He wore a brown tunic, stained with rust and blood from the many battles they had fought side by side. His red hair lay around his head, and his beard...and moustache were still wet from the ale he had consumed prior to his fitful slumber. Sir D. Anger quietly approached the husky man and woke him. “Tristian come with me. Bring what you need for travel and accompany me to the edge of the encampment.” He said softly. Tristian looked at his commander and comrade in a stupefied stare. “No questions. Leaning on your hands you bend over me. Bending your neck you give me a kiss, and then slide your member slowly inside of me. I groan your name as you start slowly thrusting into me at first with long slow deep strokes but gradually increasing the rhythm, making me moan louder and louder. You bury your face in my hair, kissing my neck. I get wetter and wetter. I start lifting my ass up to meet your thrusts. Flexing my pelvic muscles to grip you tighter inside of me “Oh fuck, thats so good" I. More

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