There's nothing confused about it, honestly - can you honestly say that the thought of me behind you, hips pressed hot and flush against your ass, sounds anything but positively stuffed with surety? My fingers, for instance, might wind through your hair, gripping tight all the way down by the roots, and the teasing grin in my voice would be all but visible, when you feel the press of stubble against your cheek and a long, deep thrust spread you out inside.

But I'm getting just a little ahead of myself, aren't I?

See, when I was a little boy, waddling about and dumping my box of toy knights and castles out onto the carpet^1, I always would look at the little princess figure with a touch of confusion. I mean... where's the fun in that? Who would want to play with a friend who didn't want to get dirty, who couldn't take a bit of rough-and-tumble? Much more sensible, to me, back then, was the cheery little knight who was shaped a little differently than all the armored gentlemen of her peer group. It probably didn't hurt that I read an awful lot of Tamora Pierce back in the day, and my first shameful character crush favorite character was also a charmingly irrepressible lady knight.

And, as I think the topic at hand demonstrates... well, I've not really changed that much, honestly.

I mean, no one's saying we can't rescue a princess together, although it's like, more often than not, to devolve into lustily spit-roasting her with cocks both natural and artificial, or just dropping her safely off to a doddering old king, blowing the ransom on a nice inn, a cask of lube, and the inevitable costs associated with shattering a bedframe or two. But, like all good stories, the fun is in the journey, not the destination, y'know?

There's no confusion at all about it, again, in my mind - I mean, sure, my tastes might run, at times, to wanting a sturdy companion who can get my back in a sword-fight, but why does that mean said companion can't be equally at home bearing the blows of another sort of exercise, with my hands curling underneath to squeeze and grab, my teeth on her skin and my tongue twined with hers? Just because shorter hair is sensible under a helm has no bearing on whether it's a delight to run my hands through and draw tight while a certain lovely lass's lips seal around my base, and I'm sure thighs that close around my head with a slightly frightening strength can be every bit as ladylike despite a few scars.

Of course, there'd be no knight-ing without a proper adventure - a princess to rescue, a dragon to defeat, a very involved sort of diplomacy with the dread creatures who lurk in murky, red-hued forests - but, as always, the first thing to do is know who one's setting out with.

And today... well, I rather think that's you.

^{1 This, of course, is a lie. I always set them out carefully, and never put them away; my bedroom had a long and rich history of ever-changing borders, shifting alliances, and a tendency to see dragons employed as close air support.}

Kinks: Butt stuff, cheery romps, tomboyish lasses who don't mind being a touch more submissive in the bedroom. Somewhere, I promise, a little stuffed dragon is going to make an appearance.

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