Seven kilometers on flat ground would take fifteen minutes, but the low, rolling mountains, with their dips and obstacles, made it far tougher.
It took Ritchie half an hour to reach the site.
The area bore scars of recent combat: freshly felled trees still oozed sap.
Randy's psychic senses combed the surroundings, revealing what eyes couldn't see.
Lingering energy in the air allowed her to reconstruct the knights' battle.
Troublingly, the energy trails split, one toward an open area, the other deeper into the mountains.
"Our team split up," Ritchie whispered. Though ignorant of psychic senses, he saw the obvious.
Battle armors, even the lightest at six or seven hundred kilos, left deep footprints. Heavier ones, over a ton, were unmistakable, especially since the squad had fought while retreating.
Randy pondered briefly before pointing to the mountain trail.
Their all-female squad used light or medium armors, ideal for open terrain retreats. The mountain path was riskier, demanding more energy. But it was also an opportunity—both sides would tire, and resupply was scarce. Whoever got supplies first would gain the edge.
"Be careful. We'll take the long route to avoid enemy scouts," Randy whispered.
Night deepened, the biting wind making Ritchie shiver. He noticed Randy trembling worse, curled tightly to conserve heat.
"Want to come inside?" he asked hesitantly, heart racing. The invitation might evoke… other thoughts.
Randy's body jolted, curling tighter.
Ritchie sat glumly in his armor, wondering if they'd survive the night, or how many nights they'd endure if they couldn't catch up.
Night offered safety. At least, no surprise attacks or stealthy enemies. Both pursuers and pursued stopped at dusk. Without sunlight, paths were invisible, and lights made you a target. Silence amplified any sound, exposing movement. Night battles in complex terrain were suicide.
As he brooded, rustling broke his thoughts. Randy was untying her straps.
When she squeezed through the armor's gap, Ritchie's throat went dry, a fire igniting in his gut, surging to his hardening cock.
The armor's interior was cramped, designed for one. Only the seat offered space. Randy's lower half fit inside, her upper body exposed.
Her legs spread and curled, ankles against her hips, her crotch brushing his erection.
Her sharp senses caught it—she felt its size and hardness.
She flinched instinctively but remembered why she'd come.
That thick, long thing would soon pierce her, claiming what she'd guarded for years, reaching her deepest parts. Why shy away now?
"You risked coming with me. That surprised and touched me," she said. "I can't promise we'll survive, so consider this your reward."
Randy steeled herself, unbuckling her belt and tugging her pants down.
Her face flushed. She hadn't thought it through that legs splayed like this, the pants wouldn't come off.
Retreating was tough. Curled up, she couldn't muster the strength.
In his haste, Ritchie tugged too hard, or perhaps the uniform was flimsy. A soft rip echoed as the fabric tore.
The glimpse of creamy, smooth skin reminded him of his first sword lesson with Lina, and also their first time having sex. She hadn't bothered removing her pants, just opened the crotch and went at it.
His fingers itched. He grabbed Randy's crotch and tore, the stitching giving way.
A sky-blue woolen panty hugged her slight mound, wisps of brown hair peeking from the edges.
The moment he tore her pants, Randy stiffened, her face a mix of shame and anger.
This was too much.
She'd agreed to sex, but not to broadcast it. The torn crotch would scream what they'd done.
Randy was about to snap when a shiver racked her body.
Her untouched core, rarely even touched by herself, was now being brazenly fondled by a cold hand.
Words couldn't capture the sensation—ticklish, exhilarating, agonizing, leaving her hollow, floating.
Fear surged as she squirmed to escape. "Let me go, please," she whispered, then bit her lip, a seductive hum escaping her nose.
Ritchie's wrist flicked, his thumb vibrating on her clit. Even Lina, the insatiable, couldn't handle it, allowing it only at her climax's peak.
For a virgin like Randy, it was overwhelming.
Her face contorted, half-crying, right hand stuffed in her mouth to muffle her sounds.
"Mmm… mmm… mmm…" Her nasal moans stretched, sounding like unbearable pain.
A sudden urge to pee hit her, jarring her senses.
Desperate not to embarrass herself, especially not before Ritchie, she clenched her jaw.
But the urge, mixed with maddening tingles, spread from her core, up her spine, to her brain.
"Mmm… ah…" Unable to hold back, a hot gush soaked her, drenching her panties.
Randy covered her face, sobbing softly, thinking she'd wet herself.
Then a hand pulled her panties aside, and something round pressed against her slit.
She knew what it was, knew the real act was coming.
Her shame and fear dissolved, leaving only nervous anticipation.
"Be gentle. Make it a good memory," she murmured, voice soft, plaintive.
Ritchie thrust lightly. Her slick, drenched passage eased him in.
His tip met a thin barrier.
This wasn't his first virgin; the three sisters were too. But this felt different.
With them, an audience and their bound state had fueled his aggression, leaving no room for tenderness.
Randy was different.
He felt compelled to be kind. Maybe because she was the only "proper" woman he'd been with, unlike Rosa's pranks, Lina's voracity, or the sisters' oddity.
Gently, he pushed, breaching her. Randy's soft moan confirmed it.
Slow, deliberate thrusts followed, a gentleness new to him. He teased her sparse, curly brown pubic hair as he moved.
Despite his care, it was too much for Randy, untouched by any man.
She'd felt his size through her pants, but inside, his thick, long cock filled her completely.
Even the first thrust overwhelmed her.
As a psychic, Randy had immense mental strength, but her body was merely human.
As her passage gradually stretched, the tight channel widened, and Ritchie's thrusts quickened.
Randy shed her initial awkwardness, moving with him. When he thrust, she lifted her hips to meet him; when he withdrew, she pulled back. The armor's cramped space limited his range, but her cooperation extended it.
After so much wild sex with Lina, Ritchie favored deep, full thrusts. His thick tip slid through Randy's elastic passage, the walls brushing exquisitely, hitting a hard, slick depth.
With half her body outside, kissing or fondling her breasts was impossible. Her torn pants exposed only a slit, limiting him to squeezing her buttocks, restricting his usual techniques.
Randy's small yet plump ass, soft and thick, felt smoother than any other woman's he'd touched.
Gripping it firmly, he sped up.
Randy was lost in a haze, yanking off her cap and stuffing it in her mouth. Muffled sounds leaked out—"Mmm… ah… gentle… good… oh… come on…"
Suddenly, she shuddered, clutching the armor's shoulders. Her body trembled, her passage contracting. The slow, deep thrusts became rapid, her vagina spasming.
Ritchie sensed her climax nearing. The hard spot deep inside softened, sucking his tip tightly, like a small mouth.
Her orgasm was brief, not as explosive as Lina's, just intense tremors and a fleeting stiffness, followed by another hot gush.
They remained seated, his cock still hard inside her. Her passage twitched uncontrollably, her body limp, held only by straps.