4 comments/ 47393 views/ 0 favorites Queen By: Sas It Up2 **My first story about something that I have always been fascinated by, you may find other works by me under the name Sas It Up. Please feel free to let me know your honest opinion. Happy Reading! Had no idea where to post this in what category, so I eventually decided to make it Audio...then chickened out, so here it is with the picture that inspires. The soft sounds came through the open window. The navy curtains blew in the wind as nature prepared for the storm. Animals crept through the night, seeking shelter for the evening. Even the blooming moonflowers had closed their scented petals to care for their delicate bodies. The woods around the large Victorian home had all but vanished into a dark world when the master of the house awoke. He awoke to the sounds of the old shutters slamming against his bedroom door. Jumping from bed he pulled the shutters closed, with the tiny metal catch they locked. He then pulled down the more modern windowpanes to keep the cool air from rushing over his heated skin. That's when he noticed the sweat, the heat permeating off his body. He glanced at the unmade bed, seeing the torn sheets...pieces still attached to the headboards.... glancing to his bruised wrists...it came back... He woke to find his body tied to the bed...he could feel the heat of her lips pressing along his thigh, yet he could not for the life of him open his eyes. Her hair must be long he thought, as it trailed along his thigh, following the sweet path of her mouth. A tongue like no other caressed his skin in patterns of swirls and pictures. He could only feel the heat...like this woman was a ball of fire on his skin, torching him with her every touch. Soon her soft thighs straddle his body, he tried to move his arms, but he could feel the fabric tighten on his wrists. His body was now on fire as she ran her sharp nails down his chest, he both feared and desired this woman. Soon he found a nipple being pressed to his lips, softly being rubbed back and forth against his dry lips, he sought to taste her with his tongue. She pressed her nipple into his mouth, tucking it between his lips. He suckled on her tight bud as she slowly ran her nails down his cheeks. He still could not open his eyes, and yet he could feel no binding on his face. Her nipple was swiftly pulled from his mouth and replaced with the other. He drew this nipple between his lips but this time he let the rough edges of his teeth press into it's softness. Laughter...ringing laughter... Her body slid from his and he wished she would come back, the heat of her body had left him and he suddenly felt chilled to the bone. His body thrummed with excitement as he felt her soft palms wrap around his hardening cock. He couldn't believe how her hands engulfed him, one sneaky hand snaking down between his thighs to scratch lightly, before cupping his balls. The hand caressed him and soon his balls swelled with heat and arousal, his hips bucked and her palm shifted up and down his thickening cock. Her hand swiftly descended down his cock before it slid back up; he felt the warmth of her breath against his shaft. He could tell her mouth was close, he could almost feel the heat, suddenly the tip of his cock was surrounded by wetness. Utter bliss drove every imaginable thought from his body. He no longer cared who this woman was, as long a she never left him. Her mouth covered the head of his cock and he felt that long tongue surrounding him, swirling around and around his cock. Pre cum oozed from his swollen shaft and he moaned as she allowed inch by thickening inch down her wet throat. He could feel his balls swelling; ready to release his load deep into her throat, by now he expected her to pull out as he finally could find his voice with a shout, "Please". Her hand tightened on his balls and he could barely hold back. Unexpectedly he could feel pain at her touch as well as sweet pleasure. Her mouth lifted from him as his body cried out for release...her mouth was gone...his bounds where broken...he opened his eyes to see crystal green eyes haunting him.... they looked down to his manhood and then to his face, he didn't know this...creature...and as the windows flung open he saw her body take flight as his orgasm hit him with pleasure and a hint of pain...his body convulsed and blackness hit him.... ...like a dream or a nightmare.... He shook his head and walked towards the bathroom. Reaching out he hit the light switch, and nothing happened. The cool tile floors in the bathroom made him walk swiftly to the shower stall and turn the creaky knob for hot water. There was a sound in the bedroom and he looked up to see a flash of green reflected in the mirror, but just as fast as it appeared it was gone. He could barely get a grip on his mind as he climbed into the shower and turned the water higher. As the hot beads of water pelted his skin he felt his muscles slowly start to relax. He once again started to regain his composure. Reaching out he picked up the soap and slowly began soaping his body. The warmth of the water, the slick feeling of soap running over his skin had him closing his eyes... He felt her again, her mouth was again tracing up his thigh, tongue flicking out like a snake as she her fingers trailed through the hair on his legs. He could feel her tongue curling and withdrawing over his heated flesh. Her mouth making its way to his soft cock, soon her lips traced the form of his cock, molding it into a strong erect statue. His cock begged for her mouth once again, and she slowly took him inside her warm cavity. This time his hands held the back of her head. He could feel her sleek hair, and he found it odd that it wasn't wet. She stood in front of him, blocking the shower's spray...and yet he could feel her smooth hair...dry as could be. The pain wasn't present this time. This time her mouth moved up and down his cock, deep throating him. His girlfriend would have been gagging by now but with this creature, her body engulfed him like she could swallow his cock whole, as well as his balls. Her nails tickled at his heavy balls, one finger shifting to find his anus. Soon he could feel that single digit caressing the soft skin around and around. His balls tightened and he could feel her mouth working harder and harder on his hard shaft. His knees started to buckle as he felt his cum working up his cock. He could feel his balls boiling and contracting hard as his cock emptied load after load of his cum down her throat. Her mouth never once retreated from him, it was like she was sucking his whole body dry through his cock, the pressure was unbelievable and her mouth continued to suck him off. Her lips worked tightly to milk him of every bit of his seed. Darkness hit him like a ton of bricks; he could still feel the pounding of the blood rushing through his cock as he came.... .... He awoke lying in the bottom of the shower, weaker then he had ever been in his life. He could see the light rays reflecting across the floor of the bathroom. Suddenly he was chilled to the bone, he realized the water washing down his body was ice cold and spewing forth from the showerhead. The smallest sliver of soap lay near the drain, his head hurt and there was a slight mark on his thigh, a scratch...a mark of dominance...or power...he wasn't certain. Queen I screamed as they dragged me through the cemetery, their laughter and jeering affecting my mind in the worst possible way. I was either going to get killed or raped, I wasn't too happy about either of those. But I was hoping it'd stop at rape and I'd stay alive. When they stopped dragging me, I screamed louder and louder until they tied me down and started to circle around me. I tugged at the ropes and looked around me. There was some marking carved into the ground with fire and something sharp, there were candles of the black and dark blue and purple varieties. I screamed as one picked up an athame and cut himself with it. He let it run down into a bowl and bandaged it when he thought there was enough. There was an altar it was resting on, the bowl. It had a bunch of ingredients that he put into the bowl, one by one. Then he was picking up the bowl and swishing it around with a brush. He came towards me with it and I started screaming louder. He leaned down and brushed it over my exposed chest and stomach. They'd long ago ripped off my clothes of course. Then he swiped it down my legs. He lifted up off his knees and put the bowl away on the altar. He picked up his athame, still covered in his blood and my screams became more urgent, he paid no heed and started to chant something in another language. He chanted and walked just outside the circle of carved symbols. He flicked the athame every few steps and suddenly he was all the way around at the beginning again, flicking his blood at me and smiling gruesomely. The symbols stayed silent and I was sure they were done with me, I was certain nothing bad was going to happen. Then my gut twisted and I saw the air in front of me start to waver like air above hot tar streets. A rip opened up, and a monster put his head through. "Master, we have brought you an offering. A queen for your underworld! A woman who rivals all in her abilities with magic and her purity." I screamed louder and thrashed around, trying to get away. He came further out of the light and I saw his form more clearly. It wasn't a monster. It was a man, a very large man in black robes with a pair of dark bat wings on his back. I stopped screaming to look him over, I wondered if he was going to eat me and started to say my prayers to god. He flinched. "She invokes god's power in my circle." "I told you the stupid bitch was still a Christian!" The head man turned and slapped the boy who said that. "She is pure, she is corruptible. We knew there would be some challenge in it. But you like challenges in hell don't you?" "True. She is a virgin?" "Of course." I looked at them as they spoke, back and forth, back and forth. "We will take her, but you owe us for one more soul. She will make a good queen, but she will have to be broken in. Perhaps she will even take a long time to completely corrupt and break." He turned to me, his golden head waving in the cool air as if he gave off high levels of heat. His eyes were a bright crimson and burned into my soul as the where the whites were supposed to be is black. I scream again and he smirks at my distress. "Quiet." I instantly still, my body unable to make a single sound. "You will not be harmed. In fact you will be highly prized and rule over a quart of the denizens of hell. Until you corrupt. When you become as horrible as the demons who live there, you will become one yourself and will no longer be queen. But one of the ruled. Do you agree to these terms?" "Will you kill me?" I tremble as the vice around my throat loosens enough for me to speak. "If you refuse to be our queen, you will be force changed into a demon." "... I agree." I was crying now and his grin was positively feline. "Good, now I will take my tribute for your crown." He actually flew over to crouch over her body, her legs under his head. He leans down and from his mouth drips a long, thick tongue. I shudder and shiver as he laps up the blood and other things that were in the bowl. His tongue moves up over my thigh, then he moves to the bottom of my other leg and laps up until he hits my hipbone again. His tongue swirls into my bellybutton as he moves up, his appendage slapping my skin over and over again as he dipped into the bloody mix. It was nearly dried on my skin so he had to suck at my skin in some places. I felt too scared to be at all affected positively by this but my body did quiver when his tongue moved over my breasts, his teeth pulling at my nipples as he sucked and laved them with attention. He was finally done, standing and snapping his fingers. I could suddenly move again and the ropes binding me were gone. I stood up and he kneeled down in front of me. "My queen. All hail the queen of the fifth quart of hell." Everyone outside the circle knelt down and hailed me as well. I sighed, "Are other demons going to do that too?" Now that I got what was going on, I wasn't too terribly afraid anymore. I'd be in charge right? That meant that I would be able to keep myself from corrupting... right? "Yes, my queen. They will all bow down when you are introduced." "Can we go then? I'm tired." He stood and took her by the hand, "Then we shall go. I shall get you dinner and serve you the finest wine." "How about an appletini, I can't stand wine." "As you wish." I smile at him as he smiles at me and realize as we're walking through the portal that, hell I could get used to this. Queen I was running late for a date with a beautiful woman that worked in the same building as I did in Los Angeles. We were both professionals in different fields. I was an engineer and she was a dental technician. The traffic was murder and I could have crawled faster than the car was moving. I won't even go into the parking situation. It had been a long week and I was looking forward to dinner and a little clubbing with this hot Latina. She lived in a high rise condo building on the fifth floor. As I got off the elevator the door on the opposite elevator opened and there she was looking as frazzled. I smiled and "Hi beautiful," she looked at me as if I was nuts. "God, I'm running late. Please hold these bags for me so I can open the door." She held the door for me to carry the bags in. I thought to myself tonight is fucked. Everything we did was a product of rushing to do everything without really stopping to enjoy life. Maybe I would offer her some alternatives. This was our second date and we both enjoyed the first on Wednesday evening. "Rosa I am going to offer you three alternatives for this evening. Anyone you choose will be alright with me. Would that be alright with you?" She looked a little surprised but said, "OK what are my choices?" She had an inquisitive look on her face and I had her attention. "First, we can continue with this evening as planned." She smiled at that. "Second, we can cancel this evening and reschedule for tomorrow evening." She frowned at that. "Third, I can make you queen for the evening." She looked puzzled. "What does queen for the evening mean? I like the sound of that, but you need to explain what it entails, please." Her breathing slowed down and she had a smile on her face. I knew that I had her, if I could present this in a non-intimidating manner. "I will be your servant for this evening; only your pleasure will be allowed. I will pour your wine and draw your bath. Once I have undressed you and poured your favorite fragrance onto the water, you will relax and soak for a half hour. While you are relaxing and sipping wine, I will order food to be delivered. I will set the table and straighten up the kitchen for you. I will return to the bathroom and trim you if that is your desire. I will wash your hair and comb it out so it dries right. Also, you will be toweled off in a gentle manner. We will eat dinner, then I will escort you to your bed and give you full body massage, and then tuck you in and say goodnight. We can reschedule our date for tomorrow when you have had a chance to relax." Her eyes were big and her mouth was half open. She had a big smile "And what do you get out of this? It sounds too good to be true." "I get the pleasure of your company for the evening, a quiet evening at home without having to find a parking place, or waiting in lines for dinner or to get into clubs." Of course I was smiling and looking into her eyes as I replied. "What about sex?" she inquired. "Not allowed for me this evening. However, when I massage you I can give you a happy ending if you so desire." Her eyes were big, her nose was flaring a little, and she was grinning. Those were good signs. "OK servant, your queen wants you to come over here and take my shoes off. The wine is in the kitchen fridge. Please bring the ottoman over here while I relax. The take out menus are in the second drawer on the left-hand side. Please bring them back and we can decide what to order. It will take a while tonight." She was grinning as she replied. I picked up the ottoman and she lifted her legs as I slid it under her feet. I removed her shoes and she sighed in relief. I set them neatly by the side of her chair and went into the kitchen and returned with her wine and the menus. We settled on a big salad, garlic bread, and ribs fron a place that was close. Even then, it would be an hour and fifteen minutes before it could be delivered. We had time for her bath, so I started the water; she only had one kind of bath oil so that was an easy decision. It smelled nice as I poured the oil into the water. I escorted her into the master bath and proceeded to undress her. She was a ripe woman with great curves that accented her booty and wonderful handfuls of luscious tits. Her pubes were a little ragged and I hoped she would let me shave them for her. I popped a huge boner and decided to do nothing about it. She looked at my pants and smiled at me, teased me with her eyes and kept on smiling. This was going to be harder that I imagined. I held her as she got into the bathtub. I turned to go to the kitchen and clean up the mess she asked. "Where are you going? You are supposed to wash me good all over. Take off your shirt so you don't get it wet. Remember I am the Queen." Judging by the smirk on her face, she knew exactly what she doing to me. So I played her game, I soaped up the washcloth and started with her back and washed her as much as I could reach. Then I moved to her legs and feet and washed them up to halfway up her thighs. I loaded the washcloth again and handed it to her and said, "The rest is yours." "Hold on, cowboy, you promised that you would do my bidding tonight, and I want you to finish what you started. And when we get to my hair, I want you to shave my pussy for me." She handed me the washcloth back and threw one leg over the outside of the bathtub and the other on the ledge between the wall and the bathtub. She had an evil grin on her face. Well, two could play this game. My dick was harder than I can ever remember it being. As I started to wash her front, I stayed away from her tits and pussy, but I got as close as possible. She leaned back and closed her eyes and smiled. I was down to the last part, when I washed her nipples and she started to breathe heavy. As I rubbed her pussy with the washcloth, she started to get turned on. Her chest started to blush and her nostrils flared out big time. I stopped and pulled the plug. "Please stand up so I can shave you and do your hair." Her eyes snapped open and she had a disappointed look on her face. "Why did you stop, you promised me a happy ending? After all I am the Queen." She was pouting as she told me that. "I promised you a happy ending when I massaged you, not when I was bathing you." It was my turn to smirk. "Big Meany! I could have had two."She stood up in the bathtub. I sprayed shaving cream on her pubes and proceeded to shave her like a newborn baby. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy and lick until she screamed in an orgasm. "Next time," I promised myself. I was struggling with my dick; he felt that he deserved some of the attention that my hands were bestowing upon the queen. He was not used to being a subservient appendage when the smell of pussy was in the air. I used the hand held shower to wet and shampoo her hair as I massaged her scalp with my fingernails and rubbed the shampoo into her hair. The shampoo had a built-in conditioner, so we waited a while for it to do its job. While we were waiting, I soaped up my hand and washed her ass and rosebud making sure to spend some time on her starfish. Then I rinsed her with the pulsing spray and she started moaning, that's when I stopped. She was pushing against my hand as I washed her. "You are going to pay when it's my turn. It's not nice to piss off the queen" you could see the evil thoughts running around in her head. I smirked, gave her hair a quick second wash with some baby shampoo that I spied in her cabinet. "Why did you do that?" she asked. "So it will be easier to brush your hair and get the tangles out. My mom and sisters taught me that." I brushed her hair before we wrapped it in a towel. I put her bathrobe on her and we went into the bedroom to her dressing table. She handed me her brushes and I started brushing her hair. The baby shampoo definitely helped; there were hardly any tangles. I asked where the sheets and towels were. She told me and I changed the sheets and put towels down to start her massage. I used her lotion for massage oil -- it smelled like coconuts and gave off a pleasing fragrance. I started with her back and worked my way to her feet. I asked her to turn over and started at her feet and worked my way up to her thighs without touching her pussy lips. Then I moved to her shoulders and chest area, by the time her tits were done her nipples stood up big and hard. As I approached her pussy you could smell her arousal over the coconut. "You sure you want a happy ending? Last chance to back out!" She reached over and grabbed my balls firmly. "If you leave me hanging one more time, these won't be going home with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear, or do I need to be firmer?" "Well allrightee then! I will take that as a yes." She let my balls go and brushed my cock as she pulled her hand away. I could cut diamonds with the damn thing. I had a precum stain on my pants the size of an apple. I was starting to question my sanity for starting down this road, but a deal was a deal. I kept my hands constantly caressing her body and appendages, light over the areas I had already massaged and firm on the areas I was massaging. She was unconsciously moving her body to chase my hands. I worked my way through college doing massages on the side, and as a result graduated with no student loans. My portable massage table was still in the back of the closet in the spare bedroom at my apartment. I needed to break that thing out again; it had been years since the last time I used it. I got laid about 40% of the time during college. However, when I had my degree in my hand, I had competing offers from seven different companies and four of them were on the west coast. That's how I came to L.A. Her tits were the size of oranges, and I massaged them from her chest to within an inch of her nipples and back down a couple of times. Her eyes were closed and she was moaning and her breathing was starting to speed up. I used one hand to drag my nails to her pussy, she spread her legs wider in anticipation of what was coming. Her pussy lips were leaking her juices as I slid a finger up and down their length. I slipped a wet finger in her mouth and she sucked like a newborn calf. "Please do me now!" she husked. I slipped a finger into her pussy "Oh My God she was tight!" I thought as her pussy grabbed my finger firmly, took me about four minutes of massage action just to be able to get two fingers in her. This was one tight pussy, I wasn't sure I would be able to get my dick in her when we fucked. I rubbed her "G" spot until she went rigid and screamed out her first orgasm. I had purposely not touched her clit when giving her penetration. I turned my fingers over and slowly and gently continued to massage the inside of her pussy on the opposite side of the spot. She was mewing and making unintelligible sounds and moving her hips in response to my fingers. All this time I was still caressing her tit. I moved my hand down to the outside of her pussy, up by her clit and started squeezing my fingers gently together so her clit was extending out of her as far as it would go without grabbing it directly. I varied my technique and watched her reactions to see which brought her the most pleasure. It was squeeze and pause, then in and out of her pussy pause, then repeat the action. Her chest was a rosy pink and her breath was ragged. She was moaning long and loud as I worked her into frenzy. Just before she was going to cum, I went back to her nipple and grabbed it hard as I withdrew my fingers from her pussy and rubbed directly on her clit firmly. She reacted like she was hit by lightning, her body went rigid and she was howling like a banshee. She started thrashing around having mini aftershocks. I returned to soft caressing motions as she came down, I stroked her skin and ran my fingers through her hair as I cooed to her. Her eyes did not seem to focus for a couple of minutes. She looked at me "Oh My God, what did you do to me? Please no more, I tingle all over my body, my legs don't work, and I am as limp as a dishrag." She looked like she had been ridden hard and put away wet. "I gave a royal happy ending to my queen for a day. Let me go get you some water to hydrate you." Her pussy had leaked juice all over the towels on the bed. I returned with the water and she gulped it down. I cleaned her up with a wet washcloth and gently rolled her over one way and then the other to remove the towels fron underneath her. "You rest now while I take care of the bathroom and the kitchen. I kissed her on her forehead; I am not sure she was even aware, because her eyes were shut and her breathing was shallow. As I looked at her on the bed, her legs were splayed open and her pussy lips were still oozing moisture. It took all my willpower not to insert my tongue and lick her clean. When I was cleaning up the bathroom, I weakened and a dozen strokes later, I squirted the largest load of cum into the potty that I could remember. I continued to clean the place up, one load in the dryer and the last batch of towels in the washer. It was midnight and I went to check on her one more time. As I walked into the bedroom she was still in the same position as I had left her. I whipped my smart phone out and took a couple of pictures for posterity and lonely nights by myself. I pulled the sheet over her and she came awake. "What time is it?" she asked. "Five after twelve, Princess" "What happened to Queen?" she asked. "Sorry but you turned into a Princess at midnight." I grinned at her. "Well if I am not a queen then you can get into bed and hold me tonight, I want you here in the morning when I wake up. Please go take a shower and then wrap your arms around me and hold me tight." She pleaded; she had a longing look in her big brown eyes. You can't disappoint a princess, can you? I hastened to take my shower. When I returned and slid into bed she pushed me on my back and draped herself on half of my body with one leg over my leg. She snuggled under my arm and placed my other arm on her butt cheek. When she had me arranged how she wanted me, she reached up and kissed me slowly and tenderly. "In the morning I am going to ravage your body; tonight I am just so tired." She snuggled as close as humanly possible into me, and when her breathing became slow and shallow, I knew she was asleep. Not long after I joined her. In the morning I awoke to the feeling of someone running her nails through my chest hairs. Soft teasing strokes that had my skin alive and wanting more. Nature calling was a more pressing need when I realized that things were going to get ugly if I didn't hit the head immediately. A quick trip to the bathroom and I was ready to get ravaged. Returning to the bedroom, I saw she was kneeling on her side of the bed with a big grin on her face. "Lie down on your back with your hands over your head!" she commanded. She proceeded to tie my hands to the headboard posts as she explained, "You need to have your hands restrained because they are lethal weapons in the bedroom. You did things to me that make my knees weak and pussy drip. I am taking no chances with you, mister." Now this was a first for me -- I was usually the one calling the shots. I decided to go with it and see where it would end up. Was I nervous? Yes I was, mildly. She reached for something in the nightstand by the bed. Her nipples were in my face so I decided to latch on to one of them with my mouth and teeth. She responded like I anticipated -- a low growl and she thrust her tit further into my mouth. I was sucking on her nipple like a newborn baby with strong suction when she pushed herself away. "You have control issues, don't you? I can't trust you at all." The look in her eye belied her words. Thirty seconds more and she would have been mine. She wrapped her hand around my cock and said "Maybe I need to stuff a pair of my soggy panties in your mouth so that you can't surprise me again?" My cock jumped in her hand and she got an evil look on her face. "Oh, you like that thought, do you?" She reached down and fingered her pussy and brought up a dripping finger to my mouth. I opened my mouth to lick her finger, and then she surprised me by wiping her juice between my nose and upper lip. "You are mine now, you have been marked!" She was grinning like a little girl that had gotten away with the cookie jar. "You will be inhaling my scent with every breath you take." I will have to give the devil her due; I did not anticipate that development at all. Her scent was driving me crazy, my hormones went into high gear and I needed to fuck her in the worst way. My hips were pumping my cock into her hand so I could get off. I started moaning like a little bitch in heat and she finally realized she was subconsciously squeezing my cock to the rhythm. She let go of my cock with a surprised look on her face. "NO" I yelled. "I was almost there," I moaned. I was fucking the air and could not get any friction to finish my cum. I was so close it was criminal to stop that close to the finish. My balls were not happy campers. They decided that punishment was in order and I had the worst case of blue balls in my life. My breathing was slowly returning to normal. The sadistic she-devil on the bed was smiling like a shit-eating dog. "Is there something wrong?" She pulled off the little innocent girl look and then the smirk emerged. "Remember when I told you last night, you are going to pay when it's my turn. Well how does it feel? Do you like being cut off seconds from the end?" She smirked. I was trying to think of a way out of this when she spoke. "I am going to offer you three alternatives for this morning. Anyone you choose will be alright with me. Would that be alright with you" she smiled. "We are officially even now, I have control issues, also." It was a déjà-vu moment. Less than 24 hours ago very similar words were spoken. "First, I can untie you and you can go home and we can have another date when time permits." "Second, I can leave you tied up, roll you over, and fuck your ass with my strap on." "Third, I can untie you and we can work on getting your cock into my pussy. We can spend the rest of the weekend fucking each other's brains out." I was grinning. "You sort of stacked the deck in favor of number three didn't you." "Remember, I am the queen." Then she untied my hands. Queen Alicia AUTHOR'S NOTES: This tale is erotic fantasy, set in a world of magic. I was busy working on several things at once, and getting a mental logjam on all of them. Too much pressure from final chapters and potential contest entries, I believe. Thus, this simple little story emerged to clear the palette, as it were. This story is a sequel to King Thakkorias, and falls in line after Blackhawk Hall, and even after the forthcoming Arilee tale that will be the sequel to Blackhawk. I hope you like this second glance into the Royal bedchambers of Boldheart Castle. * * * * * Queen Alicia stood before the doorway of her parlor, bidding goodnight to the last of her guests. Naturally, Christi and Arilee had stayed later than any of the others, more accustomed to late hours than the other ladies, by far. The men would likely continue to carouse for a few more hours, but the informal meeting of Egoria's noble ladies was typically more reserved. Alicia hugged the blonde Baroness of Dalebord, and then impulsively kissed her on the forehead, "I told you that you were worried over nothing, Arilee. None of us here were born nobles, and you fit right in." "You were right, of course," admitted Ari, with a wide smile decorating her young face. "Your son is precious, Alicia." Alicia laughed, "I think he's doing it on purpose. He knows we have company and he's behaving just to make me look like an evil witch for complaining about his behavior in my letters." "It's in his blood," Christi interjected mischievously. "Oh, stop," Alicia responded as she hugged the Duchess of Cratel. "You will have your turn soon enough." Christi laid a hand on her tummy, which revealed no hint of her pregnancy at this early stage, and shrugged her dark hair back over her shoulders, "I don't know if I'm ready for this." The Queen waved a hand dismissively, "You will be fine. Arilee can help if you feel overwhelmed." "No drinking, no sparring, and no sex —­ I'm going to lose my mind," the Duchess lamented. "You can have a little wine —­ or beer, if you must —­ just don't overdo it. You can still spar for a while, so long as it is purely swordplay. Now, who told you that you couldn't have sex?" "I'm going to be fat and ugly, with a huge belly in the way," Christi explained with a frown, and then added, "I know we can for a while, anyway. When did you have to stop?" "When I went into labor," Alicia replied with a laugh, "It was a rather rude interruption considering how wonderful I was feeling with Thakkor snoring beside me." Christi's eyes widened —­ and Arilee was obviously surprised as well. The Duchess asked, "It won't hurt the baby?" Alicia shook her head in the negative, "The midwife told me it was perfectly fine, so long as we weren't too enthusiastic. She even suggested it to encourage labor." "I'm trying to get some pity here, Alicia; you're spoiling all my fun." The Queen laughed again, "Go on, get some rest. We all have to return to our duties tomorrow." Christi looked over at Arilee with an amused smile on her face. Ari pursed her lips, obviously holding back a smile of her own. The Duchess then turned back to Alicia and said, "Have a nice evening, Alicia." "What are the two of you up to?" Alicia demanded playfully, knowing the look in Christi's eyes. Christi put an arm around Arilee and turned her, looking back over her shoulder and replying, "We're not up to anything." Alicia scowled at the backs of the quickly retreating women, wondering what they knew. When they turned the corner and vanished from sight, Alicia shook her head in exasperation and sighed. Shrugging her shoulders, Alicia left the parlor and made her way to the stairs. Once upstairs in the Royal apartments, Alicia crept up to the door of her son's room, listening for sounds of him stirring. When she heard nothing, she opened the door and peeked in. Hanging on a string from the inside of the doorjamb was a piece of paper. Alicia grabbed the spinning paper and held it still, seeing writing upon it. Mommy, I went to stay with Nana Emily tonight. Daddy said it was okay. Connor Alicia laughed quietly, recognizing her husband's handwriting on the note her one-year-old son couldn't have possibly written. It was obvious now who was up to something, but what remained to be seen. The double doors of the sitting room were open ahead, down the hall, with soft flickering light emerging from within. Alicia smiled and walked to the doorway, finding her husband watching for her arrival. As she appeared, he immediately rose with a wide smile. Alicia put her hands on her hips and started to ask questions, but Thakkor silenced her with a raised finger. At the same time, he whipped a cloth off something sitting on the table next to him. Alicia's eyes lit up and she hurried into the room. "Cherries? I love you! Where did you get them in winter?" Thakkor smiled as his wife popped one of the fruits into her mouth, shivered with ecstatic pleasure, and then pulled the stem back from between her lips with the pit still attached. "It isn't winter everywhere. Darkni wiggled his fingers and brought them from somewhere on the other side of the world for me," the King explained. "For me, you mean," Alicia corrected, picking up another cherry and suckling it seductively between her lips into her mouth. When she pulled the stem back, Alicia laughed and wrapped her arms around her husband, squeezing him tight. She then stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, saying, "I love you —­ you dear, sweet, wonderful man." "We've just been so busy, between the audience hall and the baby's room, that we haven't had any time to ourselves. I thought it would be nice to just have an evening alone." "With cherries," Alicia emphasized, eating another one. "And chocolate," Thakkor added, producing a wax-paper wrapped bundle. Once again, Alicia's eyes opened wide. She shivered, moaned, and then waved a hand in an impatient gesture before her, "What are you waiting for, open it!" The King laughed and untied the strings on the package, guiding his Queen to sit in the chair next to the cherries at the same time. Once the bundle was open, Thakkor broke off a generous chunk of chocolate and handed it to his beautiful blonde wife. Alicia took a nibble of the chocolate, and then popped another cherry in her mouth with it. "I think you're trying to seduce me, Thakkor," Alicia mockingly accused. Thakkor offered an innocent grin as he sat down, and then leaned over the edge of his chair opposite the Queen. Pulling up a bottle and two glasses, he asked, "Wine?" Alicia purred, "White —­ where from?" Thakkor popped the cork from the bottle and replied, "Vladamir, of course. I suspect he cheated to get the vines productive this quickly. I thought it would be a nice change from the Red they named for us. It's wonderful, but if you don't change things every so often, even the most wonderful thing can become commonplace." Alicia's heart fluttered and she smiled, knowing that he wasn't just talking about the wine. A new baby and the stress ruling a Kingdom could strain any relationship, no matter how perfect the two people were for each other. "Vladamir's god would certainly be more than willing to grant him that power, for the greater good. Bringing a new variety of grapes to the area for wine would certainly qualify in Heraklan's eyes." Thakkor poured the wine and said, "Vladamir has his wine makers experimenting with other fruits too. He added cherries to the list after Darkni brought these today. If we give Vladamir a few years, we might just outstrip Ferrartene as the place to go for fine wines." "That would be good for the tax revenues," Alicia chuckled, accepting the glass from her husband, and letting her fingers linger on his hand for a moment. The King's brow furrowed, "We could certainly use them. We're still depending too heavily upon our alliance with Redbear's people to defend our borders, and they need their hunters seeking game, not men from Draxnog. Their entire culture depends upon the hunt." "Shush," Alicia admonished her husband, "Redbear offered the help because he could spare the men. They hunt as they patrol the borders as well, so stop worrying. He leads a proud people, and they do not feel they have repaid their debt to us yet." Grinning at Thakkor, she added, "Now get back to seducing me." Thakkor threw back his head and laughed —­ a deep, booming sound that Alicia had missed for many months now. Their hostile neighbor to the south, Draxnog, had of late sent an increasing number of raiders into Egoria, and protecting the people weighed heavily on the King's mind. Reaching out to touch his hand, Alicia frowned momentarily when she couldn't reach him with more than her fingertips. "Why don't we go to the bedroom?" Thakkor nodded, rising from his chair and picking up the wine bottle. Alicia grabbed the chocolate and put it in the bowl with the cherries, and then picked up the bowl as she rose. Walking ahead of her husband, Alicia let her hips sway. She knew his eyes would be on her bottom, hypnotically rising and falling with her steps beneath the lavender gown she wore. The thought of his eyes on her brought a tingle to Alicia's loins, and she licked her lips in anticipation of where this night was surely leading. Reaching the bedroom, Alicia sat the bowl and her glass down on a table that stood next to her side of the bed. A low fire burned in the fireplace, producing a rosy glow that Alicia knew was not natural. She assumed it was more of Darkni's work. Thakkor had obviously been planning this for some time. Alicia kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed. Desire swelled within Alicia as she watched her handsome husband sit down the wine bottle. His muscles rippled enticingly, filling out the simple cotton pants and shirt he preferred to wear when they were alone. When he slid into the bed next to her, Alicia immediately pressed her lips to his, kissing him passionately. "I love you, Thakkor." "I love you too, Alicia." "Thank you so much for all of this. You are so sweet to think of it," Alicia whispered, and then kissed him again. "You're welcome, love. I wouldn't want you to think I didn't love you anymore," Thakkor responded, and then leaned over his wife to pull a cherry from the bowl. He dangled it over her lips, and she parted them with a smile. Alicia suckled the cherry between her lips, looking up into her husband's eyes with obvious desire. She pulled the fruit free of the stem, and then rolled it around between her parted lips with her tongue for a moment before biting down. "I thought I was supposed to be seducing you," Thakkor said in a low, husky voice. Alicia smiled and licked her lips, "I thought we'd share." "Sharing's good," Thakkor chuckled. The sharing involved a few more chocolate and cherry flavored kisses, as their passions steadily rose. Alicia let her hands roam over Thakkor's muscled back as they kissed, loving the feeling of his strong body quivering from her touch. She shivered as well when he stroked her hair while tenderly kissing her neck. Alicia lay beneath her husband, taking deep breaths and looking into his eyes when they broke from a particularly hungry kiss. She quickly spoke the words of a spell, making the appropriate gestures, and then held a hand over her loins. When she saw the cool, blue glow there, she let out an excited moan and leaned up to pull Thakkor's lips to hers again. She tugged at his shirt with her hands, while pinching the material of his pants between her toes, trying to pull them down as well. He pulled at the buttons of her dress, opening them as quickly as possible without breaking from their kiss to look. Thakkor rose up and pulled off his shirt, revealing another surprise for his wife. Alicia had always teased that she wondered what he would look like bare-chested, and his smooth-shaven torso now let her know exactly that. Purring sexily, she pulled him down to her, sucking on one of his nipples, and teasing it with her tongue. Alicia moaned when she heard him groan from her ministrations. Alicia reached for the buttons at her neckline, but found she could not get a hold on them without taking her mouth from Thakkor's smooth chest. Grasping the material, she jerked hard, popping off the bottom two buttons. Pulling away from Alicia's mouth, Thakkor leaned down to kiss the valley between her firm globes, while she pushed down on the waistband of his pants. He rose up to his knees, sliding down the pants to reveal his swollen manhood, while Alicia hurried to shrug her dress off her shoulders. Once Thakkor kicked away his pants, he helped his wife pull off her dress. Alicia moaned into their next kiss as she felt his cock brushing against her nether lips. Aching for him now, she reached down to guide his tip into her wet heat. Thakkor rose up to his knees, parting Alicia's thighs wider as he rose, and then pulled her closer to him across the sheets. He slid inside her with the practiced familiarity of one who knows his partner's body as well as his own. Alicia let out a deep, satisfied groan as his thick cock slid deep inside her. "It feels so good," Alicia gasped out, "It has been too long." "Gods yes," Thakkor agreed as he stroked his throbbing erection into her depths. Alicia let out gasping yelps of pleasure as his big cock thrust powerfully into her. She grasped her breasts, which were bouncing in time with the movement of his hips, rubbing her nipples and delighting in feeling him inside her after a month or more of forced abstinence. Thakkor grunted out to his love, "Don't know... How long... I can last!" The strain on his face was obvious, and Alicia knew he was fighting with all his will to resist reaching his peak before she did. Sliding her hand between their bodies, she rubbed her swollen bud in furious circles, trying to catch up with her husband. She was close, the hot tension in her loins increasing at a rapid pace every moment, but not quite there when Thakkor lost control, slamming deep inside her and screaming his pleasure. Alicia continued to rub her clit, feeling his hot cream coating her walls. She screamed out, "Oh yes! So good, love! I'm almost there!" A growling gasp escaped Thakkor as he stroked his over-sensitive member within her, trying to help her reach her peak. A low scream rolled out from Alicia, steadily increasing in both volume and pitch, finally breaking into a loud eruption of pleasure as the tension built up within her snapped loose in orgasm. Alicia writhed on the bed, her walls clenched tight around Thakkor's slowly softening cock, screams passing her lips with every spike of pleasure that shot through her body. Thakkor collapsed down on top of her, barely supporting his weight on his arms. Their skin was wet with sweat from their passion, despite the comfortable temperature of the room. They both panted for breath, and Alicia wrapped her arms and legs around him, the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to rock her. Thakkor rolled off her, groaning, "S-sorry, I couldn't hold back." Alicia rolled her upper body over him, her breasts tingling from the contact with his skin, moaning in contentment. "It is okay, my love. I like that I can make you feel that good." She kissed his chest a few times, and then added, "You can always try again in a little while." Thakkor chuckled and wrapped his arms around his wife. They lay there together in sweet bliss until they could breathe normally and ceased to twitch from the lingering sensations of their climaxes. "Would you like to go take a bath?" Alicia's lips curled into a bright smile from that suggestion. The bathing pool, mimicking the one Christi had at Blackhawk Hall, had been complete for months now, but they had not found any opportunity to share it just yet. Alicia rose up and climbed off the bed, blushing when she saw her husband admiring her toned body. She chuckled when the sight of her standing over him in all her glory sent a surge of blood into his manhood, causing him to wince and cover it with his hand. Alicia twitched her eyebrows at him and turned to walk toward the bath, again letting her hips sway sexily for his eyes. Thakkor rolled off the bed and caught up with her when she reached the door to the bath room. When she opened the door, Thakkor smiled mischievously and clapped his hands. Candles burst into flame all around the bathing pool, casting a rosy, magical glow identical to that in the fireplace. Alicia turned and smiled at her thoughtful husband, kissing him soundly. "You will thank Darkni for everything he has done to make this night perfect?" Thakkor smiled back at her, "Actually, the candles and the fireplace were Arilee's doing. I tried to keep it secret, but you ladies seem to know everything. It's probably a good thing they got involved, because somehow everyone kept the secret from you that way." Alicia melted into his arms, leaning her head against his muscled chest, "She is such a sweet girl, we are lucky to have her. She obviously is learning magic quickly —­ probably just as quickly as she learned to fight. You should spar with her once before they leave tomorrow afternoon." Thakkor laughed, "No thanks, I heard how the three of you danced all over Mindblind. I'll stick to being embarrassed by one woman in the courtyard, thank you." Alicia pulled away from him and walked toward the bathing pool, looking back over her shoulder and saying with mock irritation, "If you would stop babying me, you probably wouldn't lose so often. Cerebus doesn't pull his blows because he is sparring with his wife." "Maybe we'll just see about that first thing in the morning," Thakkor growled with ferocity that was just as false as the irritation in Alicia's voice a moment earlier. Alicia shuddered and let out a sensual growl as she stepped up into the bathing pool, "I will hold you to that promise, Thakkor. I need to keep in shape." "I don't see anything wrong with your shape," Thakkor teased as he climbed into the pool beside her. "Good answer," Alicia laughed. Thakkor picked up a washcloth and started to wash Alicia —­ slowly and sensually. She quivered under his touch, feeling her passion mounting once again. When he finished, Thakkor put down the cloth and leaned down to kiss each of his wife's erect nipples. Those touches inflamed her, and Alicia abandoned all thoughts of returning the favor of the erotic washing for her husband. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him passionately, rubbing her tingling labia against his body. Alicia gasped as he lifted her in his strong arms, carrying her up the steps and then down those on the other side. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, pressing her breasts tight against him. The thought that they were both still soaking wet never even entered Alicia's mind as he carried her to the bed, lying her down and parting her legs almost as soon as her bottom touched the bedclothes. Alicia looked down, breathing rapidly in her passion, as Thakkor dropped to his knees beside the bed, pulling her over to the edge of the mattress at the same time. He moved between her thighs and suckled her labia between his lips without pause, drawing a quavering gasp of pleasure from Alicia. As always, since he had shaved his beard, Alicia's body filled with energy the moment he put his mouth on her. So long denied release this way because his beard had tickled her, every time was like the first to Alicia. Her hands went to the back of his head, holding him tight against her sex, and her legs pulled against his back. Alicia's sounds of pleasure were sharp and loud, erupting from her with no warning as Thakkor's lips and tongue drove her rapidly toward an explosive release. Her muscles tensed just before the crackling energy centered in her clit surged into a jolt that pulled her back up off the bed, a loud scream of ecstasy echoing back off he walls to her ears. Queen Alicia She collapsed back to the bed, the grip of her hands and legs tightening as Thakkor continued to lap her quivering pussy. The waves of pleasure continued to roll through her, and then she felt the muscles in her canal clench tight. A moment later, the muscles relaxed for a fraction of a second before clenching even tighter, his lips wrapped around her clit driving her to a second orgasm. Alicia pulled her legs from his back, pushing his mouth away from her, and quickly rolled away from the edge of the bed. She curled up into a ball and screamed into the sheets below as another surge of orgasmic energy gripped her. Shaking as if there was an earthquake centered in her depths, Alicia panted for breath and just kept cumming. She was still panting for breath when she uncurled and lay back heavily onto the bed, "Oh gods, Thakkor, I thought I was going to fly apart." "I love doing that for you," he responded from where he sat at the foot of the bed. Alicia crooked her finger and beckoned him to her, oblivious to the coating of her bittersweet juices on his lips as she kissed him. Her King lay down next to her, resting her head on his chest, giving her time to recover from her previous release. His hand strayed to his throbbing cock every so often, attempting to quell the incessant demands for attention it was shooting through his body. As soon as Alicia had the strength to move again, she reached down to replace his hand with her own. After a few minutes of feeling him swell and pulse in her hand, the fires in Alicia's loins surged back to life once again. Climbing on top of him, Alicia let out an excited moan as she positioned her hips over his cock. Reaching down, she guided the tip of his manhood against her lips, rubbing it in her abundant wetness before pressing it between her folds. Alicia's eyes rolled up in her head as she sank down on Thakkor's thick shaft. She sat, moaning in contentment, for a few moments with him buried inside her before rising up to slam her hips down on him again. Alicia loved watching the pleasure and desire in his face when she bounced on his cock like this, loved being in control of the angle he penetrated her. His eyes roved over her face, her bouncing breasts, and his slick cock vanishing into her hot canal. Alicia rubbed her bud at an ever-increasing pace as her hips rose and fell over him, rapidly building toward climax on his pulsing erection. Alicia slammed down onto him one final time, and burst into orgasm. She threw her head back, screaming to the ceiling in ecstasy, her walls squeezing him tight inside her. The screams continually erupted from Alicia as she rocked her hips on his buried manhood, the shots of pleasure coming with each throb of him inside her. At last, her strength failed her and she collapsed down over his chest, panting for breath. She felt Thakkor's hands grip her ass tight, and then her eyes opened wide as he started thrusting up into her still quivering pussy. For several fast thrusts of his hips, Alicia's mouth was open in a silent scream. Eventually, the sound escaped her, a loud growl of pleasure that bordered on feral. She continued to yelp and growl as his thrusting cock drove her back up her mountain of pleasure at a relentless pace. Alicia's next orgasm was so powerful that blackness crept into the edge of her vision. She dimly heard Thakkor's scream of release, and felt his hot seed coating her womb, but she had trouble sensing anything through the burning heat that spread from her depths to the tips of her toes. In a moment of consciousness, she lurched away from his hands, pulling away from his pulsing cock, and collapsed fully onto his chest. Her head rose and fell with his deep, rapid breaths. They fell asleep on the damp sheets in each other's arms shortly thereafter. * * * * * The next morning, Thakkor awakened her with breakfast in bed. When she finished eating, Alicia laughed and asked, "So, when will all this special treatment be ending?" "You deserve it every moment, but I'm sure I'll be dragged away later this afternoon, and Connor will be home then too." "So we have until this afternoon to ourselves?" Thakkor nodded. Alicia licked her lips and reached for the waistband of her King's pants. Queen Amethyst Hail and well met good citizens. Sire Squire Amethyst was a player in the Kingdom of Avalon several years ago. She and her husband were always looking for a good story line. In fact most story lines at the time were generated by them. Most of the rest of us just showed up to be entertained or to fight. They used to run with stories that the rest of us neither understood nor really cared about. She made us want to follow these stories; want to know how they came out and what happened. Her stories ranged from having Mollo's love child to proving that her husband was in fact Scottish and not the Englishmen he was always purported to be. Amethyst had the heart of a lion. The battles she fought were the stuff legends are made of. At the height of her power she had locked horns with everyone in the game. She was a squire for quite some time. Her husband was as well. One of my first events her husbands Knight had taken a mundane job in California and was forced to move. She seemed to have almost a boundless energy. She was one of the first women to ever don heavy steel fighting gear. She was never a fighter and consequently didn't do that well but she tried. She fought several duels with Sir Stephan. Winning some, losing some, but all in all having a grand time doing it. I remember her best as she became Queen. For at the time the Mist had just left us and we all sat in a circle deciding what to do. Sir Mandor took the reins and became our regent. He set up the following crown war that saw Amethyst and Mykor ascend the throne. Amethyst was not at her best that day as she saw her dream ripped from her. For like us all she wanted to bask in the respect of her peers. We slowly rebuilt our image and emerged the stronger for it. Chivalry was at its best under her. I credit her with having taught me about duty and binding me to the dream. She slogged on through a myriad of problems. She worked out the mess that was the current rolls and points of Avalon. She set us up with demos, wars, collegiums, and schools of instruction in etiquette. She made the game fun, something we all wanted to be a part of. The stress of the position proved to be too much for her to take. Despite all the love that we as a kingdom could send her she slowly eroded before our eyes. Her marriage, her dream, her joy came to an unhappy end. At one point she even left the throne vacant to play a serving wench for a day. I remember how we all agonized for her. She was a force to be reckoned with and we all vied for her approval. Back then there were very few knights, and it was almost a contest to see who would make it first. She watched over us like a mother hen. Picked us up when we fell, saluted us when we triumphed. It was for her approval we strove and her adoration we fought. I can remember a tournament where sixteen of us vied to become her guard. We had to prove that we were good and strong, followed orders and new etiquette. I remember the outright joy with which we did each other dirt to obtain the position. Sixteen became twelve and twelve became eight. From eight to the final four and then the final selection of her guard. One of her greatest attributes was her attitude. She made us all want to protect her. And she was strong enough to let us try. But under that willingness to be protected there ran steel. She dealt with problems using an iron fist. I heard this week from her Grace Desirae that Amethyst is moving out of state. She has even gone so far as to sell her crown. This is a picture of it, a piece of her that we can always remember. I had always hoped that she would make another appearance so that we could show her this shining beacon that is Avalon. Lisa you will be missed but not forgotten. At campfires we tell tales of you. In our hearts we hold ourselves to the standard you set. We love you and wish you well. Queen & Prince Together Forever #1 Queen Emma desperately tries to make sense of her dreams with her son, Prince Henry Emma yawned and stretched herself awake. She had another disturbing albeit sexually exciting dream again last night about her son, Henry, again. Hard for her to believe, it took her a moment for her to realize what year it was. Returning herself to present day, it took her a moment for her to clear her head from enough of the dream to realize that it was 2014 and not 1585, the era she's been dreaming about lately. If it wasn't bad enough that she was dreaming about having sex with her son, she was having disturbing dreams of traveling back in time. She had no idea what caused her to have such strange, sexual dreams of her son and of 16th century England, a time of kings, queens, princes, princesses, knights, lords, ladies, and castles. After thinking more about her recent, reoccurring dreams, she was preoccupied living more than four hundred years ago. What was that about? Seemingly some of her dreams made sense while several other of her dreams totally confounded her if not sexually frustrated her. As if more Déjà vu and not really a dream, there were those dreams that were so real, so sexually exciting, and so violently disturbing that she felt that she had lived through them before. Playing tricks with her mind, it was sometimes difficult for her to tell fantasy from reality and fact from fiction. When she wasn't wondering if she had lived before, she wondered if she was losing her mind. "Did I or didn't I live then? Did I or didn't I do that all of those sexual things with my son? With it all so real, I feel as, while living them, if I've already experience that and had incestuous sex with my son over and again." As disturbing and sexual exciting were her dreams, she didn't understand them. Even with those dreams that she remembered more in detail, she couldn't make sense of them. She didn't understand why the suddenness of all of these dreams of things that may or may not have happened centuries ago? She had no idea why her realistic dreams and sexual fantasies suddenly took hold of her and controlled her mind. Now that she was dreaming about her son while sexually fantasizing about having sex with her son, she couldn't remove him from her mind. With her naked body always before him, his naked body was already before her. Maybe something that's happening to her now in real life triggered something and is helping her to remember what happened to her in the past. Has she lived before? She didn't know. Just as she was so upset by her dreams, she was so sexually aroused by her dreams. She didn't know why she was having such dreams. Has she been reincarnated to live now? She had no idea other than she felt as if she was going crazy. * * * * * Evidentially hot from her warm room, from the erotic heat of her sexual fantasy of a dream, or a combination of them both, she had kicked off the sheet from her naked body sometime during the night. With her awake and still tingling from her sexy dreams, she felt even more sexually aroused that she was in bed naked. Only, she wished she wasn't alone. She wished she was with her special someone. She wished she was in bed naked with her son, Henry. With her always dreaming of him as her Prince in her dreams, she was his Queen. She looked down at herself and at the shapely curves of her naked body. Unable to stop herself from wishing her son was there with her naked too, she wondered how she could make what happened in her dreams happen in real life today. Sexually frustrated and horny, she was tempted to flash her son and to sexually tease him when he did finally arrive home from England to live with her again. Only afraid to make an ass of herself, fearing her remorse for flashing him and her regret for sexually teasing him, she wondered what he'd do if he happened by her bedroom and saw her sleeping naked in the way she sleeps now. As if he was there now at her bedroom door looking in, after giving him a good, long look of her naked ass, she rolled over on her back and parted her legs to expose her trimmed, auburn pussy to him. From where she imagined him standing at her open bedroom door and staring inside of her room, she imagined what he'd see. He'd see her long, shapely legs, her pussy slit, and her bare, big breasts. If she rolled over again, he'd see her round, firm ass. In her dreams, she dreamt of him taking her vaginally and then anally, before taking her orally. Making her suck him, she offered no resistance and had no compunction about sucking his cock after it had been buried in her ass. In her dreams, he totally controlled her before she turned the tables and totally controlled him. After he had his wicked sexual way with his mother, she made her son her bitch. Obedient only to her, she made her son her sexual slave. Assuredly, if she was any other woman but his mother and he was any other man but her son, undoubtedly, when walking by her open room and seeing her so nakedly indisposed, he'd look. No doubt, more than just sneaking a peek, he'd stop and stare. Assuredly, if she was any other woman but his mother and if he was any other man but her son, he'd step in her bedroom and awaken her with his deep, wet kisses and with his slow sexual touches. While touching herself, feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples, she imagined Henry feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples. While lightly rubbing her clit and exploring the wetness of her vagina, she imagined it was Henry's fingers instead of her fingers rubbing her clit and fucking her pussy. "Henry, I want you. I must have you," she said out loud and for no one to hear. "Come to me Henry. Come to your mother, your queen." Undoubtedly, if she was any other woman but his mother and if he was any other man but her son, acting upon the fact that she was in bed naked, he'd take her and she'd submit to him. Even though she'd be more than willing to give her son hot sex, playing her part as the reluctant mother, she imagined him forcing himself on her and forcing her to kiss him. She imagined him parting her lips with his tongue while exploring her naked body with his hands. "No, Henry. Stop. You mustn't. Please. No. I'm your mother and you're my son," she imagined saying. "We mustn't do this. It's so wrong." Only, how could something so right be so wrong? How could she possibly say no to him? How could she deny her son the pleasure of her body when they being sexually together through history was their destiny? "Sorry Mom but I can't control myself. You must sexually submit to me, if even just this one time," she imagined him saying to her and her willingly going along with him. If she was any other woman but his mother and if he was any man but her son, she imagined him walking in her bedroom where she lay naked. She imagined him staring at her breasts while feeling her breasts, fondling her breasts, squeezing her breasts, and sucking her nipples. While spending time with her big breasts, she imagined him reaching his hand down to finger her clit before sliding his naked body down to lick to comfortably position himself between her shapely thighs. If she was any other woman but his mother and he was any man but her son, he'd finger her pussy while licking her pussy. If only she wasn't his mother and if only he wasn't her son, she'd be so happy to have Henry as her lover. "Henry, I love you," she said moving her hands down between her legs as if she was holding his head in her hands while he licked and pleasured her with his fingers and tongue. If she was any woman but his mother and he was any man but her son, she imagined him having hot, passionate sex with her more than willing body. Surely, even if she's his mother and he's her son, a hormone driven, horny, young man his age, at only 22-years-old, should definitely be sexually attracted to someone who looks like her in the way that she's sexually attracted to someone who looks like him. Perhaps what holds him back from acting on his lustful desires and sexual impulses to have sex with her, whenever he was home for the weekend, was because she was his mother and he was her son. She really didn't know why he didn't take her but she suspected that negative aspects of incest was the obvious reason why he didn't make the first move to seduce her. With incest getting in the way of ruining her sexual good time, it was such a waste of time and energy to ponder such things that really didn't matter to her. Truth be told, Emma didn't care that Henry was her son and she was his mother. With her knowing for sure that she has already had sex with him in another time and in another place, she needed to somehow continue their sexual, love affair in the present. Yet, not ready to make a fool of herself, if only she knew that he wanted her too, she'd flash and tease him enough for him to make the first move. If only he'd make the first move, with her not strong enough to resist him and in the way that she so wanted him, she'd make every move thereafter. If only he knew that they were sexually and intimately together in another time and another place, maybe he wouldn't be so reluctant about making the first sexual move on her now. If only he knew it didn't matter to her that he was her son and she was his mother in the way that it obviously mattered to him, she'd show him such sexual passion that she's never shown any man before. She'd make him a sexual memory that no other woman could possibly match. Wouldn't it be funny albeit amazing, if he wanted her as much as she wanted him? Wouldn't it be funny albeit sexually appropriate, if he masturbated over her in the way that she masturbates over him? She wanted him. She had to have him. Being that she already knew what it felt like to be sexually intimate with him already in her dreams and sexual fantasies, she needed to know what it felt like to be sexually intimate with her son now. She wondered if he lusted over her in the way she's lusted over him for years. Glad that she was alone albeit feeling so sexually frustrated, sleeping naked with her bedroom door open was something that she'd no longer be able to do once Henry was living with her again. As usual, waking up horny, she was tempted to touch herself and pleasure herself with her pink, blue, or purple rabbit while thinking of making love to Henry. She so loved her vibrator that she had more than one in different colors. While masturbating herself, it was then that she remembered more of her dream. She had another dream that she made love to her son again. So very real, as if she had already made love to him over and again in a prior life, those were the dreams that felt more like reality than they did sexual fantasies. Those were the dreams that haunted her with inescapable feeling sexual frustration, horniness, and of Déjà vu. "God, why am I dreaming about Henry in that sexually disturbing way? What's wrong with me? How can I even contemplate having sex with my son but I can't help myself. I not only want him but also in the way that a woman loves a man, I love him." * * * * * Obviously working too many hours lately, she's been taking her work home with her, so to speak, albeit in her wet dreams. Unconsciously while in her sleep, she worked her way through ancient history times with some of the historical elements of her dreams sometimes distorted, twisted, incorrect, and at times jumbled together. Seemingly every 500 years or so, she traveled to a different time and a different place. She recalled dreams and sexual fantasies from 1 A. D., the 6th century, the 11th century, and now the 16th century. She remembered being so dirty. She remembered being able to smell herself in the squalor where she lived more so before she became queen. Before becoming queen and before living such a lavishly spoiled life, she remembered being so angry and ready to kill any man who so much as looked at her never mind touched her. Obviously to the demise of her husband the king, she had been saving herself for her son. She only needed her husband to give her what she really so wanted, her son. Where she was expected to have sex with her king, it was her son who gave her the unbridled, sexual passion to have sex with him. It was her son that she wanted and not her husband. It was her Prince that she loved and not her King. Yet, sexually and excitingly, in every one of her dreams, no matter the place or the time, there was one common theme, a finely woven thread, and that was her son. Always, she was there with her son and always her son was more to her than just her son. Her son was her lover. In every one of her dreams, she had intimate sexual relations with her son. Whether they are real or imagined, the dreams she had of the past surely were remembered for her to explain her sexual attraction to her son now. Certain of the fact that she's be reincarnated, perhaps not immediately remembering all of the details is something she must go through every time she's reincarnated. She wondered if her son was having similar dreams about her. She wondered if her son was dreaming and sexually fantasizing of her in the way she is of him. * * * * * Employed as one of the curators at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston before traveling a quarter of the way across the globe, 6,500 miles or 10,460 kilometers to the Middle East, she accepted a job as one of the curators of the National Museum in Doha, Qatar. The ultra-modern museum is built around Sheikh Abdullah bin Jassim A-Thani's original palace, his family home and the seat of the government of Qatar for 25 years. Even though she was not from that part of the world but obviously by her accent was born in Boston, Massachusetts in the United States of America, she was still considered for the job. She was so chosen for the position as a good fit because she was not only an expert in Islamic art but also fluent in Arabic. Never thinking she'd be living in the Middle East, and with her now living here for several years, a place like no other, surprisingly, with her seldom missing her life back in Boston, she loved this part of the world. Close enough to travel to, a short plane ride away, she only lived about 1,750 miles or 2,820 kilometers from the Great Pyramids in Giza, as far as Boston is from the middle of Kansas. For some reason, ever since she was a little girl, she had a keen interest in ancient history, especially in the ancient history of Egypt. Now that she's been having these dreams, perhaps her interest in ancient history has more to do with her being reincarnated in different places during different times than they do in inspiring her interest in ancient history. When America bombed Iraq and Saddam Hussein's palaces and Iraqi's museums were vandalized, burglarized, and raided by thieves and those who didn't appreciate and know the intrinsic value of the invaluable artifacts that they stole, she wept. With this part of the world having a history that transcends thousands of years instead of the mere hundreds of years in the way of America's history, there was something magical and mystical about this part of the world. Now that she's visited here as well as other countries along her journey of reincarnation, she couldn't help but wonder if she's lived here before in another time. Only more alarming than the dreams she's recently been having of England's 16th century castles, rather than dreaming of places and things, she's been dreaming of people, real live characters who she imagined living with hundreds of years ago. With the dreams and sexual fantasies that she's be having about Satan, witches, warlocks, wizards, dragons, kings, queens, knights, Lords, ladies, mythical Gods, and castles, she never knows what time or which place her dreams will take her. Some of her dreams combine with characters from one dream showing up in another. So colorfully vivid and so seemingly real, her dreams were so alive with action and fantasies, sexual and otherwise, that they filled her head with memories that made her wonder if she had lived another life before this one. In the way she regarded her son as her Prince and always dreamt of herself being a Queen, she wondered if they had been born to royalty. "Whether then or now, wouldn't they be all shocked, if they knew that the Queen and her Prince were having sex?" With not even the maid there to hear her, as she gave the maid the day off today, she freely talked out loud to herself. "If only I could have sex with my son without guilt, remorse, or consequences, I would, that is if he wanted me." More than her dreams being about snapshots of history and about her living prior lives, no matter the time or the place, in every one of her dreams, she dreamt about having sex with her son. As sexually exciting as it was morally disturbing, a reoccurring theme of her dream, she's been dreaming of being sexually intimate with her son. Yet more than just sex, it was debauchery between the two of them. In every one of her dreams, with her willing to do any sexual thing with him and to him, she was his whore and he was her man. In some dreams, he sexually contorted her and in other dreams, she sexually controlled him while tying him to a beam naked in the dungeon. * * * * * A time so different from today, incestuous sex was not only prevalent back then but also having sex with your mother, aunts, sisters, sons, and daughters was regarded more as a matter of course rather than of exception. With less people alive on the planet, with little communication, and with limited transportation, mostly due to lack of roads and bridges, it was difficult to meet a mutual agreeable companion for love and/or for sex from other parts of the country. Aside from all the whores that roamed the countryside, sometimes the only available women were the mothers and sisters of horny men. Men who lived hundreds of years ago and who could die in battle tomorrow gave little regard to the guilt and remorse that they'd feel today while having incestuous sex with their blood related relatives. Without having men of their own, widowed mothers gave way to the horny emotions they had for their sons while lonely sisters gave way to the sexual lust they had for their brothers. Without having women of their own, horny men didn't think twice about having sex with their mothers, sisters, and daughters. It was just the way it was back then. Who was to know? Who was to judge, especially when everyone was doing it? Understandably, in the way that Emma was so very sexually attracted to her son and with her always questioning her inappropriate sexual attraction to him, she couldn't help but wonder now if they were lovers in another life. With her continually dreaming about him in another time and another place, more than curious but with a nagging interest to know the reason for her vivid sexual dreams that always involved her son, she wondered how she could explore the truth of her past. Not thinking of it before but with her now wondering about reincarnation, she wondered if she should be hypnotized or analyzed to reveal what may have happened to her in a prior life. Only, with Islam not believing in reincarnation, not trusting anyone to keep her sexual secrets, not even trusting a Qatari psychologist, psychiatrist, and/or hypnotist with her dreams and fantasies, especially where her son was the incestuous, sexual star, she kept her sexual fantasies to herself. In thinking about another solution to discovering the reason for her disturbing albeit sexually exciting dreams, she wondered if it would help if a writer recorded all that she was dreaming and sexually fantasizing about for her to piece together her unconscious puzzle of dreams. Recently, she had met an American travel writer, Susan Jill Parker, at the café downstairs who was visiting Qatar while on vacation. What may sound silly to someone else may not sound so silly to a creative writer. Hoping to finally understand them by documenting them, the explanation of her dreams was important enough to Emma that she wondered if she could persuade Susan by commissioning her to record her dreams. So long as she kept her identity secret, perhaps she could even use her dreams and sexual fantasies in an erotic story. With Susan returning back to America in a week or two, safe with her secret, so long as she promised not to use her real name, no one would know her sexy secrets of wanting to sleep with her son. Queen & Prince Together Forever #1 To be continued... Queen & Prince Together Forever #2 Queen Emma readies herself for the arrival of her son, Prince Henry Today a big day, today was the day her son, Henry, was coming home to Doha, Qatar from London, England. A banner day, if she could have a parade and set off fireworks, even though a bit over the top for her imagined prince of a son, she would. Thinking of nothing and no one else but him, she was physically, emotionally, and sexually excited to see him after not having seen him for more than a year. Seemingly as if forever, she hadn't seen him since last fall when he left to begin his senior year at the university in London. As if they were never ending lyrics of a song that continually played through her head and interrupted her thoughts, the words that her son was coming home today ran through her mind in the way when she was a little girl excited over Christmas. As if Henry was Santa Claus coming to her house for Christmas instead of her son returning home to live with her, she couldn't wait for him to arrive. If only she could, if only she dared, and if only she was his lover instead of his mother, she'd give him her special, welcoming home gift of sex. Nothing more than a perverse sexual fantasy she's been having on a regular basis, sexually it was something that she'd never do but something she enjoyed thinking that she would do if the opportunity presented itself. If only he'd make the first move, there's no telling what she'd do in answer to his sexual request. Shocking the shit out of him by physically showing him how much she missed him, she'd love to fall to her knees, unzip him, and pull out his prick to suck him as soon as he walked through her front door. "Welcome home Henry," she imagined looking up at him with her big, blue eyes and his erect prick in her horny hand before engulfing him in her mouth. Wouldn't she totally surprise him if she wrapped her motherly fingers around his cock and stroked him before blowing him? Wouldn't her giving him the sexual gift of oral sex tell him not only how happy she was to see him but also how much she missed him? Depending if he had an erection or not, wouldn't his engorged cock tell her how happy he was to see her and how much he missed her? Even though it was only a sexual fantasy and one that she so enjoyed having in the privacy of her bedroom or while taking a long bath, she couldn't help but have the feeling that she's sucked her son many times before. "Mom?" She imagined him looking down at her stunned and saying while she sucked him. "What are you doing?" 'What am I doing? Now that's a dumb question for someone so smart. I'm blowing you. I'm sucking your cock,' she imagined saying while masturbating herself to her sexual fantasy of blowing her son. 'I'm sucking your cock while stroking your cock, that's what I'm doing,' she said imagining removing his cock from her mouth to speak. If only she could say all of that to him, she would. She wanted to say so much more than that but not wanting to speak with her mouth full, she didn't say anything at all. She just imagined sucking her son while masturbating herself. If anything, she imagined showing him the sexual desire she had for him while confessing the incestuous lust she had for him by her actions. Nonetheless, lost in her sexual fantasy of him walking through her door again, she continued imagining their first time together. "I'm welcoming you home in the way that any loving mother should welcome her son home," she said after having unzipped him, stuck her hand in his underwear, and pulled out his prick to fondle him and stroke him. "Welcome home Henry," she imagine saying while looking up at him before taking his cock in her motherly mouth to suck him. She imagined herself being the happiest she's been in a very long time. "Um, it's good to be home Mom," she imagined him saying while looking down at his mother looking up at him with her mouth filled with his erect prick. Not pushing her away and not rejecting her, instead she imagined him putting a gentle hand to the back of her head. She imagined him humping her mouth and fucking her face with his hips. She imagined him reaching his hand down inside of her blouse and bra to fondle her big breasts and finger her erect nipples. She imagined him cumming in her mouth and her swallowing. * * * * * Not only was Henry coming home for the Christmas holiday but also he was coming home to stay. He was coming home to live with her again until he found a job in his chosen career path and until he could afford to get his own place to live. Back then, when she first divorced her husband, Henry split his time to live with his father in New York and with her in Boston. Now that he's an adult, choosing her to live with in Qatar instead of with his dad in America, he decided to live with her until he could find work in his field of study and afford his own place. Where better for him to study architecture but in an area where there are some of the richest countries in the world? Where better for him to study design but in the wealthiest country in the world, Qatar? Attending the university in London, after graduation, too busy with his studies to see the sights of his surroundings, before leaving there to live with his mother, he decided to travel the country to explore, England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland. A very long time away from her, as if he had enlisted in the military and was stationed overseas or as if he had committed a crime and was incarcerated in prison, he stayed in the United Kingdom for another six months. After four, long years away from him, six, long months of writing e-mails to him nearly every day and talking to him on the phone, six more months of not seeing him was utter torture for her. Understandably, perhaps that's why she dreamt of him. Perhaps that's why she sexually fantasized about him. Perhaps because she's been so very sexually frustrated lately, her love for her son in missing him somehow entwined with her horniness and manifested with her lustful sexual desires for him by materializing in her sexual fantasies and dreams. Yet, other than her commonsense explanation, she had no other explanation why she was dreaming of having sex with her son throughout history and throughout all of her incestuous dreams. Perhaps she felt safer sexually dreaming about him by dreaming about him in other times and places. Obviously telling if only from her dreams of him and her sexual fantasies where he played the starring role, now that he's a man instead of a boy, whatever explanation she thought she had, there was no doubt she was sexually attracted to him. She just hoped that she didn't embarrass herself once he finally appeared at the front door of her villa. Wanting him sexually so very much, she had to physically, emotionally, and sexually control herself from jumping his bones. Yet, with incest a taboo and their sexual union forbidden, the fact remained that she's his mother and he's her son. Nonetheless the laws that forbid incest in most countries around the world, the Islamic law recognized in Qatar allows men to have four wives. Nonetheless the laws that allow polygamy in Qatar and that forbid incest, interestingly enough, polygamous marriages are on the decline while incest and incestuous marriages are on the rise. Go figure. Obviously just in the case of Adam and Eve, the forbidden fruit was much more wanted and tastier than the available fruit of a bride not blood related. Judging from the aforementioned but telling statistics, men would rather have sex with their mothers and aunts or marry their sisters and cousins rather than to take on more than one wife. Being that she lived alone in Boston since her divorce and then moved to the Middle East, Henry lived mostly with his father in New York, New York. Except for the summers when Henry, occasionally visited her in Qatar and sometimes stayed over for the long weekend, Friday until Monday, she experienced months of not seeing him. With him home with her for good now, until he could afford a place of his own, the least of her sexual problems, she needed to arrange for and to adjust to her new sleeping arrangement. With the lovely view she had of the manmade lake from most of her private villa's windows, she preferred sleeping with her windows undraped. With peepers unable to see in through the tinted, tempered glass, she could still see out. Instead of having an intrusive alarm clock awakening her from her sleep, the natural light from the sunrise is what gently aroused her from her slumber. Normally sleeping in the nude with her bedroom door wide open, she had the habit of kicking off her sheet in the middle of the night when becoming hot from the temperature of her room or from the sexual heat of her dream. Something she loved to do while lounging in bed just before arising to prepare for her day, she loved looking out her bedroom door at the expanse of her one level villa. Surveying all of her luxury accoutrements, her pictures, her furniture, her knickknacks, and her possessions, she enjoyed the inside view of her villa as much as she enjoyed the outside view of her private, manmade lake. With Henry not home to catch her without her clothes and to see his mother naked, not wanting to give him the wrong impression of her, now she'd have sleep in a nightgown with her bedroom door closed. Accustomed to walking around her apartment naked when the maid wasn't there to see her, with him living with her again, she'd have to cover herself with a robe when making breakfast in the kitchen. In case he should walk in to talk to her, she could no longer shower and/or bath with the bedroom and bathroom doors open. She could no longer stand in her bathroom topless with her bathroom and bedroom door open while blow drying her hair and/or putting on her makeup. Not appropriate behavior for her son to see his mother topless or naked, even though she sexually fantasized otherwise, she was his mother after all and he was her son. Admittedly, with just the thought of him seeing her without her clothes sexually arousing her, even though she'd have no problem with him seeing her topless, naked, and in all manner of undress, she didn't want him to think less of her. It was one thing for him to see her accidentally or for him to go out of his way to see what he shouldn't see of his mother by peeping on her, but it was quite another thing for him to think that she was purposely flashing him and deliberately sexually teasing him. What kind of mother would he think she had turned into to purposely flash and deliberately sexually tease her son? After never having exhibited that kind of inappropriate, sexual behavior before, with him no doubt suspecting her incestuous motives, she couldn't just walk around topless, naked, or in her sexy lingerie around him now. Even though she'd love to walk around him topless, naked, on in her sexy lingerie, seriously, what would he think? What would he say when seeing so much of her now when he's seen so little of her before? What would he do with her constantly and continually sexually teasing him with her shapely body? For sure, he'd think that she was trying to seduce him and, of course, she was. Being that she's already had sex with him in her dreams and sexual fantasies numerous times, she'd love to have sex with him now in reality. * * * * * Even though she'd love to see him naked, she'd love to see his naked ass and his naked cock. Whenever he visited, reluctantly respecting his privacy when he was in the shower washing his beautiful naked body, she didn't want him to think less of her by her barging in on him to see what she could see of him. On the pretense of telling him something very important that couldn't wait, she sometimes imagined opening his bathroom door and sitting on the toilet while talking to him and while watching him wash his beautiful naked body. Fantasizing about washing his chest, his back, his ass, his stomach, his legs, his arms, and his cock, she'd love to bathe him again in the way she innocently did when he was a boy. A sexual fantasy that she wished would come true, she sometimes imagined them undressing one another, stripping naked, and showering together. Certainly the shower in her master bedroom was large enough to accommodate them both. If he so desired and with her shower pillow beneath her head, there was plenty enough room for him to lay on top of her while making love to her before fucking her against the imported Italian, marble tiles. Oh, yeah, she'd love nothing more than for him to soap up her dirty, naked body after she's soap up his magnificent, unclothe physique. Mother and son showering together, she imagined him washing her, touching her, and feeling her everywhere while she washed, touched, and felt him everywhere too. "How sexy is that? How erotic is that? How hot is that?" She said for no one to hear. After they're done showering together, she'd willingly agree to get all dirty with him again by having him take her, make love to her, and fuck her really hard in the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, and/or her bedroom. If only her son agreed to shower with her, she'd shower with him multiple times a day, every day. She'd never be as clean as she'd be with her son washing her while taking sexual liberties with her naked body. Helping him to get squeaky clean too, she imagined licking him clean everywhere and where no respectable mother should ever lick her son. She imagined him pushing her up against the shower wall with the water cascading down upon them as if they were beneath a waterfall in Bali. She imagined him taking her and making love to her right then and right then. She imagined her wrapping her long, shapely legs around his hard, naked body to give him better access to her pussy. Then, not totally satisfied with fucking her pussy and unsatisfied with her having the control, she imagined him spinning her around and bending her over to take sexual control of her ass. Oh, my God, her sexual dream come true, she'd love for her son to take her vaginally and anally before taking her orally. Not bothering her one bit that his cock was buried in her ass a minute before, she'd lick him clean by sucking him after he fucked her anally. Yet always careful what she said and what she did when around him, she didn't want her son to think that in his four year absence that his mother had become a slut and an incestuous whore. With him living with her, she could no longer walk around her large, luxurious villa naked. She couldn't flop herself in her chair wearing just her panties and a short tee shirt while drinking her coffee, eating her breakfast, watching the news, reading the newspaper, or browsing through magazines while checking messages on her phone. With her feet propped up on her chair while flashing him her trimmed, auburn pussy, she wouldn't be able to sit at her computer in her sheer, short, low cut, sexy, nearly transparent nightgown that she enjoyed wearing before removing them to sleep naked. Something she's never done before but was horny enough and sexually attracted to him enough to do now, teasing him while hoping to seduce him, she imagined walking around him wearing her sexiest, sheerest nightgown without a modesty robe and with nothing underneath. Just the thought of wearing something that innocently exposed her semi-naked body to him made her horny and sexually aroused her. Careful to make her flashes appear accidental instead of deliberate, while using Academy Award acting performances of surprised shock that she was so exposed to him, she'd have to carefully plan her flashes. Worth the risk of exposing herself literally and figuratively, she was curious to learn if he'd look at what she was showing. She was curious what his reaction would be to all that she was showing and all that he was seeing of her. She wondered if he'd stare, leer, gawk, ogle, or look away in embarrassment. If nothing else, whether he enjoyed the show or not, the fact that she flashed him would give her fodder for her to masturbate herself later than night. While leaning over him to serve him his breakfast, she imagined giving him a wonderful down nightgown view of her abundant breasts, her pinkish brown areolas, and her erect nipples. She wondered if he'd look and if he did look, she wondered if he'd stare. Something so unexpected but something she'd love for him to do, wouldn't it be shockingly grand if he reached his horny hand down her nightgown to cup her D cup breasts while fingering her erect nipples while kissing her? Then while picking up after him, she imagined bending at the waist in front of him to give him an up nightgown view of her naked ass and her trimmed auburn pussy. Not knowing if he was an ass man or a breast man, she wondered which view of her would sexually arouse him more, a down nightgown of her breasts or up nightgown of her ass and pussy. Surely, if those down nightgown and up nightgown sights didn't get the attention of any man, young or old, especially an American man living in an Arab land, whether he was her son or a stranger, she didn't know what would. Then again, being that she was his mother and he was her son, she wondered if he'd even notice her breasts were on display to his beautiful, blue eyes. Maybe when flashing him her naked ass and pussy, he'd look away in shame for her and in embarrassment of himself. Perhaps he didn't think of her in the sexual way that she thought of him. Perhaps he wasn't as sexually attracted to her as she was sexually attracted to him. Perhaps her dreams and her sexual fantasies weren't shared by him. Perhaps her incestuous fantasies are only her sexual dreams and not his sexual fantasies and dreams. Perhaps, only happening in her mind, he has no memory and no recollection of living another life in another time and another place with her while having passionate sex with her. She even imagined feigning a break-in where her son finds her bound, blindfolded, and naked. Just the thought of him finding her in such a vulnerable way made her dizzy with sexual delight. She wondered how long he'd stand there and stare at her naked body before removing her blindfold and untying her. She wondered if he'd touch and feel her if only under the pretense of untying her. She wondered if he'd hug her naked body after he freed her from her binds. In the way that she no doubt would be sexually aroused enough to have sex with him right then and right there, she wondered if he'd be sexually aroused enough to have sex with her too. Actually, in thinking about that sexy scenario, she'd love to find him bound, blindfolded, and naked. She's stare at him and leer at him before untying him to set him free. While wanting to have sex with him, she'd touch and feel him under the innocent pretense of untying him. Alas, for her to have sex with her son, he'd have to make the first move. For her to not have the guilt of sexually teasing her son and for her not to have the remorse of seducing her son, he'd have to show her that having incestuous sex with her was all his idea. He'd have to show her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Only, not wanting to involve the police by filing a false report just for the sake of her son finally seeing her naked, with security cameras everywhere, the police would see right through her little ruse. Even though she'd get off feeling so helplessly vulnerable, she couldn't feign a break-in even though it was sexually exciting to think of that sexy, sexual scenario of being bound, blindfolded, and naked. * * * * * While dressed in her sheerest nightgown and not wearing anything underneath, she thought of other ways to flash him without having to lie to the police and having to make up stories about being burglarized and stripped naked. While innocently working with all of the lights off but for the computer monitor, and with the thin material of her nightgown made even more transparent by the light from the monitor, he'd see more of his mother than he's ever seen before. She wondered if he'd watch her work. She wondered if he'd stare at all that she imagined he'd see. She wondered if he'd masturbate himself to all that he saw of her in the privacy of his room later. She imagined opening his bedroom door, catching him masturbating, and offering him her hand, her mouth, her pussy, and/or her ass. Queen & Prince Together Forever #2 With the lights off in the kitchen and while innocently looking for something to eat, as if the light emanating from open door of the refrigerator was continuous Paparazzi camera flashes, she imagined flashing him by merely standing in front of the open refrigerator door and leaning inside. She wondered if he'd watch standing there as if she was naked. She wondered if he'd stare at all that he was seeing of her through her nearly transparent nightgown. She wondered if he'd masturbate himself to all that he saw of her later. Again, she imagined opening his bedroom door to volunteer him her help. With the lights off in the living room but for the TV, remaining there while engaging him in conversation, she imagined flashing him by standing in front of the television. Walking into his room unannounced the next morning, she imagined opening his drapes to let in the morning light. With him clearly able to see her naked form through her sheer nightgown, she imagined flashing him by greeting the morning light when opening the drapes of his room and standing there as if she was being X-rayed by a TSA agent. She wondered if he'd watch. She wondered if he'd stare. She wondered if he'd masturbate himself to all that he saw of her later. "Good morning Henry," she imagined saying while acting so innocent and oblivious that she was flashing her naked body to her son. She imagined seeing his erection tenting his sheet. "How did you sleep?" Again, she imagined offering him her hand, her mouth, her pussy, and/or her ass. Unable to believe that he wouldn't, she wondered if he'd look at her, stare at her, leer at her, gawk at her, ogle her, or look away. The evidence of his appreciation in her flashing him her naked body covered only by the thinnest and sheerest material of her sexiest nightgown would be quite shockingly noticeable by his erect cock tenting his bed sheet. Unable to stop herself from sexually satisfying her son, she wondered if he'd allow her to relieve his sudden sexually stress by allowing her to give him a motherly hand job or an incestuous blowjob. She swooned at the thought of her hand around his cock stroking him. She swooned at the thought of her lips around his erection while sucking him with her hand stroking him harder and faster. With him living with her again, the opportunities of seeing one another naked and the sexual possibilities were seemingly endless. Not ashamed to admit it, as long as she could make it appear accidental, the thought of shocking him by having him catch her topless, naked, and in all manner of undress crossed her mind more than once. She wondered if him catching her topless, naked, and in all manner of undress would sexually excite him in the way that just the thought of him seeing her without her clothes sexually excited her. She wondered if seeing her topless, naked, and in all manner of undress would inspire him to do the same with him flashing her too. She wondered if seeing her topless, naked, and in all manner of undress would inspire him to touch her, feel her, kiss her, and take her to make love to her before fucking her, really fucking her hard. Admittedly again and not ashamed to admit it, she's masturbated to imagining her son seeing bits and pieces of her underwear clad, topless, and/or naked body that no son should ever see of his mother. Sexually fantasizing that she'd take her flashing a step further, as much as she'd love to watch him masturbate, she'd love for him to watch her masturbate too. She wondered if he masturbated. Of course, he must. Everyone masturbates, especially a testosterone driven, horny, young man. She wondered if he wondered if she masturbated. Of course she does. Doesn't everyone? She wondered if he'd be curious enough to watch her pleasure herself. A line he'd perhaps cross on his way to having incestuous sex with her, she'd like nothing better than to masturbate together before masturbating one another, while hoping that their mutual masturbation may lead to them having an incestuously sexual relationship with one another. * * * * * Being that he exercises daily and is so physically fit, under the pretense of her not wanting to hurt her back, she imagined seemingly innocently and inadvertently exposing herself to him while asking him to teach her the correct form in doing crunches. She imagined walking in his room unannounced again while he was busy doing his pushups and crunches, she imagined standing over him while wearing only her short, sheer nightgown without a robe and without panties. She imagined him gazing up at her and forcing himself to make eye contact with her for him not to be caught looking up her nightgown at her naked pussy. "Can you show me the proper way to do a crunch? Every time I try, I hurt my back," she said giving her son a feigned, painful smile while rubbing her lower back. "Sure Mom," she imagined him saying while seemingly happy that his mother was taking an interest in exercise. "For your back to hurt, you're probably going up to high. You only have to lift yourself partway to feel the benefit of the crunch. As soon as you feel the tension in your stomach, you've gone high enough." He showed her how to do a crunch and, while staring at his form, she imagined herself staring at the bulge his cock made in his sweatpants. "Can you show me?" Unable to remove her focused stare from his bulge, she imagined his cock in her hand and/or in her mouth. "Sure," she imagined him saying while doing a couple of slow crunches to show her the correct form and while staring up her nightgown. She watched him looking up at her while trying to advert his stare from focusing on her naked pussy. Seemingly, by his nervous look, he was enamored by his mother's naked cunt. "That looks easy enough but every time I do one I hurt myself," she said. Waiting for him to offer her more personal help, she hoped he'd invite her to get down on the floor across from him. "Get down on the floor and we'll do some together," he said. Falling for her bait, she was reeling him into her exhibitionist trap of voyeurism and incest. "Okay," she said. Getting down to his level ladylike without flashing him any part of her, she tucked her nightgown in around her. One of her nightgown straps already fell to her forearm exposing the tops of her breasts and more of her cleavage to him. "Now move up your knees and with your knees tight together try lifting up to do a crunch while I hold your ankles," he said. Only as soon as he sat partway up, her knees parted and she flashed him her pussy. She watched him at look what she was so boldly exposing between her legs before she imagined him looking away in embarrassment. Then, as soon as she did a second crunch, her other nightgown strap fell to her forearm. With the top of her nightgown slowly sliding down her breasts and finally stopping short of revealing her areolas, she imagined her nightgown moving higher and higher until her trimmed pussy was peeking out the bottom. Literally, there were hundreds of ways for her to flash her son her underwear clad, semi-naked, and naked body while making her flashes appear accidental. If only he'd play her game too by deliberately flashing her his cock while seemingly making it appear accidental, she imagined all the hot, sexy, exhibitionism and voyeurism fun they could have. Imagining more sexy flashing scenarios, she imagined holding the ladder steady while he stood on a ladder to change a light bulb. Wearing his pajama bottoms and nothing else, with him stretching to screw the bulb in the sock, she imagined his pajama slowly falling lower and lower until his cock and testicles were exposed to her. Only, if he exposed himself in that way, she didn't know if she could control herself from taking him in her hand before taking him in her mouth. * * * * * In the way she so loves having anal sex, she wondered if he's had anal sex. She'd like nothing better than for him to surprise her and take her from behind while reaching up his hands to fondle her big breasts and finger her erect nipples. Not resisting him, never would she resist him, she'd allow him to have his wicked, sexual, anal way with her beautiful ass. In one of her stranger dreams, she had a dream of her son taking her anally while she gave birth to his baby, a girl that they named after the mythical God of love, Aphrodite. She'd love nothing more than to open his bedroom door without knocking to catch him masturbating to a computer video while wearing headphones. With him not knowing she was standing there staring as he stroked himself, she'd love to watch him cum while imagining that he was ejaculating while thinking of her naked and having sex with her. Returning the favor in kind, she'd love for him to catch her masturbating when wearing headphones while listening to music with her eyes closed. In the way that she'd love to watch him ejaculating, she wondered if he'd stand there and watch her fondle her breasts, finger her nipples, and rub her clit while having a quiet orgasm. "How hot is that to watch one another masturbate? As a prelude to passionate sex, how hot would that be for me to masturbate my son while he masturbated me?" She cupped her breast with the thought of her catching her son masturbating and her son catching her masturbating. "Wow!" With her feeling comfortable in exposing her lingerie clad, topless, or even naked body to him, as long as it appeared accidental, ideally, she wished he'd allow her to catch him naked first. After seeing him naked, in fairness, cock for tits, in her mind that would be acceptable for her to flash him and for Henry to see her topless or even naked. Having imagined his cock in her sexual fantasies and sexy dreams lots of times before while imagining having sex with him, she'd love to see his flaccid prick in person before seeing it fully aroused and before imagining his engorged penis penetrating her. Yet, unable to cross the line of incest, she was caught up in the imagined mother and son incestuous protocol of how to go about flashing him. In her sexually frustrated thoughts of seducing him, while wishing that he'd seduce her, she wondered if he's as sexually interested in her as she is in him. Unable to make the first move, fearing she'd be embarrassed and humiliated if he rejected her, she was uncomfortable exposing her naked body to him first. Something that she was uncomfortable initiating, she'd willingly expose herself to him if he exposed his naked body to her first. She'd willingly expose herself to him if only he caught him peeping on her. She was curious how he'd react to seeing her naked. Curious about how she'd react, she wondered how she should act if he saw her naked. Being that she so wants to show him her naked body, she probably wouldn't act like the morally modest mother that she should act like. Curious about how she'd react, she wondered how she should act if she saw him naked. Being that she's so very sexually attracted to him, she probably couldn't help herself from staring, leering, and gawking actually in the way that she imagined him staring, leering, and gawking at her naked body. Being that she's so sexually attracted to him, if she was to see him naked, she probably couldn't help herself from taking his cock in her hand to stroke him before falling to her knees to suck him and before allowing him to fuck her. If only he'd flash her his naked body, she'd flash him her naked body too. Excited that he'd be home soon, not taking the time to dawdle, she took a shower to begin the long process of dressing expressly for him. Normally when late for work, out the door in twenty minutes, she could shower, throw something on, fix her face and hair, and grab something to eat while drinking her coffee. Planning her vacation around his return, she had a month off to be with him to go places night and day or to stay home to watch a movie and to cuddle. After having so very many sexual dreams about him she couldn't help herself from imagining him kissing her and making out with her while touching and feeling her everywhere. Returning back to reality, she wondered what he'd want to do and where he'd want to go. Only, after erasing him cuddling her, kissing her, and feeling from her horny mind, no doubt he'd want to hang out with his friends instead of with his mother. With Qatar changing so much in four years, she had a list of places to take him and things to show him. She'd love to hang out at the beach with him all day and go swimming in the Persian Gulf. Imagining him rubbing suntan lotion on her nearly naked body, she imagined them secretly and serendipitously touching and feeling one another while submerged up to their necks in the water. Exposing her breasts to him, she imagined an errant wave removing her bikini top in the way she wished he would. With her big breasts bouncing and jiggling while she ran in the water after her top, she imagined enlisting his help to retrieve her bikini top. Then, with his wide eyes filled with the reflection of her big breasts, she immodestly and immorally had him block the view of others seeing her putting on her bikini bra. "Don't look at my tits Henry. Please don't look at my tits," she imagined saying while watching him staring at her exposed breasts. "God, I'm so very embarrassed," she imagined saying while feigning her embarrassment that she was finally exposing her breasts to her son in real life and not just in her dreams and sexual fantasies. To be continued... Queen & Prince Together Forever #3 Queen Emma readies herself for the arrival of her son, Prince Henry Beaming ear to ear by the thoughts of seeing him again, Emma called her driver and sent him to pick up her son at Hamad International Airport while she readied herself to welcome him home. Between the traffic jams and the insane drivers in Qatar driving as if their cars are amusement park bumper cars, especially the taxis, fearing she'd have an accident in her excitement to see her son again, she didn't dare drive herself to meet him. Some of these drivers drive their cars as if they're alone in the desert riding their camels willy-nilly or riding their Arabian horses at breakneck speed. Some of these drivers are so rich that they don't care if they smash up their cars. They'll just buy a new one and more expensive model. "Sheik, what happened to your Ferrari?" "I ran out of gas, so I bought a new Ferrari, a faster Ferrari with a full tank of petrol," said the Sheik with a wave of his uncaring hand. Thinking more of the inconvenience than the money, seemingly spending $300,000 was of little consequence. "Besides the ashtray in my old Ferrari was full." Unfortunately, that attitude of the superrich in Qatar, the richest country in the world, is more common than not. Instead of fixing something that's broken, they'll throw it away the old one and buy a new one. Instead of bothering to read the directions, whether it's a TV, a stereo, or an appliance, they'd rather hire someone who already knows how something works to show them. Having little time and no patience for any of that, they can't be bothered with things that bore them, aggravate them, or that cause them stress. They're much like spoiled Americans only far wealthier. An inside look at the superrich in Qatar, these people never buy the extended warranties as they'll never own anything past the original warranty anyway. * * * * * After not seeing one another for such a long time, Emma would much rather surprise her son in private with a warm, albeit somewhat inappropriate, motherly greeting than to ruin their first time together with the stress created by the drive to the airport and back. Besides, with her having such a difficult time deciding what to wear, which high heeled shoes matched which outfit, and how to fix her long, auburn hair, she took the extra time afforded her by not fetching him to make herself look pretty and, hopefully, sexually desirable. She wanted to do everything she possibly could and everything in her womanly power to make him want her as much as she wanted him. If only she knew her son sexually wanted her as much as she sexually wanted him and if only he'd make the first move, she'd make all the rest of the moves. If only she knew that her dreams of them being intimate together weren't just dreams but what really happened in another time and in another place. If only she knew that they really were reincarnated, then she wouldn't feel as guilty in seducing him. If only she knew that they really made love and had sex many times before, she'd have no remorse in having sex with him now. Yet, the fact remained that she didn't know for sure if they had lived before and were reincarnated now. Was her dreams her past realities or were they all just fiction? Her obvious lust for him and the sexual fantasies that she had of him continued to distort her reality? Being that she'd be indoors with her son and not walking around in public, she ruled against wearing the matronly clothes she typically wore when going to work. She hated the clothes she was forced to wear when in public and that were enforced by Qatar's decency laws for not only Qatari women but also for expats and tourists. With nothing sexy about them, the clothes she was forced to wear to work and in public hid the natural, God blessed, curves of her shapely, womanly body. Being that she was in her villa and away from prying eyes of those who'd report her, as long as she didn't dare venture outside dressed like a slut, she was free to wear whatever she wanted to wear. As long as she stayed inside her private villa, if she so wanted and if she so dared to expose more of her naked body to her son, which she wouldn't, not yet anyway, until she knew that he wanted her too, she could wear anything she wanted or nothing at all. Just the thought of opening the front door of her villa to him while totally naked consumed her with incestuous lust and a sexual passion for him. If only she could show him her unclothe body without him deeming her an incestuous slut and a perversely perverted whore, she'd parade around him topless, in her sexy lingerie, and/or naked. If only to see the reaction on his face, she loved to open her door while she didn't have a stitch of clothing on her shapely MILF of a body. If she did expose her naked body to her son, she wondered where he'd look first. If she did expose her naked body to her son, she wondered what he'd say. If only she had the indecency to stand before him naked, she wondered what he'd do. Would he touch her? Would he feel her? Would he grope her before having wild sex with her or would he reject her because she's his mother and he's her son? Consumed with the thoughts of opening her villa door to her son naked, she wondered if he'd reach out his horny hand to touch her, feel her, and fondle her. Would he wrap his arm around her slim waist and kiss her while reaching one hand down to feel her naked ass and reach his other hand up to feel her D cup breasts? Would he surprise her and totally shock her by taking her right there and right then on the carpet and in front of her closed front door? Would he force her to her knees and force her to suck him. Would he turn her around and bend her over and fuck her like a dirty dog would fuck his little bitch, first sliding his cock in her pussy before plunging his stiff prick in her willing ass? Or would he reject her and forever have nothing more to do with her? Only, instead of appearing at her front door naked, she'd much rather that he made the first move. Yet, if only she could take the first step across the incestuous line, having wondered it many times before, she wondered where he'd look first. She wondered if he was a breast man, an ass man, or a leg man. Being that her D cup breasts were two of her biggest assets, she'd wondered if he'd love her tits as much as she loves her tits. Not knowing what to do with her never having been in such a sexual situation, she wondered if he'd just stare at her naked body without so much as touching her. She wondered if he'd embrace her, hug her, kiss her, touch her, and feel her or would he reject her, report her to his father, and no longer have anything to do with her. She couldn't help but wonder if he was sexually thinking about her as much as she was sexually thinking about him. Where they travelled through time after being reincarnated over and again, she wondered if he was having the same disturbing albeit sexually exciting dreams that she was having too. * * * * * Coordinating her wardrobe around her top, she picked out a silk, sexy, Venetian red, button blouse. With her hair color sometimes clashing with and fighting for attention with the colors she wore, especially some shades of red, she liked how her auburn hair color complimented the color of her blouse. She had no problem with blue or green complimenting her hair but red, depending on the shade of red, was always problematic. One of her favorite low cut blouses to wear, she liked this blouse not just for the shade of red, with red her favorite color, but because the buttons began where her cleavage ended. Flattering and highlighting her enormous D cup breasts that preoccupied the attention of most men, this blouse was so sexy. She liked how the low cut neckline not only showed off her long line of cleavage but also revealed her long, sexy neck, one of her best features. Giving him a sexy show by showing him her ample cleavage always made her feel sexy and who better to feel sexy with than to feel sexy with her son. The man of her love, the man of her lustful fantasies, and the man of her passionate dreams and her most erotic desires, he was the man that she was so sexually attracted to and the man that she most intimately wanted. Hoping to sexually tease him into wanting her, this blouse, along with her big tits, were her not so secret weapons she'd use in the seduction of her son. If only he'd show his sexual interest in her, with him not having to do anything else, she'd do all of the rest. All it would take is a lustful look for her to know that he wanted her too, as much as she wanted him. Taking his look as her signal for her to seduce him, she'd take him by his hand to her bed. Once there, she'd show him how a woman loves a man and would teach him how to love a woman. No doubt, with all the sexual passion that she felt for her son, she'd ruin him for any other woman. No woman can match the love that a mother has for her son. No woman can compete with a mother's love, especially when there're naked and in bed together. No mother can match the love that she had for Henry. "I love you Henry," she said for no one to hear. "I want you. I want to make mad, wild, passionate love to you." * * * * * Dressed only in her low cut bra and bright white, sheer, bikini panties, before creating her masterpiece of sexuality and seduction, she looked at herself in the mirror as if she was an artist looking at a blank canvas. With her sexy lingerie showing off and highlighting her figure, she not only looked so sexy but she felt so sexy. Not yet abandoning her to sag in defeat and wither and wrinkle in middle age, yet only a matter of time, thankfully, she still had her firm, sexy body, thank God. Forgetting for a minute about applying her makeup, more taken by how sexy her body still looked and how flattering her figure was, especially in comparison to how some of her younger friends have prematurely aged, she wished Henry was here now with her. If only he was with her now, daring herself to do so and now horny and sexually frustrated enough to flash him, she'd surprise him, shock him probably by walking out of her bathroom wearing nothing but her sexy lingerie and a pair of high heeled shoes. Wouldn't that shock the shit out of him to see his mother in her underwear? Acting as if she didn't realize that she wasn't fully dressed, she wondered his reaction to seeing her in her low cut bra and sheer, bikini panty. Better than showing him what she looks like naked, she'd love to sexually tease him by showing him what she looks like in her sexy lingerie while he imagined the rest. If he looked close enough, he could see her nipples through her sheer bra. If he stared long enough, he could see her dark patch of trimmed, auburn pubic hair. Maybe once he saw her in her suggestive, sexually stimulating, and erotically revealing underwear, he'd want to see her naked too. Imagining him staring, with her always so curious about his wants and desires, she wondered where he'd look first. While wondering it before, she wondered it again. She wondered if he was a breast man, an ass man, or a leg man. Maybe in the way that she hoped he loved sexy women, he was a whole body man. Imagining him falling speechless by the sexy, lingerie clad sight of her, she wondered what he'd say when he collected himself. Imagining him reaching out to touch her, he imagined him reaching out to feel her. Imagining him taking her and making passionate love to her, she wondered what he'd do in seeing his MILF of a mother, a mother that she hoped he'd love to fuck, dressed so scantily in her revealing underwear. Whatever he wanted to do to her, she'd allow him the wicked, sexual access to her naked body. Whatever he wanted her to do to his naked body, she'd do it to him. With her having three holes for him to fill, she was ready, willing, and open to anything. Only nothing more than her sexual fantasy and possibly not even his sexual fantasy, if only he shared her sexual fantasies too, she'd be so happy. If only he'd whisper his lust for her in her ear while kissing her neck and while slowly moving his hand down her blouse to feel the weight of her breasts while fingering her nipples. If only he'd stick his sculptured hand down her panty to touch his mother where no son should ever touch his mother, she'd stick her hand down his pants to touch her son where no mother should ever touch her son. If only he'd confess that he's been having weird, sexual dreams about her too, she'd understand that the sexual passion that he had for her, she had for him too. With her dreaming and fantasizing that they were already sexually intimate, they'd have such fun playing out their shared sexual fantasies by reliving their historic past. She'd willingly dress up as his queen with him her prince. She'd love nothing more than to give him a royal fucking and majestic sucking. She'd love nothing more than for him to take total sexual control of her before she took total physical control of him. Tying him to her bed to tease him while whipping him, she'd have him begging her to stop and give him sex. Being that her nipples were supersensitive and one of her erogenous zones, with his fingertips touching, squeezing, turning, twisting, and pulling out her nipple, she'd do anything he wanted her to do. Perhaps if she prodded him a little by sexually teasing him and flashing him her bra and her panty clad, semi-naked body, with him unable to hide his sexual arousal by the obvious bulge in his pants, she'd discover how he really felt about his mother. Was he as sexually attracted to her as she was to him? Except, fearing that he was like most Arab men, if she dared show him too much skin, he'd deem her a slut for not covering herself. If she showed him how she sexually felt about him and wanted him, he may deem her as a whore and reject her by never seeing her again. If only he knew that she'd love for him to call her a slut and would be totally turned on by him calling her a whore, she wondered if he'd treat her as the slut and the whore that she wanted him to treat her as. Oxymoronic in his disgust for her and at the same time in his repressed sexual desire for her, as long as he gave her hot sex and showed her the sexual passion that he had for her after he showed her the disgust that he for her, she'd be a very happy woman. If only he knew that she wanted her son to teach her a lesson for being bad, very bad, she'd love nothing better than for him to spank her naked ass really hard. Making her his submissive, little bitch, she'd love for him to take her and make passionate love to her before fucking her, really fucking her hard. While calling her a slut and a whore, she imagined him pulling her by her hair to slap her across her face. Then, dragging her by her hair, she imagined him forcing her to her knees and pulling her hair even harder for her to open her mouth and to take him inside. If only he knew that he didn't have to pull her hair for her to open her mouth, she'd willingly suck him. Yet, better that he should think that her sucking him was his idea rather than her idea, she'd still be able to keep her motherly morals if only he'd make the first sexual move. If only he'd make the first incestuous move, she'd be so happy. If only he'd make the first sexual move, her life would be complete with her being sexually satisfied. Wet just thinking about her son forcing her to suck him, she imagined him putting a firm hand to the back of her pretty head to inject her mouth with the full length and girth of him. She imagined him humping her mouth and fucking her face in the way she imagined him forcing any one of his Saturday night whores to blow him. Then, exploding his seed inside of her willing mouth, she imagined him not letting go of her until she swallowed all of him and until she licked every drop from his erect cock. While squeezing her tits and slapping her ass red raw, she'd love nothing better than for him to tie her to his bed and treat her as if she were his sexual slave instead of his mother. "Oh, my God, Henry, I love you and I want you so very much," she said to her reflection in her mirror. "I'd like nothing better than to blow you as soon as you walked through my front door. I'd like nothing better than for you to make love to me before fucking me. I'd like nothing better than for you to take me anally." Then, turning the tables on him, imagining him tied naked to a support beam in her apartment while she had her wicked, sexual way with his naked body, she imagined controlling him and torturing, just a little, until he agreed to be her sex slave. With his wrists bound and his ankles tied, she had the image of him looking much like a human starfish albeit with his cock dangling while awaiting the pleasure of her hand and mouth in the physical, emotional, and sexual torture of him. Teasing him with her fingers and then slowly stroking him with her hand before teasing him with her tongue, her lips, and her mouth, there for her pleasure and entertainment, she imagined Henry being her own personal CFNM stripper. Then, allowing him to take unconscionable sexual advantage of her too, she imagine Henry sexually servicing her at her command and whimsy. Yet, only just a sexual fantasy, alas, she knew that Henry would never have sex with his mother. Yet, just as they were in her dreams, what if they were both just as sexually attracted to one another in reality as they were sexually attracted to one another in her dreams? What if Henry was having the same dreams? Surely that would be proof enough that they both lived before. What if Henry wanted her as much as she wanted him? Just as she dreamt, what if Henry dreamt of having sex with her too? What if Henry was masturbating over the thoughts of having sex with his mother? What if Henry has been having these dreams too about living in another time and another place while having incestuous sex with her? "Oh, my God, if only he'd show the sexual desire he has for me, I'd show him the sexual desire I have for him too," she said for no one to hear while reaching down in her panty to touch herself. "I wish it was his fingers fingering me and not my own." * * * * * Hair and makeup always transformed her from very pretty to extraordinarily beautiful. Applying and perfecting her makeup with a brush here and a brush there, she sprayed her hair with hairspray before dabbing her Prada perfume on her neck, on her chest, on her wrists, behind her knees, on her ankles, and where she sexually fantasized he'd touch her and finger her before licking her. Perfuming every beating heartbeat of her, she didn't leave a pulse point unscented. Being that her long, shapely legs were tanned and waxed, she didn't bother wearing pantyhose. She hated the damn things. If she had her druthers, she'd wear nylons with a garter belt but she didn't want anything getting in the way of her flashing her son her panties, if she so dared. "Oh, my God, I'd love to flash Henry my panty clad pussy," she said while applying her makeup and fixing her hair. Armed and dangerous, she carefully put her blouse on over her 34D cup breasts as if she was a bodyguard hiding his big guns and as if she was donning a suicide bomb vest instead of her Venetian red, silk blouse. Her concealed and sometimes deadly weapons, her big guns were her breasts and she certainly had big, shapely ones. From men opening doors for her, to being seated at a better table at a restaurant or club, to hailing a cab on a rainy night, or to getting the attention of men or a specific man, she couldn't even count the number of times her having D cup breasts on her shapely body came in handy. Only, no longer in America and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency, she had to be careful where and to whom she flashed her long line of cleavage and supersized breasts. Queen & Prince Together Forever #3 She loved her breasts and now wondered again if her son was a breast man, an ass man, or a leg man. If only she knew which womanly body part he preferred, she'd pay closer attention to that one body part when choosing what to wear. Wearing a low cut blouse to show off her breasts and a short, tight skirt to enhance her round ass and long legs, now she'd have to show off all of her body parts. She wondered if her son loved her tits as much as she loved her breasts. Giving men a split second glimpse of what was to follow, her big breasts rounded the corner just before she did and her round, firm ass was the last bit of her that they saw when she was leaving. Ready for battle, as if her son was her Prince and she was his Queen, and perhaps he was and perhaps she was too, she stepped into her suit of armor shade of grey, short skirt and tucking it in, zipped it over her silk blouse. As if adjusting her bullet proof vest to protect two of her best assets, she tucked her blouse in tighter to make her breasts look even bigger than they were. Not that she needed to make her breasts look any larger than they were, she did that out of habit because she loved how they looked from the front as much as she loved how her breasts looked from the side. At the same time, by tightly tucking in her blouse, she pulled the top opening of her shirt even lower to show off even more of her sexy cleavage. Sometimes after dressing so dowdy every day for months, she sometimes forgets that she's a sexy woman with a hot body beneath her clothes. Last but not least, she stepped into her deep, silver gray, high heeled shoes. Comfortable for high heels, she loved these shoes because they were well padded and didn't bite or make her feet and legs ache her as the evening progressed. One last look at herself in the mirror, turning one way before turning the other, she didn't look bad for an old broad if she said so herself. "Not bad," she said turning to the side, tucking in her stomach, and pulling her shoulders back to push out her breasts. * * * * * Just by innocently leaning forward to reach for her wine glass or a cracker and some cheese, she'd be inadvertently but deliberately exposing the tops of her breasts, her long line of sexy cleavage, and the top of her bra to her son. She leaned forward in her bathroom mirror to see how much he could see of her while she imagined innocently, albeit seductively staring up at him with her big, blue eyes while flashing him her tits. Obviously, whenever she leaned forward, her blouse fell forward too and, just as she could see a lot of herself in the mirror, she imagined that he would too. As far as she knew, being that she's always so morally modest around him and he's always so well manneredly respectful of her, he's never seen as much of her sexy body as he'd be seeing today. Being that he's been away from her for so long and is returning to her as a 22-year-old man instead of an 18-year-old boy, she wondered where he'd look when she was purposely flashing him the top portion of her breasts. She wondered if she could entice him to notice the impressions that her breasts made in her blouse in the way that she noticed the bulge his cock made in his pants. She wondered if he'd notice her big nipples pushing against her bra and blouse as if begging to be fingered and sucked. She wondered if he'd break eye contact with her to stare down her open blouse. She wondered if he'd take all of what he saw of her that night to his room later. She wondered if he'd masturbate over the thoughts of having sex with her in the way that she planned on masturbating over the thoughts of having sex with him later. In the way she hoped he would, would he dare look down his mother's blouse as if she was some trampy barmaid in an English pub? Truth be told, when she thought more about it, thinking about changing her clothes to put on something more modest and less revealing, she already felt guilty by the thoughts of sensuously teasing him and sexually arousing him by flashing him. Yet, now that she's staring back at herself in the mirror, as much as she looked beautiful and felt sexy, she felt pathetic, especially if he rejected her because she was his mother and he was her son. Suddenly she was sad that she was begging for her son's sexual attention. Yet, if only he has had the same dreams of reincarnation that she's routinely had, he'd understand her need to seduce him. Even though she felt sexually hot wearing such a low cut blouse and such a short, tight skirt, she felt wicked wearing this blouse and skirt for her son instead of for another man. Only, she wasn't interested in any other man. Her son was the only man she wanted. Her son was the only man who she was sexually interested in taking to bed with her. Her son was the man she wanted to seduce. * * * * * "Madam?" Always an interruption of her thoughts, the voice over her front door speaker that routinely announced her every guest commanded her attention. Having instructed him and tipped him before not to do so, she hated it when he called her madam. Being that she's divorced and no longer married, she preferred that he call her Miss. The madam salutation made her feel so old. She felt like her mother whenever the doorman called her that but her mother never looked as good as she looked now. She looked sexy. She looked hot. She looked irresistible. She walked to the door to depress the talk button. "Yes," she said releasing the button with a sigh while waiting for him to respond. 'He's here. Henry must be here,' she thought to herself getting even more sexually excited than she was before. Trying to remain calmly unflustered, she quivered with sexual anticipation with the expected arrival of her son. "You have a visitor?" The voice responded in Arabic and even though she's fluent in the language, with the thoughts of Henry preoccupying her, it took her a moment to understand what he had just said. 'Oh my God, Henry is here. He's here. He's here. Henry is here,' she thought. 'Who else could it be?' "Who is it?" Even though she knew the language, she had a habit of falling back in her native tongue when excited or nervous and she responded to him in English. Intuitively she knew it was her son. Yet a good habit and one that's hard to break but easy and necessary to live with, with her not feeling totally safe as a woman living alone in Qatar, she asked who it was for security sake. A secured building, the doorman was just doing his job and showing her his respect by calling her madam was one of the things that he was trained to do. "It's Henry. Your son," he said in English. She swooned at the sound of his name coming from someone else's lips to tell her that she wasn't dreaming this or imagining that he was here, Henry was really here. He had finally returned home to her. Forsaking living with his father to live with her, as she hoped he would, she was beside herself with happiness. "Send him up," she said in Arabic. She couldn't wait to see him. She couldn't wait to hold him. She couldn't wait to touch him and to kiss him. * * * * * Dismissing the maid to have her return tomorrow so that she may have some privacy tonight with her son, she moved to the kitchen to put out her already prepared trays of crackers and cheese and a fruit, veggie, and nut plate with dips. Perfect with a glass of wine, she already had everything ready he liked to eat, and with her washed, powdered, and perfumed, she was ready for him to eat too. Swooning with her sudden, sexual fantasy, she imagined her naked body laid out on the dining room table and festooned with fruits, vegetables, crackers, and cheese. With her knees raised and her legs spread, she swooned at the thought of him literally and figuratively eating her. "Lick me Henry. Lick my pussy," she imagined saying to him instead of to herself. "Make me cum and I'll suck your cock." With everything in Qatar imported and with all of it so very expensive, she spared no expense in entertaining her son as if she was entertaining a member of the royal family. Stopping to check herself in the mirror again, she suffered the torture filled minutes of waiting for him to walk from the cab to her front door. As she lost count of how many steps he needed to take to her, she lost count of how many times she checked herself in the mirror. Fixing her lipstick, she wanted to leave her red mark on him as if branding him with her lipstick tattoo for everyone to know that he was hers and he belonged to her. Counting the seconds one by one, she imagined with the quickness of his pace and the length of his long, legged stride that he was already here. "Henry is here," she mumbled under her breath. "Thank God, Henry is finally home." Not wanting to appear too anxious and certainly not wanting to appear as if she was his girlfriend instead of his mother, she controlled herself from opening her front door and greeting him in the hall. If she were his lover instead of his mother, she'd run down the hall to him, jump on him, and wrap her long legs around him. With her short skirt up to her waist, she'd push her panty clad pussy against the bulge his cock made in his pants while French kissing him. It made her wet and her nipples hard while imagining greeting him in such an incestuously vulgar way. Yet, how dare she even think those incestuous thoughts? She wasn't his lover but his mother. He wasn't her lover but her son. She didn't want to make a public spectacle of herself in front of her neighbors to give them something to gossip about; she needed more privacy than that. Yet, as soon as he unlocked the front door with his key and closed it behind him, she ran to him as if he was a wounded warrior returning home while on leave from the war in Afghanistan. "Henry! You're home," she said running to him to wrap her arms around his neck. "I missed you so very much." To be continued... Queen & Prince Together Forever #4 Prince Henry returns home to his mother. "Long live the Prince!" "Henry! You're home," she said running to him to wrap her arms around his neck. "I missed you so very much." When wearing her high heels, instead of being up to the top of his shoulder, she was at eye level with his chin. With him leaning down to her and her leaning up to him, she kissed him with her eyes closed as if he was her long lost lover instead of her away at the university son. Even though the kiss lasted only for few seconds, she imagined it lasting longer while imagining that kissing him meant as much to him as it did to her. She wished she could take him sexually instead of just having to settle for just his kiss. Definitely from this one kiss, with her fingers inside of her and her vibrator massaging her clit, she'd be taking his kiss to bed with her tonight. There, in bed, once masturbating herself, she'll imagined him licking her vaginal juices from her fingers in the way that she'd love to lick his cum from his cock. If only she could, she would. 'I'm so horny,' she thought to herself while almost saying it out loud and in front of her son. As if plugging her into a wall outlet to electrify her, a million thoughts, responses, and impulses ran through her mind with the arrival of her son. Already so ready to have sex with him, she felt a familiar moistness between her legs and her nipples were already hard and begging to be fingered before being sucked. If only by the fact that he readily kissed her on the lips without turning away, she imagined that he missed and enjoyed kissing her as much as she missed him and enjoyed kissing him. If only by the fact that he didn't immediately break off their kiss, she imagined that he wanted to kiss her longer as she wanted to kiss him longer. Being that he agreed to come live with her in Qatar instead of living with his father in Boston, she imagined that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Wanting to kiss him longer and she would have kissed him longer if only she could have kissed him more passionately without him looking at her as if she was crazy. Something that no mother should do with her son, she wanted to part his soft, full lips with her tongue and give him a deep, wet kiss. Wishing she could French kiss her son, she'd love for him to return her kiss and French kiss his mother. She'd love to probe his mouth with her tongue while he probed his mouth with his tongue. Swooning at the thought of French kissing Henry, if only she could, she would. Taking the risk that he'd think badly of her, she kissed him longer than she should, longer than what was appropriate, and longer than what was respectable. In those brief few seconds that she was kissing him, she pretended that he was her lover. She pretended that they were about to make love or had just made love. If only he was her forever lover, she'd be so happy. In her dreams of him, he is her forever lover. As soon as he touched her and she smelled him as a lioness or a mama bear would do when greeting her cub, she imagined what it would be like to make out with him, really make out with him. With the both of them naked and with him touching and feeling her everywhere while she touched and felt him everywhere, she imagined what it would be like to make love to him. At that moment she wished he really was her lover instead of her son. She couldn't think of a better scenario of her son being her lover. Something she routinely imagined in her sexual fantasies and perhaps experienced in their past lives, how better her life would be if her lover was her son? In the way that she sexually wanted her son, wanting nothing more in this world, she'd be so very happy if only he reciprocated the love she had for him by kissing her in the way that she so wanted to kiss him and to be kissed. In that moment, as if she was thrown back through eternity to begin their incestuous love affair all over again, she had memories of him making love to her. Those memories are what drove her crazy. Those memories are what kept the sexual feelings that she had for her son alive. Those memories are now all that she had. Has she lived before? Were they lovers in another life? Sometimes so difficult to discern fantasy from reality, she wondered if he felt the same way about her. She wondered if he had the same disturbing albeit sexual exciting dreams that she was having. She wondered if he had thoughts about prior lives also. Only, how could she ask him any of that without him thinking that she was insane? Not wanting him to deem her an incestuous slut, for her to show him real affection and the secret sexual desires that she hid from him, he needed to make the first move. As if attacking her before raping her, he needed to feel her through her clothes before undressing her. She imagined him stripping off her clothes. She imagined him taking her. He needed to take her in the way that she so wanted to strip off his clothes and take him. He needed to be the one to part her lips with his tongue and to touch and feel her everywhere with his hands. Without him making the first move, she was dead in the water and adrift in her endless sexual frustration with the unsated thoughts of having sex with him. He needed to be the one to squeeze her ass while feeling her breasts. He needed to be the one to force her hand to his emerging erection and hold it there. With a gentle but forceful hand to the back of her auburn, pretty head, he needed to be the one to unzip himself, push her to her knees, and fill her willing mouth with the full length and girth of him. With her so willingly obliging him, he needed to be the one to hump her mouth and fuck her face while she sucked his cock. If only she could, she would. He needed to be the one to lick her from her pussy to her ass after he filled her with all of his warm, oozy, liquid desire for her. Just as she'd love for him to eat her, she'd love for him to lick her ass, really part her cheeks and get his tongue all the way in there. He needed to be the one to bend her over the table, lift up her short skirt, pull down her panty, and take her from behind. Whether him taking her vaginally and/or anally, it didn't much matter so long as he made love to her before he fucked her, really fucked her hard. She'd love to be his sexual bitch of a slave. She'd love to obey his every sexual command. With her kissing him longer than she should, she hoped that he'd take the not so subtle hint of her unmotherly affection and kiss her, really kiss her. In the way that she so wanted to do with him, she hoped that he'd part her lips with his tongue. She'd like nothing more than for her son to French kiss her. She'd like nothing more than to be lost in the throes of sexual passion while kissing and kissing him. She wished she could make out with her son as if he were some stranger she met at the mall. She'd like nothing more than for her 22-year-old son to inappropriately touch her, feel her, and fondle every part of her 43-year-old well-kept, more than willing body while giving her deep, wet kisses. With her thinking of preparing herself for this day since he left for school again, hoping to immediately burn the extra calories before it appeared as excess fat on her hips, she ran an extra mile every time she ate anything she shouldn't eat. Especially when she stood in front of her full-length mirror to examine herself, if she said so herself, she looked more like 33-year-old woman than she looked like a 43-year-old woman. With her son more mature and looking older, looking more like a 27-year-old than a 22-year-old, she more enjoyed thinking that there was only a six year difference in their emotional maturity than pondering that there was a twenty-one year difference in their physical ages. * * * * * "Hi Mom," he said opening his arms to greet her with a big, broad shouldered hug. Making her feel so small and so vulnerable, he lowered his 6'3" frame to meet her 5'7" form. Briefly he lifted her slim, shapely body off the carpet as if she was the swan Princess Odette, a prima ballerina in Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake and he was, Prince Siegfried, her handsome suitor. He wrapped his strong arm around her to give her a hug while his other hand was poised around her shoulders as if he was going to dip her while dancing with her. She swooned in his arms. Only ruining her sexual fantasy, she wished he didn't call her Mom but Emma. He wished he'd deem her as a cougar and as his sexy older girlfriend instead of as his mother. If only he thought of her as his more mature, forbidden woman, she'd give him a hot sexual greeting to show him how much she missed him before and how much she wanted him now. Pressing her pelvis so tightly against his while imagining humping him as she made love to him, giving him her subtle hint that she wanted him and had to have him, she hugged him tighter than any respectable mother should hug her son. Hugging him so tightly, she hugged him tight enough that she could imagine what he'd feel like inside of her. Perhaps imagining more than what was there, she thought she could feel his growing manhood pressing against her. Wishing she had greeted him at the front door naked, it was then that she imagined his cock in her hand, in her mouth, in her pussy, and in her ass. The thought of his cock pressed against her soft belly even through her clothes inspired her to imagine them naked and, as if they had already made love before in another time and in another place, his hug encouraged her memory. Wishing that he'd drop his hand further down her back, she felt his long fingertips at the top of her round, firm buttocks. She couldn't help herself from imagining him cupping her ass while deeply kissing her. She loved to feel his hand squeezing her ass through her skirt and through the thin material of her panty. Now wishing she hadn't worn panties, why did she even wear panties? She couldn't help herself from imagining him lifting the back of her oh, so short skirt to feel her shapely buttocks through her sheer, bikini panties with his big, strong hands. She couldn't stop herself from imagining him feeling her breasts with his other hand while his fingers teased her nipples to harden through her blouse and bra. In the way that his fingertips remained poised at the top, back portion of her white panty, she wished his fingers were poised between her legs while wishing she wasn't wearing any underwear. She was already wet while imagining him fingering her pussy and rubbing her clit. As if she was dreaming, something she's never done while awake, she was sexually fantasizing about him with her eyes wide open. Now, at the very least, she wished she would have had the courage to have greeted him at the door in her sexy bra and panty. "Never mind about your suitcase. Leave if for the maid take care of your dirty things tomorrow. Come sit with me in the living room. Let's have a drink to celebrate your graduation and you returning home to me," she said kissing him on the lips again this time with her eyes wide open. "But I have a Christmas gift for you, a souvenir from England," he said. So excited to see her son again, she nearly forgot that it was Christmas. Even with the few holiday decorations she found on her shopping excursions, it certainly didn't feel like Christmas living in Qatar. They didn't play the endless Christmas songs to remind her of the holiday. With sunshine instead of snow and with turkeys hard to find, seemingly, Christmas in Qatar was just another day. "And I have a Christmas gift for you too, more of a combination welcome home and college graduation present for you," she said. She imagined giving him a dildo and a vibrator as his very special gift to use on her instead of giving him the car she bought him, a snow white, new Mustang GT parked in the garage downstairs. "We'll have plenty of time for gifts later," she said thinking of the 1/18 scale model she wrapped as her way to tell him that there was a life-sized version of the die cast car awaiting him downstairs. "Right now, I just want to talk to you." When she kissed him, she hoped he'd take her hint. When she kissed him, she wished he'd part her lips with his tongue and kiss her with the same passion that she imagined him kissing her in her dreams. When she kissed him, she wished her reach up his hand to feel her big tits through her blouse while fingering her nipples through her bra. When she kissed him, she hoped he'd push her back up against the wall and stick a hand up her short skirt, a skirt so short that she didn't dare wear it out in public for fear that she'd be held, questioned, and arrested for indecency. When he kissed her, French kissed her, she wished he'd reach up her short skirt to feel and squeeze her ass through her panty. When he kissed her, she wished he'd cup her pussy through her panty and push her panty aside to finger her pussy. * * * * * When sitting across from him, even with her knees tightly press together, with the triangular opening just above her slim, shapely thighs, she knew as soon as she sat like that her son would be rewarded with a view of her bright white sheer panties. She knew that as soon as she parted her knees to slowly and seductively cross and uncross her long, shapely legs, in the way that Sharon Stone did in Basic Instinct, that she'd give him more of a show of her sexy legs and her panty clad pussy. She wondered if he'd notice. She wondered if he'd look. She wondered if he'd stare at her panty clad pussy while imagining fingering her, licking her, and making love to her before fucking her. This was it, her more than subtle way of flashing him while sexually teasing him. This was the hint that she hoped he'd take to make his move across the line of incest. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, whenever she leaned forward to reach the table, she knew she was flashing him her panty along with the tops of her breasts, her cleavage, and her bra. Willing to do anything to please him and erotically tease him before sexually pleasuring him, she'd give anything for her son to touch her where only she's been touching herself lately. She'd like nothing more than to show Henry how much she wants him by showing him how wet she is for him. She'd like nothing better than to have put his mouth on her and his tongue inside of her. She quivered with the thought of him fingering her clit while licking her pussy. She watched his eyes dart from the down blouse view of her cleavage and bra that she was giving him to the seductive flash of her panty that she continued flashing him. Only, she didn't want him to just want her sexually. She wanted him to love her in the way that a man loves a woman and not in the way that a son loves a mother. Already in love with him not just as a mother who loves her son, she loved him in the way that a woman loves a man. With her showing no compunction about crossing the imaginary line of incest, and with her knowing she's done this many times before in past lives, she was ready to give him whatever he wanted of her as long as he made the first move. * * * * * Emma sat on the couch sipping her wine while listening to her son, Henry. Missing him, with her having been sad for so long by his absence, having him finally here with her now was as if he died and returned to life. Once he went away to college, missing her daily interactions with him, even though he mostly lived with his father, she never grew accustomed to living alone and to living without him in life. Now home finally not only for the Christmas holiday but also to live with her again after being away at school in London seemingly forever, she was glad to have him back home with her. With him staying in the United Kingdom for another six months after graduation to see Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, she feared that he might like the country enough to stay. Yet, with him finally returning home to her, it was obvious that he missed her and Qatar, the country he's known off and on since a child. After divorcing her husband a lifetime ago, Henry was the only family she had. She had lots of friends of course, but having lots of friends wasn't the same as having her family there with her. She missed her son so very much, so much that she's been having odd dreams and disturbing sexual fantasies about him. Embarrassed to admit them even to herself, some of her sexual fantasies included not just sexually teasing her son but painfully torturing him as her way to control him for her to get what she sexually wants and needs from him. At first her dreams, more like nightmares, were disturbing that she dared to dream of herself naked with her son. Feeling shyly ashamed the next morning while still in bed naked with the lingering thoughts that she fondled, stroked, sucked, and made love to her son's penis in her dream, she masturbated herself to the memory of her realistic sexual fantasy. If only he was any other man but her son, she'd be off the wall sexually excited in making love to him. Every night, either she'd have the same dream of them having sex or a new dream with them in a different place, time, and even in a foreign land. With her most recent dreams going back to the 16th century England, hoping to make some sense of it all, she hired a writer to help her put to paper what she's been thinking, dreaming, and sexually fantasizing. She wondered if the impact of her leaving Boston and the Museum of Art for the National Museum in Qatar several years ago, was finally taking a toll and having an impact on her that played out in her dreams. Perhaps with her working long hours to forget how lonely she is without her son, she's working too much. She sometimes missed Boston but, no comparison to living in Qatar, comfortable living here now and not imagining living anywhere else, she missed her son more. Maybe if she still lived in Boston instead of living in repressed Qatar, she'd have had sex with her son last year when he was home for the summer. Nonetheless, still puzzled by her visions and her sexual fantasies, perhaps her dreams were trying to tell her something. As simple as that, without any hidden message, maybe she was reincarnated after all. It was odd to her that even after living here for so long that she still dreams in English even though she's fluent in Arabic. Moreover, being that she's one of the curators at the museum where she works, she'd think that she'd be dreaming of antique artifacts and what life was like thousands of years ago instead of having sexual dreams about her son. Even more baffling, why was she dreaming of England in the 16th century unless she had some connection to King Edward IV, King Richard III, or Henry VII? She had no idea. Perhaps with her handling all of these antiquities, maybe they're haunted and possessed to inspire her dreams. If some of the thousands of year old Egyptian artifacts were haunted why couldn't these more modern day artifacts, albeit artifacts that are still more than 400 years old, be haunted too? Maybe she sexually thinks of her son because he reminds her so much of his father. Maybe she thinks of her son naked because she's just stressed, sexually frustrated, and horny and just needs to get laid. Maybe she manifests her sexual feelings upon her son because she doesn't have a man in her life. Maybe she thinks of herself naked with her son because she works too much and is just tired. Such a cruel joke to play on her, maybe she has lived before with him as her lover instead of as her son. Definitely she needs a boyfriend only even if she had a boyfriend, what's the use, they couldn't live together. The law here, they'd have to be married to do live together and after all that happened in her marriage, she didn't think she'd ever get married again. Destined and doomed to live her life alone, her sexual options aren't as readily available here in Qatar as they are in the United States. For fear that they may think her a spy, a modern day, albeit female version of Indiana Jones, she had to be careful who she was seen with, who she talked to, and who she dated. Even though she's lived here for years, speaks the language, and knows the customs, she's still deemed a foreigner. Maybe if she renounced her American citizenship, denounced her Catholic religion, embraced their religion, and became a Muslim, the locals would be more accepting of her. Only, unlike the Catholic Church, as a woman and regarded lesser in class, she's not allowed to even pray with the men. Prophet Muhammad said that if men and women were to pray together that they'd be more interested in looking at and lusting over one another than in praying. Imagining a man staring at her shapely ass as she prayed, maybe Muhammad was right. Queen & Prince Together Forever #4 Yet, more than just the obvious sexual fantasy of having sex with her son, she wondered what else her dreams meant. More sexually exciting than they were disturbing, she wondered if she lived life before in another time and in another place. With her dreams so vividly real, an easy but not such a believable explanation, maybe she had a past life or several past lives before. Maybe she's immortal and with her never knowing where or when is scheduled to return to Earth from Heaven or from Hell every few hundred years. She didn't dare see a psychiatrist, not even a female psychiatrist. In her line of work as one of the curators for the National Museum in Qatar, she feared whatever she told a doctor in private would certainly soon become public. Different from the United States where psychiatrist keep their patients conversations private, all that was needed for the government or her employer to get her medical records was for them to request them. As an ex-pat, and now a Qatari woman, if only her friends, co-workers, and her government knew that she harbored sexual thoughts for her son, she'd be ruined. Keeping their distance, no one would have anything to do with her. She'd be shunned, shamed, and scorned. Being that she could never become a citizen of Qatar and with her not having relinquished her United States citizenship yet to become a citizen of another country, living in the Middle East was her life now. Living in a foreign land where women aren't still allowed to show their wrists and ankles in some public buildings, never mind their cleavage, if she was caught inappropriately dressed, she'd be arrested. Even if she wasn't having sex with him, if the local government of Qatar suspected that she was sexually lusting over her son, she'd be fired from her job. Then, after she paid all of her debts, she'd be immediately deported. The law of the land when it came to ex-Pats, temporary citizens who had no rights, she wouldn't be allowed to leave the country until she paid off all that she owed. Moreover, even with her expertise in Islamic art and fluency in Arabic, she'd never get another job in the Middle East again. Calling her a pervert, a whore, and an incestuous slut, everyone would be talking about her behind her back. With the laws so strict and readily enforced in Qatar, especially for woman and especially for foreigners, she may even be imprisoned if what she fantasized doing sexually with her son came to light through the conversations she had with a mental health professional. Always careful what she said, what she did, who she talked to, and even what she thought, she didn't have the freedom that even a Qatari woman had and never mind the freedoms that Qatari men had. In most men's minds, even though she was beautiful, sexy, intelligent, and capable enough to hold an executive position in Qatar's National Oil Company, she was considered a nothing and a no one. "Now that I'm out of school Mom," said Henry. "I'd like to get a job in a design firm. I always thought that architecture is my thing but now it's more design." She looked at him as if she was looking at a God or perhaps the Devil himself. He was so handsome. For added emphasis on certain words or thoughts, she loved how he so passionately and so expressively talked while using his beautifully sculptured hands. As if he was an ambidextrous conductor of an orchestra, his hands were his dual batons. She wished he'd take her dancing so that she could show him off to envious women. She wished he'd kiss her in the way that no son should ever kiss his mother and no mother should ever submit her tongue to her son. She wished he'd touch her, feel her, and fondle her in the way that she imagined he touched, felt, and fondled women his own age. Instead of having this inane conversation about him getting a job when she had plenty of money to support them both, she wished he'd talk suggestively to her about them having incestuous sex so that she could respond to him in kind by talking suggestively to him. Wicked in her sexual desire of him enough not to be embarrassed by the thought, she wondered what his cock looked like when he was sexually aroused. Just once, something more realistic to inspire her sexual fantasies, she'd love to watch him masturbate. Just once, something to give her fodder to masturbate herself over, she loved to watch him cum. Just once, something that she'd deem so wicked, she'd love for him to watch her masturbate. Just once, something that she'd feel was so sexually exciting, she'd love for him to see her have an orgasm. Gobbling it up with great sexual lust, she'd lick ever drop of his cum from his beautiful body. Instead of cumming all over his hand or on his stomach, she'd invite him to cum in her mouth. She'd love nothing more than to suck him while stroking him as he explored her big breasts with his hands and fingered her nipples with his fingers. Going beyond what were appropriate thoughts between a mother and her son, she wondered if her son had a big cock. She could use a big cock right now but not just any big cock, only her son's big cock would do. "What's the difference between architecture and design?" She knew the obvious differences between architecture and design but she just wanted to hear him explain it. She just wanted to continue staring at him while watching his beautifully formed lips move before he disappeared for the evening with his friends. She fantasized about him while she talked. Acting as if she didn't realize that she was naked and that he awakened her from a sound sleep, she'd like nothing better than to greet him at the door naked when he came home a little tipsy and while she pretended that she was a little tipsy too. Only, she wished that he'd sexually take her instead of her trying to sexually take him. If only he'd make the first move, she'd eagerly and readily submit to him. If only he'd make the first move, she'd freely and willingly make all of the next moves. For now, with him really here and not just a dream she was having, she just wanted him to stay with her a little while longer while she imagined him naked and making love to her. She imagined his lips kissing her while his tongue explored her mouth and his hands explored her body. She imagined him tearing off her clothes as if they were on fire in the way that she's on fire for him. She imagined his hands touching, feeling, and fondling her D cup breasts. She imagined his fingers fingering her nipples and his lips sucking her nipples. As if he was praying to Allah, she imagined him falling in between her legs to pay homage from whence he emerged with his beautiful tongue licking her pussy before licking her asshole. Not quite done with him yet, she imagined him taking her from behind and making love to her anally. Cumming in her ass, she imagined him pouring warm chocolate sauce in her anus and licking that along with a mixture of his own cum. A reoccurring sexual fantasy that she had from several hundred years ago, she imagined him giving her a baby and while the baby was emerging from her vagina, he was fucking her in the ass. How could she possibly think such things about her son but she was? How could she possibly have such disgusting albeit sexually exciting dreams about him but she did? Forsaking all other men, how could she want to have sex with her own son but she did? "Architecture is mostly for buildings and structures but design encompasses everything, even architecture," he said. To be continued... Queen & Prince Together Forever #5 'Twas a time of kings, Kind Edward IV, Richard III, Henry VII, and the self-professed King William. Happy that Henry was finally home with her, Emma looked forward to having a good night's sleep. It's been a long time since she's slept through the night without waking up screaming. She hoped that she wouldn't have the disturbing dreams, horrible nightmares, and sexual fantasies that she's been having. She hoped that all of those terrible dreams were behind her now. That night with Henry soundly sleeping in his room, even though she hoped she wouldn't, Emma had her usual dream of time travel. If only she could remember her dreams as clearly as she had then when she was having them, perhaps she could unravel why she was having these fantastic visions of time travel and of past lives. Traveling back more than 500 years, as his Queen Emma, Emma dreamt of her King William and her royal Prince Henry. * * * * * The year was 1485 when King William heard the news that King Henry VII, the founder of the Royal House of Tudors in 1457, defeated King Richard III in the battle of Bosworth to become the new King of England. "Long live the King," chanted those loyal to the new king and the house of Lancaster while those loyal to King Richard and the house of York, fearing for their lives, left their homes and looking for safe passageway, fled for their lives to go into hiding. To loosely quote Charles Dickens of the troubled times at hand, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief. It was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light. It was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. We had everything before us. We had nothing before us. We were all going directly to Heaven. We were all going directly to Hell." Indeed, as they seemingly were everywhere in the word during the 15th century, these were troubling times in England. More than the superstitious and mostly illiterate population could handle, most still believed in ghosts, goblins, witches, warlocks, wizards, sorcerers, dragons, monsters, and werewolves. Without mass communication to enlighten their world, there was no TV, no radio, no internet, no telephone, cell phone, newspapers, and magazines. Even those few citizens who could read, didn't know what was happening in their own neighborhood never mind what was happening in the rest of the world at any given time. But for word of mouth and writing messages, with nearly all forms of communication not yet invented, literally and figuratively, not just England, but throughout the whole world, everyone was living in the dark. The country and much of Europe in general were still recovering from the huge population loss from the Bubonic Plague. Deemed the Black Death that killed millions throughout Europe in the 14th century, there were some who blamed the plaque on those for not believing in one God just as there were those who blamed those for believing in and summoning the Devil. Only with no running water in most households, it was a time of people not bathing regularly. Without refrigeration and with foods not properly cleaned and rotting it was a time for roaches and rats. Was it any wonder why so many people died from such a horrible disease? * * * * * It was a time that the War of the Roses, raging for nearly 30 years between two rival royal houses of Plantagenet, the houses of Lancaster and York, finally came to an end. The final victory going to Lancastrian Henry Tudor after defeating the last house of York king, Richard III, at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Lancastrian Henry VII of the house of Tudor reunited and reconciled the two houses, the house of Lancaster and the house of York, by marrying Elizabeth of York, daughter of Edward IV. If the royal houses were all in an upheaval, one can only imagine what was happening with the rest of the country with citizens pulled one way in favor of Richard III only to be pulled the other way in favor of Henry VII. No one really knew what was happening at any given time and in any given place. With some residents giving their allegiance to the old king in disfavor of the soon to be new king, it was citizen pitted against citizen with lots of fighting and death behind the scenes. Until calm and order was restored, with one loyalist pitted against the other, there was chaos in the taverns that spilled out to streets after men had their fill of mead and wine. Being that news wasn't instant but delayed for weeks and months even, few citizens knew what was happening with their old king or with their new king. A topic of discussion at any tavern, with it all left to speculation, it was anyone's illiterate guess what was really happening. Yet, this story isn't a history lesson but more of a behind the scenes look at what was happening in one man's castle, self-proclaimed king of his land and his little kingdom, King William. This story is about what was happening in Emma's head as she slept. Had she lived through this before? Was she indeed reincarnated as she truly believed she was? Were her and her son once lovers? The only way she could discover the truth is through her dreams of fantasy to finally know if everything she dreamt was fiction or her reality. If only she knew that what she was dreaming wasn't a dream at all but her reality. * * * * * Nearly out of money and supplies, unable to feed his small army of knights, officers, and warriors through another long, cold winter, William had to do something. The self-proclaimed King of his castle, of his small kingdom, and of his lands as far as the eye could see in all directions, he was no ordinary man. Had he been born a Plantagenet and to royalty, whether to the house of Lancaster or to the house of York, he had no preference which, he would have made a good king. With his keen insight, his strong sense of right and wrong, and his Solomon like judgment of fairness, he would have made for a better king that Richard III was and that Henry VII would be. Yet because he was born a commoner, albeit a once wealthy self-made man, the reality of his financial circumstances were now desperately grim. In the way that kings always had money at their disposal by raising taxes, unable to raise capital by raising taxes, his people couldn't even afford to pay him the complimentary tax that he asked them to pay now. In the way that kings make an allegiance with another royal house or country by marrying off their daughters, he didn't have a daughter to marry to another kingdom. Even if he did have a daughter, he didn't have a royal house. He was nothing more than a commoner with money. Not even married, he didn't have any children, other than the bastards that he begat from those whores who shared his bed for the night. In a quandary, he didn't have a lot of options. Yet, seemingly paying for his king's wars, wars that, as a commoner, he didn't have any stake at winning anything and that only profited his king and his royal house, the tax collector was always at his door demanding more and more of his money. When they weren't taking his money, they were commandeering his horses and recruiting his men to fight their battles, battles that he didn't care who won or lose. With their fights little interest to him, other than having to pay more taxes, it didn't matter to him which king won over the other. As much as he was a brave and courageous man, living high on the hog before, he was now a poor man with the king's men shaking him down to pay even more of their personal, private, for profit wars. Once loyal to King Edward IV, William was the type of man who'd rather fend for himself than to give allegiance to any king or bow down to anyone, but for God or Satan. If he had his druthers, he'd rather be left alone. Yet, after giving his money away to this king and to that king, for him to make ends meet, having no choice but to disturb his peace with war, he undertook his own wars by attacking his neighbors. After years of waging conquering wars with Englishmen he didn't even know and who he had no argument against, as much as conquering those around him enriched him, the expense of conquering those around him depleted his reserves. Yet, no longer fearing the executioner's axe and having his property seized and taken from him, at least he was now able to pay his fair share of taxes. Only, as his king had done to him, with him enlisting their husbands and sons to fight his personal, private wars within the outskirts of his little kingdom, his people were unable to pay the small amount of taxes due him for the protection of living behind his castle walls. As quickly as he replenished his coffers, his supply of money vanished. Soon, he was as poor as were his people. In turn with him struggling to stay solvent, he was unable to pay the taxes due England and to his new king. In an unending cycle, waging war for money and spending money to wage war, done with fighting and with death, he just wanted to live out the remainder of his life peaceful with his wife and son. Only, after a deal that King William made with the Devil, now that the houses of Lancaster and York had sorted out all that was wrong between them, Satan would soon come calling to collect what was promised and what was now rightly due him. God help him because no one else could. God help him because no one else would. * * * * * With every day all about the king, to make matters worse, his people were dying of a highly contagious disease, the sweating sickness, known as the English Sweats. Starting in England during the times of the Tudors from 1485 to 1551, the deadly virus quickly spread throughout Europe. A virulent disease attributed to poor hygiene and lack of refrigeration of foods, the disease was found more prevalent in the higher classes. With not even time enough to send for a doctor and no known cure anyway, they were dying within hours of contracting the mysterious illness. Those once able bodied men died and those who didn't succumb to the fatal disease, were tired, unenergetic and listless. They couldn't work. They couldn't fight. They couldn't support themselves. Those mothers who fell ill and died, left their children behind to fend for themselves. William, their self-professed king and the somewhat sensitive man that he was, felt responsible for their health, welfare, and wellbeing. Everywhere he looked, there were dirty orphans turned beggars in the road falling victim to the hoofs of the horses of his men or to the wheels of passing wagons. His people were dying and there was nothing that he could do about that grim reality. Different from the plague, for some unknown reason, the sweating sickness didn't harm infants or children, only otherwise healthy men and women. If only there was a vaccine but vaccines weren't yet invented. In his feeble attempt to save his subjects and spare his kingdom, he prayed to his Gods. Although most Christians only believed in the one God, with peasants and commoners superstitious to a fault in being forced to deny the existence of more than one God, there were still those uniformed, unenlightened, uneducated, and illiterate people who believed in the Greek Gods of mythology. Although they discounted the lesser Gods many people of the 15th century still believed in many of the major Gods. No one wanted to be stricken down by an angry God for no longer believing in him and for not praying to him. Taking no chances, better safe than to be sorry, especially when on their deathbed and depending on their circumstances, they prayed to all Gods equally. Some women still prayed to Aphrodite, the God of beauty. Many young men put their faith in the God Apollo, the God of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophesy, poetry, beauty, and archery. Those older men who were always drunk believed in the God Dionysus, the God of parties, festivals, madness, chaos, drunkenness, drugs, and ecstasy. All men fearing the end of their lives, taking precautions that they'd be delivered from Evil, still prayed to Hades, the God of the underworld, of the dead, and of regret. Some women still prayed to Hera, Zeus' wife and queen of the Gods. Hera was the Goddess of marriage, women, childbirth, heirs, kings, and empires. Besides, with most people during that time unable to read the Bible, what would it hurt to pray to more than one God, just in case there was more than one God? Those who believed in other Gods, all believed in Zeus, the brother of Poseidon and Hades, he was the supreme ruler of all Gods. Praying night and day and praying endlessly for months, William's prayers to the Gods went unanswered. Seemingly listening more to the prayers of the royals than to him, by the evidence that his life hadn't changed for the better, obviously no one was listening to him. Apparently, with so much happening between the houses of Lancaster and York, the Gods had abandoned him in his hour of need in support of them. Listening more to the prayers of John Morton, the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, later to be named Cardinal, King William's prayers seemingly went unanswered. With him left to his own devices, there was nothing else for him to do. Fearing that he'd lose his castle, his lands, and his kingdom, taking matters in his own hands, he had no other recourse of action than to pray to the Devil. If his Gods couldn't help him keep his castle, save his land, and assure the continued survival of his little kingdom by maintaining his army, and feed his subjects, perhaps the Devil would and could do that for him. With him taking one for the team, so to speak, perhaps by praying to the Prince of Darkness, his men, his subjects, and those citizens of the commonwealth who sought shelter and enjoyed their livelihoods behind his castle walls, could make it through another long, cold winter. Better that he should align himself with the Devil than to be forsaken by his Gods, the king fell to his knees in prayer. With his prayers to God seemingly gone unanswered, it was better that he'd have the protection of Satan than to expect any protection from his new king who'd only want his money and his loyalty. Better that he'd have the protection from Satan than from his God who no longer answered his prayers. * * * * * "Satan! Satan! Satan! Prince of Darkness and ruler of Hell, protect me from my enemies. Help me in my hour of darkness to conquer them. I need food. I need horses. I need more men. I need to be resupplied and unable to buy ships, the only way for me to do get what I need is to take what I need. The only way for me to take what I need is to wage wars with those castles nearby instead of with those foreign lands far away. Keep my sword arm strong and my men's arrows true. Satan! Satan! Satan! Help me for I swear my allegiance to you now and forever." Obviously King William needed to do something drastic and something that not only may cost him his kingdom but also his life, as well as his soul and the lives of his wife and son. Especially now that there was a new King of England, no doubt, only just a matter of time, this new king would demand a higher tax from him to pay. A tax that if he couldn't afford to pay now, he certainly wouldn't be able to afford more taxes to pay later. In addition to gathering gold, he needed food and supplies to resupply him and his men. He needed to conquer a castle to get his people through another long, cold winter. He needed to win a war, a small, quick war being that his resources were limited and his army was small. Lucky they somehow survived last winter, but if he put them through another long, cold, hungry winter like the last one, his own people would plot to overthrow him and claim his castle as their own. All within a three days march of going in one direction or in the other, surrounded by four castles, one to the north, one to the south, one to the east, and one to the west, with him smack in the middle, he knew it was only a matter of time before they'd dispatch their own armies to conquer him. For all he knew they could be plotting to conquer him now in the way that he was plotting against them to attack them. They all could band together and overwhelm with one huge force. Vulnerable to their attacks, if he didn't do something now, it would only be a matter of time before they raped his wife, tortured his son, and murdered them. With him imagining them taking advantage of his inaction in his inability to attack them, he convinced himself that the worst thing he could do was nothing at all. If nothing else, he needed to save his family and his people, the innocent ones. As if embroiled in his own personal game of thrones, he needed to save his wife and his son from horrible torture, certain death, and/or worse. He needed to save his wife and son, from the hands of some warlord who'd conquer his castle and who's in a similar impoverished plight. Not wasting another minute in pondering what to do, he assembled his generals and devised his plan of attack. While the weather was still favorable and before the frigid cold and the deep snow of winter covered the landscape, it was now or never. Already at a disadvantage, he was vulnerable to an attack. He didn't have the natural barrier of the mountains surrounding him, as did the castle to his north. He didn't have the protection that the sea afforded him, as did the castle to his east. His castle wasn't perched high up on a hill, as was the castle to the south. Protected by witches, warlocks, wizards, sorcerers, and dragons, his castle wasn't hidden deep within an enchanted forest, as was the castle to the west. He had nothing but his courage, his bravery, and his keen wit to keep his kingdom safe from harm. "Satan! Satan! Satan, save me, save my family, and save my kingdom," he prayed to the black angel of death and the demon of eternal damnation from Hell every morning when he awakened and every night before retiring to bed. "Satan! Satan! Satan help me." Had he known the deal that he was making with the Devil and the payback he'd have to make, he may not have requested Satan's help. "Satan! Satan! Satan, help me, please, I beseech thee to help me!" * * * * * Defenseless from an attack from either side or from all sides at once with his castle exposed in the middle of a valley, he was outnumbered and out in the open. His kingdom resided in a sweet spot for farming but not in a strategic spot for war. The only advantage he had was that his spotters would see someone coming from miles away but, to his disadvantage, they could see him too and wait for the darkness of night when everyone was sleeping to launch their preemptive strike and brutal attack. All he had to protect and to keep him and his people safe from his attackers, from the barbarians, and from those men who had no morals or scruples and would murder anything and anyone in their way, man, woman, animal, and/or child were four, high walls. With him so exposed and already being in a defensive posture for too long, it was too costly for him to remain in a weakened position. What choice did he have other than to go on the offense? With him needing to be the aggressor, striking first in a preemptive war, spilling first blood by launching an attack was the only defense he had. The only available option he had to save his people, it was either saving his people by killing the people of another castle or wait until they attacked and killed them. Attacking first before being attack, as long as his attack was successful, not only would he have the money to pay the King of England his taxes but also, he'd also guarantee himself of having enough food and supplies to survive another long, cold winter. He had no choice other than to attack his neighbors, albeit his very distant neighbors, to the north, to the south, to the east, and to the west. Queen & Prince Together Forever #5 Sad but true, the only thing in his favor was that his kingdom was poor. Having more to gain in conquering his rivals than his rivals had in conquering him, he had little to lose. He had nothing to give his conquerors but the loyalty of his surviving men, all proven fighters in battle. Yet, with them not loyal to anyone, not even him, they'd fight to the death for anyone who'd feed them, keep them warm, supply them with mead and wine, and allow them to have some gold in their pockets to pay for whores. It was up to him to make his move. It was up to him to control his destiny by not relinquishing his life to them. William left a small contingent of his most loyal men behind to guard his wife, Emma, and son, Henry. After King Richard III lost his crown to Henry VII, William changed his son's name from Edward to Henry. Honoring King Edward IV from the house of York by so naming his son, he didn't need King Henry's men to see a reminder of the past by the name of his son. There'd be less chance that a king's guard would slit the throat of a boy name Henry than there would that a king's guard knifing a boy named Edward. Changing his loyalty from one royal house to the other royal house, from his point forward, his son Richard would be called Henry in honor of Henry Tudor, King Henry VII of the house of Lancaster to soon become the house of Tudor. With orders for his most trusted men to slay his wife and son with a quick and painless death should the barbarians overrun the castle in his absence or in the event of his death, he felt better about leaving them behind. Should he die, they'll all die together. With every campaign that he undertook and with them all locked and barricaded behind his tower doors, he left the same men behind with the same orders should he not return alive. He rode the several miles with his knights and officers to the nearest castle while his men slowly marched behind him. After leaving his wife and his son to fend for themselves, albeit protected by their personal security force, he finally and safely returned home from his conquering campaigns. Restocking his inventory of supplies with food and horses as well as his army with men, he was able to refortify his position. The powerful owner of five castles now, from the sea, to the mountains, to the forest, and to the valley, he owned lands in all directions further than the eye could see. Wielding as much power as he wielded influence, King William was a very rich man. Now, the most powerful landowner in the region, he wondered if his success happened because he forsook his Gods to pray to the Devil. Always fearing and avoiding even thinking of the Satan before, maybe aligning himself with the Devil wasn't such a bad thing for him to do after all. Only, he wondered what the downside was in enlisting Satan's help. Surely, Satan did nothing for anyone for free. Figuring his soul would be damned to Hell for eternity, if only he knew that wasn't the only price he'd pay in his death, if only he knew he'd be paying the for the enlisted and invited help of the Devil while living, he may have reconsidered asking Satan for his help. Fortunately, no doubt with Satan's help, catching his rivals by surprise, his warring campaigns were all successful. Every time he conquered a castle, he returned a little richer with gold, horses, food, and more men. Amassing quite the army, he was building quite the reputation as a conquering hero to his people and as a conquering warrior to anyone who dare raise a sword and an army against him. To be continued... Queen & Prince Together Forever #6 King William meets Emma and is taken by her beauty. During better financial times, William met Emma twenty-three-years ago in the spring of 1462 when she was a twenty-year-old virgin. An anomaly, there weren't many virgins around, especially at that late age of 20-years-old. If not already spoiled by conquering men raping them and having their wicked, sexual way with them, women her age were already long married with children. Seeing her for the first time from a distance while high up on his horse, he saw her peddling her wares in the street and, not wasting any time, he soon invited her to peddle what she had to sell within his castle instead of just behind his castle walls. As if it was meant to be, standing so still as if taken by him as he was taken by her, her eyes locked on his when everyone else was bowing their heads in submissive respect of their king riding through the street. Normally one so disrespectful to dare not bow his or her head would be met with a blow from the butt end of a lance from one of the king's men. Normally one so disrespectful to dare make eye contact with the king, even the self-professed king of this castle and small kingdom, would have their head removed from their shoulders by one of his quick to strike, short tempered men. Big on honor, demanding respect from his subjects as much as he demanded respect, obedience, and loyalty from his men, a pet peeve of his, his temper was short on disrespect, disobedience, and disloyalty. Yet, flattered that someone as attractive as her would look at someone as old and decrepit as him, he was as happy as he was intrigued that he held her interest as well as her obvious curiosity. Perhaps had he not been the king, she would have not looked at him twice. Perhaps had he not been the king, he'd have little chance to get this virgin in his bed. No doubt with this her the first time seeing her king, obviously by curiosity overruling her respect, she had no way of knowing how to behave while in his presence. They were just poor, simple peasants. Illiterate commoners and lowly peons, they worked hard for what little they had. As was the case with their imagined king, just simple folk, no amount of soap and water could wash away who they were beneath the dirt, the blood, the grime, the urine, and the stench of excrement. They were all just people trying to make do in a time of men who took what they wanted and women who gave their bodies for what they needed. * * * * * Afraid to venture out beyond the castle wall without the protection of the king's knights, some of King William's citizens have never left the safety and the security of the castle walls to explore the rest of the kingdom. Whether from four legged beasts, two legged animals, or from witches, warlocks, wizards, and sorcerers, it wasn't safe to walk through the enchanted forest unprotected. No one but for the enchanted, the witches, warlocks, wizards, and sorcerers dared lurk around in the darkness of night without a torch lighting their way and a sword to clear the brush. Yet, even a torch and a sword was no protection for what lay lurking in the dark. From all the nearby castles he's conquered, his land holdings were vast in every direction. Yet, most of his citizens living within the boundaries of his kingdom have never been behind his castle walls and haven't seen the relative opulence where their king lived while they lived in abject poverty and absolute depravity. A bountiful land and a simple life, most of those residents who lived outside of the castle walls were content to grow, hunt, and fish whatever they needed to eat. Other than to pay the king a meager amount of tax for his protection, they didn't need money. The only part of his entourage that any of his citizenry routinely saw was the back end of the horses of his men or the backs of his men after they've passed by them. Yet, today was different. Today a woman, a mere commoner in the way that no whore ever has, attracted the king's attention. As if she had a spotlight shining over her head, he noticed no one but for her. Never has he seen anyone as incredibly beautiful. Immediately captivated by her, King William felt as if he was a young man again instead of an old man at 35-years-old. Wanting to show her his affection, he was interested in helping to lift her from her poverty and her plight by moving her inside his castle where he could protect her, watch over her, and take care of her. In addition to her being conveniently located where he could give her his undivided attention and hoped for sexual affection, he knew that she could make some money with his captive audience of Lords and Ladies in court who had money to spend but nowhere to spend it. With her best welfare and his best sexual interest mind, he continued forward. As he slowly rode his horse closer, he wondered her name. As if playing a name game with himself as his horse slowly neared her, he tried to guess her name. Anabel, Beatrice, Christina, Elizabeth, Isabella, Johanna, Juliana, Margaret, Mary, or Sarah. Her natural beauty was indescribable and it was wrong for him to label her by a mere name. Yet, he was charmed enough by her to want to know her name. Except for those men who were part of his entourage, normally he didn't care to know the name of anyone living within his kingdom. Yet, she was somehow different and needing to know what to call her when he dreamt of her tonight, he had to know her name. Imagining a love relationship with a woman possessing any of those aforementioned names, if only to foretell her beauty when mentioning her name to someone else, he knew her name had to be something more special than a common woman with a peasant's name. Compared to her uncommon beauty, those common names were too common for such a beautiful woman to have such a common name. For sure, in the way she looked, she was no commoner. Having never seen anyone who looked quite like her before, every name he thought of gave him the image of a woman who paled in comparison to her. Whatever her name is, he didn't want anyone to have her name. He hoped she had a name that he never heard before so that she'd be his one of a kind, shining star. Being that she looked to be 18-years-old, a bit older, or a bit younger, he wondered if she was still a virgin. Something that would always nag at him, it would be difficult for him to accept a woman who's already laid with a man and has been spoiled by someone else. It's one thing to lay with a whore who's been with many men but it's quite another thing to think about making a woman who's not a virgin his queen, as he immediately thought of making her. Suspecting that she wasn't a virgin at her supposed age, whatever that age is, how could she still be a virgin in this modern day of men freely taking what they want? He wondered if was married. Figuring that she was married, he wondered if she had children. Figuring she had children, he wondered how many children she had. Just because she's married with children doesn't mean that he still couldn't lay with her. Perhaps her man is dead and she's a widow. He just couldn't make her his queen. He wondered if she was Catholic or Protestant. If she was Catholic, as he was, a minority in a country of Protestants, he wondered if his bishop would have the power to have her marriage annulled. Then there was the issue with her having children. As he promised to love her, he'd have to promise to love them too. Then there's the issue of her husband. He could either have him killed or give him a purse of gold coin and banish him to the countryside. Yet, already married to her, he didn't even know her name. Discounting his foolish thoughts of her still being pure, surely someone as beautiful as she was would already be claimed by another man, a man that he'd personally have to fight and slay for him to win her heart. Surely the only way to purify her is to kill the man who spoiled her before he found her standing in his street selling his wares. Admittedly not knowing everyone in his kingdom, he still wondered why he's never seen her before. Admittedly not wanting to know everyone in his kingdom, he wondered her name. Only in the regard of her purity, he was lucky, as he was soon to discover, that her father was a possessively protective man of his daughter. After her mother was taken and murdered by marauders and intruders, while he was at the tavern drinking and getting drunk, swearing himself off of mead and wine, he was a man who'd never let his daughter out of his sight. Yet, maybe her father was possessively protective of her because he's already slept with his daughter, the cad. Typically acceptable in this age for a daughter to take the role of a mother and wife when the mother dies, in this case, her father would rather she remain pure than to bed his own flesh and blood. Protecting her from harm, in an act of obvious suicide with the king surrounded by armed guards, he was at the ready to draw his sword against any man, even his king in defense of his daughter. Where he could keep a watchful eye on her, her father allowed her to set up shop with a small cart in front of his store where she sold, traded, and bartered goods that he imported and collected from foreign countries and passing wagons. Always in his line of sight and never leaving her alone for a more than a minute, he watched over her in the way that he should have never left his wife alone when he abandoned her to drink. His wife, one of a kind and just as beautiful as his daughter, was the love of his life. Now a devoted father in the way that he should have been a devoted husband, he didn't want to make the same mistakes he made in the past with his wife with his daughter. Yet, not so possessively protective of a man that it skewed his business judgment, he wasn't a stupid man. Figuring that her good looks would draw the attention of those wanting to shop in his store, as if she was his teasing advertisement to entice customers to enter his shop, she sold a small sampling of the same goods outside as he sold inside. He always knew that one day, her Prince Charming would happen along. Until that day, he protected her from harm. * * * * * Normally when King William sees a woman he desires, as any man did back in that day, especially when thinking about using her as his whore, as if buying something from the market, he just has one of his men scoop her up and take her. Unable to control his lust and harness his sexual passion for her or for any woman who looked not nearly as good as she obviously did, normally when King William sees a woman that makes his manhood happy, he takes her, ruins her, and spoils her for other men. Too busy conquering castles for a wife, he's had plenty of women in his bed and has fathered many bastards. Yet, now that he's older, he's looking for a wife to give him an uncontested heir to his throne rather than a whore. A good wife is a woman hard to find while whores are seemingly everywhere. In the way that this woman maintained his interest and mesmerized him for him to continue his uninterrupted focus of her, from top to bottom and from back to front, he'd love to fill her every need as well as every one of her holes. Providing for her and for her family by giving her gold, he imagined spoiling her with expensive jewels and pretty clothes. Only, based upon his limited perception of her, this woman was different from any other woman he's ever seen. One of a kind, even from a distance and while high up on his horse, he could clearly tell that she was special. One of a kind, perhaps she's not influenced by mere money as all the other whores who've shared his bed were. One of a kind, perhaps she runs deeper than that. Just as he wanted goodness and kindness in a woman, along with great beauty, perhaps she wanted more gentle and agreeable qualities in a man too. If she wasn't already married, ripe at that age for the picking, perhaps she was looking for a husband. If she didn't already have children, perhaps she wanted a child or two or three of her own. He imagined her giving him sons, three tall, strong, handsome sons that he could marry to the daughters from another kingdom to increase his wealth, his power, and his influence. Without even knowing her, without having even talked to her, and without even knowing her name, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to do the right thing by her. He wanted to treat her better than any other woman he treated before. Rather than treat her with contempt as he would any whore, as if she was his imagined equal, he wanted to treat her with civility and kindness. Already placing her high up on his pedestal, he imagined her being his queen. Judging her only by her good looks, her long, auburn hair, her beautiful face, her tall, slim, shapely figure, and her obvious abundant breasts hidden beneath her soiled clothes, his unpolished diamond in the rough, this woman was indeed special. Without even knowing her or her name, this woman was worthy of a king, even this self-professed king, who was Lord of his lands, Lord of his castle, and Lord of his kingdom. As if he already knew her, as if he already lived a prior life with her before as his queen, he felt as if he recognized her from another time and another place. Undoubtedly and without further ado, she was the type of woman who he'd want to intimately know. Already so taken with her, she was the type of woman that he'd want to marry. She's the type of women who he'd want to birth his children. Only with him a firm believer in love, in kismet, and with all things left in the hands of the Gods above, it was love at first sight that attracted and attached his interest in her. Yet, now instead of God controlling his destiny, he wondered what hand the Devil played in him meeting and falling in love at first sight with her. Maybe instead of love at first sight, this was nothing more than a charmed occasion and a demonic spell. As if he had already seen her naked, unable to stop himself from staring and from undressing her with his eyes, he imagined her without her clothes. He imagined her naked. As if he had already taken her in his strong arms to kiss her, he imagined her soft, sweet, full lips pressed against his lips. As if he had already made love to her, with her oozing sexuality, it was easy for him to imagine having sex with her. If he closed his eyes to allow his imagination to color him an image, he could almost hear her making sexually excited sounds of ecstasy whenever they made love. After being bored and sickened by a slew of unkempt, unclean, immoral, immodest, witless, illiterate, and inarticulate women, who loved his money more than they loved him, he was tired of the long line of filthy, disgusting, and stupid whores who slept in his bed. She was a woman he'd be willing to bath and change his clothes for her. She was a woman who'd make him remain faithful to her. * * * * * Only because he was their king, he was tired of the endless procession of people who wished him well, hoped for him to have continued good health, and who laughed at his stupid jokes all while laughing at him behind his back. How dare they treat him with insincerity and contempt? How dare they eat his food and drink his wine while laughing at him and plotting behind his back? A king, albeit not a real king but a king just in name and not in blood, marrying a commoner was risky when he'd be better suited to trade his allegiance to another castled kingdom by marrying one of the available daughters of another self-professed king. If not a king, surely if he was anyone, he was a Lord but without an official title bestowed upon him by the real King of England. Nonetheless, even if he bestowed the title of Lord upon himself, he was Lord of his Castle, Lord of his lands, and Lord of his kingdom, which is more than he could say for most men during that age of minimal enlightenment, position, and wealth. Unless they had the real king's ear, the King of England's loyalty and friendship, to be bestowed a title worthy of the man, unfortunately, he didn't have the honor of such respect from England's royalty. Far away on the outskirts of England's kingdom, not even knowing his name, they didn't even know he existed. They didn't even know who he was and truth be told, he'd rather keep it that way. Reigning in anonymity in hopes of keeping his neck off the chopping block was better than being known to the real king. As his way to not only enrich himself but also to protect himself, he was just a bravely courageous man with insightful intelligence and a burning ambition to conquer and control the little kingdoms of those who lived around him. Loyal to a fault to whomever the king may be, he's never met the new king nor has he met any real king before. If he met a real king, he'd be bowing down to him as his citizens bowed their head down to him. Out here in the wilderness, with only the strong surviving, it was all about survival. Out here where there was no one to enforce the laws, whomever had the most men, the most horses, and the most swords had the power and the respect of the people to uphold whatever laws they commanded that his subjects obey. Out here in the wilderness, unless possessing an army, which he did, it was every man for himself with the strongest prevailing and the weakest perishing. Yet, just as he knew that he could trust no man, no man could trust him. With no disrespect to the real King of England, he wasn't claiming to be the King of England, just the king of his castle, the king of his lands, and the king of his little kingdom that lay over the hill and tucked down low in the valley. So long as he paid his taxes to the tax collector, what harm was there in him calling himself a king when there was no one from the Commonwealth of England checking on what he does and doesn't do? As far as most of the people who lived behind his castle walls, indeed, with them not knowing of any other king, he was their king. With him sitting on a throne, wearing a crown, and holding a scepter, most obeyed him as if he was the real king of England as declared by the Gods. With him living far enough out on the outskirts of the countryside, there were dozens of castles and little kingdoms just like his dotting the landscape while protecting and safeguarding the inhabitants of the countryside from thieves, marauders, and murders. He was no better or any less than any of those other landowners who hid behind their castle walls and who ruled their subjects and those who took refuge within their kingdom with an iron fist. * * * * * "You," said the king pointing to one of his many aides. "What's your name?" "Miles, Sire," said the king's aide. "Do you know that woman?" Without pointing to her, the king nodded his head in her direction. "That's the shopkeeper's daughter," said the aide. "Do you know her name? Tell me, what's her name?" "I don't know her name Sire," said his aide obviously fearing a blow to his head and cowering while taking a step back from the king's hand. "Go tell the shopkeeper that I want to buy whatever he's selling," said the king obviously referring to the shopkeeper's daughter more than he was to his wares. "Yes Sire," said his aide. "Wait." "Sire?" "Tell him that I have a proposal, no don't say proposal. He may be offended by the word proposal in context to his daughter. Without you alluding to his daughter, tell him that I have a business opportunity for him. Yes, that's better. Tell him that I have a business opportunity for him to earn some gold. Go," said the king. "Alluding to Sire?" His aide seemed perplexed by the definition of the word. "Referring to you fool," said the king with impatience. "Now go with haste and tell the shopkeeper what I told you to say." "Yes Sire, of course Sire," said his aide. Queen & Prince Together Forever #6 "Wait," said the king. "After you tell him of my business opportunity that I have for him, tell him that I want his daughter to work behind my castle walls selling his wares," said the king looking from his aide to stare at the shopkeeper's daughter. "Yes. That's good. Tell him that. Now go," said the king to his aide. "Yes Sire," said his aide. "Wait," he said looking at her before looking down his nose and from his horse at his aide. "Sire? "Find out her name," said the king whispering while looking at her as if he had never seen a woman as beautiful and, in the way he was looking at her, undoubtedly, he never had. "I must know her name so that I may dream of her tonight," he said softly to his aide while staring at her. "Good God man, find out her name. Do not return to me unless you know her name and..." "Yes Sire?" "Ask him if she's married," said the king. "Yes Sire," said his aide with hat in hand while bowing. "Wait," said the king tossing him a small bag of gold coins. "A small token of my appreciation for him to consider my business opportunity with much more to come than that. Tell him that, with much more to come after that. After you tell him of the business opportunity that I have for him and after you disclose that I'd like for his daughter to sell her wares within the confines of my castle walls, tell him to deliver her to me tomorrow. For the safety of their travels, tell him that I'll send some of my men to accompany him through the countryside to my castle." "Yes Sire," said his aid finally disappearing inside the shop. * * * * * Bigger than life, at 6'2" tall that was made even taller with his boots and his crown, when roaming the halls of his castle. Pushing 135 kilos pounds of firm, muscled pounds, the king was a big man with a kingly stature. When wearing his furs over his broad shoulders, he appeared even bigger. For reasons of security, the king didn't climbed down from his horse. Instead he sat there looking royally regal with his tanned, dirt grimed, bearded face and with him all sweaty and smelly from a long day's ride. His long grey/black hair blew in the breeze as if he was a Viking model shooting a Capital One commercial. His men took care where they stepped and where they walked as the streets were littered with horseshit, trash, garbage, and raw sewage. Especially on a warm spring day and much worse in the summer, there was a stench in the air that couldn't be healthy as much as it couldn't be described. As if they were Secret Service agents from the Middle Ages guarding the President of the United States, his men surrounded his horse with their pikes at the ready and their swords drawn. Flanking him in all directions, they pushed the curious crowd back. Seeing her standing there so beautiful, so young, and so innocent, he didn't like that his already claimed woman was a dirty peasant standing in the street with all of the other commoners. So help him God, if any man so much as looks at her, before he could profess his love for her, he'd strike him down with a fatal blow of his sword. Yet, with no one looking at him or at her, as if she was already protected from evil by evil, everyone still bowed down to him but for her. For reasons unbeknown to him and possibly to her, in the way she made eye contact with him, she seemed confidently assured that there'd be no harm coming to her from him or from any of his men. He had a talent for seeing things in people that others missed. Able to tell a liar and a thief from an honest man with just a look, he liked what he saw in her. She pleased his senses. He wondered what her voice sounded like. He couldn't wait to speak with her in private. She wondered what she looked like without her clothes. Already, in the way she defied him by not bowing down to him and without her even knowing that she was disrespecting him, she was displaying her naturally endowed and inherently bestowed, queenly attributes. Even when on the battlefield and in the middle of battle with his enemies, he could always see the diamond in the rough. Able to tell a coward from a warrior, he was good at reading people and no doubt the reason why he's been able to survive this long in his position of power. With spies all around him, he could feel his assassins coming before they even entered the room. "Seize them and take them to the dungeon." Always at the ready and always on edge, he's surprised more than one assassin in that way. Even with her dirty face and greasy hair, her delicate features commanded his stare and he was taken by her beauty. If she looked this good now when she was dirty, he could only imagine what she'd look like all bathed, perfumed, dressed, and groomed. His maidens and Ladies would clean her up and make her look more than presentable before delivering her to his bed. There, with him tasting her milk before buying the cow, he'd find out if she was good enough in bed to be his queen. Then, early the next day in the morning light, he'd have his wizard examine her to tell him if she'd give him a son and an heir to his throne. Just as some men may be turned off because she's a peasant, she may be turned off by his naturally normal, abrupt disposition, his sometimes vile manners, his oftentimes discourteous and impatient personality, and/or by his smell. Fearing that he'd catch a chill and die of pneumonia instead of from a blade of a sword, with the castle being so damp and so cold, he couldn't remember when he had a bath last. Routinely sleeping in his clothes to keep warm, he couldn't remember when he changed his clothes to wash them. With more important things for the king to do around the castle than wasting his time and energy taking a bath, the only time he removed his clothes was for sweaty, smelly sex. "Her name is Emma, Sire," said his aide emerging from the shopkeeper's place of business and jogging to the king. "Emma. I like that. That's a good name for my wife. That's a splendid name for my queen. Queen Emma," he said listening to the ring of it. "I don't know anyone by the name of Emma," he said looking down at his aide again as if ready to take his head if he gave him the wrong answer. "It is a good name Sire," said his aide. "I don't need for you to tell me that Emma is a good name. I already know that it is. I said that it was. What I need for you to tell me is if it's arranged?" "Arranged sire?" "The shopkeeper and his daughter coming to my castle you idiot. Is it arranged? Tell me it's arranged," said the king pointing his gloved finger at him and not giving his aide time enough to answer. The king looked from his aide to look at Emma again before looking back at his aide with impatience. King William gave his aide another look, a disconcerting stare that made his aide know that any answer but yes would not be acceptable. "Yes Sire. It's all arranged. They'll come to your castle tomorrow," said his aide. Not something he routinely did with anyone, William smiled at his aide. "Good, well done. That's very good," said the king sitting higher in his horse to look more kingly. "Here," said the King while removing his large, gold ring emblemized with his coat of arms. "Give this to Emma for her protection and tell her to wear it and to flash it to anyone who bothers her along their way to the castle." "Yes Sire," said his aide accepting the ring from him with gloved hand and walking to Emma to give it to her. Emma accepted the ring from his aide and smiled up at the king. When the ring didn't fit any of her fingers, she hung it on a cord from around her neck. She fondled the ring with her dirty fingers in the way he imagined her fondling his cock with her clean fingers later tonight. The shopkeeper came out of his shop to see the king and to bow his head in respect with all of the others. To be continued...