Page 8 of The Blacksmith in My Tavern: Tales of Bleakness

I think she has forgotten I am attached to the cock she is handling. Her other hand goes to the buttons on my pants like she is seeking greater access.

It’s like she has ten sets of hands; every time I capture one, the other is up to some mischief. The necessity of attempting to peel her off before I embarrass myself seems to amplify the sensations. The feel of her breasts is imprinted on the palms of my hand. Her riveted expression and her warm fingers wrapped around my length all conspire against my limited control.

I come.

I come in my fucking pants and all over her hand.

“Oh,” she says, grinning. “My cleavage game is on point.”

I choke back my laughter, still pulsing cum. I could point out that it is the whole of her that is on point, and not only her tits, but I don’t want to further encourage her. This has already taken a wild turn. She is not even upset. It’s like my complete lack of control is a source of personal pride for her.

“No!” I grab her wrist too late as she shoves my cum-soaked fingers into her mouth. “Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you, lass?! Spit it out!”

She stares me in the eyes and swallows with a smirk.

I sigh heavily, trying to revive my post-climax wits. Now I have taken her sticky hand away, I don’t know what the fuck to do with it.

“It’s only cum,” she says. “But I agree. Next time, I will take you in my mouth so I don’t miss a drop.”

My dick, hanging half out of my pants, flexes with savage interest.

Her eyes drop. “Which might be sooner rather than later.”

I scowl at her, snag the rag she uses to wipe the tables from where it is tucked in her apron and clean up her hand. “Bad girl. You do not go around sucking men’s cocks… or putting your hand on them. What were you thinking? I’m old enough to be your father!”

“So if you were younger, it would be fine for me to suck your cock?” she goads.

“What? Yes. No!” I shove my cock back into my pants… Try to. It is hard as stone and having none of it…. And there is a fucking wet patch.

“Fine. I will only suck younger cocks.” She turns and flounces off.

The fuck!

I stare after her, pissed and aroused in equal measure, wondering if I lost or won that argument.

Nope, I lost—no point in deluding myself.

The snow is coming down heavier, settling on my clothes. As I watch her slip inside the tavern, my greatest source of disappointment is that I didn’t even get her off.

Betsy

I can’t believe he came that quickly. All I did was put my hand on his cock. I barely stroked it more than a couple of times.

He is weakening. He must be.

And he is delusional if he thinks I will walk away. Not a chance. I know when I see a good thing, and Heath is the best of men.

“You look a bit flushed,” Ada says as I slip into the tavern.

“I just bumped into a certain blacksmith,” I say, smirking.

Her lips form a little ‘O’.

“Nothing happened,” I lie, still buzzing from the encounter. I’m definitely not going to mention that Heath came in his pants. I don’t doubt he’s sneaking out the back and high-tailing it home. He was hard again, struggling to put his cock back in his pants… “I need to pop and get something from my room.”

“No problem,” she says, smiling. It’s quiet tonight, and only a few patrons are supping beer or eating supper, so I don’t feel bad as I take the stairs two at a time and rush into my room.

The door rattles into the jamb, and I lean back against the wooden surface. My fingers are still a little sticky. I groan, cupping my breasts, putting my hands right wherehiswere,and squeezing together. He barely brushed his thumbs over mynipples, and they still tingle from that light touch. Goddess, the look on his face when he touched me…

---