Little John and Bess
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“You're so large anyone would know you on sight. John Little, called Little John, second in command of the outlaws,” Bess turned the name over in her mouth for a moment. They strolled by mossy bank, all overhung with willows.
Little John leaned down and whispered, “Not little at all. Not anywhere.”
Bess gasped, her eyes large and her mouth a round O of shock. She smacked his arm, barely a tap. “You're naughty!”
John registered no pain, but gave her wide and merrily wicked grin. “Are you naughty, Bess?” He stopped them under a willow with wythes that grew so think none could see them.
Seeing they were curtained in, as certainly as if they had been hidden in the little anteroom of the palace with the velvet drapes, Bess beckoned Little John down and whispered. “Wicked as the day is long and more versed in the carnal arts than you can imagine. I went on Crusade after all.”
Little John scratched his great shaggy head. “What was a lady doing on a crusade?”
Bess laughed and settled herself on a tussock of grass. “Have you not heard how Queen Eleanor took a whole hoard of us? She dressed her maids as Amazons and rode topless half-way to Damascus.”
John sank down beside her, his eyes huge at the thought of the Queen and her maids riding bare-breasted across the continent.
“And how naughty are you, Johnny?” Bess teased.
He caught her round the waist again and kissed her. She opened beneath him, letting him go deep into her mouth. He crushed her closer and she only kissed him the harder, her own passions ablaze.
Bess clung to him, mindful of the job she'd done in her braes earlier that no erection would betray her to Little John until she was ready. When he let go of her mouth to look into her face, she breathed, “Yes, oh John, yes.”
He gave a lopsided grin behind his beard. “Oh, you are a naughty girl.”
Bess laughed. “Oh yes, I am. This is a fine and private place. I'll show you all my wickedness if you desire.”