Monaco Jet Set Chronicles

So Valentine orderly got dressed as Andrea - who'd been quicker at it - looked on, his stiff dick hurting inside his trousers. God she was lovely, he thought. Prince Andrea Grimaldi and Princess Valentine, sovereigns of Monaco, he thought. And he was invaded by a huge bout of sadness, as this idea brought about remembrances of his Papy's recent hospital admission and the inevitability of his eventual decease one day to come. He hugged Val tight as soon as she was ready, but this was not the usual protective hug he'd often give Charlotte or his Mum (or even Steph at times, though Charley was more at ease to talk serious with Tatie, with Andrea it was more of going out at night, having fun and drinking and smoking). No, this one hug was the reverse of Andrea's usual manly hugs. It was he who was seeking for protection, and believed he could find it in Valentine's courage, her firmness, even her attitude towards sex. He was sure she had hesitated much less than him during the previous kinky session. Shit, had it really happened? Had he really had Charlotte's pussylips kissing his penis? Had he actually fondled her ass? Had his younger sister, his very dear petite soeur - even if accidentally - drunk his sperm? And chiefly, had he (he knew the answer was yes) felt lust for her? God...

Weary as Andrea might feel about this, he was not sorry he'd done it. He actually knew there'd be other times. And the fact that his beloved Val hadn't blinked about it, and that this kind of orgy would be a feature of the relationship he was willing to build with her, kind of made him feel better. After all, princess-to-be was also protecting prince charming. Val knew it, of course. She behaved accordingly. So the kiss they next exchanged was the only trait of sensuality she'd ask from him until he safely got her home...