A surf is employed by a Baron to tend to his needs

As an historian and college professor, I enjoy living
in England. Old documents are always turning up in
libraries and old monasteries. I am never at a loss for
historical studies to publish, but it was as a cocksman
that I was fascinated by an old diary I found in an
alcove in a castle in Nottingham.

The diary spoke of sexual exploits, so I didn’t
announce its discovery to the college… I took it home
for my own pleasure. I translated its Old English, and
I found a marvelous account of cock-sucking in the 11th
Century.

Here it is, verbatim:

I entered the Baron’s service as a youth, a stripling
of 18. My family was wondrous poor, such that I
indentured myself to His Grace to take a mouth from my
father’s table.

I remember my presentation to the Baron as if it were
yesterday. As I walked down the hall to his audience
chamber, maids and servants troubled me when I saw them
making the sign of the cross as I passed by. “What, do
I go to some fearful fate?” I asked, but they scampered
away and would not answer.

I entered the audience chamber, and there sat His Grace
Robert deBretonne, Baron of Traloney. I had seen him
only from a distance before, always astride his horse.
Men called him “the Iron Baron.” Now, a stone’s through
away, I saw he was a mighty man, indeed. I knelt before
him.

For a long moment he looked at me, then he bade me
stand. He looked me up and down, and, shameless, I also
looked back at him. What a huge man he was. He stood at
least 18 hands high, and he looked as heavy as a bull.

In spite of the armor he wore, I could tell that
underneath it (indeed, the lust already had begun as I
imagined him without clothes) he was not fat, but
rather hard with muscle. No wonder they called him the
Iron Baron.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and rasping. “I shall
make thee, young varlet, my body-servant. What doust
thou think of that?”

I dropped to the ground again. “I am grateful, Your
Grace.”

“Thou shalt attend me this very night,” he went on,
“upon my return from Edward’s castle.” He stood up and
left the room, dismissing me. I hurried from the hall.
Outside, a few maids and butlers gathered around me.

“What am I to do when he calleth for me?” I asked them.
“I have never been a body-servant before.” They looked
at each other with grim faces.

“What he will require of thee will be easy to perform,
perhaps difficult to accept,” said a butler.
“Nonetheless, relax thee, young man. Now thy fate is as
plain and as sure as the baron’s dick.”

I was astonished by such bold language, especially in
front of ladies, but none of them seemed offended or
even surprised by it. “Thou shalt learn why they call
him the Iron Baron. We have all felt of his iron,” he
added cryptically.

That made me fearful. Did he beat his servants with an
iron rod, as I had heard some overlords did? None of
the servants would answer me, however, and gradually
they left me, moving back to their duties.

Worried, I wandered around the castle a bit, ending up
in an empty room in the outer wall. “The baron’s dick,
the baron’s dick.” I could not get those words out of
my mind. I felt my pike growing in my breeches as I
thought of what a sword milord must carry. I looked out
over the courtyard.

I saw a baron’s man, one of his knights, pissing
against a wall near the stables. I craned my head to
watch. I loved to see a man’s weapon, and this man had
a good one.

I had never told anyone what a thrill it was for me to
see a man’s cock. Whenever I worked in the fields with
the men of the village, and one of them stepped away to
piss, I tried to go with him, saying I needed to piss
as well.

I casually glanced at his John Thomas when he took it
from his breeches. Looking at a man’s member made me
feel strange.

I never missed the opportunity to swim naked in the
river when the village men went there. I loved the
deliciously wicked feeling of warmth I got in my crotch
when I saw a mans big dick swinging between his legs
and his balls moving ponderously as he strode around
nude.

Overcome with the lust, I rubbed my hot crotch for a
few moments as I watched the pissing knight vent his
yellow stream upon the wall. I pulled down my breeches
and took out my swollen cock.

Is there a delight so exquisite as such play? I watched
in awe as my soft, wriggling worm lifted his head in
challenge, swelling his chest and blushing in warrior’s
excitement. As I pulled my hand back over his helmet,
he sent great waves of delight to my aching groin, and
I stroked him fondly.

“Yeah, John Thomas,” I whispered to him, for such I
heard the male member called by some rude boys in the
marketplace, “you are my one true friend who never
betrays.”

I thought of the baron’s dick, the one the servants had
spoken so grimly of. What manner of man was he?

In my fantasy, propelled by my rapidly growing frenzy,
I dreamed of him pulling down his breeches before me,
parading back and forth, the owner of a titanic cock so
long it dragged upon the floor.

My mouth watered, almost as if it wanted to suck such a
thing. I gasped. Could I do something so rude?

In answer, John Thomas grew even greater, and he sent
jolting jabs of ecstasy through my body, overcoming me
with waves of bliss. I lifted my head in joy, leaning
back against the wall, and John Thomas spoke in great
spurts of white, sticky jizm. Puddles of slimy
degradation lay all about me on the floor, slowly
sucking up the dust. I moved quickly out of the room.
Let someone else explain how those puddles came to be
there!

Outside, a page came running. “Young man, young man,”
he called, “the baron doth seek thee!” I hurried with
him to the baron’s bed chamber. The page did not enter
with me, but stood looking at me strangely as I
announced myself and opened the door upon the baron’s
call.

He stood there, still in the ornate armor he wore at
the time of my presentation. “Thy first duty, my strong
young knave,” he said, “is to remove me from my armor.”

I hurried to him, reaching clumsily to unfasten the
gold-inlaid plates, not knowing what to do. “It is not
difficult, fair youth,” he growled. “I shall help thee
this once, and thou shalt do it alone henceforth.”

He showed me where the straps connected, and I loosened
them, removing his shoulder plates. Unfastening more
straps, I opened the body armor, and it came off him in
two pieces.

I was so awed, I caught my breath. He heard that and
looked at me with a strange smile. “Art thou pleased
with what thou see?” he asked.

“Yes, Milord,” I answered. “Never have I seen such a
powerful man as thee.” The armor was in the outline of
a massive man’s chest and belly. I had thought it was
only decorative, but when it dropped away from the
baron, I saw it was in his perfect likeness.

He wore a linen shirt under the armor, but his muscles
were plain to see. My cock twitched.

He held out his arms for me to remove the metal guards,
and as I did, he flexed his muscles for me. Huge slabs
of sinew rippled under his skin. Touching him made me a
little dizzy.

The baron looked at me sternly. “What, ho, varlet? Dost
thou grow sporting with me, thy liege lord?”

I was stunned. What had I done? I followed his glance,
and I saw he was staring at my crotch. Looking down, I
saw that I had a great bone in my breeches, a bulge
that reached out as if I concealed a capon in there. I
immediately blushed with shame.

I saw him smile. “Young man, I take that as a
compliment from thy youthful body to my old, decrepit
one.”

I blurted out, “Oh no, Milord, thou art anything but
decrepit! Never have I seen such a great man as thou
art!” I blushed again for my impudence.

He looked at me levelly. “Then continue to strip me,
young man,” he said, “and tell me what thou think when
thou hast removed my codpiece.”

His codpiece! All knights wore exaggerated metal
canisters over their dicks. It made them look more
virile, more powerful, more manly.

Whenever we saw them riding by, I had admired such big
male members, but I knew that what lay within was never
as large as its container. I was eager to take off the
baron’s codpiece, nonetheless.

I hurriedly stripped from him the other pieces of his
armor, and I unhooked it. God in heaven, his huge was
only a cramped quarter for his stallion’s weapon.

Only on ponies had I ever seen such a cock! Gorblimey,
it was every bit of 2 hands long, and as round as a
wagon pole!

It stuck out, hard as iron and dangerous like a great
catapult between his legs. It was all filigreed with
red, and pink, and royal purple veins, knotted and
gnarled like an ancient oak branch.

He looked at me for a long time. “Now suck it!” he
commanded.

I looked up in dismay. “Milord, please, I have never
done such an evil thing,” I said quietly.

“Wouldst thou call jacking thyself off in my tower room
this afternoon evil, too?” he demanded.

What? He knew? Seeing my astonishment, he said, “Beware
what thou doest in this castle, young knave. Secret
passages and hidden windows make private activities
very public. Dost thou not wish to suck this great
cock? Answer me!”

Remembering my fantasy of earlier in the day and how my
mouth had watered for his cock, I made up my mind. As
answer, I opened my lips and took that huge, fat, noble
organ into my mouth! I could feel it swelling up on my
tongue.

My first cocksucking! The dark-purple cockhead throbbed
in my mouth. The black hole dribbled a thread of sex-
liquor.

I fell in love with it. I sucked it worshipfully,
feeling feverish and hot.

The baron was in high spirits. He rammed his hips at my
mouth, and I, almost choked. I relaxed my throat,
fighting the urge to retch, and I swallowed that big
pole until I felt his noble cock hairs, which smelled
of sweat and that heady odor of sperm, scratching at my
nose.

He grunted something to me, something in a pleased
tone, and he ran his hands through my hair. I glanced
up at the baron’s face.

His eyes were closed in either agony, or ecstasy. My
head see-sawed back and forth on his big pipe, and his
ass cheeks hunched up with his approaching orgasm. I
licked my tongue around his cockhead, tasting the sour
taste of his piss and pre-cum.

The baron groaned aloud as I worked him over. Again I
sucked his cock in deep, swallowing it down my throat.

I frigged it, too, raising up one of my hands and
grasping that mighty truncheon. He moaned happily, as I
pushed him over the edge.

“Aaaaannngh!” he hissed. I swallowed fast as great gobs
of his royal sperm came shooting out. It did not taste
bad, I thought.

I sucked for more. He gasped and panted and trembled.
With my tongue rasping under his cockhead, on that
magic spot, I drove him crazy and made his orgasm last
for several minutes.

The baron finally pulled out and back away, sweating,
exhausted.

“Naughty boy,” he said, “who hath taught thee to do
that”?

“No one, Milord, thou art the first.”

“Zounds, my man, thou hast the most talented mouth I
have ever fucked,” he panted. “Here, come massage my
dick as I enjoy the sweet afterglow of thy suckings.”
He dropped back onto his great canopied bed.

I crawled up beside him, handling his smoldering cock,
placing occasional kisses upon it, playfully nipping it
betimes. “Oh, God,” the baron gasped, “thou art more
than I can withstand! Help me off with these
underclothes!”

I helped him strip off his undershirt (the little slip
his cock had been slung in had been kicked off long
ago). He was totally naked, not a fit sight for gentle
people…nakedness is the root of all evil because the
root of all evil grows hard and long at the sight of
nakedness (thank God).

I was intoxicated by the sight of his mighty chest, his
immense muscles, the rippled washboard of his belly. My
root of All-Evil grew hard as a stake. He noticed.

“Do thou strip likewise,” he commanded, and he helped
me pull off all my clothes. Soon we looked at each
other as bare as on our birthing-days.

“A truly nice cock thou hast,” he murmured. “Let me
suck from that.”

To my astonishment, His Grace bent his head down and
sucked at my cock, which was as hard as steel. I was so
overcome with lust I blasted immediately, filling his
mouth with my peasant’s spunk.

He drank it in, then pulled away. “Cheeky youth thou
art,” he laughed, strings of my semen dribbling from
his lips. “Now I shall take my pay.”

He turned me over on my hands and knees. He reached for
some vessel beside the bed, scooped up a handful from
it, and slapped it against my ass. He had smeared me
with grease of some sort.

He moved behind me, and he mounted me like a stallion.
I felt his giant organ pushing up at my tender asshole,
and in my aroused state, I wriggled my bum to help him
drill it in.

I could hear him panting behind me, and in his passion
he sucked at my ear, sticking his tongue into it,
nibbling at my earlobe. Nothing had ever made me so hot
and carnal as that feeling, and when with a grunt he
punched past my tight asshole, the pain, which was
excruciating, which made me cry out, was somehow
lessened by the great thirsting need I had to be fucked
by this giant of a man.

With lunge after lunge, he buried his blunt weapon in
my gut. The more he rocked back and forth, the more
slimy his cock became, and my pain grew less and less.
Finally the pain was superseded by panting lust.

A great wave of warmth and sexual arousal swept over
me, starting at my asshole, driven by the strokes of my
liege lord, the horny warrior. Oh, God, that felt so
good!

Finally I heard him starting his agony. “Ohhhhhh,” he
moaned, and I actually felt the fires of his
ejaculation spreading out from his bollocks. His groin
felt like an oven, a blacksmith’s fire.

In a fever of delight, I felt his poker pumping round
after round of searing hot semen into my ass. It boiled
into my guts, keeping me afire.

He held his cock in me, lying against me, trembling,
enjoying every instant of his orgasm. I squeezed my
ass-cheeks on his cock, prolonging his ecstasy.

“ah, sweet youth, thou art everything I need,” he
panted. He fell back off me onto the bed, sweating and
gasping. “Thou shalt sleep with me every night,” he
said. “Come here, let me kiss thee.” I kissed him full
on the mouth, tasting some of my own jizm, feeling his
tongue exploring my mouth.

I stayed with he baron for many years, eating and
drinking at his table, eating and drinking between his
legs. When he was slain at the Battle of Hastings, I
wept sore for him for many months.

Ultimately I retired to this monastery. No one could
ever replace the Iron Baron.

***

By the time I finished reading that horny diary, I was
so hard I knew I had to cum or go crazy. I pulled my
hard dick out and pressed the intercom button for my
secretary. He knows me very well.

Soon we were 69ing on the floor. For a long time we
gently sucked one another’s rock-hard shafts. Our
bodies floated and our minds spun. Tongues lapped at
swelling cock-heads, piss-slits pressed against cheeks
and throats.

In the same rhythm, mouths slid up and down on slick,
ever-hotter pipes.

I was in heaven.

Soon I saw the lust-glaze cover his eyes, his drool
slavering down over my dick, and I knew he was past the
point of no return. I, too, couldn’t stop.

He hunched against me for a few moments, and after one
big lunge that slid me back so my head banged against
the wall, he let out a long, aroused groan, and he spit
his cum deep in my throat.

At precisely that moment, my cock jettisoned a
marvelous load of Old English spunk, giving him back as
good as he gave. God, it was wonderful!

Isn’t it great what ancient literature can inspire?