Date: Mon, 04 Apr 2022 16:19:05 +0000 From: Silenos69 Subject: Lanced-A-Lot 23 LANCED-A-LOT By: Silenos This story is a work of fiction and involves teenagers in sexual situations. If that offends you, don't read it. If you are underage, don't read it (like that's going to happen). This story belongs solely to the author and may not be copied or reproduced in whole or in part without permission of the author. Please contribute to Nifty, these guys work hard and need your copper, silver and gold so we can have these stories: https://donate.nifty.org/ Feedback is always gratefully appreciated: silenos69@protonmail.com Dear Reader: If you have not been following the story an explanation of where it came from is after the end of the chapter. Editing I have eliminated anachronism and tried to make it common speech so much as is possible. EG: these, and thous are replaced with you, me and us. Medieval English can be very confusing and I apologize if I have gone too far in the transliteration. LANCED-A-LOT: Chapter 23 "Oy!" As the Jews might exclaim was the only expression that came to mind as we mounted our horses/ponies. Both of us pulled up our tunics to keep the seed from our leaking arse holes staining them; damn the saddles. Our conversation was more and deeper than I can describe here. Suffice to say we acknowledged our mutual dreams and personal particulars. The crucial part was who we were. There was more there than this, us, sex. I am confused how to explain this as I do not know if there is a way to do so. I, as the reader will have determined by now, am a very willing sex partner for just about anything on two legs with a cock and balls. Some might call me a slut, or whore, I welcome that name willingly and proudly, and like to think I was not only such, but that I was good at it. In fact I think I was rather an expert at the ripe old age of thirteen and that I was rather skilled in the night arts. I liked to make my men feel good and I was good at it, I did not need the men or their lances I was better than them, I just gave pleasure and took what I could get. Gwydion changed that perception. While I might have been good at just the tactile aspects of sex, there was something more with him. His touch, laugh, the way he smiled cheekily at the sky, all of that made me a fool and turned me into a giddy girl. That handsome man who rode beside me was more than anyone could want. You may think it funny to call a boy of 16 a man, but to a boy of 13 that is what he was. I still feel that way. We would come to have sex with others together and apart, but that was just sex. We both new our bodies had needs beyond what bound us. We both were beyond jealousy even if we were confused in that moment. We'd been familiar in a very rough way, needing to get our urges done with. That familiarity of our dreams needing to be released we had satisfied it but needed more. I did not know how I could bare to be away from him for even a moment. Was this love, infatuation or? He held my hand between our steeds as we rode back to Castlemount. It took all the power I had to keep from leaping at him and consuming him in any and all possible ways. He was so Elfinely beautiful, his strong body seemed to course through MY veins. His essence, drove me insane. Between us we knew we needed to figure us out, I had never felt this is way before. It was not love, or lust, it was something else. My brother soon sorted me out. Our talk, as we rode hand in hand, was more complex because of the subtext but I shall endeavor to put it into conversation if that makes sense. Keep in mind we were flush from rampant fucking, that aroma surrounding us, and the desire for more was even exciting the horses we rode. Our hands were entwined and our sweat was unabated in the afternoon sun. We were headed for Castlemount and the swimming hole because we knew we had to wash the stench off our bodies. "You know we are brothers, I cannot prove it, but we are. My mother had me, fled and had you. We were meant to be not only brothers but lovers. She, our mother, intended this. But there is a problem." He said nervously "How do you know?" I asked, wanting to jump him and ravish him as I spoke. "The dreams. We have had the same ones. I have had them longer than you because I have had man hair longer than you." "Man hair?" "The hair around your lance you adorable twit. You shave it, as I need to do mine soon." "I can help with that!" I offered eagerly. He grinned and squeezed my hand. "What we have is special and no others will ever comprehend it. I know how old you really are, that you are known as Bug to your familiars. I also know I am ahead of you in our dreams. We are meant for each other, but not until now, which is why I avoided you as much as it pained me." I have written that prophetic dreams are not visions of the future, they are merely pictures of what can be if one follows the path they lay out and utilizes the tools they indicate. They are not visions of what will be as much as what could be if you use the tools. Therefore I understood my brother even though I was not prepared for what he said next. That being said: Dreams, or fits, can also reveal truths and other information. They may seem useless on waking until the time comes to use the information. That is when you slap your head and say to yourself "What was I thinking?" Gwydion continued "I cannot keep my hands off you, I have wanted you from my dreams for years. I want you now. I learned more from our rough congress today but am confused and had not expected the intensity of it. For you it is probably even more confusing. I have had five years since the purple eye visited me first..." "Only five?" I interrupted. I'd had dreams since I was two if not before that. It was part of what helped or made me learn. I knew I had to. I took them for granted and thought everyone had them until brother John pulled me aside and explained I was special, and if I talked of my dreams I might burn at the stake or be hung by the hemp. So I learned to keep my mouth shut while keeping my lips flapping. It is its own talent. "Um, yes." He seemed startled when I questioned him. "You have had them longer?" So I explained and he shook his head. "Then you are as the dreams said, the gifted one." "Hunh?" I did not understand what he meant. Gifted? Me? Not by our Mary likely. I had talents, but they were trained into me by Da and Brother John since I was young enough to learn to control my bowels.. Talents, yes, gifted, no. "I am just a boy, really. I cannot have a gift. I just have fits." I protested. Gwydion sighed and shook his head. "You do not understand. We are meant to be together, but we are not to be as one. Besides which my heart belongs to another, though my body belongs to you. It is very confusing.?" He loved another? Is it possible to love more than one person? I knew he loved me, though in our case it was a strange mystical connection that was perhaps more than love; if such a thing is possible. He sighed continuing, "What we have, or are meant to have, is something magical. I cannot not desire you, even now I want to throw you off that pony and, for lack of a better term, mate with you." "You mean right now?" "Yes." So we did. Right there in the middle of the road we dismounted and then mounted. His lance felt so perfect as it breached the lips of my arse, then plunged in and out until it shot, the milk more food for my saddle. It felt so good! His hands ran up and down my body, my nipples grew so hard they could have pierced the strongest shield. I was still hard and returned the favor. His arse gripping me tight and causing me to seed in him. We had not disrobed, just raised our tunics* and made like bunnies. I had never felt a connection like I did with him. I spent and spent and still wanted more and so did he. It felt so right, was this what love was? Apparently not. We remounted and raised our tunics so our holes could drain again on our saddles instead of our clothes. I was incredibly confused, not to mention the niggling suspicion I had that I might be in love with another too. A boy I'd been having on a regular basis, and who's laugh always gave me goose bumps, as did his smile. A boy who had been filling my thoughts as much as Gwydion did in absent moments and in my regular dreams. I hadn't really thought about it until Gwydion mentioned love. Things had been too busy to consider it, but I considered it now. That boy sometimes held me and had sex with me in real life. We never spoke of it, but I sensed he might feel the same way too. I had been trying to ignore it; or put it down to whimsey. Hearing Gwydion speak of love though made me realize I might just be in love with another boy too. *A NOTE ON CLOTHING: At this point if not before you are probably wondering what a "tunic" is. There are many names for this garment but it was the essential clothing of the day. Tunic is a generic term for a really big overall garment that was what we might call these days a "night shirt". Generally they covered the entire body to the knee or below and were rather billowy. They provided limited warmth in winter and protection from the sun in summer. They were functional and most peasants only had them as their main covering. Men and women alike. Dresses and other garments were for the rich peeps. The common man had no underwear as we know it. Tighty whitey's were centuries away, much less boxers. Undergarments were a thing for the nobility, and even then rare. If used they were fairly loose drawers know as braic, breek or breeches or were some sort of loin cloth. Tunics were pretty much the only clothing for peasants, while the nobility and "upper classes" would also wear hose. Tunics were generally made from hemp, linen (made from flax) or wool. Cotton would not really come around until the 1600s and not be prevalent until the 1700s and not inexpensive enough for use until the mass production of cotton in the Americas and the invention of the Cotton Gin in 1793. _____________________________________________________________________________________ This tale came to me from a wealthy friend who found it bound in his family's extensive bookshelves. Nobody could read it as it was in a strange hand and written in a mix of the common tongue and Norman French of its day. His family has lived in the same place, if not home, for centuries and are what one might consider landed gentry. My friend brought it to me in hopes I might be able to transcribe it into the English of our own time as that sort of thing is what I do. I have updated it only in that I have made such things as measurements, expressions, and such understandable by our reckoning today. What I found in my labors was quite startling. It would be wise for the reader to remember that mores were different then, and that the perception of "age" was as well. Average life expectancy was about 33 years, and people were smaller too, the average height being about 5'7". Insofar as I can tell these pages were written after the Norman conquest, but not by much. England, Scotland, Wales and Cornwall were all very much their own kingdoms, with petty kingdoms within, and Vikings could still be something of a nuisance in some parts even though history says their terror ended in exactly 1066.