****** The Death of Lady Diana Spencer, Princess of Wales by Stefan Menet
                                    ******
===============================================================================

The Death of Lady Diana Spencer, Princess of Wales


Please, forgive my English in this story, it is not my native tongue:

It was a tragedy, the saddest occasion. I flocked with all the other mourners
to lay wreaths at the palace gates. She was so young, so vibrant and so
beautiful. But she was never sexy. Oh, I know others thought she was. But to
me, even a lusty Frenchman like myself, she was always an English rose, to be
smelled and admired, but never thought of in a carnal way. For me it would be
like making love to a sister!

I saw a lot of her over the years, never too close though, always behind the
lens of my camera as she swept majestically in and out of buildings. She had a
winning smile. I know that people say that we are the ghouls, but Diana used
us, would pose and tease us - she loved the lens.

That night I almost never made it. A friend was sick and I agreed with the
paper to fill in for him. It was near the end of Diana's week in France. The Di
and Dodi story was still strong and Diana had almost been blaming the last
British government on land mines so she was hot news and the paper wanted
pictures.

I was outside the front of the Ritz when they came out to announce that Diana
would be leaving soon. This struck me as very suspicious so I took a chance and
went round to the back of the building to see what was happening. Sure enough,
Di and Dodi emerged with the body guard and driver and slipped into a black
Merc that swept them away.

I didn't get any photos then, but I knew where they were probably heading -
Dodi's apartment. I jumped on my motorbike and gave chase.

The Merc was easy to spot and easy to catch up with. I tailed them all the way
to that fateful underpass; at that point I was the only one behind them. I
don't know what happened next - the car seemed to jump and hit the centre posts
then swerve across the road, crashing into the other side of the tunnel. I
pulled up sharply behind the mass of hissing, steaming metal and jumped off my
bike. I ran to the window and looked in. I saw Diana first, she had been thrown
forwards with the impact and blood was running down her face. Dodi was next to
her but it was very obvious he was already dead.

Diana was moaning badly - she was obviously in pain. One thing struck me about
her though - for once she was no longer in control, in fact she was absolutely
helpless. I still don't know to what perverse, base instinct this appealed, but
to my horror, in the midst of all that agony and suffering, I had an erection.
It didn't help that in the accident her dress had ridden up, exposing her
magnificent legs. I should have helped, given her first aid, but all I wanted
to do was touch those beautiful, creamy, untouchable legs. I let go to my
instincts and pried open the door. Her legs were soft and smooth, she was not
wearing stockings. As I traced my fingers along her calf, and then her thigh,
she moaned and turned her head towards me. "Help me" she croaked.

"Of course, my love" I managed to whisper. To those beautiful lips I put mine,
they felt so tender. She tried to turn her head away, but emboldened by her
obvious helpless state, I pressed closer to her and put my tongue in her mouth.
She was too weak to struggle against me. I felt her heart beat, the life
draining away, and yet, with my lust now so strong all I could think of were my
own selfish desires. While kissing her thus, I moved my hands further up her
thigh until I could feel her panties. I slipped my hand in and felt the royal
prize, her downy soft pubes and lower, the tender lips of her pussy.

The taste of her mouth and the feel of her cunt had made me crazy with lust and
all I wanted was to be inside my broken princess. I pulled and tugged at those
panties, dragging them down her long legs while she ineffectually tried to stop
me. All the while she was muttering incoherently. I think she thought I was
Dodi.

There was enough light in the tunnel, it cast a strange orange glow on her skin
and vulva. Her legs were easy to pull apart on that back seat. She lay up
against Dodi's dead body as I entered her. Never was a vagina more exquisite, I
looked down at her features as I rode her broken body, her head was lolling
from side to side. At first she had struggled with what life was left in her
body - but now she began to move with me - bringing her hips to mine in the
rhythm of my thrusts.

"Yes, Diana, yes, good, good", I encouraged. Her reactions were better. This
movement of hers brought me close to orgasm, but I did not want to lose my seed
inside her. I had maybe a few more minutes before the other photographers
caught up with us as I was sure they would do.

At the right moment I withdrew, and, cum starting to spurt already, I moved my
hips to her face. I forced her lips apart with my fingers and from the tip of
my cock spurt the rest of the juice of my love into her mouth. She gagged
slightly as the violent spurts hit the back of her throat, but swallowed
instinctively. I knew that she was already having trouble breathing and I know
this could not have helped, but as I now shamefully write - I was a man out of
control. As soon as the climax was over - the greatest of my live - and the
last spurt of cum dribbled at her lips I was horrified by my act. I could hear
the roar of another motorbike in the tunnel and I quickly withdrew from the
wreck.

The bike drew up alongside. The man who dismounted was a freelance photographer
I knew vaguely.

"Its Diana", I said, simply.

He peered into the car and saw Diana, gasping for life with her skirt raised
around her thighs and a line of cum up her blouse and dribbling from her mouth.
He turned to me accusingly and I looked blankly at him, what could I say in my
defence?

"You'd better go," he said, "Les flics will be here soon - she is dying, there
is nothing more to do".

He looked at me, and I knew with that look that here was photographer who had
witnessed a hundred such road accidents - he knew what had happened and why had
done it - maybe he had even felt the same feelings - maybe he had even done
what I had just done. I did not wait to ask. I jumped on my bike and raced away
into the night, not even pausing to do my job, take photographs.

Since her death I have listened to every report, read every article, but
nowhere have I read of the fact that she died with my semen in her throat. The
police, the forensic, they must know and yet how could they ever tell the world
what really happened that night?

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
You may also want to visit:
    * Erotic_Top_100_Story_Sites
    * Sexy_Top_100_Stories