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Tales Of Sherwood, Part 2

By Anthony Samhain

submitted June 23, 1998

Categories: Medieval Romance

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Another installment in my "Robin Hood" series. There's more to come (so to speak). Comments? Complaints? Criticism? You know the drill: tgrnyc@hotmail.com


"A blacksmith courted me; he fairly won my heart; with his hammer in his hand, he looked quite clever; and if I was with my love, I'd live forever."

-- Loreena McKennitt, "Blacksmith"

I woke up that morning with the distinct feeling that something was to happen to me.

How did I know this? I can offer no explanation. Divine communication from the heavens? A simple coincidental hunch? I suppose I shall truly never know.

Our small woodland village had grown, both in dwelling and populace over the past few months. We made our home in Sherwood, the legendary "haunted forest," as those from elsewhere seem to like referring to it. We began as a small group of people who had been wronged by the corrupt lawmen of our homeland.

Our leader, Robert of Locksley (known to many as "Robin Hood"), has organized us well. Many of those who either disagree with or have been wronged in some way by Sheriff Cedric of Nottingham have joined us over the past several weeks, strengthening our ranks. But I am digressing from my story.

The day that I met him, and by "him" I am referring to my beloved, was a rainy one. I was outside of Sherwood that day, gathering provisions in the town of Kendar. The rain had come suddenly, as if the font of the gods had somehow been overturned, its seemingly endless contents emptying to the ground far below. I was thoroughly drenched, my clothing clinging to me like a second skin.

I immediately sought shelter. The only place I could see which would be sufficient was that of the village blacksmith. I ran for it swiftly, and basked in the warmth which hung in the air inside it. It was several minutes before I looked up and saw him, watching me silently.

I felt my heart flutter. The blacksmith was taller than I, with a body proportioned so perfectly, the gods themselves must have taken special care to carve out his shape. His hair was the color of an oak's acorn, and came to rest just above his shoulders.

I studied his eyes, two fiery emeralds in the light of his forge. I nearly drowned in them before studying the rest of him. His open tunic revealed a nice growth of hair, the same shade as that of his head. He held a hammer in both hands, horizontally.

I broke from my reverie and spoke. "By your leave, sir, I wish to remain here until the storm has passed."

He didn't say a word at first, but merely gave me a friendly grin, followed by a nod.

I gave a breath of relief. "My sincerest thanks, sir."

He smiled fully, and then put his hammer down. "Prithee, come into my dwelling."

I followed him inside and was amazed at how orderly everything was. I had previously believed that blacksmiths' homes must be as filthy and in as much disarray as their work areas often were. Nothing could have been more distant from that belief, given what I saw.

His home was small, but the furniture was arranged in such a manner as to convey the illusion of spaciousness. His bed was rather large, with room for at least three to sleep comfortably without touching. He gestured to a chair by the table and I sat. He went to a cupboard and brought back some bread and cheese. After he set these items before me, he went to another cupboard, fetching two wooden cups and a flagon of what I assumed was mead.

He brought these back and poured enough liquid to fill both cups. The blacksmith then divided both the bread and the cheese with a knife, and handed one portion of each to me.

"Thank you," I said, staring into his eyes for a moment. He stared back, wearing the same look on his face as I wore on my own. I released my stare, glancing down at his arms, which had a light coating of hair on them. I took a bite of the cheese, pleasantly surprised at its softness and taste.

We ate without saying a word to one another. He refilled my cup, then smiled at me. "You really should remove those wet clothes," he said, breaking the thick silence.

I looked down at my garments and shivered a little. "I have nothing else to wear," I said meekly.

"I have a sleeping tunic which should fit you." Before I could respond, he was pulling my drenched shirt over me. He placed it on a small rack in front of the fireplace. I removed my boots and put them in front of the rack.

The blacksmith placed his hands onto my hips, ready to remove my leggings. I stared at the opening in his tunic, which was just even with my face. I felt my nipples rise, and it startled me. I also felt other parts of my body shifting in reaction.

Without even thinking or caring, I put my face against his chest, and gently rubbed to the left, then to the right, and back and forth several times. I inhaled, taking in his masculine scent.

I expected him to react with violence, for him to push me away or to hit me, but he did not. After several uneasy moments, he placed one hand onto the small of my back, and the other one to the back of my head.

I felt him embrace me, and I looked up at him. His body was very warm and I did not want him to release me. I gently rubbed my face back and forth in his chest hair as I had before. He stopped me, but only so that he could remove his tunic. I ran my eager hands through the bountiful growth on his thorax and found that his nipples had hardened like my own had.

I removed my leggings with haste, and he removed his boots as well as his own leggings, and we stood naked before one another.

He kissed me and I parted my lips, allowing our tongues to meet. I could taste mead in his mouth, which made me want more of it. The sensation of his large body enfolding my own warmed me all the way through. Were I made from wax, I would have been a mere puddle on the floor.

His penis was rapidly filling with fluid, and mine had already filled to its capacity. He touched mine, and I his. "You may spend the evening, if you so desire," he said.

I nodded, and ran my free hand across his chest once more. I leaned forward and licked his left nipple, and then began to suckle it, like a baby nursing from its mother. I did this for a while and I'm certain that he thought I was expecting milk to eventually issue forth.

I do not remember when I stopped, but I moved down to his waist and took his erect organ into my mouth. I moved it in and out several times, but the blacksmith stopped me. He took a blanket from a nearby shelf, and moved the rack with my clothes aside from the fireplace, spread out the blanket, and then lay me down.

He positioned himself so that he could reciprocate my previous action, which I quickly resumed.

We moved in perfect rhythm, and we both began to perspire. Normally, I loathed perspiring for any reason, as it made me uncomfortable, but my feelings were the exact opposite. I loved the feeling of my body releasing water as it was now.

I ran a hand over the blacksmith's chest, which was now drenched in sweat. I pulled my hand back and wiped it onto my face. I repeated this action and removed the organ in my mouth only long enough to run my tongue over my wet hand.

The salt was welcomed by my tongue, and I went back to my previous action. He ran his hand over my thigh and buttocks and then through my hair.

Not a moment later, he removed his mouth from me, and I did the same. He sat up and pulled me to him. He kissed me again and embraced me. He leaned over and whispered to me, "I would like to be inside you, if you would allow me."

"I would enjoy that. You may."

He kissed me again, and turned me so that I was facing the fire and my back was to his chest. He lifted me up and placed his elongated key into my lock. A perfect fit.

A wave of pain flashed through me, but as he placed his arms around me, one hand clasping my penis, the other caressing my hairless chest and abdomen, the pain subsided. He moved me up, and down again, and then did this with increasing pace.

I winced the first few times he did this, but I was soon engulfed in pleasure I could only have known in dreams. His body hair caressed my back, wetting me even more. He kissed the nape of my neck and lapped at the sweat there, then moved downward to do the same to my shoulder blades.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to become lost in the intense feelings of my body and spirit. I cannot recall the length of time which passed as we were joined, but I do not care to know, losing myself to him is an experience I will never forget.

I heard him exhale, and a low sound came from his throat. His body tensed, and I knew that he was nearing the moment of release. I grabbed my own organ and synchronized my rhythm with his. The sound from his throat came forth once more, this time louder.

He tensed again, and I felt my own body begin to reach the edge. His embrace tightened a little and I felt myself getting closer. It was not long before our bodies reached spasm at the same time.

The muscles of my orifice tightened around the organ inside it and I felt his hot liquid coursing into me, just as my own was expelled. Several drops of it landed in the fire and sizzled upon contact.

We both tensed once more and then relaxed. Gently, he leaned back, taking me with him, and he turned me so that we could look into one another's eyes, but in a manner which allowed his organ to remain inside me. We kissed and held fast to each other.

I could feel myself drifting into slumber, and the next thing I could recall was being in his bed, blankets around us, and him still inside me. We were on our sides, and I nuzzled his chest hair a few times before I returned to sleep.

In the morning, it was lightly raining, and we were still in the same positions as when I had previously awoken in his bed. He opened his eyes and grinned, then kissed my forehead. "Good morrow, my lovely," he said.


He regarded me as if I were some kind of mystery, an enigma. "I do not even know your name. Nor do you mine. I am Bret Dawson."

"I am called Colin Jandis," I said.

"Of Locksley's colored bandits?"

I then realized my error. If he was in league with the Sheriff


I did not answer.

"Do not worry, beautiful one. I am not cooperating with Sheriff Cedric."

I let out a sigh and then nodded. "Yes. THAT group."

"I sympathize with your cause, Colin. Though I must do so in secret. My services are my living. If I were found out --"

"You won't be. At least, I shall not tell. I am in just as much danger. We venture out into villages like this one to procure food and provisions."

"I would offer my services, but could only do so clandestinely."

I smiled. "Bret, we DO need things that only a smith could provide. Horseshoes, swords, and other items. If you could help us, we would gladly compensate you doubly for what you would normally charge."

He leaned closer to me and kissed my nose. "For you, Colin, I would charge nothing for my services."

"That would mean much to my people."

He ran his hand through my hair. "I wish to see you again. Many more times, if the truth be spoken."

"I would like that as well, Bret. Perhaps one day you could join us in Sherwood?"

He furrowed his brow a little. "Perhaps. But not very soon." He peered outside and looked back at me. "I must begin my day, reluctant though I may be to do so." He smiled and kissed me again. "And your people will probably be worrying as to where you ended up staying the night."

"I suppose you are correct." I rose from the bed after Bret pulled out of me, and went to the fireplace to put on my dry clothing.

After I was fully dressed, he had only his leggings on. I went to him and embraced him tightly, then rubbed my face in his chest hair once more before departing.

"If you are going to do that to me, I advise that you return very soon and see me again!"

I smiled and nodded. "Will this evening be soon enough?"

"Yes." He held me in his arms, not letting go. "I want to give you pleasure many times more. I will anxiously await your return."

We kissed once more and I departed. Robert and the others would certainly demand an explanation for my absence, which I would be more than content to provide.

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