Strongman by Denise Rossetti Read Free Book Online Page B

lights on the horizon that was the Ten Nations Fair, settling into the jogging stride he could keep up for hours. His lips curved with the memory of pleasure. Last time, he’d selected a pretty dimpled woman, all plump tits and lush hips. After he’d fucked himself to a standstill between her white thighs, she’d stroked his hair until he fell asleep, his head pillowed on her ample breasts. When he’d woken, they’d talked politics and drunk a little wine. Then he’d fucked her ass, something he did rarely, but truly savored. For an extra fee, naturally. He’d wanted to bind her to the bedposts while he did it, spread-eagled and helpless, but the whore had cast a sideways look at his massive chest, the muscle in his arms, and demurred.
    No doubt she was a sensible woman, but it was disappointing. Nonetheless, she’d sworn he’d given her pleasure and he’d taken care, though the cramping heat of all that strong, smooth muscle had nearly driven him crazy. She’d cried out enough, the creamy globes of her bottom quivering as he’d powered home, reaching under her body to rasp her prominent clit with his thumb. Quite a feat of concentration, on the whole.
    It had been good. Very good. He might get her again. If he could remember her name.
    Ah Lufra, he was tired! He rolled his shoulders, feeling the bones creak, the sweat slide down his ribs. Fort grimaced at the thought of slipping his greasy body into the clean blue silk of his bedroll. As he entered the Fairgrounds, he turned automatically 32

    Strongman
    toward the ablutions tent, only to slow to a halt. Now he had a place of his own, he could boil up water and take a bucket bath in private. Smiling, he swerved away, jogging past the menagerie tent, the acrid smell of vranshit catching in his throat.
    The hot water was as good as he’d imagined. Inside his wagon, Fort stood on a folded towel, wiping away the dirt and sweat with a warm, wet cloth. And his gods-be-damned cock was behaving. Good, excellent.
    So what if he’d desired another man, just for a few moments? It happened, of course it happened. He was only human. Everyone had their secret desires, their dirty little fantasies. And Griff was…well, he was…not beautiful the way a woman could be, not handsome either, not… The movement of the cloth slowed, as Fort thought it through. He was so completely himself , Griff, with his crooked tooth and his acrobat’s grace and his quick wit. And his bloody kindness.
    No one could be seduced if they didn’t want to be. Griff would find the
    conditioning of a Straight Church boyhood hard to kick, no matter that Fort knew on an intellectual level there wasn’t anything particularly wrong about manlove. He picked up his only dry towel and rubbed his chest and shoulders.
    Mind you, speaking of fantasies, what he wouldn’t give to share a woman with Griff! Soldiers in his company had spoken of it, but Fort had never felt close enough to any man for such an intimate act. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his thumb over his burgeoning cock head. In his mind’s eye, he saw the plump whore, down on all fours, her red lips wrapped around Griff’s shaft. Beautiful, the tumbler’s cock would be sure to be beautiful. How could it be anything but fine and straight and hard, given the rest of the man?
    As for Fort, he’d be sunk deep in her ass, watching Griff’s expressive face as the woman suckled and licked, pulling back to nibble under the ridged head, where the sweet spot was.
    Slowly, Fort sank down full-length on the bedroll, stretching his long legs with a sigh of relief. Automatically, his fist closed over his stiff cock. Ah Lufra, that felt good!
    Now where was he?
    Griff’s mouth would open on a gasp, that pouty lower lip slack with desire, as the woman pushed him closer and closer. He’d throw his head back, the firm muscles in his shoulders and chest shifting with fluid power, the tendons in his neck taut. But at the last minute, just as his