Camelot Ch. 02

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Camelot Ch. 2 Anal Queen Triad

The first chapter of ‘Camelot’ was published earlier.

When Mordred sat his trap, the greatest champion of Camelot had to fight his fellow knights to escape with his life. Guinevere was found guilty of treason. Brokenhearted Arthur had to condemn his Queen to burn at the stake. On the eve of the execution, however, one man rode to Guinevere’s salvation: Lancelot. The Queen’s rescue shattered the fellowship of the round table. In the chaos that ensued, armies were formed to clash in battle. Guinevere decided to take the veil, but before that Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot met secretly…

Arthur rode through the forest in a hurry. Wrapped in a simple attire and carefully keeping to the shadowy paths, nobody would suspect the horseman to be no less than King Arthur, King of Britain, about to meet his Queen and his First Knight. Even his sword, the renowned Excalibur, was carefully hidden in a simple scabbard, the hilt provisionally wrapped in linen. Through the long ride his thoughts inevitably roamed though the past, evoking shredded memories.

They were so young when he and Guinevere were wedded, a wedding of convenience, bringing a reluctant Kingdom into the United Family of Kingdoms. The wedding created a situation benefiting both parties and strengthening Britain against foreign invaders. They were so young and inexperienced. He was only recently sexually inaugurated by a country lass and tested by a young widow of a fallen knight, both with warm hearts for the youth-king, almost performing sex like a patriotic contribution. Guinevere was totally inexperienced and only at their wedding night had Arthur clumsily taken her virginity.

Despite all these handicaps, it seemed a miracle they actually fell in love. Guinevere admired his ideals, his honesty and his ambitious plans. She loved to listen to him, fascinated by his dreams. When differences of opinions appeared, Guinevere made herself quite useful. Some rough knights softened up considerably hearing his arguments, decorated by her charm. Arthur loved just to look at her, to enjoy her gracious movements. She had blossomed from a cute young lady to a woman of exquisite beauty. Although there was never really passion in the bedroom, there was warmth, tenderness and lots of laughter. When Arthur went to war, women regularly visited his tent as was the contemporary custom, but Guinevere never sought another companion, until the passion arrived…

The minute Arthur and Lancelot met, they developed a great friendship. Lancelot had a great passion for swordsmanship and warfare and eagerly absorbed Arthur’s ideas on battle tactics. Arthur’s knowledge of metal alloys, learned from Merlin, combined with Lancelot’s creativity in the development of new weapons, made for a formidable partnership. Their friendship was forged even more during a couple of military campaigns they fought together. For everyone it was clear Lancelot was the First Knight of the King.

Arthur soon also detected his friend’s admiration for his wife. It took him some longer to realize his Queen, in return, was developing feelings for his First Knight. It created an awkward situation, especially Lancelot participating in many tournaments and being without a consort, often was riding (and winning) as the Queen’s champion. Although worried and disappointed, Arthur as King and symbol for unity, couldn’t bring himself to a hard confrontation. Until Mordred saw to it the civilized, discrete solution snapped and forced him to follow the unwanted consequences. Initially Arthur succeeded in delaying the decision process, but when the start of spring eased the communication with the northern kingdoms, armies were formed to clash in battle. Now Arthur hurried to have a last meeting with the two people nearest to him.

In their absence Sir Aelfrith, one of his most dedicated knights, died and his widow Lady Oruale had sought refuge in Camelot against the threat from the Saxons. Oruale was of Irish origin. The daughter of Erin was not only strikingly beautiful, but also independent and a nonconformist both in her opinions and her behavior. One day Arthur saw her walking in the garden and approached her to ask how she handled her loss. She had looked at him with her mysterious green eyes and told him quite frankly she felt lonely. Not only that, she had trouble handling her natural urges. In the following moment of silence she had continued and asked him if she could visit his bedroom at night. There was no cuteness in her eyes and Arthur, not unaccustomed to ladies sharing his tent during a campaign, reacted as might be expected from a King trying to be helpful.

Arthur was surprised Oruale was so fiercely passionate when she fulfilled her urges. She almost drowned him in his juices and even urged him to fill her tiniest orifice, howling out the joy and ecstasy this gave her. She was eager to have him repeat this exotic penetration, showing him her gratitude by smothering his flesh with her mouth the moment he let it slip from her darkest channel. Arthur never thought he would engage a woman in sexual bursa escort jousting with such ardor and vitality, but he did. Oruale confided she learned all those exotic ways to pleasure a man from Lancelot some years ago when her husband was severely wounded and bedridden for months. When she left Camelot because the threat of the Saxons had been lifted, they left as good friends who helped each other in difficult times. For Arthur, Guinevere remained his great love but now he rode his horse through the forest and thought of her, he felt eagerness in his loins he hadn’t felt for years.


They met in a remote inn, far from the main throughway. Arthur immediately was led to the spacious bedroom, reserved for important guests. After about ten minutes Guinevere and Lancelot entered the room and the innkeeper discretely disappeared. They both knelt down as soon as they were alone.

“My Lord.”

“My King.”

Arthur looked at Guinevere. He almost forgot how beautiful she was. She had been grown older, but her age and simple attire couldn’t hide the natural beauty of her skin and the regality of her posture. Why his familiar feelings of warmth and affection this time mingled with feelings of passion and lust? The sight of her feet, barely visible between the long folds of her dress, and the modest onset of her breasts was enough to stir the flesh in his loins. Was it their long separation? Was it his experience with Lady Oruale who had introduced him to lewd acts of sexuality he never experienced before? Or was it the realization he had lost her and she now seemed a challenge to be re-captured? How he longed to embrace her, to feel her body.

“I missed you… both!”

With all emotions he had gone through, Arthur felt no more words needed to be said. They knew him better than himself and automatically would fill in the rest. Guinevere heard the anguish in his voice, the hesitation in his body. Overwhelmed by feelings of guilt, she felt to her knees, gripping his leg guards.

“It is all my fault! I was weak and visited him at night… Please, my Lord, forgive me…”

“If someone is to blame, it’s me, my King. I should have left but I couldn’t find the right moment. There seemed always a battle we had to win and the Queen….” Lancelot didn’t finish and merely bowed his head.

“Sir Lancelot, I am grateful you saved the Queen’s life. Please rise, my Knight and friend. Please rise too, my Queen, I could and can never remain at anger with you. You know I will always love you!”

Sobbing Guinevere threw herself in his open arms. Resting her head familiarly on his shoulder, wild emotions swirling through her head, she released her emotions in fragments of words.

“Arthur, I love you too… even when I betrayed you… I kept my secret chamber only for you… for my love and King… but I love him too… he is your right hand and your force… I love you both… I wish I could make love to you both…”

One of the virtues of a King is the ability to evaluate a situation swiftly and make decisions accordingly. The three of them could lament their situation the whole evening or…

“If that’s your real wish, my Queen, it could be arranged!”

Even Guinevere, always so quick-witted, needed a couple of minutes to read into the double entendre of his words. Could it be? Not her serious Arthur! But then she looked at his face, his scrutinizing look, and there was more. Yes, there had been a passion in his voice, a passion she felt from him such a long time ago she couldn’t even remember. When did he exchange his usual tenderness for passion? Something must be happened the last months, the last weeks…

And then, with the intuition of a loving spouse, Guinevere knew… Oruale, of course, it must be Oruale! In one of her last talks with Arthur he mentioned her husband was dying and his concerns about the Saxon threat and the necessity to move the women and children to Camelot temporarily. Inside she smiled. How fortunate Arthur found just the right woman to console him through these gruesome times. She should be grateful to Oruale. It seemed Arthur had a revived passion for her, just now, just at this impossible moment. Guinevere had secretly watched Oruale in the past; she knew how passionate her lady in waiting was in her surrender. Arthur would have acquired new desires, wicked desires. Guinevere blushed and rose.

“I wish it my King, allow me to leave and prepare myself for your pleasure…”

Lancelot looked bewildered, feeling an outsider in this spousal exchange of thoughts he couldn’t comprehend. Arthur came to his help.

“You can retire too, sir Lancelot, and present the Queen as she wants to.”

When they had left Arthur undressed and waited comfortably in a simple housecoat.

He didn’t have to wait too long before Guinevere and Lancelot entered the room. They both had changed to comfortable housecoats. Only Guinevere had applied the creams, lady’s of the court used to apply to beautify themselves. Arthur couldn’t hide his emotions seeing her again as he remembered her.

“Join bursa escort bayan me, Lancelot, stand at my right side as usual.”

Lancelot hesitatingly complied, still not grasping completely what was going on. He only had followed the directions to undress, put on a comfortable dress and joined her afterwards. Only now, next to Arthur, he could look at her at ease. Guinevere never seemed more beautiful, more regal, and more confident what to do. She approached the two men, alternately looking at them, until she stood just before them.

“How can we be at your service, my Queen?” Arthur asked, his voice trembling in emotion.

“My lords, I love you both, more than myself. I wish I could make love to you both.”

Only then Lancelot understood the true implications of the words the spouses exchanged earlier. He felt a relief beyond measure. Arthur, his friend, had accepted their shameful past and decided to move on.

“I serve at the pleasure of my Queen! What about you Lancelot?”

“I serve at the pleasure of my Queen!” Lancelot said firmly.

He saw Arthur raising his arm, placing it on Guinevere’s right shoulder and instinctively synchronized his movement to her left shoulder. When Guinevere uttered a sigh of expectation it was like a sign to slide her dress from her shoulders and like a marble statue Guinevere was unveiled, her body shining in all its alabaster nudity. At such close range Guinevere almost could feel their gaze caress her body; Arthur deeply reflective and passionate, Lancelot eager and full of energy. Poor knight, he felt so guilty he never mustered up the courage to approach her bedroom at night again.

“Let me inspect your weapons, my lords!”

Arthur immediately downed his housecoat, followed by Lancelot. Their stabbing weapons presented themselves in fine condition. Compared with Lancelot’s, Arthur’s sword was shorter, but made quite an impression by the tremendous width at its basis. Of course the King always had a certain priority and Guinevere started to work on the cock she was so familiar with. It stood so firm on its broad base. Even the uncircumcised purple strawberry at the top was so fat, it had trouble to come free itself from its enclosure. Guinevere knew exactly the remedy that would give him the most pleasure. Lovingly she closed her lips just under the prepuce, tenderly pushing the foreskin over the convex surface of his glans with the velvety pressure of her lips. She licked and sucked under the sensitive ridge, knowing how much this would excite him. Arthur desperately tried to extend his pleasure, to show how much he was in control of himself. He didn’t have a chance! Just at the right moment her lips engulfed him completely, starting a sucking pumping motion that set him off immediately. Bellowing loud Arthur let his hot seed flow in her warm hospital mouth. Smiling almost triumphantly Guinevere looked up to him, a small stream of sperm flowing down from the corner of her mouth.

“You have missed me, my lord.”

Since Arthur was breathing heavily and had no reply, Guinevere turned around to inspect the next subject at hand. Compared with Arthur’s, Lancelot’s spear had a delightful length. The long lance was moving nervously up and down. Under her scrutinizing look it even seemed to grow longer. Challenging herself to take its exact measure Guinevere tried to engulf it completely, trying to let the tip touch the back of her throat. Her effort seemed to fail but her knight, as always coming to her assistance, pulled her head till her face was buried in his dark forest. Guinevere expressed her appreciation by stroking her fingers through his dangling balls. When she felt assured they were amply filled, Guinevere knelt down on all fours before him with her bottom invitingly up. Arthur saw she looked up to him, an unspoken petition in those beautiful blue eyes. He put his hand on her forehead.

“You may allow him inside your golden fleece, my love. You owe him your life!”

Lancelot didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to thank his King? Or could he just proceed and invade the Golden Fleece? His hesitation took Guinevere too long; eagerly she reached between her thighs, took his long sword in her hand and guided it into her welcoming scabbard. Lancelot gasped in utter joy and delight. In the past weeks he had just overseen her recovery and barely had spoken to her. They had hugged, but neither of them ever dared to speak about that fateful night, troubled as they were by feelings of guilt and shame.

Now he felt if a heavy burden was lifted from him. With the blessing of his King he now had entered a realm he didn’t dare to even think he would ever enter. It was so heavenly warm and wet, her inner muscles massaging him, welcoming him; her thighs encircling him and rubbing against his loins; his breasts providing him with a vibrant warm cushion; her arms embracing him as a chain of flesh from which he ever would want to escape. The wait had been too long and his sensations too intense. Groaning loud, Lancelot helplessly released his considerable load in her clinging escort bursa sheath.

With sperm now leaking out from her cunt Guinevere saw her husband looking down on her, shaking his head.

“Milady, you milked me dry so quickly, and now my invincible knight. This situation requires a serious retribution! If you love us that much, you should provide us with some more protracted pleasures.”

The smile in his face indicated their game had just begun.

“What kind of pleasures has the King of Britain in mind?”

“You could start bending over and rest your hands on the chair. Why did you never pleasure me more often in your shadowy back garden?”

“Because you are so bbiggg, my Lord, oooooh… have mercy, your sword is so wiiiiide…!”

Arthur’s proud bulb was so fat she had trouble to take it past her hind-gate.

“Don’t you know you can wet it, like some wenches do?”

“Yesss, yes, I’ll turn around and wet it with my mouth.”

And Guinevere did. Spinning around, she knelt down and reached her mouth upwards invitingly. When his massive flesh entered, Guinevere eagerly entwining the purple storm-cone with her tongue, wetting his pulsating flesh with saliva. When she resumed her bending position, he mercilessly knifed her on his sword in one flowing thrust. When he started fucking her, each time he thrusted forwards her sphincter was distended by the broad basis of his stem.

Again Lancelot looked bewildered, feeling an outsider while Guinevere allowed her royal husband the sexual favor she allowed him months ago. The heat of their coupling revived his flesh noticeably, and certainly didn’t remain unnoticed to Arthur.

“Lance, there is still an opening to be filled! Ginny’s mouth will feel empty when I fill her arse.”

It was the first time Arthur used the name only used by family and close friends. It was a sign formality definitely was replaced by a teasing game of lust and pleasure. He patted her bottom like she was a common maiden of pleasure.

“What do you say, girl?”

“I serve at the pleasure of my King and my Knight.”

Lancelot didn’t need more encouragement. Always ready to serve a damsel in distress, he placed himself in front of her face with his long lance all set to defend her virtues. This damsel was in distress all right, her backside already royally invaded. She was moaning loud and her body seems out of balance, almost falling down forwards. Hurrying to her rescue Lancelot invaded her mouth, muffling her moaning and supporting her slipping front side. With the ardor of a true gallant knight he fucked her face, balancing the pounding thrusts striking her bottom. The damsel seemed to be happy and fulfilled with all the action inside her orifices, in view of the twisting and squirming of her hips.

“It looks like you are in a hot seat, Arthur” Lancelot said, “Shall I fill in for you temporarily?”

“Be my guest, Lance, I digged you a deep hole already. Let me take your place and offer our lady a taste of her own sweet arse.”

The men changed places, bringing Guinevere new sensations of debauchery and lechery. Arthur’s wet cock filled her mouth so full that her senses were overwhelmed with new tastes and aromas. Lance’s long spear bottomed out so deep in her arse, she barely dared to move her bottom. Whose hands were playing with her dangling breasts? Caressing the nape of her neck? Stroking the pit of her arms? Touching and teasing her swollen clit? They are playing with me! Screwing me! Both of them!

The two men were changing place again. Fluid was leaking from her mouth, sluggishly flowing downwards along her swanlike neck. Fluid also was leaking from her arse, turbidly flowing downwards along the surface of her snow-white bottom. The men continued changing place, exchanging crude jokes and remarks of her body parts and her position. Men are like boys, and boys will be boys. Always teasing a girl when she is alone.

She remembered the time she was a little girl. And the two boys always teasing her when she was alone, trying to hide their infatuation with her. Deep inside she instinctively felt their insecurity and the grip she held over their lives. Yet she allowed them to frighten her and to tease her. Now she was fucked by the two men she loved, teasing and humiliating her with their swollen members. Yet she knew they loved her and would give their lives to defend and protect her, both her King and her Knight. Men are just big children. And a children’s hand is easily filled…! Men are so predictable! Guinevere felt she had everything in control. Look they were changing place again, joking about her dripping holes; her King in her mouth and her Knight in her arse, herself skewered on the spit. Could a Queen ask for more?


“Let’s move over to the bed.”

Guinevere knew this would be the final chapter. She felt herself cringe in a strange mixture of anticipation, fear and passion. Her love was flowing over. For Arthur, so wise and passionate in his concept of a country, united in freedom and justice, the man who loved her so much he would give her anything she wanted, may be even a lover… For Lancelot, so courageous and clever in battles defending his belief in freedom and justice, the man who loved her so much he would give his life for her, her handsome loyal Knight…

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