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Introduction:

A story of a pair of sport fencing combatants who find out about some mutual hidden fantasies
The art of swordplay has been studied, modified and reviewed by hundreds of masters and scholastic organizations throughout the ages. Predominant as the fighting art of history before the invention of the matchlock, there were few other forms of close combat that could match a well trained sword arm and the sharp steel it carries. Even today, in modern day Earth that everyone knows so well, there are some out there who would push away the safety of the firearm for the old fashioned blade of any size. The eldest among them teach their young, and when the young become elders themselves, they teach their own young. This needy cycle to carry on tradition carries through generations, esoteric, honorable and downright respectable.

From what Eric could see in the 23 year old blonde French woman in front of his eyes, moving in her graceful form, he could see just how strongly her family carried their tradition. Charlotte would be a good example of an olden day heroine in ancient times. Her skill on the fencing piste was both incredible and exciting to behold, moving as if she was dancing with her opponent and piercing them straight in the heart or wrist with her epee blade the moment they flinched. Even though fencing was now officially a non-bloody sport, she still went for the vitals with sharp precision, probably something her family taught her to do. If it were not for the rules, the blunt edges of her weapon and the current times people live in, she would probably have killed at least 50 opponents in her entire current lifetime, 4 of them would be rival club aces, and quite possibly a boyfriend mixed into the kill count but he was not sure.

The attraction of her form was another thing that kept a lot of eyes on her. The master they had was too focused on watching her skill, but the younger people like Eric would more likely notice how perfectly shaped she was, complete with curves to die for, a pert round ass and a pair of well endowed D cups tightly packed underneath her fencing jacket. What Eric had seen while she was out of her jacket, she had smooth skin, a mild complexion and a pair of eyes that, even if blue, seemed to burn with an intensity that could melt steel. She was like a model straight out of one of the better brands of fashion magazines, the soft curls in her hair flowing to just below her shoulders and a fringe that half covered the right side of her face. For a mildly above average 24 year old guy like Eric, she would be a dream come true… if it were not for her attitude towards the guys here. He could not blame her for refusing to chat with them though. The boys would try in vain to get her to talk, eat with them, or sleep with them. Normally, she taught them a lesson on the piste, the one and only undefeated anti-social female of their club and various others around France and England.

Before Eric could think some more as he stared blankly at her, the match was over. The butchered opponent stumbled over to unhook his wires, clutching his left side from a winding blow, while Charlotte coolly did hers, only breathing deeply from the exercise. The moment she takes off her helmet and lets her hair loose was when the usual goings on begins. He could have sworn that his fellow male team mates had turned into mindless groupies. Not being one of those people who naturally made forward charges into unknown territory, he always kept sitting on the bench, watching the world go by, occasionally getting out of the hall for some water, had the occasional average bouts with others, basically all in a simple less stressful way to keep in mild contemplation, and out of the radar of grudges and attention. He highly doubted he would have any more of a chance than any of the other guys anyway.

“Just one moment, Charlotte.” The gruff toughie of a master called out before she could walk away from the throng of bodies that built around her. The boys kept quiet too, because even air heads like them know that it was not a good idea to interrupt the master while he was speaking.
She turned, responding in with a French word, in her usual smooth silky voice, “Oui?”
“One more bout.” The man crossed his arms, appearing mighty serious.
Charlotte blinked. Everyone knew that it was the end of today’s session already. Those defeated or had given up on persisting left with much haste, very much almost everyone except five others inclusive of Eric.
Without much expectation for anything major to happen, Eric was caught by surprise when the master looked at him sitting by the bench on the near wall. “Eric, I want you to have a bout with Charlotte.”

Certain doom… I can feel the pain already…

Those were his first thoughts. What did Eric do to deserve a swift end from the vicious, merciless human weapon that is Charlotte? He knew that he was not that good, neither was he that bad, but he did see reason behind this request of possible suicide. He had been on the bench for a long while now, always being left out by his cooler compatriots who call themselves brave fencers. Eric was not the gung-ho type like they were, but a bit of exercise would work… if only his opponent was not Charlotte, of all people!

Eric managed to respond coolly despite him being tense, “Alright.” He rose up from his seat, picked up his helmet, weapon and wire and began walking to the piste. He tried his best not to look nervous, keeping a calm, blank face as if he seemed as focused as a chi master in meditation. It was probably the best effort he could do, because this would be his first bout against Charlotte, the harbinger of inevitable defeat.

There was a stifling silence when he stepped up there, all the more nerve-wracking for him to not even hear the sound of dropping pins, just his footsteps on the rubber concrete floor. He passed by his opponent to be, who seemed to be eyeing him with the same amount of discontent she showed for the others. He tried his best not to look into the eyes of the beast and took his position, hooked his wires and stepped forward. They exchanged the testing of each others blades, and before they put on their helmets, Eric took one more look at his opponent. She seemed pissed, her expression cool and collected but the fire in her eyes was raging unchecked with both eyebrows lightly knitted. This was probably because she had to stay to fight one more time or probably because she did not like what she saw in her new victim. To her, Eric seemed like a nigh complete newbie, even if he had 9 years experience in the club.

“First person. Five points.” She announced as she tied her hair into a bun. She never was very good with English, but she tries. In the meantime, she has kept her sentences short, sharp and simple, adding to the voracious image of a feisty femme fatale under a soft exterior.
“You’re on.” Eric nodded and put on his helmet.

The match began with a bang. The first few seconds went by so quickly that Eric thought he had time warped. The first point was already hers the moment the master signaled the start of the first round. To an exaggerated effect, he thought that she moved as fast as lightning, as before he could even twitch, her weapon was already within an inch of his body. Every part of the body was a valid target in epee, so it was an immediate win for her that time. As usual, she went for the vitals, and Eric felt as if she had just punctured his left lung. He did not even feel the wind blow past him during the second round. Now that her surprise attack had sprung, Eric was naturally more alert. She kept her distance and paced her movement, before she sprang again, hitting the inside of his wrist. It stung pretty badly and it was a clear show that she was mighty serious on slaughtering him till the end. By now, he thought that he was done for, reflected by the third quick round, where she stabbed him in the shoulder. Now aching all over on his right side, it looked like he simply could not fight back. The whole situation looked hopeless from the beginning. Eric was simply too stiff and too pessimistic in his desire to win to be of any good. Even if he fought back the feeling of doubt that crept into his mind, he still imagined which place on his body she would strike next. He sincerely hoped she would not castrate him where he stood.

When the fourth attack came from virtually nowhere, when he felt like all hope was lost, he let his muscles loose in a gesture of utter defeat… but his body suddenly moved backwards before he could think, the blunt edge of death missing him by inches. Charlotte was not one to let up and attacked again. Eric could feel himself retreated his step quickly, confused over what he was doing so impulsively. His body was moving at a pace he never felt in a while, a momentum drawn from a pattern that began making slow motion replays in his mind.

Feeling…

The thought raced through his head and he began to remember. The master was very thorough with his training, although he was not around a lot due to his job at the mini mart. The memory flooded into his conscious, and he now very easily understood the reasons. He remembered what he did not understand years ago and the time when he finally did after putting to practice in his fifth bout of his 9 years of experience. It was the one thing that he was pretty good at and he felt stupid to have not have put it to use here on the piste. He was unsure if it could beat Charlotte’s experience though, because from the few times she talked, it was a known fact that she was learning to fence a lot earlier than anyone else in the club, not including the master. He still had to give it a try…

The raging train known as Charlotte noticed him moving a lot differently than before and went back to biding her time once again, her assault finally broken. Eric began to relax from the tension that kept him the way he was, and for once in the entire match, he was loose on his feet. Behind his mask, he began to purse his lips and silently whistle to himself something inaudible, and he began his counter attack. Taking two steps forwards, he kept his weapon trained to his intended target; her forearm. His opponent raised her weapon for a six o’clock parry… but in a swift flick of the wrist and a little forward momentum, he caught the lower part of her forearm, scoring his first point.

Her form held still for a full two seconds. That was her usual reaction to losing a round. She was no superwoman, and like many of the pros, they use the point count to their favor. She was still in a 3-1 lead and did not seem to worry, or at least from what Eric could see through his helmet. The fifth bout began, and he started to function much more than what he would expect from himself. He was making good parries and counter attacks, moving around the piste to keep his distance until the last moment, keeping the silent whistling to himself. Soon enough the scores evened, and he finally took the lead before they were even again in the round after. The match had turned into something interesting for the by standers to watch. Other clubs who came for their fencing friends waited to see the final exchange between the hot French she devil of a champion and the unknown guy who was moving too much like an unorthodox enigma.

Eric had lost all form of thought as he focused intently on the final score. He had come this far and somehow, deep in his conscious; he finally felt the need to win. He did not know why because this was just a practice bout but the feeling was just there. Staring at Charlotte from a distance, he could see that she was still what she was before, cool, calm, still and incredibly dangerous looking with her blade trained straight for his chest, threatening to make shish kebab of his heart. He knew that with the final call for the bout, either of them would be the victor, and he wanted really badly to win, so badly that he craved for its taste. He knew what exactly to do, and all that was left was to do it.

Silence fell as the master raised his hand, the crowd stopping their murmurings to allow the final round to take place. Eric gripped his weapon… and sprang forward the moment the master made the call. However, it seemed Charlotte had the exact same idea, so both were virtually charging each other with weapons extended for the final blow. All it took was a second for the beeper to sound as they ran past each other, skidding to a halt at opposite ends of the piste. No one saw what they did… but they did see something particularly occasional in sport fencing: both lights on the scoring table had went off, signaling that they had just hit each other simultaneously. Hitting each other simultaneously in epee meant that both points counted, so the final score was a draw of 5-5. There was exhilaration in the crowd, some from disappointment, some of surprise, either way nonetheless; they let out an applause that echoed throughout the hall. Eric could not believe what he had just done. He had just fought face to face with the dreaded Charlotte to a complete standstill draw, and he was alive to breathe about it. He knew that it was not over yet. A draw in epee usually meant one more round to decide the final victor. He could not give up and rest yet as he tried to collect himself from his excitement, walking back over to the piste, heart still pounding.

His opponent, however, was not there to greet him at her starting line. Charlotte was down on one knee, her weapon on the floor and her helmet off. The sight of it worried Eric, because if he had hit her badly, he would never forgive himself. Before anyone could ask what happened, she slowly got to her feet and turned to look at him. Her face seemed to puncture him more than she would ever do with a sword; a sign of devastation in the once burning blue eyes that he saw before the match began. She slowly walked up to Eric, all eyes on her.

After a brief look at him in the eyes, she reached out her unarmed hand for a handshake, something she had not done with any of the club members here. A gesture like that from a champion like her was a great honor, and Eric felt a surge of pride run through him. Still, he was not sure what was going on. A handshake like this meant the official end of a match, with no grudge being made between the two opponents who were once enemies on the piste. Calmly removing his helmet to appear proper, he reached his own unarmed hand to grip gently on hers. The baby soft texture of her fingers and palm was the first thing he noticed about it, the next being that he was becoming distracted from the confusion that was going through everyone’s minds. All except the master, who seemed to be having mixed feelings considering his facial expression, one of disappointment and approval. Eric was not sure which emotion was directed to whom.

Charlotte took a second to keep their handshake firm, looking as if stoned, “… Eric wins…”
The murmur of the crowd began in disbelief and awe. Was she throwing the match?
“…I saw… Green light first…” She continued, before releasing Eric’s hand to turn away, apparently in a gesture unrecognizable as she made a cool, slow exit amidst the changing of moods in their audience.
Eric stood in silence, casting his gaze over to the wires hooked to the center scoring table. He knew that whosever light came up first had priority and the trust of a champion like Charlotte was great even to the master. Staring dumbfounded at the box, he fixated his eyes on the green light that was his.

Life felt strange afterward. The week after, Eric did not see any sign of Charlotte anywhere, and he was worried that he had scared her off. News of his victory against her traveled fast, and soon enough, he was just as swamped by people as Charlotte was when she was around. He had challengers and fans that he did not even know of, inclusive of those who disliked her for her high and mighty status, those she had beaten and those who switched their groupie allegiance to him. He had to admit that the attention was flattering but it was uncalled for, disliking it more than actually enjoying it. His once quiet and peaceful life was suddenly disrupted by a fame that he did not count on earning by a single practice bout.

This may have been what she was feeling…

A lingering feeling of anxiety danced in his heart. Not seeing Charlotte around for the whole of that week was like having breakfast with no butter, or hamburger with no ham. Every now and then, he would ask the master if he had seen her around but he always gave him a negative answer. He would ask the other guys, glum and unhappy as they were to not have their idol with them, but they too did not see her anywhere. He even asked if she had anyone around who knew her well, but it seemed that she avoided a whole lot of people ever since moving here to extend her training horizons. For the first time after seeing her step into the fencing hall, he wanted to talk to her and he now had all the courage to do so.

He felt as if he reached the peak of his discontent by the twelfth day. It looked like he had given up all hope and began to work on the assumption that she may not come back, probably gone back to France or moved on to another club. He was the last man left behind in the changing rooms that late Saturday night, as usual considering the kind of mood he was in. Packing his bags with all his dirty clothes and keeping his equipment handy in a corner, he kept himself occupied so that he would not think of Charlotte, so much so that he did not notice the door open and close.

A voice called from behind him, “Eric…”
Not looking up from his packing, Eric said in a low voice, “Yeah. I’ll be right out.”
“Eric, turn round.”
Eric did so, and what he saw surprised him. “Charlotte!” He nearly screamed, and then suddenly lowered his voice. “What the heck are doing in the men’s changing room?”
The woman standing before her was dressed in a perfect fitting black blouse and matching straight skirt, the distinct fringe over her ferocious blue eyes very clearly indicating that it really was the she devil herself. As a response to Eric’s question, she looked just about ready to give him a tight slap across the face for even asking such an embarrassing question. Instead, she kept herself steady and spoke again, arms across her chest, “I need talk with you.”
Fighting back the urge to raise his arms and cower in her presence, he calmed himself down, cleared his throat and began his first words of conversation with her. He had a lot of questions for her, but he put them aside for now. “Uh… Yeah… I’m listening. What do you need to talk about?”
She kept silent as she looked away from him. She was probably recalling her defeat… or maybe she was here to talk about that. She took a few seconds to reply with a question. “…What I do wrong?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Match… What I do wrong?” She repeated herself, almost strained as if trying to hold onto her pride.
Recalling his apparent victory was more a heart pain than a comfort. He recalled events from what he had seen, wondering why she suddenly came to him instead of the master. “Well… I think you lost your rhythm.”
She gave him a confused look. “Merci?” The French word for ‘sorry’.
Eric tried to pick his words as carefully as possible, thinking that he may be wondering over a minefield with this one. “From what I could see, you seemed to be all over the place. You are fast, agile, sharp and very accurate, yeah, but I think something may have happened when I hit you the third time.” He paused to let her digest what he just said. After a light nod from her, he went on with calculating confidence, “I could see from the start you were not the panicky type but when I looked at you before that match, I could see you really wanted to end it quickly. When I scored my first point against you, you probably thought it as a setback over your impending victory, but when I kept hitting you until the score raised to 3 all, that was when you lost your cool. I noticed that your smooth flowing rhythm broke, and I could hit you easily.”
“… How you judge this… rhythm…?”
“Music. I listen to music every time I work, so much that I could judge rhythm very easily. Well, I wouldn’t say ‘judge’. More like ‘feel’. Everyone has a rhythm in which they move. It’s easy to spot the difference in rhythm if I can feel a change.” He paused, wondering if his next few words would get him turned into marshmallow or not. “To answer your question, I would say you need to worry about overconfidence.”
“I see…” She looked at him more in a way of understanding than in a sense of murder. “Feeling… Tres bien…”

Eric felt good after telling her what he noticed. He had not been on the piste a lot, but he did manage to watch a lot of fencers, enough for him to understand how most of them worked. It was a like his special trait born from listening to all forms of music, to be able to feel a person’s rhythm just by whistling in tune to their movement and his own. To counter rhythm, all he needed to do was change the tune and he could very easily match his opponent’s rhythm or use it to his advantage.

“Well then,” He spoke out loud with a smile on his face. “Was there anything else I can do to help?”
Her face fell, and he had the urge to cringe once more. She looked away as if straining to say something, and then back at him half way through. The fringe covered an eye while her head was tilted to the side downwards. To Eric, it was very stimulating to see her like that. She spoke up, the smooth silk in her voice making him tense, “I… Hmm… My family have tradition…” She took a deep breath before trying her best to speak calmly. “Loser pay respect to winner. Defeat mean responding to winner’s wishes.”
“Wait… Responding to the winner’s wishes?” He repeated after her, not believing his ears.
“… Oui…”
He gave this a bit of thought. He was a bit lost on this one, since he hardly had any wishes that he had ever asked of anyone. Everything he had done had been on his own cash and his own time. “And if I don’t have any wishes, or refuse to make any?”
She made a face, scrunching her shoulders together, an unusual way for her to act. “… Then loser leave in disgrace…”
Eric certainly did not want to see Charlotte unhappy. “Then… how many wishes?”
“Any number…” She replied after taking another breath, apparently waiting for him to make his first request. “Until loser wins back honor.”

That should have been incredibly quick if she had shown up the past week… Eric thought to himself. He was back to his old self again, easy going and taking life as it comes. …Still… there isn’t anything not worth trying yet…

He gave her a one word question. “Anything?”
She nodded. “Anything…”

His mind went lost in his thoughts again, thinking of his first wish. Charlotte seemed to wait patiently, however, like she always did when dressed in her killing colors on the piste. She kept a look at him, head still tilted down in the same amount of possible shame after losing. Although his mind was elsewhere, that highly attractive look peaked an equally highly persistent thought in his head. He suddenly found himself musing to himself openly, blurting out that thought.

“Hmm… I wouldn’t possibly ask for you to be my fuck toy… Nah…”

He only realized what he had said after a seconds notice, and very immediately regretted it gravely. Such a suggestion over a woman of her caliber, packing epee skills that could poke a dozen holes in him in no time flat, would get him sincerely ripped apart. He awaited his doom for real this time, wishing his future life fare well and cursing himself for shooting his mouth off like that. He dared a look at her face, and her expression was one of very great surprise, a twinge of something unexplainable in the depths of her eyes as she stared at him, stiff as a stone statue with rosy blushes on her cheeks. To Eric, it was likely the last thing he would ever see in this lifetime.

Her lips moved to a cute under bite as she seemed to be trying to recover from possible shock, looking slowly downwards to the floor. She seemed particularly tense, her feet closing tightly in a fidgety manner. He had to wonder if she was actually thinking about this. Any normal woman would not agree to that unless she had that kind of fetish in her head. However, if she did not have agreed, she would have gutted him alive already.

She suddenly gave him a slow nod, still looking away from him.
He immediately had goose pimples, “What was that?”
“… Okay…” She said at last, trying to hide her face in a manner so embarrassed that Eric could not believe this woman was actually Charlotte. “I…be your fuck toy…”

Eric immediately had a major hard on. The fabulous French she devil that is the undisputed champion of the club and beyond had agreed to become his fuck toy, at least probably until she beat him in a match.

… I’m still worried… He could not help but think somewhere at the back of his head. … but she agreed… and she didn’t kill me either… So maybe…

Maybe it really was he was thinking. He decided to put it to action and see for himself. Without worrying any more about it, he stepped forward so that he was closer to her. He was taller than her by a few inches, so she pretty much was by his neck when he spoke, “You wouldn’t mind starting now then?”
She looked up to him and gave him another nod. The look in her now was one of perseverance. One of the things he suddenly noticed about her was that she never seemed to know when to give up, always looking forward with defiance and iron will. She was probably telling herself to endure whatever sexual actions that Eric was about to commit, likely in future days too.

The time for action had come. Raising both his hands to hold onto her arms that gripped across her chest, he eased them loose to let her know that he wanted her arms to be free. Then he raised his arms higher to unhitch the first button of her blouse, then the second, the third, all the way down to the neat tuck into her skirt, of which he pulled out and let the clothing run hang free. He slipped her blouse off her shoulders, letting it nonchalantly drop onto the floor. She held very still throughout, looking straight at him while taking calm, deep breaths as he slowly continued to strip her, piece by piece. From what he could see already, the smooth flawless skin and light muscle tone beneath the shackles of her clothes, he could now see what he could not see out in the public. Letting himself run wild with imaginations was not enough, as the next piece he removed was the bra that covered a glorious view that only few men have seen, or none at all. He wasted no time unhitching it and slipped it off her to reveal the most amazing pair of breasts he had ever seen, round, natural D cups.

Her whole upper torso was now revealed in the lighting that hung across the men’s changing room, her chest rising and falling as she took breaths that seemed to escalate the more he looked at her. He could have sworn he saw color rippling through her cheeks and her arms looked like they were about to rise again to cover her exposed endowments in embarrassment. Strangely, her pinkish nipples looked hard.

A devilish smile crossed Eric’s mouth, causing the half naked Charlotte to twitch, even more so when she saw him lower his head down to chest level and kissing her left nipple. She continued to stand there as he began to lick, fondle, trace and suck at the pert and excited ends, taking it in fully in his mouth and pressing his head into her soft tits, pulling out again to stretch it out and letting go. His hand joined the fray on her other breast and he soon found them extremely hard, coupled by an occasional squeak from his new fuck toy, a shiver that bolted through her body and heavy breaths escaping from her mouth.

By the time he was reaching behind her to unzip her skirt, her body was already bent backwards while leaning in a forward position, unconsciously offering her luscious tits to him to suck all he wants. Letting the piece of clothing to drop down to her calves, he moved that hand to rub against her ass, down her thighs, in between her legs and began rubbing through the fabric of her panties of her increasingly wet secret spot. Although he could not see with his face buried in her endowments, he could feel the juices soiling through her undies, became adventurous, and allowed his hand to slip under her panties to finger her pussy in a slow pace. Charlotte let out a yelp, her whole body heaving and tensing from the sudden touch, easing after a few moments of fondling into a slow grinding squirm. Her arms still had not moved anywhere, her hands seemed to tremble and twitch with each change of pace on either her tits or her pussy. As for how she was doing up top, she was watching Eric maul her breasts, the fire in her eyes switching into a mode of stillness.

Without letting up, he pushed her against a pillar in the center of the room, right next to the mirror by the wall. Letting go of his attack on her tits, he focused on his hand performing the squelching noises that resounded in the room, looking at her face as he thrusted his fingers in and out of her hole. The kind of look she had now seemed blank but the small moans escaping her lips made her look otherwise. She seemed to actually be enjoying his fingering, letting him to his devices over her body which she had given to him moments earlier. When he looked closer, she looked back, eyebrows drooping to let him know of the sense of pleasure she was going through in being used by him, and that she was waiting for whatever he had planned.

Eric could not stand the excitement any longer and opened up his mouth again, knowing that Charlotte could do nothing to stop him, “I want to fuck you now! Be a good little fuck toy and let me cum into your pussy.”
She let out a fevered sigh, trembling as she managed to speak, perhaps close to begging, in an ecstatic pitch, “Fuck me. Put your cock into my pussy!”

Sliding himself down to his knees, he hooked his hands under the sides of her undies and forcefully pulled them down her legs and straight off her with a tight yank. He let the piece of lingerie fly and disappear into the washbasin by the mirror while he looked on a much anticipated discovery. Charlotte’s beautiful fuck hole was certainly ready, incredibly wet from her juices and seemed to pulsate as he breathed warm air onto it. Her pelvis rocked back and forth as she squirmed some more, invitingly enticing Eric to put his face closer for a nice long taste, licking, sucking and kissing it vigorously, feeding on her sweet nectar with force. She let out a squeal, bucking her waist and twitching from the wet sensation that was eating her sex. She could not help but place her palms flat on the wall to support herself and rock her head back with each wave of pleasure that struck home.

Looking up after his brief attack of her womanhood, he could see her looking back down at him, the look she had while they were half way through even more intense. Standing straight up, he loosened his pants and pulled them off along with his boxers, leaving him in all his glory armed with a manly weapon, fully erect and pulsating in anticipation for the dirty deed. Charlotte flushed from the sight of his straining cock and Eric could see that she slowly opened up her inner thighs slightly, presenting her swollen dripping pussy to be taken at any time he wished. He wasted little time in thought, held out both hands to grab her forearms and raised them above her head, pinning them to the pillar with a strong arm. He wanted to remind her that he was in control here, and she understood immediately by not resisting. Pressing her back against the pillar, she watched him step nearer to her with his rock hard member floating so close to her pussy.

With his free hand, he placed it on her hips and guided his cock to the lips, before slowly pushing himself in. He let loose a grunt as the tightness of her depths felt so heavenly that he felt like he could cum almost immediately. She let out a long audible moan as he easily shoved inch after inch into her, tilting her head back until he was deep to the base. His engulfed cock throbbed and twitched inside her, lingering as their juices mixed to form lubricating substance for easy movement. After a moment of enjoying the moment of having his cock inside the she devil, he started to move in a leisurely pace, pushing and pulling his hips back and forth and letting his cock drive her from tip to base. Eric snuck a peek at her face, and she was in bated breath as she was looking down at the steaming hot member that was fucking her pussy. It was excruciating pleasure to see her like this, all the more pleasurable for him to feel the incredible sensations that rammed through his body with each thrust.

So good that it was to feel it now, he picked up his pace, rocking his hips back and forth harder and faster, slapping his balls against her. He slammed into her love hole, shoving his cock as far as it could go. Grunting with gritted teeth with each thrust, he began to completely forget about his initial fear of her, replaced by a carnal desire so indescribable that he thought he might go mad with ecstasy. Charlotte was moaning really loudly now, tits bouncing around wildly, her body positioned in such a way that she would only be able to squirm or knock back at him. She did not do either form of action, remaining stiff with her legs spread open and her arms pinned over her head, allowing him the delight of using her for his amusement and a catalyst to sexual satisfaction. It was a satisfaction that he was close to gaining today, and perhaps for every other day that he was to see her afterwards.

He lifted her left leg with his free hand, snaked it over to grip onto her breast, changing the angle of penetration into his little demoness of a fuck toy and continued his assault. Fresh forms of pleasure ripped through them both, and their gasping, moaning and groaning grew louder. All sense of reason went out the window, and there was only them and the pleasure they could both feel. Only after a few seconds of action did Charlotte suddenly let out a long, loud cry that echoed throughout the changing room, her light muscles bunched and tightened, her head tilted as far back as she could and her body twisted briefly into a position of strain. Eric could feel a sudden excess of fluids with each thrust, and let out a grin as he realized that she had just reached her orgasm. It was a great excitement to see her body in such a sexy position, her eyes closed and mouth open to let loose her sense of release in the form of a silky smooth voice. He did not stop his thrusting, his cock still ramming into her with all his might and he waited to watch her reaction. True enough, her breathing quickened almost immediately and before long she let out another loud cry, visibly trembling now as she distorted her body again, twisting over twice as she reached another earth shaking orgasm, squeezing her pussy as even more of her juices flooded out of her. There was enough for it to be dripping out onto the floor, and enough for it to be splashed around each time Eric thrusted into her.

Her second time was when he was reaching his limit. The building of pressure in his balls had been steady but watching her cum like that did wonders to quicken it. He was ready to explode at any moment, but he held on with everything he had got, with every muscle that he could use to hold back the torrent of fluids that threatened to violently escape without warning. Charlotte, hanging semi loosely in recovery from her double orgasm, weakly turned her head to look with ecstatic eyes at the strain Eric was imposing on himself and knew what was about to happen. She waited for it, a sense of eagerness flooding over her face as the excitement in her eyes gave away what both her body and mind now craved for.

With a grunt and a final thrust into her, gripping tightly onto her breast and squeezing her trapped hands, he let everything loose as he reached his climax. With each hot load of his cum that he sent blazing into the depths of her pussy, Charlotte let out moan after moan while looking straight at him. She clearly looked like she was enjoying every blast of seed, feeling the wave of jizz fill her cunt, burning her very soul in a pleasurable manner. Eric held on as he deposited even more into her, making sure that every drop added to the growing collection within her by giving her a few more quick, sharp thrusts. By the time he had strained his balls to finish the job, he was in heavenly bliss with heavy breaths, and from the look in Charlotte’s eyes, he knew she was too.

Basking in the afterglow, he slowly began pulling out of her slowly. The moment his throbbing cock popped out of her love hole, his cum began to ooze out of her well used pussy, sliding down her thighs, down to her feet, a long string of the hot liquid dripping onto the floor like snow white honey. She looked down at the drop marks of human juices on the floor, flushed from the experience that she had never would have thought of doing, but now found great pleasure in doing it. She looked back up at Eric and gave him a smile that he never hope to ever see, a sweet sin pursed within them to let him know that she liked what she had felt, what she seen and what she expected to see and feel in the near future. All the more convincing the look was that the fringe over her eye added to the effect, giving him the exciting impression of a naughty girl who had just done something bad.

“You cum so much…” She whispered in ecstasy.

He released his grip off her hands and let them drop loosely to her sides, and then watched her slide down the pillar into a squat where she proceeded to begin licking him clean and tasting his cock. Both his body and member twitched as she got herself busy with excess cum that had escaped from being shot into her.

It was only then did he realize that he was still hard. Maybe it was Charlotte’s cleaning that got him up again but his dirty little mind raced with one too many plans to see through. He wondered if it was in her mind to allow him to do what he wanted to do next.

Without thinking about it any more, Eric spoke up with confidence, “Hold still, girl. I want to fuck your mouth next.”

She did not seem to be willing to complain, only looking up at him while hovering over his revived stick. No look of surprise or resistance this time, only the same smile that she had given him earlier. She moved to relax herself by the pillar, legs squatted as comfortably as she was able and hands on her knees. She had left her legs spread apart to make room for Eric to position himself well, warm semen still dripping out of her. Once he knew she was ready, her mouth slightly parted to indicate a hungry lust of anticipation; he reached his hands to hold onto her head for support and placed his cock on her lips. She kept looking up at him as he began to plunge his cock into her waiting mouth, a tremendous suction sending him to tremble with pleasured tremors. She let out a moan as the thick cock reached into her orifice and Eric could feel her tongue teasing the tip and underside in continued swirling motions. Forcing out a breath of air as he reached the end, her mouth was now straight down the base of his cock, still looking up to him and breathing semi-rapidly through her nose. An erotic sight to him as a deep rooted fetish, he was, however, sure that seeing that she enjoyed his dick in her mouth was much more excitable. Just like before, he began a pace, rhythmically rocking his hips back and forth to thrust in and out of this new love hole, taking much delight in hearing and feeling her moaning.

The texture was rough at first and he had to make an effort to force his cock into her throat before it became much easier. The precum he was giving off almost instantly helped a lot when it worked with her saliva and seen enough, he was fucking her mouth like he would a cunt. There was no gagging, only a constant suction and moaning as she let him ram his cock into her face over and over again. He made it a point to switch directions like he did before, predominantly forcefully downwards against her tongue which she used extremely well. The pleasure he was experience was new, as this was something that he not been able to do before, and he savored every ripple of it with each thrust with renewed vigor and tenacity.

His grip on her head tightened as he let out a groan, “Good lord! Your mouth feels so good…”

He had to admit that that there was little to complain about when doing this. He was slamming his cock into the mouth of a beautiful woman squatted by a pillar, who he had just came hard into her pussy, generally letting him do whatever he wanted to her without resisting. The better part was that they both enjoyed it. He was pretty convinced that Charlotte really liked to be used in such a way, to be pinned down and be taken in any way her man wished. He was also pretty convinced that he liked being that kind of man with her.

He began to knock harder and harder, pulling her head inwards to meet with his thrusts. He could hear her moaning increasing in pitch and speed, all the more inviting for him to continue ravaging her pretty face. It was not long before he felt the surge begin once again, the pleasure more powerful that he had imagined, and went on to ram at the speed of lighting. His balls began to collect the last remaining juices of the day, readying itself for a magnificent re-entry. Again he held on, wanting to increase the power as far as he could go in his last blaze of glory. Charlotte had felt his need by the pleasured grunting he was giving off and was not furiously licking his cock inside her mouth, the same amount of anticipation washing over her the first time. She looked up at him and their needy eyes met, their desires connecting a final circuit.

Eric was ripped apart by the orgasm that lashed against him with so much power, his knees threatened to buckle. The first spurt of cum ejected with a slam to her face, and as if by instinct, he instantly readied himself to fire the second load by pulling slightly outward and slamming in again to send home the honey. He did so over and over again, with Charlotte clasping her mouth over his cock, sucking out every last straps of juice that he had and accepting load after load sliding down her throat in slow fevered gulps. Her eyes closed lightly as she seemed to savor the taste of the fresh jizz on her tongue, taking everything that Eric was gladly giving to her. When he had made sure that all he had was completely drained, he had his back arched and his cock buried deep inside her mouth, thrusting lightly as she continued to feast. Her tongue flicked and licked him clean inside and out, not letting her suction go, letting him drive deeply and pulling out slowly for the last of his cum to dribble into her mouth.

His shrinking cock popped out of her Charlotte’s mouth, not even a stray strand of semen left to trickle out of him. She did allow a small amount drip out of her as she opened her mouth in a heavy sigh, traces of the white sticky juice still sloshing around her tongue, least for Eric to see the highly stimulating sight of cum inside a woman’s mouth. She quickly caught the drip with one finger and deposited it back into its original destination, swallowed a few times more, let out a naughty giggle and gave that naughty smile back up at him.

The dirty deed was done, twice to good measure and both were satiated with their desires, for now at least. Eric saw her in a new light, no longer the scary anti social woman he first saw her to be, even as he looked down at her here in the men’s changing rooms. He liked her more now for some reason. Maybe it was because of their surprisingly equivalent dark secrets that brought him closer to her, and from the look of happy fulfillment on her face, he was pretty sure that she felt the same way for him.

From today onwards, Charlotte’s going to be my fuck toy… He let himself think as he helped her wobble to her feet. Maybe winning that match wasn’t so bad after all…

“Any more?” She let out her first ever purr in his presence, still lost in ecstatic satisfaction.
“No more tonight.” He responded while puller her close to him.
She gave him a pout but freshened up again to a lost smile as she stared into his eyes.
“What is it?” He asked.
“I know you watch me.” She spoke to him sweetly. “You sitting down by bench. Not moving.”

She noticed…?

“First time I see, I know but not realize.” She continued in her simply broken English. “When fight me on piste, and you defeat me, I angry at you and myself… until I remember you watch me.”
Eric nodded as he continued to listen to her tell him what she wanted to say.
“So I came, ask for advice and honor tradition. I want leave soon after, but we fucked. When we made love, I realize how I like man sitting by bench…” She then gave him the familiar devilish grin. “Take care of me, Eric. You know I like be your fuck toy.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make real damn sure to take care of you.” He returned the grin.
18 comments

anonymous readerReport

2011-03-19 03:05:14
Hey she was a good fighter with her sword, but to countfident to win, so since she lost, the match she felt like a looser, but she got what she wanted to be fuck and her desire came out of her, know she's not the icy qween any more she got liberated by her Master as a fuck toy to please him now?

anonymous readerReport

2010-11-14 14:17:06
Not a bad story, but less discussion of the sword play and a bit more on the fucking would have been good.

@ the anonymous twat 2008-06-21 15:01:39. Dumb fuck, don't you know there are HAMBURGERS & BEEFBURGERS.

Anonymous readerReport

2010-06-15 17:33:20
actually...my first language is french, and pardon is "excuse me". You at least got merci right. Sorry is "Je m'excuse" by the way.

Anonymous readerReport

2009-04-19 18:36:42
Consider this a present: I trimmed your 3rd paragraf by almost 40% -- compare them and learn.

Her beauty also drew many eyes. She was perfectly shaped, with a pert round ass and luscious D-cup breasts packed underneath her fencing jacket. Eric had seen her before the match and she was as lovely as a fashion model, with smooth skin, soft [WHAT COLOR?] curls that flowed past her shoulders, and blue eyes burning with an intensity that could melt steel. For a decent-looking but not gorgeous guy like Eric, she would be a dream come true if not for her attitude toward the guys here. He couldn’t blame her for refusing to chat with them, though. They would try in vain to get her to talk to them, eat with them, or sleep with them. Normally she would teach them a lesson on the piste, the one and only undefeated anti-social[DO WE REALLY NEED THIS ADJECTIVE HERE? WE KNOW THAT SHE’S ICY, AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HER WINS.] female of their club and various others around France and England.

Anonymous readerReport

2009-04-19 18:19:48
It's pathologically, irritatingly long. You could easily trim 50% of this, plus you'd have a much better story -- pacing is an essential ingredient in any piece, erotic or not, and the excruciatingly over-elaborated details in this one make it almost unreadable (which is a pity because if you knew how to pace your work, you'd be one of the better writers on the site -- clean prose, interesting ideas, erotic details).

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