looked as if he were a henchman for the insidious Dr. Fu Manchu. The Earthman swallowed hard as he estimated the man to outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds. He watched as the giant's muscles rippled like thick steel cables under his sunbronzed skin. But he was far-very far-from being muscle-bound. As if to prove the point, he did a couple of handsprings as his version of warms. Ponkert immediately recognized the show of agility for what it was-a ploy to unnerve him.
In his next breath, the Earthman admitted to himself it worked! He was scared shitless!
As the man-mountain began to approach, two tree-trunk arms extended in a deadly embrace toward him, Ponkert tried to find the calmness that had been drilled into his head during all those hours of hand-to-hand combat training back on Earth. Visions of his two hundred pound instructor being tossed around like a sack of corn meal by a one hundred and five pound woman with a fifth degree black belt flashed in his mind's eye.
Size meant nothing. Ability was everything. This giant was undoubtedly stronger. But Ponkert had the element of surprise on his side. Surprise in the form of fists of death.
Cautiously, the Earthman crouched in a defensive stance and waited as his opponent charged. When in doubt, let your attacker make the first move. Let him make the first mistake. The first mistake would come quickly-he hoped- as he stood before the gargantua barreling down on him.
Then Ponkert struck! So fast and skillful were his movements, that few actually saw, with the exception of Jan who often sparred with him aboard the Werewolf, or understood what actually occurred.
Before the bronze giant's clutching bands could ensnarl him in their massive grip, Ponkert locked out and connected his heel with the opponent's kneecap. Catching an out-flung arm, he twisted violently. The mountainous man screamed as he somersaulted through the air, landing with a definitely fleshy thud on his back, clouds of dust rising under the impact.
It was here the Lindakarian's agility came into play. Before the Earthman could administer the coup de grace in the form of a slashing kick to the temple, the golden-skinned monster had rolled to his feet and stood facing Ponkert.
Although his teeth gnashed and he growled, Ponkert could detect the glimmering of doubt on the behemoth's face. Never before had anyone hurt him so easily. From the manner in which he slid his right leg, his kneecap might be broken.
Again the man charged with bull-like determination to quickly do away with his opponent. Ponkert grabbed, turned, and smoothly went into a perfectly executed tai-otoshi, the aptly named body drop. The Lindakarian once more sailed through the air to land heavily at Ponkert's feet.
This time, Ponkert couldn't allow the man to escape him. The bronze giant's thick neck was quickly locked in Ponkert's powerful arms.
Applied properly, a choke lock, such as Ponkert held his opponent in, takes only seconds to bring unconsciousness. The bull-necked Lindakarian was no exception-only five seconds passed before Rololf's champion was at the Earthman's feet, lying there without moving.
Ponkert released his hold the instant he was sure the man had been knocked out. He had no, desire to kill the Lindakarian. He carried no malice toward him. True, the man would cheerfully have killed him-and had tried very hard to do just that-but this meant nothing to the Earthman. He had won! That was all that mattered.
'Your champion is defeated,' he called out, turning to Rololf. 'Need I kill him to prove it?'
'Nay!' the ruler answered. 'Never has anyone bested Ort. 'There is no need to go on. You have fairly won the Princess Elfgwynne.'
Somewhere, he could hear Jan's voice, but paid little attention to it as two servants led him from the arena. They walked quickly down a torch-lit corridor to a large stone pool where Ponkert was allowed to wash the sweat and dirt from the fight from his body.
As he climbed from the water and dried, one of the servants spoke, 'Our queen has directed us to take you to the princess.'
He nodded to them to lead on as he slipped into his Hortian robes of royalty that Jan had apparently ordered for him from the inn. His weapons, including his precious laser, were there also.
It took only moments to wind their way back to the palace. Another few seconds, and his servant companions opened another massive wooden door, not unlike those he was becoming accustomed to finding in Kellerian palaces. He stepped into a room that would've made a sultan's harem envious with its luxury. But he gave little notice to the opulence that surrounded him. His eyes saw only one thing. A very beautiful, short-haired redhead who stood in long velvet robes in the middle of the chamber-Elf!
'Chad!' she exclaimed as her eyes settled on him then she rushed forward, as did he.
When they met, there was no stopping the flurry of wet, warm kisses as they desperately tried to cover any and all skin left exposed by their garments. When their lips at last met in a long, loving joining, they communicated more than hours of conversation could've achieved.
Remaining in the girl's clinging arms, he maneuvered her to the edge of a large oval bed on one side of the room. As their lips continued to meet and their tongues continued to delve in and out of each other's mouth, they somehow managed to seat themselves. Eventually, Ponkert gently eased the girl from him. Tears of happiness flowed from her hazel eyes.
Somewhere finding the strength to resist the urge to pull her back into his arms, he started his tale. Beginning with the Werewolf and ending it with the battle for her freedom and a peace treaty between the two cities, he told her everything. Everything! He left no detail of his Kellerian adventures unmentioned.
'Then that means we're safe and in the hands of friends,' Elf finally commented, almost irritating him with her easy acceptance of his explanation.
'Do you understand everything I've said?' he questioned, perplexed by her attitude.
'Yes, everything,' she smiled, as her hands lovingly caressed the sides of his face. 'But all that is in the past. And the treaty is in the future. All that matters now is that we, together, are safe and in no danger.'
He laughed at her crazy, wonderful logic and enwrapped her in his arms.
His tongue once more plunged into the warm sweetness of her mouth. Her lips parted willingly and her own tongue played and teased at his.
'Take me, my lord,' she whispered as their lips parted. 'Please, it's all that I want for now. Everything else can wait.'
Despite the bulkiness of their clothing and the intricate clasps and catches that held the garments together, they managed to strip with little interrupting of their demanding embraces. He groaned long and low when at last he felt the summery touch of her body pressed against him.
Skin to skin, man to woman.
Lowering her to the bed once again under his pressing weight, his hands hungrily raced over the enticing smoothness of her young supple body.
His tongue flicked out against her fleshy little earlobe, easily bringing delighted pleasure-moans from her lips. As he increased his taunting, his teeth nibbled at the lobe, eventually capturing it. In turn, his tongue whipped at the sensitive flesh until she writhed beneath him, rolling the bulging mounds of her breasts across his chest.
The yearning call of her pillowy tits summoned his hands. Answering the invitation, he rolled to his side and slightly off the soft body under him. Dancing his fingertips in swirling little patterns, beginning at the ear opposing the one he busied with his mouth, he teased down the long freckle-sprinkled arch of her graceful neck, arriving with tantalizing slowness at the base of one of the fleshy mountains.
Shivery little trembles shot through her body at the contact of breast and hand. She groaned and wedged a warm thigh between his yielding legs.
Her thigh eased up, finding the thickness of man-meat swelling from his loins. Her body quaked with excitement as she felt the throbbing virility coursing through his cock.
With a definite languor, she rolled the thick shaft, teasing him into soft aroused moans. She shivered as the first flow of preseminal juices oozed to the sleek surface of her thigh. Warm and wet, it slicked over the supple roundness of her leg as she moved against him.
As he gave up the pleasure-tortured earlobe and moved his lips and tongue to her neck, his fingers gently traced the large circumference of her billowy breast. Having traversed the complete base, he raced his fingertips around it once again, delighting at the series of flesh tremors he ignited in the girl.
Spiralling and circling in the aroused heaving mound, he climbed up the alluring cone. Quivering and warm, the flesh beneath his fingertips trembled with increasing alacrity as he ascended. Her breathing deepened and
