A Beautiful wish

Prologue

Beyond the Cliffs of Torment there was nothing. The sunset cast its dying glow on the seas, crashing against the black volcanic rocks of the cliffs. Large curtains of steam blasted off the meeting between stone and sea, as the waves mixed with the liquid hot sludge cascading down the rock face of distant mount Hatred. Any normal man would have stayed worlds away from this dreadful place, but Sir George of Battlehaven was no normal man. He fought in the biggest wars, climbed the tallest mountain, and drank from the deepest of tankards. But today, he fought not for country, or glory, or fun, but for his love, Gwena, the Lady of the Dawn.

She had been kidnapped by the devil dragon Kalifax, and it had fallen to the most skilled, powerful, and courageous men to slay the dragon and free the young maiden from certain doom. Having reached the monster’s lair along the coast, George proceeded towards the giant cave mouth. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the dragon itself. Gnarly fangs, eyes thin and piercing, scales the shape of broad axe heads, were mere details to Sir George. His path was set regardless of the danger. No beast would stand in his way. He would slay them all if they kept him from his love.

He spotted the freshly charred remains of another knight with visions of righteous glory. He recognized the coat of arms on his shield. He had served with this man in a previous battle. The knight had been a good man, better than most. But too young and cavalier to truly have a fighting chance against a dragon. Sir George knew he was better. He would not make the crispy Knight’s mistakes.

As he was about to enter the cave he heard a scream from deep inside, followed by a thunderous roar over his ears and a flash of intense heat over his skin. Sir George was immediately alarmed, but managed to catch his wits before they abandoned him completely. That scream was not a scream of pain or anguish, but of fear. No doubt the dragon was torturing her with threats of dismemberment and fiery torment. Sir George knew this was part of the fun. The dragon wanted to hear her beg before he devoured her, to see her cower in his awesome presence.

He proceeded into the enormous cavern. Deeper and deeper he went to where the screams, roars, and heat had their source. He rounded a bend and stopped. On an outcropping above a large bubbling pool of magma was Gwena, chained to two large wooden stakes, her dress torn and singed, her perfect skin exposed and dirtied.

He called out to her, “Gwena my love! Do not fear! I have come to take you to safety!”

Her expression went from hopeless to joyful in moments as she caught glimpse of her salvation. But her happiness was short-lived as she remembered the horror, “No! Run George! He knows you are he…”

It was too late. Kalifax burst forth from the pool of magma and thrust forward with a jagged claw, grasping Sir George and lifting him off the ground. Slowly, the beast lifted him up to better gaze into the eyes of his latest adversary. “SO, YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD BEST THE MIGHTY KALIFAX? YOU ARE MISTAKEN! I AM IMMORTAL! OMNIPOTENT! EXALTED! EPIC!”

Sir George was undaunted, “You forgot Aromatic.”

“Yes, thank you. WAIT! YOU MOCK THE GREAT AND ALL POWERFUL KALIFAX! PREPARE TO FACE OBLIVION MORTAL!” The dragon launched Sir George into the air and propped open his giant mouth in anticipation of his next meal. But Sir George was no greenhorn. He had been waiting for this chance all along. As he plunged into the great maw Sir George drew his blade. The great dragon swallowed the knight whole as Gwena wailed in anguish. “YOU SEE, GIRL! NONE KNOW WHAT THEY FACE WHEN THE, erp, wha, GWWWAARG!” Suddenly, from the belly of the beast appeared a large gash. From it sprang Sir George, covered in the blood and gore of the dragon who he had slain from the inside out.

Kalifax’s death cries reverberated throughout the cavern as copious amounts of blood spewed from the gaping wound in his chest. When he had finally roared his last, he collapsed in a heap against the back wall of the cavern causing part of the wall to fall away, making a convenient staircase leading up towards Gwena’s prison. Sir George wiped the dragon innards off his armor and boldly climbed the mountain of rocks and dragon.

“My hero,” cried out Gwena, partly relieved and partly crying with joy, “I knew you would come for me, my love.”

Sir George paused at the landing and took in the sight before him. There was the object of his romantic obsession, bound, and partially nude, her shredded dress only covering the most private of areas. Her taut stomach was bare, her gorgeous legs were exposed save for a few pieces of shredded fabric. Her large breasts were dangerously close to spilling out of the once magnificent garment. Only a single shoulder strap remained, the other hung down like dead weight and no longer did anything but give Sir George a tantalizing view of her impressive cleavage. Sir George felt all pretense of chivalric ideals and courtly love melt away, as he gazed upon her helpless yet incredibly sexy form.

Gwena noticed the handsome knight’s lecherous stares and began to realize what was going through his mind. Immediately she began to tense up and squirm in her chains. “George? Let me go George,” she pleaded. But instead of reaching for the chains he reached for the straps on his armor. He let the pieces fall away until he was down to the cotton shirt and pants worn to make his armor more comfortable. Gwena watched anxiously as the handsome knight approached her, stopping just short of touching her. He looked directly into her eyes and could see the fear mixed with anticipation and lust.

“Please George…” she said in a low whisper.

He reached out and put his hands on her hips, gently, and pulled her close to him. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her soft skin while moving his hands around her back.

Gwena had never felt the touch of a man, but immediately responded to his loving touch with sweet low moans. She didn’t struggle as he took control completely. Starting with the small of her back, he moved his left hand up until it reached her bare shoulder. His lips followed his fingertips as he placed small kisses up and down her arm. She tasted of sweat and heat and earth. He savored the taste like a fine wine. As he returned to her shoulder she let out a quivering sigh in anticipation of him dropping down to touch her breasts. Instead he went lower to her flat stomach and continued his gentle caressing.

While outwardly, she made no attempt to stop or direct him, she was at odds with her own mind. A voice was telling her that this was wrong and that she should be ashamed for letting him have such free reign over her womanhood. But her pride was no match for another voice that screamed for attention from this handsome and courageous man who had risked his life to save her, a man who wanted nothing more at that moment than to make her feel incredible.

Gwena watched desperately as his hands traveled slowly from her small ankles up her shapely calves to the back of her thighs. She gasped as he reached under the remains of her dress took hold of her tight butt. His eye’s level with her mound, he ripped remaining pieces of fabric away with his teeth. Finally, her pussy was exposed.

She blushed, “Oh George please … please touch me.” But he didn’t just yet, there was more he wanted to savor first. He stood up until he was once again looking her in the eyes. She was quivering, and found it hard to stand as she melted into his gaze.

He reached up and took hold of her breasts, squeezing and tweaking. Gwena cried out in ecstasy as he touched her. Then in one swift motion he ripped the remaining fabric away leaving her completely nude. He dropped down and took her left breast in his mouth. It tasted of cotton and goose down. He began to grind his hardened cock against her. She threw her leg up and around him to support herself.

She cried out, “George! Get up George! You’ll be late if you don’t get up!” Suddenly she put her hands on his shoulders, even though they had been chained just moments before, and shook him vigorously. She looked him in the eyes, “Seriously George you need to get up now! If you’re late for work again you’re gonna be sorry!”

George awoke in a panic. He tried to sit up, but was quickly stymied by the fact that he was tangled in his bed sheets, the corner of his pillow stuffed in his mouth. He rolled over trying to free his legs from the interwoven sheets, but rolled too far, He fell off his bed, knocking a floor lamp over on top of himself in the process.

As the dream fog dissipated he became aware of his mother, Jessica, laughing from the doorway to his room. “That was quite a show. Are you sure you didn’t plan that out ahead of time?”

“Actually, I just really hate this lamp,” he said as he clumsily unraveled himself and stood the lamp back up.

She laughed a bit harder but quickly reverted to mom mode, “C’mon it’s almost 7:30, Linda is gonna have your ass if you’re late again.”

“Oh shit, is it really?” his eyes darted to his alarm clock. “Dammit, I’m never gonna make it on time now.”

“C’mon now, you really will be late with that attitude. Here, I’ll lay out your clothes and get your lunch ready, you take a quick shower and you’ll be out the door in ten minutes.”

George did some quick figuring, and realized that if the traffic was light he could still make it. He bounded down the hall into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. He washed himself in a frenzy, painfully aware of his raging hard on from the dream which he was beginning to forget. He was tempted to rub it out quickly, but decided against it. He disliked masturbating in the shower because he could never get enough friction to finish quickly. And there was always the off chance that his mom or one of his two younger sisters would walk in on him. He got caught once by his oldest sister, Hayley. Since then, whenever he spent longer than ten minutes in the bathroom he got ragged on.

Instead he decided to hum his song. It was the first song George’s father, Henry, had ever taught him to play on his guitar. George was only seven, and his little fingers could barely reach all the strings. But when George’s father died a year later, George began to play it whenever he needed help. Just humming a few bars had the power to calm and soothe him. Even now, at nineteen, the song would make him forget, for a brief moment at least, that his life was turning out to be less than ideal. It was slow and sorrowful, but gradually built a hopeful tempo until it exploded into a crescendo of euphoric and powerful bliss.

George finished up as quickly as he could, did everything else he needed to do in the bathroom, then headed back to his room to change. His mom had produced a clean pair of baggy board shorts and an over-sized tee shirt, his standard summer work attire. He noticed that these were brand new.

George was quite a large man. He was very tall, standing well over six feet, and had very large hands. He was also overweight by at least thirty pounds. He sighed knowing that these new clothes would be a size larger than last time. He appreciated the fact that his mom never came out and said what a fat slob he was, but that didn’t stop her from making lots of subtle hints. She always made it a point to show him a new diet she had read about or some exercise machine that was supposed to be all the rage or the latest workout fads.

His sisters were much more overt about his weight, calling him every name one could think of involving heft. Their favorite since he became a lifeguard at the local college had been Shamu, after the whale.

George hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where his mom and two sisters were putting the finishing touches on lunch and scarfing down breakfast. His mother was running around in circles trying to keep the girls on task while she made two meals at once. “Oh honey, remember that I’m picking the girls up from camp today to take them to their father’s for the weekend, and then I’m leaving for that business trip in Texas. I left you some leftovers but I’m gonna need you to do some food shopping while I’m gone so that we’ll have food for the week. I’m leaving you some money and a shopping list. Think you can handle being alone all weekend?”

George thought it wouldn’t be much different than any of his other fun filled weekends, “No problem. I’ll just call all my buddies, get some hotties over here, maybe throw back a few, we can talk about old times,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Well just make sure you get pictures of those hotties so you can make us some money on the Internet,” she said without any sarcasm at all.

Hayley piped up, “Don’t mention hotties and the Internet in the same sentence mom, or George isn’t gonna make it into work at all today.” This comment surprised George, both for its bite and its wit.