Chapter 1
Arthur’s Story
Guinevere, my love, my soul mate... My absolute pain in the arse. They say behind every great man there is an even greater woman... Yup, whoever said that was obviously in his wife’s bad book too. I mean, I’m never out of Guinevere’s bad book. She may as well be writing a fucking novel. It must have a contents page that reads like a parts manual for one of those fancy new trebuchets.
You would think being King would mean that I had the power to do what you want, when I want. If I wanted to have a dump in peace, then I should be able to ferment in the smell. But no, as soon as the turd hits the moat water, I’m up and out, making sure not to use her hand towel.
Guinevere wears the crown. She might lend it to me while walking around Cameltoe town. But in the castle... She’s the boss.
Still I crave for Guinevere.
I’m currently lying on the bed, naked like a turkey waiting to be basted. I had both beards trimmed and my best crown tilted to left, just as she likes it. The royal standard was flying full mast. His majesty was in residence and ready to rock his kingdom. Wearing a smile I watched the bed drapes part as the naked Guinevere knelt on to the mink bedspread. As she reached over me her tits swung like a heifer’s udders. Like a dog waiting to be patted, I arched my neck allowing my eyes to follow the woman I doted. “It’s good to know we still have it, my love?”
“What on earth are you on about, Arty?”
“I’m ready to pillage your pussy.” My heart thumped away like a March hare while Guinevere straddled my thighs. I reached down and held my stiff cock, brushing it against her tight curls. “Open the gates, or no mercy will be given.”
Guinevere reached under her pillow and pulled out her night robe from under her pillow. “Come on, put Excalibur away.”
“Why? It’s been so long I’m not sure the crown jewels still work.”
“I’m trying to get ready for the jester... but I can’t find my special knickers.”
That hurt. I know Guinevere hates that jester. He is about as funny as standing in dog muck. The knob can’t even juggle... I mean, what kind of bloody Jester can’t juggle?
Still, the jester was the best on offer. Never mind invading Saxons or rampaging Vikings, I can deal with them. No, the worst thing about no longer being under Roman occupation is the lack of entertainment. The latin fuckers took their gladiators, chariot racing and orgies back to Rome.
I suppose that’s why people are calling it the Dark Ages.
So with my cock in hand, I began to wank myself while I watched my wife get ready for the hapless jester. “Just bend over for me and let me see your drains.”
“Drains... what a horrible expression.”
“Sorry, Merlin taught me that.”
“You’re spending too much time with Merlin, he’s nothing but a perverted old man.”
“He’s not that old, he’s just ravaged by alcohol.” I began to really squeeze my cock as Guinevere bent over for me. She sighed as she spread legs and leant over the sideboard. My eyesight is not what it once was, so I shuffled to the end of the bed while she reached around and parted her fleshy arse cheeks.
“Don’t touch me, Arty. I’ve not been washed.”
Guinevere was right, I could smell her musty wilds.”As if that would bother me.” Although not completely lying, she was rather pungent. Despite this, I rattled myself silly. Her brown cherry puckered up, and I could see the salmon pink of her pussy.
Nearing an orgasmic cliff, my eyes squinted like a constipated dog.“Right, I’m tipping my curd on your behind.”
“No, wait.”
To my pleasant surprise Guinevere spun on her heels then dropped to her haunches. At point blank range I blasted her in the face with two sacks of royal cum. My love juice crisscrossed her beauty like a spider’s web. I shook my head while wearing a wry smile. “You’re amazing, Guin... but it’s so not like you.”
“Merlin told me it will give me eternal beauty.”
“Merlin should practice what he preaches, then. He has a face like a worn out sock.”
Guinevere stood up and gazed into the mirror. She began rubbing my cum into her cheeks. “You should offer him your services.”
“People would start talking.... Although I could bottle him some, though.”
“He tried to convince me to try his first... I’m telling you, he is a dirty old man.”
“He’s misunderstood, that’s all.”
“If he wasn’t such a fine sorcerer, I’d suggest you seek the magic of another druid... one a little less creepy.”
I was fond of Merlin and hearing Guinevere’s distaste from my friend hurt. “He’s my drinking buddy though. We are two of the same soul.”
It’s true. Merlin and I had grown up together. I admit he looks older than my granddad, but he always looked the same. Back in school, parents used to think he was paedophile knocking around school kids all the time... but he was the same age. So he tells me. Apparently his prepubescent beard was a result of his supernatural ability, a physical consequence of the strain that the magic puts on his body.
Merlin is such a nice guy too. He loves and cares about me. So much so, he wanted to vet Guinevere before I slept with her. He told me if he died or caught a disease from her, then she was obviously no good for me... Guinevere said no to the idea.

The hearty laughter that echoed around the cavernous court suddenly stopped as the trumpeted anthem announced our arrival. Guinevere and I walked into the room to applause before we sat at the round table with my loyal knights and trusted advisors.
As always, I sat opposite Lancelot. We’re close as brothers, but like all siblings we have our rough patches. This was one of the more testing ones. I nodded in acknowledgment. “Evening, Lance”
“Good Day, my Liege.”
You can always tell when Lancelot is sucking up. He stops calling me Arty, and reverts to my title. “Stop with the cock sucking, Lance.”
“If you say so.”
There is no real problem with Lancelot, he is a fine man, and a great warrior. But I’m a jealous fool. His face could be chiselled by God’s very own hands. The man fears no one, and has killed more men that the plague. Yet the same man is so soft, he would jump from his horse to help an elderly lady to her front door.
My problem is with Guinevere. She literally creams herself every time she’s in the same room as Lancelot. I wish she saw me in the same light as him, but I’m not even worthy to be Lancelot’s shadow. It’s not just Guinevere, even I, when we’re on campaign together... feel myself being lured by his all consuming charm. There was one time when we were imprisoned by the Normans and shared the same dungeon... Actually we won’t go in to that.
Anyway, back to my story. I know Guinevere well, and I know she would jump at the chance to ride Lancelot until he buckled. The fact that within minutes of arriving at the table the pair was exchanging flirtations not seen since Adam showed Eve his pet snake, added to my resentment towards Lancelot. I leaned over and whispered in Guinevere’s ear. “Concentrate on the jester you were so keen to see.”
“I would if he didn’t keep dropping his balls.”
“It’s not his balls that I’m worried about.”
“Oh, Arthur, please. Stop it with the jealousy.”
In need of a distraction I glanced about the room to find Merlin. However he was already wasted, and snored with the dogs in front of the huge fire. I raised my goblet of ale and finished it one... It was going to be a long night.