In a time, long ago, forced to marry, a young woman devises a test for her suitors. A medieval sex story.
“Daughter, you know I love you very much and I respect your intelligence, but you must marry and marry soon. Your sisters insist.”
The young woman nodded and made a sour face. “I have found no man I can respect, father. I have tried, honestly.”
“I know,” he said. “But I am going to stage a tourney for your hand.”
She shook her head. “Please, for the right to court me but not, I hope, to marry without my consent.”
“Very well, to court you. But I want you married by next month, three weeks. Understand?”
“What sort of tourney?”
“Athletic mostly, some chess perhaps, wrestling, quarter-staff, archery. That sort of thing.”
“I would like to add an event. One I would conduct personally.”
Her father wrinkled his forehead and waited.
“Ejaculation, sir.” She smiled. “Ejaculation for both distance and quantity.”
“No sir. I insist. The man I choose must be capable of pleasing me and of fathering your heirs. Oh, and size of his, what shall I call it… member, eh?”
“Very well daughter. And you will supervise?”
“Veiled, in serving costume, with my maids.”
He nodded, “See to it.”
Back in her quarters, she summoned her Nubian slave. He appeared, bowed, and smiled.
“How far can you spurt?” She asked.
“Perhaps across this room, wall to wall. What is that, eight feet?”
“Show me,” she said with a smile.
He stripped off his tunic and bared his immense, black phallus which hung thick and long between his muscular thighs, arched over his huge ball sack.
“Well?” he said, “proceed.
“Turnabout and show me your ass,” he requested.
She laughed, shed her long wrap, and faced her bed, spreading her feet. He approached, stroked his swelling penis up and down her slit and eased it into her gently, leaned back, and enjoyed feeling his erection develop with his glans in her fluttering outer lips. They had played this game many times.
When he was satisfied and it was rearing up well above the horizontal, looking as thick as his forearm and nearly as long, he stepped back to the door of the chamber, grasped his massive root, trembled, squeezed his balls and then with his cock in his hand, spurted out three thick ribbons of his semen, one right after the other.
“Well done,” she said, wrapping her body in her long silk robe. “Now step it off, tell me how far you jetted.”
The big man bowed and put his feet on the floor, one right after the other. “The nearest is six feet, mistress, the second is a bit more than eight and the farthest, the first one is… let’s say ten of my feet.”
“Saturday I want you to come and help me with my pavilion. Go make a measuring stick that is a foot long, the inches marked clearly, a flat one I think to lay cocks upon.” She smiled again.
He bowed and left.
So that Saturday eleven young men assembled at the palace, eager to have a chance to wed the young woman, to bed her and enjoy her obvious charms. The prince’s eldest daughter was robbed and veiled along with three of her lovely maids and waited in a tent with side panels that were open on only one side. One man had withdrawn from the competition when the test of
ejaculation was announced.
The men were called from their other contests one by one, told to open their codpiece and produce their genitals, and then were encouraged to achieve a good erection with the help of female fingers and tongues.
When they were ready, they were measured and then stepped to a line and preceded, often with cries of release, to do what they were required to do.
After five competitors had done the task, the young woman was discouraged. None of the contestants had reached even as far as the five-foot marker although one had produced a series of thick spurts.
And none of the men had more than six inches of root to brag about.
The sixth man was big and proud. His male member was thick and soon hard and measured more than seven inches. Two of the maids stroked him while the princess watched, amused and impressed. There was nothing handsome about the man, but he was big.
His first ejaculation arched out beyond the five-foot marker and his second wiggled out almost as far and then his third was much shorter. He shook his
softening cock and one of the girls took him to a basin to wash while his efforts were measured and recorded.
The next suitor failed to ejaculate and left red-faced.
The eighth managed three thick spurts but the furthest barely reached the five-foot mark.
The next came in proudly, already half aroused, quickly stepped to the line, produced a very stubby and thick tool, and squeezed it. Out exploded a ribbon of milky white that arched up and fell halfway to the ten-foot mark and then he grunted and did another just about the same, put his massive root away, bowed and left, unmeasured.
That was when I entered the lists. I had no real interest in marrying anyone, but I knew that I heavily endowed by my father and his father, both known for their size and endurance, both fathers of numerous off-spring, mostly illegitimate and many of them dusky. The woman had been pointed out to me and she was, indeed, lovely and I found myself aroused by the sight of her. I inquired and found that her dowry in both gold and land was substantial. My brother had told of her several times; he was enthralled.
I bowed and smiled, produced my thick phallus, and allowed the girls to smile at me and play with it until it was rigid, perhaps not fully engorged but certainly aroused. One produced a thin, flat board and laid my throbbing cock on it, making a mark and arching her brow.
“More than eight,” she said to her veiled mistress.
I smiled knowing I still would get longer and thicker. I toed the line, gasped my ram, and felt the blood vessels pulsing. I closed my eyes, pictured the young woman spread and waiting, felt my semen flowing and
raised the angle of my corded weapon as if it were a howitzer.
I must admit that I gasped on the first spurt which arched out as a wriggling ribbon. I put my other hand down on my swollen scrotum and the second bolt of pearly jism almost surpassed the first, both well out toward the far stake. I clamped my fingers tightly on the base of my eager root, took a deep breath, released with a sob, and then ejaculated with every muscle I could muster, arching my back and tensing my buttocks and groin. “Ah!” I cried as a fat globule exploded from me and arched out like a mortar shell, well beyond the place where my first two explosions lay melting into the ground.
The maid walked me to a small table and poured water into a basin and washed my thick manhood gently. Before she was done, the duke’s oldest daughter was at my side. She grasped my softening male member and whispered, “I want this.”
I put my arm around her and whispered, “It is yours, but I fear not yours alone.”
She nodded and stroked me gently. “I understand. We all have obligations, but you do wish to marry me, don’t you?”
“I fear not, but my younger brother, who is as long and strong as I am, would be a fine mate for you.” I bent and kissed her cheek. “And then you and I could entertain each other from time to time.”
“I doubt it,” she said, “for I will be loyal. Why is he not here?”
I am his substitute. He was injured in the jousting, unhorsed I fear, lamed and in pain. He does admire you though.
Her hand closed about my long arm and stretched it out. “Very well,” she said. “I trust you and I will meet him, talk to him, and perhaps, marry him. For this, this thing in my hand is what I want.”
It was arranged just as I planned. My brother is happy and so is the lovely girl and I am still free. She is still a great lay.
THE CONTEST is a medieval sex story presented by eroticprose.com. The home of sexy stories and Literotica.