My Forbidden Night with the Queen of Tuor: Unlocking the Private Locker
Deep in my private locker, this one’s buried deepest. The thrill hits hard—sharing what no one knows. That night after the arena win in Tuor. Sweat still dripping in the locker room shower. Door creaks open. Her silhouette slips in. The queen. Naked, cock swinging free, I freeze. ‘Majesty,’ I mutter, heart pounding. She eyes me hungry. ‘Came to congratulate you.’ Skin prickles. No protocol here. Raw want. I warn her—walls have ears. ‘Come to the inn disguised. As a servant.’ She shivers. Leaves. Adrenaline surges. Locker cracking open.
Two days later. Bedtime at Gamiel’s White Tarn Inn. Knock—soft, sneaky. Not Gamiel’s style. Grab my stick. Open. It’s her. Servant rags drop. Royal negligee underneath. Slides into my sheets. Heart races. I join. Lips on her pear-shaped tits. Suck nipples hard. Tongue flicks. She moans low. Scent rises—wet, ready. Hands dive south. Hit the barrier. Chastity belt. Locked tight. ‘How?’ I groan. ‘Figured you’d know locks. With our thief.’ Grin. Fetch Gamiel.
The Locker Room Surprise
Gamiel smirks in her room. ‘Queen wants comfort.’ Her tools out. Back to my bed. Queen frowns. ‘She keeps secrets.’ Gamiel kneels. Fingers work the lock. Grips my cock too—strokes firm. Clicks. Belt off. Queen sighs relief. Pussy exposed, glistening. ‘Reward her,’ I say. Queen spreads wide. Gamiel dives in. Tongue laps honey. Queen writhes. Now her on me—lips wrap my shaft. Sucks deep. Balls tighten. Gamiel slurps queen’s clit. Room spins with moans.
Climax in the Shadows
Queen pulls me up. ‘Fuck me now.’ Cock throbs, edges explosion. Slide into her scorching slit. Tight, slick. Thrust hard. Hips slam. She claws sheets. Climbs fast—screams muffled. I unload. Seed floods deep. Possible heirs planted. Collapse beside her. Gamiel pouts—no cream for her. Queen offers pussy. Gamiel laps my cum-mixed juices. I recover. Dive in. Push aside thick bush. Tongue on folds. Salty-sweet mess. Lick her core. Tiny clit flag—quick flick. All worship her royal hole.
Hours of flesh frenzy. Lips, tongues, cocks entangled. Gomorrah bliss. Queen gasps, peaks again. I pound Gamiel next. Her thief’s grip milks me dry. Sweat-soaked tangle. Finally, sated. She whispers future meets. ‘If no heirs yet.’ Risky—cousin queen too. But that length promise. Boy-makers deep. Escort her out secret passage. Locker snaps shut. Light head. Secret shared now. Yours alone. Pulse still echoes.
