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The small space grew stuffy. There was hardly any room for us to move, yet we made it work. I gripped Tuck’s shoulders as Alan pressed his chest against my back and slid his cock beneath me, teasing the tight bundle of nerves on his way to my engorged lips.
He played with me, circling his shaft, planting it near Tuck’s heavy balls before whispering in my ear, “The beauty of me, songbird? I don’t care what my cock touches, so long as it’s inside you.”
With that, he grunted and shoved hard, sliding the underside of his cock against Tuck’s, penetrating my already-stuffed hole.
I went rigid, back straight, and my eyes widened. “Oh God save me!” I screamed as Alan-a-Dale’s swollen length snuggled against Tuck’s and filled me fully.
I had both men inside me. Against all logic and possibility, I rode them together. The sensation was painful at first, but I was so wet and aroused that it quickly melded into the most blissful experience of my life. I couldn’t understand my own thoughts because they fucked them out of me.
Alan pumped into me with slow precision. Tuck’s hands fell on my ass to pry me open further so they could work me together. Their two shafts melded exquisitely, becoming a back-and-forth motion of pure pleasure. They hit so deep. These hung men, so good at this—showing me a way of living I could have never imagined in the ivory tower of the Wilford estate.
The Merry Men didn’t corrupt me purposefully. They didn’t need to, because I wanted it so damned bad. I begged for it, holding both of their necks as I straddled their cocks and bounced up and down on their laps.
I urged them deeper inside me, moaning and with every rise and fall of my body. They touched me everywhere at the same time, freeing me of my nightgown, exploring every part of my flesh with their greedy hands.
I was their entire world. For a few long, desirous minutes, I was good enough. I was better than good enough—to them, I was perfect.
The thought of having these men all to myself, with Will Scarlet and Little John included, gave me a heady rush of dizziness. I came again, ready to erupt and shatter into pieces.
Tuck played with my clit from the front. Alan-a-Dale speared two fingers inside my asshole and curved, probing me, keeping both my holes filled. I gasped when he first entered my rear, but then I melted into it, realizing he knew what he was doing.
The feeling was intense. The emotions poured out of me. I found myself crying, laughing, and coming. Losing myself to hysteria and simultaneously feeling more in control than I ever had. The sheer release was an impossible sensation to interpret.
There was no specific Merry Man better than the other, because they all offered me something different. Little John gave me unconditional protection. Will Scarlet gave me crazed obsession. Friar Tuck gave me hopeful guidance. Alan-a-Dale gave me witty camaraderie. They all imbued me with confidence.
Their cocks sparked a fire and touched me in their own ways—flames I never wanted to put out. I felt more experienced and whole than ever before, after coming into this life untrained and untainted.
The two drilling deep inside me throbbed and swelled, widening me even more. My mouth fell open and I lifted myself on shaking feet and wobbling thighs, using Tuck’s shoulders as leverage to stay upright.
A sheen of fluids squirted out of me as their cocks withdrew from my gaping hole, and I came undone, shaking and quivering with an intensity that defied belief. Whimpering as I came and lost myself.
I reached down, fighting through the orgasm to stay conscious, and wrapped my hands around their cocks. I rubbed them together, with both palms, as if trying to start a fire between the molten-hot lengths. Tuck’s thick cock was slick and glistening against Alan’s long shaft, fighting for release while their cocks expanded and darkened from my ministrations.
The men groaned. They threw their heads back, not caring what I was doing to them, between them. They were tools for my pleasure, and I got immense pleasure watching them squirm, groan, and moan while I had them in my grasp.
I scooted off to the side, Alan’s thighs on top of Tuck’s, and lowered my face between them. I licked their glistening, warm cockheads, tasting myself on them, and the salty potency dripping from their ridges.
When I licked, they lost control. Cum rocketed out of their cocks at the same time, cascading into the air, painting my face, delighting me. I yipped in surprise and laughed as I pulled my face back, letting them coat my hands and drip from my wrists and chin.
Tuck and Alan latched onto my wrists as I stroked them, forcing me to continue doing it through their intense orgasms. I peered into the pinched faces of both handsome men, smiling at them in wonder—wondering how it felt for them to come so undone.
“Good God Almighty,” Tuck breathed, his voice raspy as he jerked and spurted one last time.
“Fuck the Almighty,” Alan said, shaking his head as he took in deep breaths. “That was worthy of a song!”
The men kissed me. They brought me close, sandwiching me as we reclined in the small tent. Our bodies were tangled messes of limbs, and it was exactly what I needed to fall asleep into a deep slumber.
I tried to stamp their essence on me for eternity. To never forget. The interior of the tent reeked with the heady scent of sex and sweat. It was undoubtedly the filthiest thing I had ever done, yet I felt more accomplished than ever.
And I knew it would only get better from here.
Chapter 51
Robin
Ironically, we found ourselves in Barnsdale Forest. The place my family initially sought to “heal” my mother.
For nearly a month following the frightful events in Loxley, we kept to the hills and valleys surrounding the village. We made camps near the hamlets of Load Brook, Dungworth, and Damflask. We stayed near the confluence of River Loxley and River Rivelin, though never straying too close to the city proper of Sheffield.
