Focke, we have this word. But in my village,
gelding is something only done to livestock, to make them more easily
managed, never to a man, even a criminal, and especially never to a
boy. Why would you offer this to me?"

The boy petted my cock carefully as he explained himself. "At the men's
pleasure-house, most of the boys are gelded. Their parents usually ask for
this when they take them to live there. Such boys are always third or even
fourth sons. Cutting out a boy's stones makes him keep his youthful looks
for many years after the time the gods usually turn a boy into a man. It
also prevents him from siring children himself - his seed becomes
barren. The keeper of the pleasure house is skilled with knife and with
thread - father has taken me to see him perform this chore several times"

"And you would submit to this? For me?" I asked.

Focke stopped his playing with my cock to turn his face to me. "Yes, my
lord. Gladly would I give you my stones. Some of the older men who visit
the pleasure house choose to perform the gelding of the boy in the old way,
with their teeth. They claim that the first rut with a freshly gelded boy
is a pleasure known only to the gods. Are you going to...rut with me this
night?"

I kissed the boy's mouth and neck before replying. "Yes Focke, I have
desired to rut with you since I first saw you naked among your father's
guests. I admired your bottom across the room from that instant, and could
think of nothing else but lodging my cock within its crevasse. And now that
you have tasted my seed, my desire to rut with you has increased!"

The boy leapt to his knees on the bed. "Thank the gods!" he cried, kissing
the head of my tool. "I will prepare myself". Saying this, Focke dipped his
fingers in the dish his mother had supplied and smeared some greasy
substance in the crack of his bottom. He then scampered around the room
gathering cushions and piling them on the side of the bed. To my
astonishment, he then placed himself face down on the side of the bed with
his loins on the pile of cushions, his legs dangling over the side. He
kicked his feet up and held his ankles in place with each hand, spreading
his thighs wide. I almost laughed at his comical, wide-open posture.

"What is this, Focke? Another custom of your village?" I asked, keeping the
amusement out of my voice.

The boy turned his face towards me to ease his speech. "Yes my lord", he
answered seriously. "This is the position a maiden must take when my father
ruts with her. Every halfmonth, a girl who has been newly made a woman by
the gods, but has not yet been betrothed to a husband, must submit to being
rutted by the chief of the village. My father has often taken me with him
when he visits the houses of the villagers to accomplish this duty - I fear
he does this to shame me. Before he ruts with the girl, he requires me to
spread the goose fat around her front opening so that my father can enter
her easily. Most maidens do not enjoy this custom".

No doubt another village ritual devised by some chief in olden times, I
thought, but said "And has your sparrow ever hardened when you applied the
goose fat to a girl's slit?" I asked the boy, having risen from the bed and
walked around to where the boy splayed himself on the edge of the bed. I
ran a hand down his back all the way to his bottom, my fingers feeling
within his crack to ensure he had moistened his opening sufficiently. The
boy's body shuddered beneath my touch, as a nervous colt will sometimes do
under his master's hand.

The boy snorted with indignation. "Hardened, my lord? From touching a girl?
Never! You are the only one who has called to my sparrow and made him rise
in answer. Is my lord going to rut with me now?" Focke was panting softly.

I leaned over the boy, my straining cock laying along his crack as I bent
my face to his ear. "Yes, Focke, I am going to rut with you now. But not as
your father does with his maidens." I gently loosened the boy's grip on his
ankles and helped him to his feet. I sat on the bed alongside the cushions,
my feet on the floor, and helped the boy to stand up, placing him in front
of me. He waited, expectantly, his pizzle quivering.

"When we rut, Focke, I wish to be looking at your face, not at the back of
your head, comely though it is. I desire to give you no pain when I rut
you, so I must study your features as we join. Now, sit astride my lap as
you would mount a steed." The boy straddled my thighs. "Place your hands
around my neck" I commanded softly, and the boy complied, bringing his face
to a level with mine. Cupping his bottom in my hands, I said "Now, I am
going to raise your bottom up and put my cock in your crack. Move your
bottom around until you can feel the head of my cock at your opening."

The boy sighed "Yes, my Lord", and wriggled his bottom on my hands as he
positioned himself according to my instructions. "I can feel it at my
entrance, my Lord", he whimpered, "but it surely is too large to penetrate
me?".

I nibbled his earlobe then murmured in his ear, "The goose fat will
help. And the gods are sure to smile on us. Now I am going to remove my
hands - when you are ready, relax your grip on my neck and allow your
opening to widen and accept my cock. When I am inside you, we will rut
until my stones are empty". The boy groaned.

My shoulders felt Focke taking his weight with his hands, continuing to
work his bottom around. To distract him, I kissed him on the lips, then
licked all around his neck and throat, engulfing first one ear then the
other in my mouth. My hands roamed up and down his back as the boy
whimpered and moaned. "Oh my lord, I can feel it...my opening...your
cock...it..."

"Slowly, Focke. Let your hole rut on my cock slowly. Savour the feeling of
your hole stretching as it admits my cock. Do not think of the vigorous
rutting of the stallion on the mare. Think instead of the cock of your
husband filling up your bottom as the ale fills the mug, entering smoothly
and reaching every surface within. Then, when you have accepted my whole
cock, you may begin to ride it...slowly at first...a little canter...then a
trot...before long you will be galloping, and the fire in your bottom will
only be quenched by my seed squirting inside you"

The boy gasped again, squirming his bottom as his opening loosened around
my cockhead. "Oh, my lord, your cock has entered me - ohhh, I feel it
making its way in now...your hairs scratch my pouch...mmmm, oh my lord,
aaahh, ooooohhh..."

Squatting suddenly, the boy took the full length of my tool within his
bottom, and let out a howl like the she-wolf of the mountains. A muffled
cheer from without the bedchamber told me that the chief's guests had been
standing close by, awaiting this moment. I put my hands under Focke's
bottom and raised him up a short way, about half my length.

"Oh my lord, urrgh, let him come back into me, plunge him deeply, my lord,
aaahhh, yes, thank the gods..." the boy moaned as I lowered his bottom onto
my cock. Focke began bouncing up and down on my weapon, each bounce
accompanied by a gasped "Oh!", his speed quickening even as he lengthened
his bounce. Sooner than I would have liked, his hole was rising and falling
along the full length of my manhood, somehow staying joined to me despite
the vigour of his rut. As his little joy came upon him, he screamed my name
and shuddered, bringing the seed out of my stones as forcefully as a
mountain geyser. I heard the noise of the chief's guests roaring with
laughter again as Focke wailed a song of gratitude to the gods, calling on
them to keep me hard all my days. As the boy's motion slowed, I kissed his
lips, and thanked him for giving me his first rut.

"And many more, my Lord", he whispered. "I thank the gods for bringing you
to me this night, and I thank them for the stiffness and ample proportion
of your cock, and the copious spend of your stones. May the gods preserve
you"

I smiled at his short but fervent prayer. "Did the gods bring you to the
little joy, Focke? I thought I felt your body shudder" I asked him as he
calmed, still keeping my cock within his bottom.

The boy smiled "Thrice, my Lord. First when you bathed my sparrow with your
lips, I felt it right down to my stones. Then twice more when we rutted, I
felt the little joy deep within my bowels. Your cock brought the touch of
the gods, my Lord", he added. "You even outdid my father - mother told me
that on her wedding night she only felt the little joy one time".

I was amused by the boy's revelation. "Focke, when we are alone in the
bedchamber together, you may dispense with custom and address me in a less
formal manner", I advised him.

He looked up at me, curious. "How does my Lord wish to be addressed?"

I rubbed his back and twisted around so that I lay back on the bed in the
usual manner, my cock still embedded in the boy's bottom. He sat astride
me, his hands on my nipples. I felt his hips begin to grind on my loins -
the little vixen was trying to re-awaken my manhood! "Well, you could call
me 'husband' if you wish...or 'my love', perhaps? What do you think of
'darling'? Or just plain 'Gunther' without the 'my Lord' attached. And I
will call you an endearment also. What shall it be, I wonder...?"

Focke grinned. "What about 'Sparrow', my love? By the gods, Gunther, it
feels so good to speak to you directly. The words even have a taste about
them - a taste of you, my husband. Mmmm, I love the taste of that one. My
husband....Focke's husband...the man with the biggest cock in the
village....Gunther Greatcock....mmmm, I love you so much, my darling -
please rut with me again before we sleep? Lie back and let me do it. Aaah,
Gunther, I can feel the cock begin to spread his wings..."

Giving the boy permission to speak from his heart may have been rash on my
part for he kept up a chatter all the while as he slowly rutted himself on
my re-hardened tool. When I felt my seed begin to rise, I bade the boy get
off me and lie under me as I took him more forcefully from behind. Even in
this did Focke find pleasure - I truly feel the gods created this boy for
rutting.

After shooting my seed in Focke's tight bottom once again, I rolled to the
side and held him close to me, my cock still lodged within his little
rump. When he regained his breath after yet another visit from the gods,
his small voice piped up. "May I ask a question, my love?"

I reached over his hip and fondled his sparrow. I was not surprised to find
it still hard. "And if I answer this question, little sparrow, will there
be another to follow it?"

Focke giggled, a delightful sound like a bird at dawn. "Yes, my love"

"And when I answer this second question...?"

The boy chortled. It delighted my cock to feel his little body quake around
it. "Another, my love. And another, a score of questions counted thrice
over! What is your village across the big water like? What of your
dwelling? Do you have many steeds? My father said that you had no wife, but
do you have a woman waiting for you? Or more than one, perhaps? Sons?
Daughters? A...a boy?"

Before Focke could speak any more, I drew my hand to his mouth carefully,
closing his lips. "I will answer all of your questions in due time, darling
Focke. But we must rest. Speak the one question whose answer you most
desire, and that will suffice for now."

The boy choked back a small sob, yet did I hear the catch in his
voice. "What...what will become of me when you...leave?"

I ran my hand up and down his side to comfort him. What a fool I have been!
I had been so intent on my pleasure, I neglected to keep the boy appraised
of my plans for him - I assumed he would know! But that is foolishness -
how would he? "Focke, my darling, I can tell you exactly what will become
of you. When I leave, you will be coming with me. To my village across the
big water. As my lover. That is why we need to sleep, so I will be
refreshed when I ask your father and mother to release you to my care. So
may we now please - sleep?"

I felt the boy's whole body quiver with excitement, making any chance of
sleep still distant. "Oh, my lord! Sorry, I mean Gunther!  You would take
me...with you...across the big water? To...live with you? Forever? Oh, may
the gods make it so! I will try to sleep, my love, but oh! My heart is
about to burst!"

"Perhaps this will help", I murmured into his ear as I began pumping my
hips slowly, grinding my cock within his bowel. He giggled again as he
rocked his hips in time with my rhythm. After expending my seed within him
again, we both settled down to sleep, at last.

* * * *

The first sounds of dawn joined with the sounds of our rutting as I joined
with Focke once more. Earlier, when we woke, he begged to be rutted
again. He had been suckling on my cock to revive it after the night's
endeavours, and had managed to reforge its iron. Truly, this boy is a
wonder! I lifted him up to his hands and knees and took him forcefully from
behind as the stallion takes the mare. Focke's cries were shrill as he
urged me on, and even as I felt the god's touch, I heard the door of the
bedchamber opening. Focke's mother Helga bustled in and began collecting
cushions from the floor, picking up my clothing and generally tidying the
room. The boy seemed unbothered by the intrusion, so I continued my
rut. Helga found the little tray of goose fat, now almost empty, and
smiled.

"When you two are finished, go to the sauna, it is all prepared. Then you
may break your fast - I am sure you must have a healthy appetite!" the
chief's wife smirked. "Focke, you have the delight of the gods written all
over your face!"

"Oh mother!" Focke cried as his body rocked back and forth in front of my
loins. "My lord Gunther has...uhhh, yes...has told me ...ohhh, gods...that
he will take me...uhhh, yes, take me my lord...take me back to his
village...mmmm, yes...his village across the big water...mmmm, so big..."

Helga continued her fussing around the room, seemingly obliviously to the
vigorous pounding I was giving her son's bottom. "You are indeed a lucky
boy, Focke, I always knew you would do well for yourself, even though you
were third-born. Your man seems like he will make a fine hus- By The Gods!"
Helga's exclamation was brought on by the sight of my weapon as it exited
Focke's rear. I had spent in the boy while she was talking and my thoughts
were now on that sauna and the breakfast to follow it. "Oh, Focke, the gods
have indeed smiled upon you! Your husband is so well-endowed, the gods must
be envious!"

I thanked Helga for her ministrations and bade her depart. Helga had left a
few damp cloths for Focke and myself to wipe off our bodies, and this task
I performed for the boy, delighting him. I drew on my britches, but then
recalled that Focke came with me naked to the bedchamber. "Focke, my love,
I have a garment for you to wear to the sauna. Now that you are my beloved,
I would not have you parading aruond naked like a slave - unless I wish
it!" I added with a grin, withdrawing a plain undershirt from my
baggage. On me, it was close-fitting; on the boy it hung down to
mid-thigh. I added a small belt of silver rings to gather it at the waist.

Focke's slim fingers felt the hem of the material he was now attired
in. "What is this fabric, my lor-, uh, Gunther? It is neither fur, nor
skin, yet it is softer than both" he wondered aloud.

"It is known as 'cotton', my darling. It grows in the lands to the south of
my village. We trade furs for it with the travelling caravans which visit
us from time to time"

"But how is it made? Does it grow like this, or perhaps it is from some
animal? It feels so soft. Was it...yours? It smells of you. I love its
smell! Are we going to sauna now? I am so hungry!"

I laughed, no longer weary, and surely not wearying of the boy's constant
questions. "Yes, Focke darling, we shall go and bathe, and sauna, and eat,
and speak with your father...and then we have one last task before we set
our sails to my village across the big water"

"What task is that, my love? Shall we buy provisions for the journey? Do
you require a visit to the shaman to call down the god's pleasure upon our
voyage? Is-"

I cut the boy's questions short, lest we never reach the sauna, much less
the dining-hall. "All in due time, Focke. In due time", I assured him,
lifting him up onto the bed and kissing his lips fondly, my hand reaching
up his leg to his rump. After a few squeezes, I gave it a little slap
before lifting him back down and, taking his hand, led him out the door to
the sauna.

* * * *

Helga's sauna and breakfast, together with bright sunshine and the promise
of favourable winds, put smiles on both out faces as I led the boy away
from his father's lodge and towards the centre of the village. "Where are
we going, Gunther? I saw you speaking with my father at breakfast - are we
going to the chandler's for supplies? Perhaps the blacksmith's?"

Our arms swung between us, hands together, as the boy's endless questions
continued to roll out of his pretty mouth like cold water from a mountain
spring. "Our vessel is already provisioned, Focke. We are going to the
men's pleasure house."

The boy stopped in his tracks, his hand holding me back. "The...pleasure
house? My...lord, uh, have you changed your thinking about having me
gelded? I thought you desired my stones to remain in their pouch? Or is
it...something else you seek? My lord?"

It grieved me to see the mix of fear and sadness destroy the boy's
beautiful visage, but the task I envisioned was necessary. "Focke, in this,
as in all things, you must learn to trust me. Your lovely stones are
safe. Our errand is important, and the keeper of the pleasure house awaits
us. Now come along". I tugged the boy's hand but a little, to get him
moving again, and shortly we reached the front door of the pleasure house.

As the chief had advised me, the keeper greeted us at the door. "Ah,
welcome, welcome my lord Gunther, and welcome back young Focke! Your
presence graces my lodge, my lord! May the gods keep your weapon firm as
iron! Come in, come in!"

The interior of the pleasure house was much as the chief described it to
me. There were no private bedchambers - all of the joinings of man and boy
(or boy and boy) took place in the one large room, on couches, cushions,
rugs, and chairs. As I looked around, it was apparent that most of the
keeper's customers had not yet arrived. There was one man, though, over by
a wall, rutting a boy atop a thick bearskin rug. I could only see the boy's
head in the deep fur as the man pressed down upon him, grunting as he rode
the boy's rump. The boy's head tilted back as he gasped with each
stroke. Elsewhere in the room, the boys sat or lay in comfort. Two boys lay
suckling with each other, while a third boy watched and toyed with his
pizzle. Some boys slept, while others chatted.

The keeper gave us a moment to survey the room before speaking. "What
service can I offer my lord this morning? The village is already abuzz with
tales of your enormous, ah, prowess, and with the news that you have won
the heart of the chief's third-born: surely there is none here that can
compare with him? Or do you wish Focke to be gelded? The knife is in the
coals at the ready, and my needle is laced with the finest thread."

I felt Focke's grip on my hand tighten as the keeper spoke of the knife, so
I returned a comforting squeeze of my own. "My thanks for the offer, master
keeper, but it is on an altogether different errand that I have come
today. Focke will be returning with me to my village across the big water,
but the voyage is long and I will be much engaged with the business of
sailing the vessel. I desire that Focke should have some companionship of
his own age, both at sea and later when he takes up abode in what would be
a strange land for him. Even though I shall always be with him, there is
much comfort for a boy in one of his own friends, one who could serve Focke
and be a link to his life here. The chief assured me that you would be able
to part with one of your boys, if we can come to a happy agreement on
payment"

The keeper nodded vigorously. "I understand, Sir, and it confirms what the
wagging tongues in the village say about you, that you are a considerate
man. Shall you make the selection yourself? Most of my boys can be seen in
this room. I should point out, my lord, that these boys are not slaves, as
such, but they have been entrusted to me until their sixteenth winter has
passed, when they leave this place to find their own way in the world,
according to our oldest customs. Any boy that I entrust to your care would
likewise, upon attaining that age, be his own man and no longer your
servant. Unless he wishes it, of course", the man added unctuously.

I turned to Focke. "Now that my mission is revealed, my love, do you see
any boy here that you would take to be your servant?"

Focke's eyes swept the room, lingering a little on this boy and
that. "Master keeper, I do not see Lasse here. Is he in his usual place?"

The keeper nodded gravely. "He is, my young friend. Go to him" The boy
released my hand and exited the room by a side door. I began to speak but
the keeper raised a hand, already knowing what I would say. "I should have
guessed which boy Focke would select, my lord Gunther. He has a heart of
pure gold, as I am sure you have already discerned. The boy he seeks,
Lasse, is a perfect choice for him. Lasse was brought to me but a
twelvemonth ago, when he was yet nine winters old. His father gelded him
the day before bringing him here, and it was a poor surgery, in my
opinion. I tended him as best I could, and used all my skills with the
needle to repair the damage, and the boy's pouch did soon heal, but his
heart never did. Some of the men who rutted with him tried to bring the
little joy to him as they joined, but all failed, and soon no man chose him
for rut, preferring other boys who were not so miserable. He spends all his
time tending the hens and the pigs and goats.

"When Focke visited us, he spied Lasse right away, and tried to befriend
him as he has done with every other boy here, but Lasse's heart was not so
easily mended as his pouch. Focke persisted, and over a time Lasse began to
speak with him, and now and then I would spy a small smile on his face,
while Focke was here, but his despondency returned when Focke left. Boys
who are not desired by the men are of no use to me, my lord Gunther - I
have a living to make, after all, and food is not cheap! You should see how
much some of these boys eat! The chief told me to give you every
consideration in settling on a price for your servant, but seeing as Focke
will choose Lasse, I can only say that the price is the smile on Focke's
face, and that is well-paid many times over. You may take Lasse to his new
life with the blessing of the gods!"

I gripped the keepers forearm, and he mine, as was the village custom when
sealing an agreement, just as Focke and another boy entered the lodge from
the side door. Judging by the excited look on Focke's face I guessed this
new boy to be Lasse: a scrawny lad a half head shorter than Focke, thin
lips downturned, his dirty blond hair unruly, the grime of the fowlyard and
the pigsty all over him. He wore naught but a goatskin loincloth and his
eyes were dark and frightened. Focke had to drag him by the hand to stand
before me.

"My Lord Gunther", Focke began formally, "this is Lasse, whom I would
choose as my servant, if it pleases you. A nice long bathe and sauna, and a
fresh garment, a comb for his hair and some whale oil for his skin and he
will be the equal of any boy here, I guarantee it! Please say you agree, my
lord? Lasse is a little fearful, he has heard some of the boys talking
about your, er, manhood, and its generous proportions, you know how boys
will talk, but I tried to tell him that you are already spoken for! Oh
please, say that you agree?" Focke pleaded, hopping from one foot to the
other.

I smiled at my boy. "Is there anything I could deny you, my darling Focke?
Go, take Lasse back to your father's house and tend to him. In my baggage
you will find another garment such as the one you are wearing - put it on
him when he is clean. He will no longer have need of this" I added,
dropping to one knee before the timid boy and loosening the know of his
loincloth. He stood impassive as I removed the piece of leather, handing it
back to the keeper. I could now see the damage his father had done - the
shrivelled empty pouch a mute testament to a barbaric custom. The keeper
had spoken truly - his repair of the boy's sack showed no lingering
infection or disfiguration. Lasse's pizzle hung straight down over it
limply. I wondered whether Focke desired to rut this boy, or whether his
interest was more maternal, and decided it must be the latter. "Away with
you now, boys, I shall see you within the hour". Focke took a last look
around the room, gazing at the naked pleasure boys for the last time, and
with a final curious look at me, departed with Lasse in tow.

The keeper rubbed his hands together when the door shut, and grinned at
me. "Now that our business is complete, would my lord care to enjoy a
sample of our hospitality?" He clapped softly twice, and four boys sprang
to their feet and scurried over to us, lining up shoulder to shoulder
before me. Truly they were comely, even desirable, but not the equal of
Focke. Three were geldings, I could readily see, but the fourth still had
his stones. "Hanne, here, is very popular with our guests. It is said that
his bowel griups a man's tool like a glove made of the skin of a goat's
kid." The introduced boy smiled at me. "This next boy is Knut - he still
has his stones, as you can see, and enjoys suckling and being suckled, if
that is your preference." Knut licked his lips and fondled his pizzle,
which had begun to rise. "And this is Soren, a little older than the others
but still hairless as you can see. Some of my boys use the razor, but Soren
has no need of it yet. He especially enjoys inserting his tongue in a man's
bowel while the man ruts another boy. All the boys here have enjoyed
Soren's tongue, isn't that so, boy?" The boy blushed and smiled,
nodding. "And the last is Anders, also the youngest of these four. He
enjoys sitting on a man's weapon and riding him to bliss. I am told he is
also an accomplished kisser."

I smiled at the boys, torn between my duty to Focke and the lust in my
loins. "Would ten pieces of silver buy the services of all four boys for
the whole day, master keeper?" I asked the man, whose eyes widened at the
idea of such a good price, and confirmation of the tales he had heard of my
stamina.

"It would pay handsomely, my lord Gunther - the boys are at your disposal
until the morrow's dawn. May the gods grant you strength!"

"I need it not, master keeper. I desire that the boys spend the day
pleasuring each other, without interference from any man." The boys grinned
at each other and scurried off to the nearest bearskin to begin rutting and
suckling. "I wish to make final preparations for my journey, and see to
Focke and young Lasse, and pay my respects to the chief and his
wife...sadly, I have no time to enjoy the boys' company"

The keeper of the pleasure house smiled benignly. "Your reputation as a man
of honour is only enhanced, my lord. Focke is a lucky boy to have such a
loyal master, or indeed, dare I say, friend. The gods have surely smiled on
him."

I thanked the keeper and turned to go, lingering only to watch, for the
last time, the four boys pleasuring each other. I strode quickly back to
the chief's lodge, to be greeted by the sight of two Fockes, one a little
thinner and shorter than the other, standing watch at the door. Lasse had
certainly cleaned up as well as Focke assured me he would. When I reached
the door, the chief and Helga joined the two waiting boys.

"The gods are smiling on the day of your departure, my lord Gunther" the
chief welcomed me. Helga fussed over the boys a little longer until we
finally took our leave and strolled to the harbour. Focke was
uncharacteristically silent when he saw my vessel, a dual hulled sailing
ship tied at the dock.

I turned to the boys and took one knee. "You are about to leave your
village, perhaps for many winters, boys. Is there anything you wish before
we depart? A last prayer to your gods, or a handful of earth? I ran my
hands up the legs of both boys to their bottoms, trying to reassure them of
my love and affection.

"May I ask a question, my Lord?" Focke murmured in a small voice.

I smiled at both lads. "Of course, Focke. Now is the time for questions,
and for answers."

"I...I do not wish to anger my Lord..." he stumbled over his words. I
strove to assure him that he could speak freely. "Will my Lord be...rutting
with Lasse? Only he is very young, and not strong, and-"

Focke's chatter stopped as I drew the two boys closer to me, holding their
bottoms firmly under their cotton tunics. "In my village across the big
water, we also have many customs, as have you here. One of these concerns
the making of oaths. Our custom is that those oaths made in the presence of
two witnesses are the most solemn, the most strongly binding of all, more
binding even than an oath made on the sun or moon. In your presence now, I
swear that I will rut with none but you, Focke, unless you give your
express permission. And I also swear never to give any man permission to
rut with you, Lasse, save with your consent and Focke's consent."

 Focke's mouth broke into a wide grin as he flung his arms around my neck
and kissed me. When he drew back, Lasse then demurely leaned in and pecked
my cheek. "I feel the breeze freshening on my face, my love. Shall we set
sail? Why does your vessel have two hulls? Do we have oarsmen? Where are
the oars? How many days' travel is it to your village? Just how big is the
big water? Will we catch fish? How shall we cook them?"

Even Lasse laughed as the questions tumbled out of Focke's mouth. I set the
boys aboard and cast lines, the sail billowing before the quickening wind.

end