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The two armored men faced each other on the grassy field, sizing up each other through the narrow eyeslots of their great helms.
“Sir Roger, stand you ready?”
“Aye.”
The Marshal looked to the other man.
“Lord Ivan, stand you ready?”
“Ready.”
“Then upon your honor, lay on!”
The two advanced towards each other, bringing their shields up to guard position and cocking their sword arms, ready to strike. Ivan made the first move, aiming at Roger’s sword arm. Roger blocked it and counterattacked. They traded blows until one precise swing dealt a killing strike leaving Ivan sprawled on the grass.
“Victory to Sir Roger!”
Roger set aside his taped-up wooden sword, reached down and helped his defeated opponent to his feet. They exited the field as the next two combatants entered.
I thought they were mismatched from the start, so not an unexpected outcome. I used to sword fight, but I’ve gotten slower since passing 50 years old and can’t keep up with the younger ones in our medieval club. Then I noticed a few spectators in ‘mundane’ clothes, tee shirts and jeans type of stuff. One woman was making a fuss over the armored men, trying to hug them and even trying to get onto the roped-off fighting field before being stopped by one of our club’s officials. I figured that I could help by distracting them. That the women were not bad looking and from what I could tell, braless, helped me make that decision.
“Greetings good people, any questions I might answer for thee?”
I was immediately peppered with questions, leaving me little time to answer.
“Is the armor real?” (Yes.)
“How do they know who wins?” (honor system.)
“Why do the swords look like taped up sticks?” (Because they are.)
“How do they use the bathroom when in armor?” (Carefully.)
“Are women allowed to sword fight?” (Yes.)
“What do you wear under the armor?” (Usually padding.)
“Is this like renaissance fairs?” (No we do this for our own fun.)
“Is it true that nobody wore underwear back then?” (Uh…)
“Why do you all do this, is it a religious thing or just a hobby?” (…)
“Do you sword fight?”
“Why do they…”
I couldn’t help myself, I started laughing, interrupting the flow of questions. “Slow down, please. Our hobby might seem strange at first, but we try to be as accurate as we can to the time period of the middle ages and renaissance. Roughly the years 500 to 1600. For the rest of your questions, let me take you to our Chatelaine at the information table.”
“What’s a Chatelaine?”
“Tis what we call our information person.”
I led them around the outside of the tournament field, past the many brightly colored shade covers, mostly homemade, with medieval-looking tables and chairs where members of our club would watch the fighting, wait their turns to fight, play board games or practice other crafts. One young lady had an Irish lap harp, playing and singing an old folk melody. We arrived at the corner of the Royal Pavilion, where the info table was set. They were impressed that I made them pause while I bowed to the Thrones in passing, and they joined in, giggling. I left them with my dark-haired friend Baroness Lystrata be Bhoun. I knew she’d take care of them, she’d helped me out a few times and we had sometimes shared a deep kiss, especially that one time when she sent me off to a feast at one of our events.
I guess I should explain that in our club, we get to choose our names and backgrounds, within reason. But not titles of nobility, it’s the club that bestows titles as awards for outstanding skill in arts, crafts or research, or for service to the club like running an event or a territory, or for winning the annual crown tournament. For example I’m Lord Alan McFarland of the Far Fens, which is nothing at all like my everyday name, and I got the ‘Lord’ part for running a couple events and serving as a marshal or referee for tournaments. My friend got ‘Baroness’ for administering one of the club’s areas for several years, running a bunch of tournaments, skill at costuming and fiber arts, and for other volunteer work. Also her real name isn’t Lystrata, it’s something very ordinary like Donna or Debbie. We usually have our tournaments in public parks, so we can’t exclude non-members or ‘mundanes’ from wandering around. These particular ‘mundanes’ seemed to be from some sort of camping organization since their tee shirts had a stylized cabin logo and “Indulgence Meadows” written in a circle around it. I didn’t think anything more about it and went back to watching the tournament and chatting with other friends.
A couple days later I got a phone call from Lystrata, asking if I could help out with a presentation at the camp that those people belonged to.
“What’s the presentation about and where is it? gebze escort Is it a full demonstration with fighters and crafts?”
“Indulgence Meadows camp, it’s near where the tournament was last weekend. For some reason they want to know about medieval clothing and specifically about underwear. So it’ll be the two of us explaining our garb.”
“Underwear? Why underwear, and why isn’t your husband doing this with you?”
“Baron Charles is out of town on the date they requested. And I think the underwear part is because, well, they’re a clothing optional camp.” I could hear her give a little snorting giggle.
“Clothing optional? Ookaay… uh, I think I can handle that. Even though it might be distracting, I did skinny dip a few times in my younger days. We’re just doing a presentation, right?”
“Right, just a presentation.” She mentioned a date later that month. I checked my calendar.
“You’re in luck, my wife is away then, too. I’ll get my gear together and dust off my old armor. I remember one of them asked what was worn under the armor. Hey they say to picture your audience naked to prevent stage fright, so I guess we won’t have to imagine.”
She laughed at that. “Thanks Alan, say hi to Lady Esther. Bye.”
Early on the morning of the presentation, Lystrata showed up at my door and greeted me with a kiss and hug. Indulgence Meadows camp was past my side of the county, but she lived way on the other side in the opposite direction, so we had decided to carpool. She was already wearing her medieval outfit, but I had everyday clothes over my medieval underwear. I find it difficult to drive in garb, very difficult in armor and never, ever while wearing a sword. When we arrived at Indulgence Meadows camp, Lystrata went into the office to check in. A moment later a nude man came out to direct me to a parking spot near what looked to be a recreation hall. I had finished changing from tee shirt and pants into tunic and chain maille before the Baroness showed up with a nude woman about our age who was some sort of administrator of the camp. She was introduced as Cathy and was entranced that I gallantly kissed her hand while I tried not to stare. She even blushed slightly in a charming way. I quickly averted my gaze so I wouldn’t have a reaction that might get me kicked out of the camp. I’ve heard that nudists don’t want random erections at their establishments. Cathy was a bit slimmer than my chubby companion, but she was still a little plump and curvy, just the way I liked, with bobbed light brown hair, full breasts with a little bit of sag, and cute hazel eyes hidden behind eyeglasses. I was definitely attracted.
In the rec room, there were a couple of tables at the front and several chairs in rows. A few nude people were already seated and waiting for us. A few more trickled in until there were about 30 or more people by the time we were supposed to start. They were mostly nude, but some wore shorts or sarongs and two or three were bottomless in tee shirts. I set my old, somewhat dented great helm on one of the tables.
“Today we have a special treat for our morning presentation session.” Cathy introduced us. “These two fine people belong to a club that re-enacts medieval times. They have a hobby of making and wearing historical clothes and will show us the way people dressed in the middle ages.”
There was a smattering of applause and I stepped forward. “My lords, ladies and gentle folk. I present to you her excellency, the Baroness Lystrata de Bhoun, our kingdom Chatelaine or information officer.”
She bowed and took charge of the presentation. “I present to you Lord Alan McFarland of the Far Fens, a warrior of our kingdom. Today we are dressed in the fashion of the late thirteenth century. Some of the names of the clothes will be very different from their modern counterparts. If you want us to explain further, there will be time for questions later.
“I’m dressed in my casual working clothes, not my fancier court clothing which would have a much more elaborate headdress, finer cloth and more embroidery. Those tall, pointed headpieces you see in illustrations were called hennins and were for formal occasions. The hat I’m wearing now is called a chaperon and is a kind of hood that is twisted into a hat for warm days. If it were cooler out, I’d wear it as a hood.”
She pulled off her turban-like hat and unfolded it to show it was a hood with a wraparound cape section to cover the shoulders and a long cloth tail at the back of the top. “This long tail is called a liripipe and could be tied into fashionable knots or padded to stand out. Alan.” She gestured at me.
“Good morrow everyone. As I’m dressed for battle I’ve removed my great helm and bared my right hand to show that I come in peace. It would be rude to enter someone else’s gümüşhane escort castle ready for combat. Nowadays we wave at each other, but that custom started as a way to show that you weren’t holding a weapon.” I waved at the audience, removed the other glove and tossed both onto the nearby table. “My head is covered by a chain maille hood that’s called a coif. If I were riding into battle or joust, I’d have my great helm, like this one, over it.” I tapped on the top of my barrel helm before pulling off the armor coif. “Under the armor is a sturdy cloth fitted cap that’s also confusingly called a coif. It keeps the chain maille from catching on my hair and pads my head some.” The pieces also went on the table. I nodded to the Baroness.
“For the main part of my clothes,” She took over, “I’m wearing a kirtle or gown under a sideless surcoat. The priests thought this style scandalous because it revealed the tighter fitting kirtle beneath it. They called the openings the windows of hell.”
“But the lads all say they’re the windows of heaven.” I interjected and got a laugh from our audience.
“Under the surcoat,” Lystrata grinned and continued after my interruption, “is the kirtle with a belt to hang pouches or other items on. It’s more fitted and with side laces to adjust the fit.” She pulled off her dark blue surcoat and laid it on the table. After pirouetting to show how her gray kirtle fit, she set her belt aside, undid the scarlet lacing on the sides of the kirtle and pulled it off over her head. “This leaves me in my thin linen shift, considered to be part of my underwear.” It was thin enough that it was obvious she was braless. She gestured to me and stepped back.
“Now comes the unglamorous part of being a warrior, getting out of my chain maille shirt or hauberk. Especially since I don’t have a squire handy.” I had already removed my sword belt, so I bent forward and tugged and wriggled until the armor slid off me onto the floor. “This leaves me in my parti-color tunic, not that it’s for parties, but that each half is a different color, for me yellow and blue. My hose are a different color for each leg. This was very fashionable in those times.” The tunic came off and I put it and the armor on the table. “This leaves me in my justacorps or linen undershirt, braies or underpants, and tall hose, essentially my underwear.”
The Baroness stepped forward again. “Under my shift I’ve got hose also, but only knee high, not full leg length like men’s hose, and knickers similar to bloomers.” She kicked off her clogs and slipped out of her shift, leaving her heavy breasts bare. Her nipples were fully erect. I tried not to be startled, I had thought she was going to stop at showing her shift. She pointed to her garments as she named them. “The hose are tied or gartered just below the knee. The bloomers are held at the waist with a drawstring. There’s an overlapping opening at the crotch so, if I’m very careful, I can pee without getting undressed. It’s a myth that women back then went without underpants. Lower class women often went without bloomers, but the nobility had the fashion of dressing ‘a la turca’ or with underpants like Turkish women.” While she was saying this, she rolled off her hose and removed her bloomers. Holding them up, she demonstrated how the crotch overlap worked. I tried not to stare at her full, dark bush. The last of her clothes went onto her table. So that’s how it’s going to be, I thought. I didn’t expect to get fully naked, but if she’s good with it, then I can be too. I kicked off my shoes as well.
“I ah… ahem… on very hot days I might be working around the castle in just my shirt, hose and braies, or even without my shirt if there’s no other nobility around. To keep cooler I would untie my hose from the waistband of the braies and roll them down to just below my knees.” Off came my shirt, then I untied and rolled down my hose and stood for a moment, displaying the way they looked before taking them off the rest of the way. “My braies or underpants also have an overlapped fly, answering the question of how I can pee while in armor. I just have to be careful, I don’t want my armor to get rusty.” That got a weak laugh. The braies came off, leaving me completely bare. So far I had managed to control myself and not become aroused. I set everything on the table arranged for display.
“Any questions?” Lystrata asked. “You can come up to have a closer look at the clothes and armor, but please don’t touch the sword or daggers.”
After fielding a few questions, most rather good ones, Cathy came back and thanked us. We both thanked her for the opportunity and I made her smile by kissing her hand again. A couple of other women from the audience wanted the same hand kiss treatment and I was very happy to oblige. Quite a izmir escort test of my self-control.
“Did you want help taking your stuff to your car? You can stay here the rest of the day or overnight. We reserved a small cabin for you.” Cathy said, and with her help we were able to make it all in one trip, me carrying my heavy armor and sword with belt. After tossing everything in the trunk, Cathy thanked Lystrata with a big hug, then grabbed me in a big hug and deep kiss.
I was worried about having a ‘reaction’ so I cautioned her when we finished the kiss.
“Careful, I don’t want to be kicked out of here for lewd behavior.”
Cathy laughed. “Nobody told you?”
“Told us what? I thought nudist camps discouraged, uh, public displays of affection?”
Cathy shook her head. “Naturist, it’s naturist. And this isn’t just any naturist camp, this is a swinger’s resort. You two can stay together or go find someone else if your relationship is open. Just no sex in the pool or anywhere without a ‘Free Play Zone’ sign.”
“Uh, we’re not married… I mean we are married, just not to each other. We teamed up for this because both our spouses are out of town.”
“Well this is awkward, I was hoping you two would join in the lifestyle. Maybe I can get you separate cabins or something or you don’t have to stay…” Cathy bit her lip and looked worried.
“That’s okay, we are kind of open. I think we can make do with one cabin.” Lystrata said and winked at me.
“My wife and I have swapped once before, but it wasn’t at a swinger event.”
She looked relieved. “Okay, here, it’s number 18.” She handed over a key on a lanyard and headed back to the office.
I reached over and grabbed Lystrata in a hug. “Want to use that key?” In answer she kissed me with a lot of enthusiasm. I didn’t bother trying not to become aroused.
The cabin was simple, just a king size bed, a table with two chairs and a bathroom. We were in each other’s arms before the door closed. A few more deep kisses and we fell onto the bed.
“Mmm, I’ve thought of this for a while. Ever since I sent you off to that feast with a kiss.” She sighed.
“I remember that kiss fondly. In hindsight, I wish I would have stayed with you instead of going over to the feast.”
I ran my hand across her plump tummy and cupped a generous breast, tweaking her nipple.
“I saw a bowl of condoms on the table…”
“Don’t worry, I’m clean and I can’t get pregnant anymore. If you’re good we won’t need a condom.”
I nodded and kissed my way down over her wide aureolas and hard nipples, along her plump tummy and into the thick dark tangle of her bush. I was sideways on the bed as my tongue slipped between her already wet lips and she gasped, reaching over to grip my hardening member. I added a bit of humming and brought a hand up to slide a finger in and search for her G spot. It wasn’t long before she squealed out and arched her back. Then she pushed at my hips and tried to reposition me over her, so I happily cooperated and we got into missionary position. She was so eager that she wrapped her legs around me and tried to pull me in before I was properly positioned. I drew back, lined up and sank fully into her wetness.
“Oh yes, it is as good as I imagined.”
I tried to control myself and go slow, but the first time with a new partner always seems to get a little frantic. She flexed her legs around me, urging me to go faster. She squealed again in orgasm and that sent me over the edge, emptying into her. We stayed connected until I got soft and slipped out. It seemed to be rather quick, but I’m sure we’ll have a chance for a longer session soon. After a bit she got up and went into the bathroom.
“Thank you, your excellency. I’m afraid it’ll be a while before I’m ready again.”
“Alan, we’ve been intimate, let’s use our real names.” She said as she exited the bathroom. “What is your real name, anyway?”
“Oh no, my sweet Lystrata. This is a fantasy so we should use our chosen names.” I came up around her and hefted her heavy breasts from behind while kissing up and down her neck. She wriggled her round bottom against my half-mast cock.
“Mmm. It feels like you’re almost ready again. But it’s nearly past lunchtime, I think we should have lunch. I hope they have something to eat around here.”
“I’ve already had a wonderful appetizer.” I lowered a hand to slip into her bush, stroking her outer lips.
“Naughty Alan, let’s get food first, then come back here.” She turned around in my arms and we kissed until she leaned back and looked thoughtful. “Unless Cathy drags you off somewhere. I think she was eyeing you.”
“I hadn’t noticed. But if she does, what will you do?”
“There was one man in the front row, Tom who was at the tournament, he stared at me the whole time. At the Q&A session he stood really close and brushed his hand against me every time he reached for clothes to examine.”
“Sounds creepy to me, but you might have a good time with him.”
“If not, I’ll find you again.” She smiled at me and headed to the door, grabbing the key on the way.
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