"Oh, fuck, yeah. oh FUCK YEAH! Come on! comeoncomeoncomeon, you little SluuUUUUTTTTT!"
Syra bit her lip to keep from moaning. She had discarded her nightrobe a while ago - it had been so clingy with sweat and the tent had grown so hot that she just couldn't take wearing it any longer - and she was lying naked under the pelts that covered her little tent's floor. The others had bedrolls, but Amelie had insisted that her lady maintained this one nod to her station. Garret's had pelts as well, but he certainly wasn't in them right now.
How long would they be *at* it? The first night they had camped, she had just heard mumbling from Garret's tent, and hadn't understood what was going on until he suddenly raised his voice enough for her to make out "...it all, SWALLOW IT ALL, TINAAAAAHHH!!!", and she spent the night in a blush and not quite allowing herself to handle the dampness between her legs it had created. SInce then, the two had just gotten less and less discrete, to the point where Syra hadn't at all been able to keep her fingers from herself... though she was trying hard. In fact, just yesterday, she had Amelie in here when they started, and she had nearly...
A fresh blush spread on Syra's cheeks, her fit, toned body stretching like a cat in heat. If getting so turned on by this behavior was bad, trying to use it to seduce her cute-as-a-button squire was... terrible. It was all wrong, she thought, as Garrett started to moan incoherently, Tina was making a constant, low humming sound, some oral technique neither Syra or Amelie were familiar with, but Lissa called a "hummer". Supposedly the boys really liked it, and Garret was no exception. Her hands were sliding down her tight, flat stomach, easily gliding over smooth, sweat-slick skin, going deeper... No! She was a knight! She did not jill herself to her own brother getting a blowjob!
With a force of will, she changed the seeking, grasping hands' direction, sliding back up her midriff and coming to rest on her milk white breasts. This time, she did moan aloud. She squeezed down on her mounds, feeling the nearly painfully erect nipples each slide easily in between two fingers, easy to pinch, easy to pull as she rolled her breasts and squeezed them together. Syra had been self-coscious about her breasts for longer than she had *had* them. She had publically invoked Squire's rights and started training before she ever started filling out - not unlike many girls, but unlike every girl she ever knew, she didn't give up. The resulting hard sessions - hard enough to make the idealistic girl she had been, and mostly still was, wonder if they were trying to make her quit - had made sure she began growing breasts later than all the other highborn girls around - and even when they did grow, they didn't exactly pop out overnight.
The worst part was that she was pretty certain she would have been the most buxom girl in the castle. Even with all her training, the swell of her breasts were quite, quite noticeable under her chain, and they finally had to get the smith to rework the plate she wore for jousting. Alyss used to squeeze and play with them so much she had once made Syra climax from just fondling them, which Alyss kept on teasing her about. She had actually been a bit worried about that. Old Priest Tamlyn had even taken down the concealing cloth over the window in their cofessional, and had needed to her to show him exactly what Alyss had done. She had felt strange, stripping to the waist in the church, but in the end, after watching carefully, Tamlyn had rehung the cloth and obviously prayed hard, for he sounded out of breath when he gave her the same, nearly symbolic act of contrition as for the other things she and Alyss - or the others - did. Alyss had beautiful breasts, easily bigger than Syra... but she never trained. She didn't even ride.
Hell, she was the oldest girl here, and while she easily out-endowed both Willow and Amelie... well, Willow was built like her namesake, hardly any breasts at all (though a quite amazing backside... and those legs. Good thing Tamlyn agreed that fantasizing about girls hardly were a sin as long as she cofessed them in full to him), and Amelie was thirteen. Being able to match her bust to her advantage with any thirteen year old in the house was not a great boost to the self-esteem, though, especially when the smith's daughter came much closer to matching her than Syra at all wanted to admit... though the Knight's Honesty demanded that she admit there was a good chance Thinka would have bigger breasts than her when they returned.
It also demanded she admit to spending quite a bit more time than necessary thinking about Thinka's breasts, for more reasons than comparing to her own, but that was another matter. Garret was groaning for Tina to stop. He wanted to fuck her first, and Syra bit harder onto her lip, squeezing hard around her breasts and rubbing her thighs together. Tina was... not gorgeous, like Alyss and Caytherinne, but even in her less-than-flattering servant's cloth, she had that something to make all the men turn their heads - and set Syra, Alyss and their partners-in-bedroom-crimes to wild specualtion and fantasy. When seen in something that showed her off a bit - or nothing at all, as when they did their as-frequent-as-possible stops to bathe - she was... distracting, to say the least. And, of course, her firm, high chest was nearly exactly a third again as big as Syra. Not that she had studied Tina's chest in studious detail... Right. Knight's Honesty. She had devoured those tits with her eyes and was profoundly grateful her helm had a visor, to make it a bit less obvious. No wonder Garret spent every night buried to his balls in her slit and spent himself on her soft, sun-kissed skin before sleeping.
And then there was Lissa. Girls three years younger than her should not have breasts twice as big or more than her. The barmaid normally wouldn't be that noticeable in between Tina's dangerous sexyness and Willow's ethereal good looks, but she was cute, open-faced, smiling... and stacked. And apparently, she didn't own a single shirt that didn't richly emphasize that fact. Syra would have a long confession for Tamlyn when she got home. At least - this was probably a good thing, but that was a bit hard to stomach at the moment - neither of them had shown any interest at all in other girls.
Was Tina doing this for Garret, now? Was he shoving his cock in between her breasts, soft, yielding mounds egging him closer and closer to... to climax? Was he going to shoot off into her mouth? Was he just preparing to shove his cock into her slit and fuck her until she begged? Would he... would he... Oh, Gods damn it all. Her left hand kept squeezing and playing with her breasts, but there was no stopping her right hand this time. In a flash, her fingers had found the hot, damp folds between her legs, playing briefly within the very entrance to the slit, and then descending upon her clit like a lance charge. Syra was writhing now, long legs coiling like snakes, back arching up from her pelts. It wasn't going to be long, now, she was gonna... Tina was echoing her noises on the other side of the tent flap. That meant he was fucking her. It meant she was on all fours, ass in the air, pretty face contracted in pleasure as he... shoved.. his... long... cock... up in herjustlikehehadwhenhe...
There was a quiet scratching on her tent flap. Syra froze in near total panic. It had to be Amelie, and this was no way for a Knight to be seen by her squire! It was... It was... She looked around, trying to shake her head clear from the pleasure haze, and trying even harder to ignore the frustrated screaming from her loins. She had been so close! No time to get her nightrobe on. The blonde Knight-to-be sank deeper into her pelts instead. It was dark. Maybe Amelie wouldn't notice that she was naked, or the sweat running down her face...
"Come in."
It was quite remarkable how steady her voice was, really.
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