Chapter 4

D'Artagnan awoke to the sounds of his three friends heavily making their way up the steps to his lodgings.

"Out of bed with you," Porthos bellowed, knocking violently upon the door.

The youth jumped from his covers and greeted his friends with a sort of disbelief for there they stood before his waking eyes, proof that what had happened yesterday had not been but a dream.

"The king has asked to see us all," Athos bubbled.

"You are a hero, sir," Aramis added.

"Your sword did tell its tale. The king is overjoyed with your dead aim," Porthos interjected.

"Come, ready yourself so we can be at the hotel of M. de Treville within the hour," Aramis said, throwing D'Artagnan his doublet.

"What you need is a man servant," Porthos observed. "Any civilized gentleman must own one."

D'Artagnan's head was spinning. In just twenty four hours he had become compatriot of the most respected of Musketeers and now this very morning the King wished an audience. Dressing quickly he accompanied his comrades out of the hotel and to the court of M. de Treville.

Upon entering the court yard a loud cheer saluting his victory went up and several of the men openly patted him on the back. The youth was brimming with jubilation.

The Captain of the Musketeers greeted the four warmly as they entered his ante-chamber. At once he began scolding them for dualing with the Cardinal's guards but immediately congratulated them upon their winning. He especially made overtures toward D'Artagnan and proudly saluted him on having wounded so fine a swordsman as Monsieur Jussac, who was considered by many in Paris to be the finest of rapier experts. He also noted with pleasure that Jussac, wounded, made one less formidable sword for the Cardinal to use against the King.

"Come, gentlemen," the captain finally said, "We are to be at the Louve. The King has expressly asked to meet D'Artagnan."

The five made their way to the palace and were conducted to the King's private antechamber. M. de Treville went in first and instructed the men to await his invitation.

"Aramis...." D'Artagnan whispered, "I am in ignorance of this feud between the Cardinal and King. Does not his Eminence play chess with his Majesty daily?"

"Most assuredly," Aramis responded. "Seeing who can be one step ahead of the other. His Eminence would do anything to upset the throne. His mortal enemy remains the queen and he daily contrives ways to make her lose favor with the king."

"And the Queen has a lover from across the sea," Athos whispered, "who has threatened war upon France."

"And the Cardinal knows this and guards the ports of entry like a mother hen her brood," Porthos interjected.

At that moment De Treville opened the door and stepped within. "Come on," he said, leading them into the room.

"Come here, my brave," the King said. "Come here. I am going to scold you."

The Musketeers advanced, bowing. D'Artagnan followed closely behind them.

"What the devil?" the King continued. "Seven of his Eminence's Guards by four of you. That's too many, gentlemen, too many. If you go on so, his Eminence will be forced to renew his company in three weeks. One or two now and then and I don't say much about it but seven in one day is too many."

"Therefore, sire, your Majesty, they have come to repent and offer their excuses," De Treville announced.

"Repent? I place no confidence in their hypocritical faces. In particular there is one yonder of a Gascon. Look. Come hither, Monsieur," the King commanded.

D'Artagnan understood this as a silent compliment and advanced in a most deprecating manner.

"Why you told me he was a young man? This is just a boy, Treville, a mere boy. Do you mean to say that it was he who bestowed that severe thrust at Jussac?"

"And two equally fine thrusts at another."

"Truly."

"The fact," Athos volunteered, "without his help I should not be alive today."

"Why he is a devil," the King said. "I assume many doublets must be slashed and swords broken. Are not Gascons always poor?"

"Gold has not been discovered in their mountains," De Treville said.

"Then we shall find a way to replace those precious goods." The King searched his robe and produced forty gold pieces. "Here," he said, putting the coin in the hands of D'Artagnan, "is proof of my satisfaction."

The four bowed low and with one voice cried, "Long live the King ... long live the Musketeers."

The King waved his hand to Treville which signaled the audience had come to an end. In single file they stepped backwards and out.

"Well," Treville said, once they were on their way and into the street. "The King has instructed me to place you, D'Artagnan, in the service of Monsieur Dessessart, a company of Guards. He is assured by this appointment that the Cardinal will be furious but never the less the gesture gratified his feud and places him one step ahead of his Eminence. Take care the four of you do not underestimate the Cardinal. He has been made aware of you all, too painfully, I am afraid," Treville concluded, leaving the men standing at the steps of the hotel.

"A feast," Porthos proclaimed, considering the money D'Artagnan had just received. "All for one and one for all," he shouted.

Athos advised Porthos to procure a good servant for D'Artagnan, Aramis to search him a suitable mistress and he himself would see to it that the youth found more suitable lodgings to complement his new station.

"Was that not a strange request to put upon the theologically bent Aramis?" D'Artagnan asked Athos as they searched the varying court yards for vacancies.

"Not at all. He is only spiritually bent when he has indulged too much in bosoms and wine," Athos lightly replied.

"I took him to be more serious in his pursuit of religion," the youth persisted.

"Perhaps he is, I fear, hiding a broken heart ... or a broken vow."

They settled upon a modest apartment overlooking the main square. It was within the Pomme-de-pin Inn, the very place the friends had agreed to meet. Once D'Artagnan had paid the landlord the two returned to the entrance to await their friends. Porthos was walking toward them and behind him straggled a wiry little man with deep black eyes and a hook nose.

"Monsieur D'Artagnan I have obtained the service of Picard for you," Porthos grandly announced, displaying his catch. The lacky's face shaded with disappointment upon seeing the youth for he was under the impression he was to be the man servant to the large and imposing Porthos.

Aramis followed quickly with a single column of three very distinct types of females. The first he introduced as Monica. She was more youthful in years than her two companions, barely eighteen, with golden locks that curled gaily about her rosy cheeked face. Her body was amply curved but suggested a few more meals might set about her bones a more pleasant ride. Paula was husky and barrel chested and when she looked at the three men her eyes narrowed and she selected Athos without hesitation. This left Collette whose head was as red as the copper and freckles a matching hue. Her prize lay in her rump and it was easy to see that Aramis had Porthos in mind when he selected the wench.

"And for you, my friend?" D'Artagnan asked Aramis.

"I shall feast at your table but not in your bedroom," the Musketeer flatly announced.

The other two Musketeers, accustomed to Aramis' strange shift in mood, sluffed off his remark as the usual unpredictable wit and instructed Picard to fetch an array of beef, poultry and wine to begin the feast.

D'Artagnan led the party up the winding stair case that led to his small apartment which consisted of a bed chamber, anteroom and hallway. The seven reposed themselves in front of the fire and awaited the servant's arrival with food and drink.

Porthos sprawled his large frame upon the rugged floor and plopped the woman upon his lap as Athos remained seated and placed the girl at his feet. D'Artagnan eyed his young thing with a jaundiced look for he felt her face to be lovely but her bones in need of flesh.

"This woman is as hot as the Irish that runs her veins," Porthos exclaimed, running his hands beneath his woman's shirt and greeting a dew sopped pair of panties. "I shall enjoy this reward," he laughed, throwing back his head and playing with the short hairs of matching copper.

"You're such a pig," Athos remarked, more in tune with the romance of lust rather than the carnal treats.

"And you are such a hypocrite," the other Musketeer announced. "You are as eager to finger the lady's bottom as I. It is just that you must feign the seduction before you can eat."

Athos' body stiffened and D'Artagnan shot Porthos a look of disgust.

"Don't mind me, my friend. I am gluttonous for juice and pubic meat. You are indeed a gentleman," Porthos volunteered in way of an apology.

Picard broke the tension by appearing with his arms laden to breaking with good smelling stuff.

"Pour the wine," D'Artagnan commanded, attempting to assume an air of master and king.

His three companions passed him a look of approval and Aramis went inside to supervise the feast.

Having consumed what was laid upon the table the seven sipped their wine and conversed in the after glow of friendship.

"I must leave you. I have an appointment," Aramis said, standing to his feet.

"But why so soon? There is enough for all," Porthos boasted, clutching the woman's breasts and offering them to Aramis like ripe fruit.

"I have more important matters to attend to," the Musketeer answered.

"What can be more important to a man than the comfort of a woman's touch?" Athos unex-Dectedly interjected, displaying an unusual imount of attention to his lady's bottom.

"Yes, dear sir. What can continually take you away from the arms of female companionship ... unless you have one hidden within your library," the youth laughed, nuzzling the neck of his blonde wench.

"Watch your tongue, young man," Aramis hotly replied.

"Enough," Athos interceded, feeling tempers about to flare. "I am in a light mood and if you, Aramis prefer other entertainment then on the morrow we shall see you," the Cavalier said, setting his bottom down to lighten the load to his wobbling legs.

Evenly matched, the men turned to their women and began in earnest to explore the promise of each fold.

Athos, usually more reserved in open sexuality, boldly unwrapped his parcel and eagerly guzzled about her flesh. The woman's breasts were enormous and appeared to expand with each hungry lash of his tongue. His body was well constructed, not as large and hairy as Porthos but certainly adequately stocked with muscle. His cock was thick and not so long as D'Artagnan's and his balls were pouched perfectly within a lusterous growth of hair.

In energetic gymnastics he threw the woman's legs up to his shoulders and trailed her hair upon the floor as he remained seated and lowered his head to press his lips upon the glistening brownish pink lips.

Porthos, in the meantime had settled himself over the luscious backside and was humping in abandon the bottom hole of his Irish wench.

D'Artagnan remained seated upon the floor, his legs spread wide and the blondness of hair careened about his cock, hiding it from view. The girl's lips danced up and down its stiffness and her teeth paused on occasion to nibble the tip.

"Dear girl," the youth breathed, "my satchel is tingling."

The girl's lips encased the knob and ran the length until she butted the root. Her fingers searched his bottom and cupped his balls and tugged, making the youthful cock stir with her mouth. D'Artagnan heard her choke and swallow in an effort to breath. His hands crawled to her arse and he fingered the tightly locked ridge. Her slit was dripping with juice and he inserted his thumb and poked it to and fro, causing the girl's bottom to wiggle frantically.

"Play with it, sir, please play with it," Porthos' woman cried, feeling the largeness of his fingers upon her clitoris. "Oh yes, sir ... it feels so good," she ranted, banging her backside into his groin as he hung over her back and worked his fingers within her carrot red fuzz box. The enormously excited Porthos grabbed for her waist and pulled her up and down his organ at will. The woman's breasts bobbled and swung with each powerful thrust. Her mouth was screwed to a lustful freeze and her nipples sharpened to bursting. "Oh ... oh ... oh...." she yelled, dropping her front to the floor. "Oh...." she cried again, signaling her climax by arching and twisting in a most grotesque manner. The Musketeer sweated profusely and his eyes bugged his head. He was dripping saliva about her back and resembled a mad dog. A loud and erupting roar shot from his throat as he plunged violently forward and clung to the woman's back in a desperate and final explosion.

D'Artagnan was knuckle deep in pussy and organ deep in throat. He pumped his mighty shaft the length of her esophagus, tearing past her tonsils and damned near her lungs. The girl, Monica, seemed more excited by this savage plunge and in a gross and lewd manner began sucking her cunt, thus cracking the air with a barrage of loudly inflecting sounds. D'Artagnan felt his nut swell to the size of a grapefruit as a stream of hot discharge coursed his center tubing and washed her throat.

Athos, buried to the lips in hair, made loud gobbling noises as he sucked and licked the spilling gash. Paula's barrel chested boobs flounced about in a rubbery balled fashion and her stomach swelled and crushed with each gasping breath she took. The Musketeer's tool stood rigidly beneath the woman's back and each time his tongue rolled her clitoris she jerked, just enough to rub the pulsing knob. Quite suddenly she raised up and arched and Athos caught her beneath by the bottom as her ankles locked about his neck. In a frantic circle of grinding she mashed her crotch into his face. The Musketeer increased his assault and pulled the swollen button well into his mouth, forcing her orgasm to climb higher. The woman reached for his cock and tugged it violently, hoping to bring about the same wonderful conclusion she was experiencing. Instantly this voluptuous maneuvering brought about a flow of cream sauce from Athos' hose and neatly he scrubbed her back with juice.

Collette lay sprawled upon the enormous wooden table where the feast had taken place and Porthos stood in front of her, his eyes surveying the gushing opening.

"Come here," he called to D'Artagnan. "Look how she floods."

The youth lifted his frame from the floor and walked to where the enormous hulk of a man stood. Monica followed closely behind and ventured to place her slender finger upon the twitching button.

"Lick it clean," Porthos commanded.

Monica passed a glance to D'Artagnan who nodded his agreement and at once the blonde head slipped between the folds of flesh and began guzzling the oozing fluid. Porthos lifted himself to the table and suspended his oak hard sword above Collette's mouth. Then, with subtle and quickness of touch, slipped the glistening tip between the woman's full lips. Gently, almost tenderly, he withdrew and rolled the sparkling head about the corners and fleshy smile. Collette jerked and Porthos glanced below as he saw the red slick tongue of Monica's flash about the woman's tunnel as D'Artagnan mounted from the rear and slipped into Collette's tight bun-opening.

"Get to her cunt," Athos bellowed, commanding Paula to slip to the floor and lick the streaming drops that ran from within Collette's thighs. The girl obliged and quickly felt the heavy weight of Athos' body on her frame.

"What a glorious sight," Porthos groaned. "How I wish you could see this magnificent view."

Collette swabbed Porthos' shaft and brought the Musketeer down to his elbows and on top of her breasts. As she worked his foreskin back he gobbled her nipples to titilating hardness which increased the intensity of throbbing that Monica's tonguing created.

D'Artagnan pulled Monica to and fro as his hands busily squeezed and pinched her swelling nipples. The youth could feel the sensations crowding his groin and in a blind and furious lust increased his thrusting and succeeded in spilling a heavy load within her walls.

Paula's mouth worked frantically to peak the raging thrills that raced Collette's groin. The girl's body shook and trembled and her friend could tell she was nearing her explosion. Seemingly, just as D'Artagnan flooded her rear, her slot broke open and poured down a healthy torrent of juice. Paula swallowed and licked in an effort to take from the girl's womb all that was there.

The hard pumping Athos grew magnificently within the pressure building sheath. He dug his fingers into the wide backside and rode Paula's shapely body to a steady and furious conclusion for just as his sperm broke loose her walls contracted and bit down, taking a powerful squeeze of the jerking organ.

And lastly, as captain of the ship, Porthos banged down upon the slippery cavern and dispeled a bucket full of liquid. Collette gagged but continued to swallow until the stiff pole turned limp and popped from her mouth.

The friends collapsed to the floor in a glorious and tired tribute to lust.

Picard, forgotten but not out of viewing distance, crept to the floor, surveyed the leaden corpses and stole to the bedroom. Closing his eyes, he replayed the entire scene as his bony fingers encased his cock and he masturbated himself to conclusion.