With that, a grand ceremony took place and the King announced that she, Antoinette Burgess, was to be appointed into the royal family. She would be given a special medal that will certify her as a family member and she would be welcome to come over to the family household whenever the other Burgesses agree to let Antoinette come over to visit and possibly make love to her now handsome Prince.
Over the next few months, lengthening visits spawned the silver toenail of lovemaking, kissing, hugging, humping, the whole nine yards. Each session had at least an hour of the most intiment touches of the chest and stomach, followed by the coursing and removal of their towels and other coverings. The folds of each of their sexes were perfectly exposed. Five months later, Antoinette announced amid the King and all his henchmen that she was pregnant with her and the Prince’s first child, a boy. Another party was aglow with ribbons, balloons, strings, streamers and other decorations. The time couldn't be more festive. You had not to forget the end of the night. The two of them sat at the edge of the Prince’s bed and immediately stripped their clothes off and felt the touch of each other’s raging hot skin and chase each other to the kiss a number of times before it got to delicate humping and screwing. Then, both of their bodies went down slowly as each got in position for one of their many lovemaking sessions. From the Prince getting off on her vagina and screwing her, beating her well groom sex to a pulp and not letting up until he could feel her vibrating from the distant land of her clitoris and her screaming orgasm that would leave him smiling all the while. He had lain back once this after-party orgasmic attempt was over just to watch her still gasping and moaning, feeling the last fumes of pleasure winding down and the remainder of her modest discharge softly trickling out of her vaginal fold to wherever it naturally felt drawn to fall. She just lay there for a few minutes to calm down while the Prince got up to use the second royal master suite, the gold-brimmed walls shining with forgiveness for their pleasurable sin.
The sex got even higher on the stakes as their love continued to grow day after day. Their little son even knew what they were up to when they went to close the door and draw the tan, brown curtains closed. All their son heard was a little laughter and then the deep, consistent moans that he knew had to be his parents making naughty in the next room. What else could a three year-old child expect except the fact that they may think, 'Oh, mommy and daddy are just having fun.' Having fun was an understatement. They were preparing to make another baby.
It was in the middle of these escapades that Jonah walked in on them. They were so busy screwing, roughing and tumbling around that they didn't hear the door open or their little one's footsteps coming up to their bed. In the heat of a hot moment, the Prince just happened to turn around and all screwing stopped. There was a massive ruffling of the sheets that the two lovebirds were under followed by the smack of the Prince’s skin upon Antoinette's.
'Mother of God, son,'' the Prince shouted, startled.
'Oh, oh my word, son. You can't come in here,' Antoinette said frailly.
'Mommy, I want to go out in the field and play, but Grandpa won't let me,' said the little one.
'Oh, if Grandpa won't let you go play in the field, I guess you'll have to play inside,' Antoinette said.
Without another word, Jonah went out of the room. There was a slam of the bedroom door behind him. He ran crying into the royal playroom, while his parents, so consistently horny went back to making out to the max. They just had too much fun screwing to even care about the needs of their child half of the time during that period. Antoinette would love how he would tease and please her by going in between her legs and hissing and blowing up and down her vagina and licking at her clitoris, made for a shockingly moist surprise. He would then slowly and softly lick up and down her front-most vaginal fold causing her to gasp and pine for him even more. Antoinette kept begging for more motion, more screwing as the liquids and the vibrations coursed through her, preparing her for a steady, long, and most pleasurable orgasm.
Unexpectedly, he got off of her. Antoinette looked like she was something akin to a struggling saint just released by the devil. She sat up and wondered what she was doing. When he came back, Antoinette saw that he had two things in his hand: some rope to tie her feet and to keep her legs apart and a huge branch that had soft and prickly leaves, like that of a toothbrush in today's world, designed to give her vaginal folds the tickling of a lifetime and the most hormonal feeling in an orgasm that she would ever experience. He went over to her, his eyes demonic as he plotted out what he was to do next. He got on top of her horse-style so she couldn't get up. Antoinette noticed that he had clamped his legs so tightly around her that she couldn't move at all. Her stomach was compressed to the point where it was hard to breathe. She almost had to gasp for air as he pulled his legs upon her and wrapped them around her almost completely.
'Prince, Honey! What are you doing? Dear. Sweetie. What are you doing? My God, Charles Thomas, what are you up to,' She questioned in a panic as he continued to wrap himself around her as she struggled and he pulled out the huge bush that would give her torment.
Without saying a word, Prince Thomas went to it, laying over her just enough so she couldn't move in either direction, top or bottom of her body. Her waste was in perfect view, with nowhere to go. She was going on a magical, imaginary trip through the senses of maximum touch, some taste, and feel. He was prepared to give her the maximum thrill ride as he sat atop her with the big brush full of clear green sprigs that were designed to give a little outdoor woodsy quality while being among the most delicate of all torture tools. If Antoinette thought her vagina received a pounding during their last go at it, she had experienced nothing compared to the prickly soft magnitude of ticklish feeling as the small discharge of liquid would soon work through her, further enhancing the feeling of the tickle, leading to a far greater orgasm.
Without further delay, Prince Thomas let the festivities begin. He put her in a binding lock with his legs and belly over her as she tried to squirm and struggle. She couldn't get out. That was good for Prince Thomas. He took the bush and knelt it down to her major opening. He put the bush just inside the vaginal opening and rubbed up and down, causing her to gasp, chuckle and squirm even more. He realized this was working when five minutes later, she began to gently buck up and down in the opposite motion of the bush. The side-by-side friction of the two forces caused her vagina to writhe with pleasure and scoot her closer to orgasm. Ten minutes had passed and she was feeling sweaty and divine as the tickle of the brush got slower and more intense.
'Don't go slower! Honey! I'm so horny! Go faster, faster,'
Prince Thomas ignored her request and kept slowing down the tempo of the brush. He got it down to the point where it was practically sitting there in her vagina waiting to be moved. In fact, on one of the other trips up and down the fold, he stopped the bush right at the top and slowly traced it vertically in and out of the topmost skin. At the touch of this, Antoinette went into her deep, guttural moans that he always loved to hear when they were screwing.
'Ooh! Oh! Oh my God, my Lord! My dear! Oh my Lord,' was all that she could keep saying as each vertical stroke brought her closer and closer to steamy orgasm.
He kept doing it as she kept gasping and moaning, now almost at the top of her lungs. It was a wonder that one of the other countrymen from the first ranks didn't come running in because of the noise. If anyone did hear what was going on, they apparently wanted to keep it hush-hush. As he continued to torture the top of her vaginal fold, she stretched her legs farther apart, vying for more air to pass through the unoccupied parts of the fold not yet tormented by the bush. Just when she thought that a particular area wouldn't be tormented, there the brush was, striking, rubbing and pleasing her, making the insides of her sex scream with excitement.
While the Prince had been stroking the top of her organ with the bush, the speed of this attempt had gotten faster to the point where fluids were now coursing in vast amounts through her stomach and groin, past her ovaries and down to the bay to be released at any moment. The brushing now went back to the original up-and-down motion, coursing the fluids further through her, stopping at the brim of coming out as discharge. As she tried to settle back down, jabs of pleasurable pain kept coursing through her, the stinging tickle of the bush now gave her piercing, painful orgasmic feelings with every tickle. The Prince took this as a sign to get slower in tickling her, as if he had been reading the fear in her mind. The slower he went, the sharper the stings of orgasm got. It got to the point where the pleasurable pain in her vagina was spreading to her inner groin and stomach. The Prince got to a practical standstill with very slow, tantalizing, nail-biting micro-movement. She was past screaming. She was howling so loud that people out in the field could hear her throat-tearing squawks. As the Prince got slower and slower with the swiping bush, brushing her now-vibrating clitoris, she bucked up and down. This motion only forced her closer to the edge. The piercing vaginal spasms were so sharp, they made her sick to her stomach.
Two minutes later, she was bucking up and down when one last gust of orgasmic pain coursed through her vagina. She stopped, tears welling up and spilling from her eyes. She was sobbing as the pain got so bad and the liquids were so close to spitting out, it almost made the Prince stop in his tracks. However, no. He kept going. One
