Message-ID: <20930asstr$942243000@assm.asstr.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <19991026011205.69970.qmail@hotmail.com>
X-Originating-IP: [216.164.152.50]
From: "Ann Douglas" <ann_douglas@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {GALAGO} The Erotic Adventures Of Robin Hood (Ann Douglas) 2/4
X-Post-Date: Tue, 26 Oct 1999 01:11:56 GMT
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed
Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 09:10:00 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr.org/Year1999/20930>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-admin@asstr.org>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@asstr.org>
X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin

	The Erotic Adventures Of Robin Hood
	by Ann Douglas
            (ann_douglas@hotmail.com)

Part  Two

	With the gold wagons in tow, the Merry
Men and their reluctant guests made their way
down winding paths.  Gisbourne and the Sheriff
tried to take note of the roads they took, but soon
gave up the effort.  Only a fool or a man born to
them attempted to travel the maze that was
Sherwood.  It was no small reason that few ever
ventured off the main road through it.
	Marian rode next to Little John at the head
of the column, preferring his silent company to
that of her intended. Every once in a while, she
would ask Little John when she would get to meet
their host.  John would merely answer such
inquires with short cryptic replies.
	After an hours journey, the forest in front
of them suddenly opened into a large clearing.
One moment all she could see were trees
seemingly stretching to the horizon. A breath later
there was a village.
	As they unloaded the wagons and led off
Sir Guy and the Sheriff, Marian was turned over
to the care of a plump Friar named Tuck.  If she
was surprised to see a man of the church with the
outlaws, she was more so by the many women and
children living among them as well.  It was not
what she expected from all the stories she’d heard.
Then again, she had to consider the source of
those stories.
	“Unlike your Norman brothers,”  Friar
Tuck said in response her observation.  “We do
not make war on the helpless.”
	A familiar face nearby abruptly caught her
notice.  A familiar face and an even more familiar
dress.
	“Jane!”  she cried out.
	“Milady,”  the serving girl said with
enthusiasm as she looked up and saw Marian.
“It is good to see you again.”
	The younger girl was still wearing the
garment she had borrowed earlier.  Marian could
not help but wonder if she looked the same when
she wore that dress.  Did her nipples press so
tightly against the fabric as Jane’s did?  Did men
look at her the same way she could even see the
Friar looking now.
	As Jane moved off, Marian looked to the
Friar to explain her presence.
	“As I said Milady, we do not make war on
women and children.”

	The more she saw of the small village, the
more Marian was impressed.  Here were a people
living in peace with each other.  A place where the
strong did not necessarily prey on the weak.  One
small thing did baffle her.  Wherever she looked,
she saw a people that were happy but still
incredibly poor.  What had happened to all the
riches the outlaws had stolen over the last year?
Did this never seen Robin Hood keep them for
himself.
	“What profit we may gain from our
endeavors, Milady, are used to care for those
under our protection.  But as you see, we need
very little to be happy.”  the Friar explained when
she voiced her question.  “The rest is held in trust
for Good King Richard, so that we might soon
gain his release and have him return to our
troubled land.”
	“Richard returned,” Marian thought with
excitement, her heart suddenly uplifted.  “That
would almost be too much to dare hope.”
	“Milady, be careful!”  the Friar called out
as Marian, distracted by her sudden flush, tripped
on an exposed tree root and fell forward onto a
muddy patch of ground.
	She landed with a resounding thud, but
only hurt her dignity.
	“Milady, are you hurt?”  Tuck asked as he
helped her up.
	“I will survive.”  she said as she wiped
some of the mud from her face and smiled.  “I’ve
been told toiling in the mud is good for the soul.”
	“If Milady desires to cleanse herself from
her toil,”  Friar Tuck said.  “There is a warm
stream but two hundred paces beyond the
clearing.  I promise you none of our men will
bother you in any way.”
	“Why thank you, dear Friar.”  Marian
replied.  “And I think I would like it if you called
me Marian.  All of this Milady this and Milady
that seems somewhat out of place.”
	“As you wish, Milady.”  the chubby Friar
grinned as he pointed out the footpath down to
the stream.

	Leaving the jolly Friar behind her, Marian
made her way down the trail.  She stopped at the
waters edge and turned about to see if she was
truly alone.  Up on the ridge, she could see the
back of Friar Tuck as he sat on a fallen tree trunk,
guarding her privacy.
	Sitting down on a large rock, Marian
removed her sandals and dipped her feet into the
stream.  The water was indeed unseasonable
warm.  It had a nice comforting feel.
	Soft hands reached up and removed her
headpiece, laying it down gently on the grass.
Shaking her head, Marian let the full length of her
long brown hair fall free.  It had been a long hard
journey and not without its excitements.  The
seventeen-year-old could use a little time alone to
sort it all out.
	With her feet still in the running water,
Marian began to undo the laces that held her
traveling outfit together.  She took a moment to
again look about her, reassuring herself that she
was truly alone.
	Satisfied, she pulled the last of the laces
and led her garment fall free, exposing her breasts
to the cool late afternoon air.   She ran her hands
over her mounds, feeling the weight of them in her
hands and running her fingers across the nipples.
It took but a brief touch to make them erect.
	Ever since she had first started to develop
when she was but nine, Marian had always been
secretly proud of her endowments.  The Nuns into
whose care she had been entrusted following her
Mother’s death had always warned her about the
sins of lust, and how they should be avoided.  The
good Sisters would certainly have been shocked
had they discovered that Marian had discovered
the joys of self-pleasure by her twelfth birthday.
And practiced those joys at every opportunity.
	Removing her dirt covered dress, Marian
laid it over the large rock, then moved a little
further out, standing nude in the middle of the
stream.  Cupping her hands, she splashed water
against her face and washed it clean.  Then she
repeated the motion against the rest of her body.
	The running water had felt so good against
her legs that Marian moved back into the flow,
this time to the deepest portion where the water
rose to waist level. The rush of the current
pressed between her legs, exerting a pleasing
pressure against her womanhood.
	It had been far too long since she’d
enjoyed the privacy to please herself.  Even those
nights when she had her own room in one Inn or
another, she didn’t feel comfortable enough.  Not
with Gisbourne but a room away.
	Starting again with her bountiful breasts,
Marian ran her hands down across her youthful
body.  Across her stomach they moved, gently
tickling her smooth skin.  Finally she came to the
light brown patch of hair between her legs.  The
Royal Ward spread her fingers across the heavy
bush, noting that it was wet for reasons having
nothing to do with the stream.
	Marian closed her eyes and arched her
head back as she pressed against her clit, sending
a surge of warmth through her body.  With a long
accustomed familiarity, she manipulated her
fingers both across and within her pussy.
	“Oh yes,”  she whispered to the empty air
as her fingers moved in and out.  “I’ve missed this
so much.”
	Faster and faster her fingers moved,
responding to the increasing demands of her body.
Each motion of her hands, each entry within
herself, produced both pulsating waves of ecstasy
and an unrelenting desire to reach orgasm.
	“Dear Mother of God!”  she gasped as her
body exploded, releasing all the passion she had
held in check for so long.
	Her body quaked and her legs felt weak as
she dipped lower into the water.  Marian’s breath
came in short gasps as she rode the cascading
waves from within.  She tried to make it last as
long as possible, knowing full well that it would
be but a brief moment.  But what a moment it
always was.
	“Mother of God, thank you.”  she said in a
prayer of thanks.
	 It had long been her belief that the ability
to enjoy such bliss had to be God’s greatest gift.
And who better to thank for that gift than Mother
Mary, who had been a woman herself.
	Minutes passed slowly as she let her
breaths return to normal. She dropped down low
enough to let the water crest just above her
breasts.  The gentle cascade of the stream washed
away the remnants of her climax.
	“I better get back,”  she thought as she
stood to her full height.  “Least the good Friar
think I fell in and come looking for me.”
	Marian had just reached the stream’s edge
and the rock upon which she had left her dress
when she felt a sudden chill of apprehension. She
looked up, just as a voice appeared out of the
empty air.


	“I hope the water is to Milady’s taste.”
said the same incorporeal voice that she had heard
back on the road.
	“Who’s there?”  she called out as she
quickly grabbed the dirty dress and covered her
naked breasts.
	“There is no need to fear, no harm will
come to you.”  continued the voice.
	“Where are you?”  Marian called out,
shifting her gaze right and left and finding nothing.
	“Why I’m right here.”  the voice said.
	Marian whirled again, this time to confront
the source.  It was not what she expected. Yet in
her heart, she knew it could only be one person.
	“You ... are ... Robin Hood?  she asked,
measuring each word carefully.
	The figure that had appeared not 20 paces
away, in a spot she had just looked, stood only an
inch or two taller than her own five four.  Dressed
from head to toe in suit of forest green, the
stranger carried a long bow as well as a quiver of
arrows. Dark and curly reddish brown hair, cut
short beneath a feathered cap, topped a clean
shaven and boyish face.  At first glance, Marian
thought she was facing a teenage boy.”
	“You are Robin Hood?”  she repeated in
even greater disbelief.
	The Outlaw in green laughed a soft laugh,
stepping forward with broad, powerful steps.
	“Actually,”  Robin Hood said in a voice
that seemed to soften and change with each
passing step. “My name is Robyn.”
	“By King Richard,”  Marian exclaimed as
the figure drew close enough for her to clearly see
the contours of Robyn’s body . “You’re just a
girl!”
	“I’ll have you know that I’m two years
older than you, Marian Fitzswalter.”  she said, her
voice now totally changed.  “So I’m hardly just a
girl.”
	“This can’t be.”  Marian said, still a little
confused.  “Everyone says that Robin Hood is
Robert of Locksley, returned in secret from the
Crusades.”
	“That is what I wish them to believe.”
Robyn smiled.  “Know that I am both his daughter
and heir.”
	“Then Sir Robert is dead?”  Marian asked.
	“No, not dead,”  Robyn said as she sat
down next to Marian.  “All of England does know
that Richard has been held captive this past year
by allies now turned enemies.  What few know as
well is that his faithful Locksley also shares his
cell.”
	“And you have accomplished all of this in
his name.” Marian said in astonishment.  “Created
a standard around which all these good men and
women have rallied.”
	“Not alone I haven’t.”  Robyn said.  “Little
John deserves a great deal of the credit as well.  I
could never have done it without his help.”
	“Little John,  that was the large man that
led us here?”
	“Yes, he is impressive, is he not?” Robyn
grinned.
	“Are you and he... well...”
	“Me and Little John?”  she laughed.  “Not
very likely.  John has both a wife and six children,
and he loves them all.  I’m not fool enough to get
myself into a situation like that.  Besides, there are
other, what shall I say ... considerations that
would prevent anything like that.”
	“The voice,” Marian asked, changing the
subject.  “How do you change your voice and
make it appear out of the air?”
	“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always
had a talent for mimicry.”  Robyn said, as her
voice seemed to come from behind Marian.  “It
seemed a good idea to use it when addressing
outsiders.  I doubt Sir Guy and the Sheriff would
be impressed by my natural voice.”
	Marian nodded her head in agreement.
	“And as for making it appear where I am
not, well that’s just a little trick a mage once
taught me.”
	“I still cannot believe that you are the
scourge that has terrified all of Nottingham.”  the
younger woman went on.  “That the legend is all a
myth.”
	“I am no myth.”  Robyn said quite
seriously.
	“It’s said that Robin Hood is the deadliest
archer in all England.”  Marian countered,
displaying the independent curiosity that so
infuriated Gisbourne.  “Would you claim that title
as well?”
	At that, Robyn stood and looked across
the stream.  Her blue eyes came to rest on a small
dead tree some hundred yards distant.  A small
skinny thing with only two small branches left.
The thickest of which was only two inches.
	“Do you see that small tree down the
opposite bank?”  she asked Marian.
	It took a few moments for Marian to focus
on the tree in the fading afternoon light.
	“Yes I see it.”
	“The right or the left.”
	“What?”
	“The right or the left,”  Robyn repeated.
“Pick a branch.”
	“But why...?”
	“Oh never mind.”  Robyn said impatiently.
	Before even another word could form on
Marian’s lips, Robyn reached into her quiver and
notched two arrows to her bow.  It took but
another heartbeat for her to aim.  Then in the blink
of an eye, the nineteen year old released her hold
on the drawstring and sent the bolts flying into the
center of each branch, cleaving them both in two.
	“That was unbelievable.”  Marian gasped.
	“I told you I was no myth.”

	The two young women talked of a number
of subjects.  It had been a very long time since
Marian had the opportunity to talk with someone
of intelligence.  At least someone who wanted to
hear what she had to say.  Too many of the
women she spent her time with wanted only to
talk of  their latest conquests and how they might
please them.

	“As I heard, you were to be married on the
morrow.” said Robyn.  “I apologize for the
delay.”
	“Would be that the delay had been made
permanent.”  Marian commented.
	“You don’t love Gisbourne?”  Robyn
asked.
	“I would sooner take a viper to my breast
than that man to my bed.”  Marian answered in
unrestrained anger.
	“Knowing of Sir Guy, I can understand
that.”  Robyn nodded sympathetically.  “Are you a
virgin?”  she asked out of curiosity, thinking that
few girls as old as Marian still were.
	“No man has ever touched me!”  Marian
said with righteous indignation.
	“That wasn’t the question I asked.”
Robyn said, looking deep into the other woman’s
brown eyes. “Let me put it another way. Is it only
Gisbourne’s bed that you wish to avoid -- or is it
that of any man?”
	Marian seemed to ponder the question for
long seconds, taking the time to frame an answer.
When she began to speak, the tone of resignation
in her voice was more than evident.
	“What I might or might not wish doesn’t
matter,”  she began.  “It is the way of the world.
A woman may be given to a man by her closest
male relative.  What desire she may carry in her
heart matters little.”
	“What may be the way of the world,”
Robyn corrected, “Does not hold here in
Sherwood. Within this Shire, a man or woman is
free to follow their heart.  So I ask you once
more.  If you could follow that which is your most
secret desire, where would it lead you?”

	Marian seemed unwilling to answer.
Robyn suspected it was because she had denied
the truth for so long that even now she could not
dare to give it voice.  Of course the woman in
green could be wrong about her conclusion, but
somehow she didn’t think so.  As with so many
things in her life, the Heir of Locksley decided
that direct action was the best course.



Ann Douglas Web Page

/~Ann_Douglas/

ASSTR Donation Page

/donations.html

*********************************************************
       Comments are the life blood of any amateur writer,
the currency in which they are paid.  It only takes a few
minutes to send off a few lines, which is little to ask for
in exchange for hours spent creating a story.  So be sure to
take those few minutes, it can only result in more and
better stories in the future.

*********************************************************

______________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com


--
If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author.  Your comments
are their only payment.  Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@asstr.org>            | <story-admin@asstr.org>            |
| ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
| <http://assm.asstr.org/>---<http://assm.asstr.org/erotica/assm/faq.html> |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations.  |
| If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help   |
| Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.|
| </> Donations: </donations.html> |
\_________________________________________________________________________/