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A cheating wife gets hers.

His lance rolled uselessly down the embankment as he landed unceremoniously on his derriere with a loud clang as pieces of the armor banged together in a cacophony of sound.

Jumping to his feet, his right hand reached for the sword in the scabbard at his left side, pulling the weapon part way out before his brain meshed enough to register what he had just witnessed: he had jousted with ... a FEMALE. He could not believe it! A girl had bested him! It had to be a girl, to have armor shaped like that. After all what man would wear armor with breast-shaped protuberances like those. And the nipples! By Thor! They were as large and pronounced as any he had ever seen, even on the wenches that worked the wayside inns where he often stayed and whose services he usually sampled freely.

He turned toward her in time to see her dismount, having already dropped her jousting lance. Gracefully she hit the ground and spun to face him, at the same time drawing her little whippet of a sword and wielding it in a manner that told him in no uncertain terms that she was not only aware of what it was for but was the mistress of its use as well. Purposefully she strode toward the knight, sword at the ready.

He was very impressed with what he could see. She walked with a strong stride, supported on two very shapely legs that were at the same time muscular and feminine. There were no bulges but rather smooth transitions from small ankle up around her calves and narrowing at the knees, then again veering up and out as her legs joined her torso, barely concealed under the lowest of the armor. Her gait was even and polished but ... my god, he thought ... her lower armor must somehow be hinged to let her bottom swing from side to side like that.

She was still several strides from him when he held up his right hand in a signal of friendly confrontation, flipped up his visor, and said, in a softer tone, " Cease! Let us have a truce, even if momentary. Let us discuss business."

She stopped where she was, coming to stand with her feet spread wide, sword held across her waist in a position where she could bring it to bear on the knight quickly if the need arose. She spoke, this time in a rather musically lilting voice, "So state your business."

"I am a knight of the King's Overseers of the Criminal Kingdom, sometimes known as KOCK. I am Sir Jack of Stroke-On-Trent. I am assigned to patrol the high road from Coventry to Nottingham. I am today performing those duties duly assigned to me by His Majesty the King himself. And who might you be?"

She flipped up her own visor and spoke, "I am known as Kittie of Wet Chester. I am a member of the Kings Underlings against Nomadic Terrorism, sometimes called KUNT. We voluntarily patrol the low road long the river from Duke-in-Kitty to the ford and thence to Coventry. We take as our duty the right to remove the manhood of those who would rape and pillage the King's people, land and animals."

While they had been talking, both of them had heard the whinnying of the two horses but had ignored them until now.

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