She comes, and it’s incredibly as the smell increases and the wetness seems to splash around me.
“Fuck me,” she cries. “Oh god, just fuck me, Luke.”
I don’t need to be told twice, and I quickly get up on top of her, again not bothering to support my body with my arms, but just resting it against her. It’s the missionary position, but it’s never been hotter.
I mount her, my cock sliding inside her with ease while she’s still coming, her orgasm seeming to rise in pitch and intensity.
I ride her hard and fast, and it doesn’t take long before she’s cumming again, although it’s hard to tell whether her first orgasm ever finished.
Did she have two distinct orgasms or just one? Whatever, I can’t worry about this for too long, because soon enough my cock’s pumping into the condom that I stealthily put on my cock. I freeze, holding my cock deep inside her.
Her hair is splayed out on the pillow. She looks painfully beautiful in the sunlight.
12.
Rebecca
That was an intense session.
I feel like I can barely breathe I’m so exhausted from not only the physical exertion but the immense pleasure.
“So was that our goodbye session?” I say.
“I guess so,” he says, tying up his condom and doing something with it. A moment later, it’s gone. I wonder how many he has with him at any given time, and what in the world he does with them once we’re done.
“So you’re not going to be able to go to another camp site?”
“No,” he says. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’re going to have to head right to the Austin airport where the plane will be waiting for us.”
I nod.
“I guess I’ll be heading back to my apartment myself. I don’t feel like continuing the vacation here with out you. It’d be so lonely.”
“But don’t you have the beautiful nature?” he says this with a little smirk.
“Don’t think you’re competing and beating out the natural world,” I say, giving him a light punch on the side of his arm.
“Well, I’d like to spend more time with you here, but we really should be getting going.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing that he means I need to leave right now. “Well, this is goodbye then. Will you at least help me unchain the car?”
He laughs. “Yeah, of course, baby. I’m sorry if I sounded like I was booting you out the door. That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s kind of what it sounded like.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, his face contorting into a playful look, as he comes in and gives me a big tight hug. I can feel his cock still semi-hard against my thigh, and I start feeling like I want to fuck him again right here and now. I really want to ride him, pinning him down against the floor, like a crazy wild woman, determined to have his cock deep inside me. But I guess that’ll have to wait until I see him again at the Liserian palace.
I just hope his plan about the official invitation letter works and gets me out of work. The boss, a Ms. Witherbottom, is pretty interested in royal affairs abroad, but she’s also incredibly strict about order and discipline. I don’t think she’s ever missed a day of work in her entire adult life, not even the day she had appendicitis.
We leave the RV and with Eugene, we get my car unchanged. I get in to check to make sure it starts, and to my disappointment it does. That means I’m leaving. Like right now. Goodbye prince, hope to see you again soon.
“Well this is it,” I say, looking forlornly at Luke. I really help his plan works out and I see him again in Liseria soon. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
“See you soon, bad American,” says Luke, leaning into my car window and giving me a deep kiss.
He stands with Eugene on the side of the road, watching me drive off.
I have tears in my eyes and I continue down the highway. I’m driving a fast 80 MPH, for some reason, apparently anxious to get away so that they won’t see my tears and face contorted in sadness.
My anxiety’s returning slowly as I drive away. My heart rate seems to have increased, and I’m already worried about all the other cars on the highway. What do they think of me driving alone by myself? Can they tell that I’ve been crying?
It’s a long few days as I drive by myself back to Pittsburg. I sleep in camp sites by myself, sneaking in after dark, trying to avoid the campsite fee. My budget needs to be a lot tighter if I’m going to go over to Liseria to visit Luka. I know he said I don’t need to pay for the trip, but I know I’m going to have a hard time accepting his royal money for every little thing. I mean if I stay in the royal palace that’s one thing—not paying for a hotel, but what if we go out to eat?
I realize now that I have no idea what it’s actually going to be like in Liseria, boarding in a real life royal palace. Fuck, I’m sure I’ll be way over my head, miles deep in my own silly middle class American customs, totally outpaced by the real royals. They’re not going to be anything like Luke, who’s adapted somewhat to American culture. They might not even speak English, and French feels shaky at best right now.
Along the way, I get a couple magazines and newspapers at gas stations.
To my utter surprise, Luke’s face is plastered across almost all of them. There are dozens of articles about him. Wow, I didn’t realize that he really was right about the press.
There’s no mention of him being “soft deported,” from the USA, but from what Luke said they usually keep that under wraps. That’s the meaning of “soft,” in the phrase, anyway.
I read about half the articles, but they make me feel sick to my stomach, and it’ shard finishing them. There’s a bit of Luke’s history in there, and let’s just say that it’s certainly not in the least bit flattering.
He’s been in countless bar room brawls, and was apparently usually the instigator. He’s left countless women bitter, far behind. He’s been in and out of jail, even—in jail, that is, until the police realize who he is, and feel obliged to release him.
I can see now why this fight in front of the press was such a big deal. It really was the last straw on the camel’s back that had already held far, far too much.
Finally, I get back to my apartment.
“How was the trip, Rebecca?” says Jill, my roommate.
“OK,” I say, and head into my room.
“Fine, don’t tell me anything about it then,” she calls out after me, pretending to be mad, but I know better. We’ve been friends, after all, since the forth grade, and we pretty much tell each other everything.
I don’t even unpack before falling onto my bed exhausted, closing my eyes. My thoughts are swimming all around, and I’m full of anxiety. Why do I think I’m special? How do I know that he didn’t say the same lines and act the same way to all those other women that I read about in the newspapers and gossip columns?
There’s a knock on my door.
“Go away,” I say, turning over and pressing my face into the pillow.
The door opens anyway.
“Are you OK?” Rebecca, says Jill.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Go away.”
“You’ve got to tell me what happened,” she says.
Finally, after a couple minutes of me pouting in a silly way, Jill finally convinces me to open up about the situation. She has a way of doing that, and she’s always been able to get things out of me. Not that she’s doing it in a malicious way at all—instead, she just genuinely cares about me. I feel like we’re more like sister sometimes than friends.
“Wow,” she says, when I finish telling her the whole story. “A real prince, huh?”
I nod.
“You got pictures?”
“None of my own, but here,” I say, pulling out the stack of papers and magazines I’ve collected over the last few days and shove them into her face.
“Wow,” says Jill, breathing in deeply. “He’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Ye
ah,” I say. “But read the headlines.”
“I see what you mean. It doesn’t look like he’s…well, I don’t know what to say. But people do change, though, right?”
“I guess so,” I say.
“Well, either way, Rebecca. If you like him, you should keep seeing him. What did you say you have to do to get off work so you can go to Liseria?”
I tell her again about getting the official invitation.
“Well, just send Luke the address of your boss, and see where it goes from there. There’s no point in giving up now.”
“Giving up? It’s not like I’m trying to marry rich and royal or something. I really wish he was just a regular guy and I didn’t have to worry about all this royal rebel shit.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But it’s kind of a nice bonus in a way, isn’t it?”
I don’t say anything, but inside I’m thinking that maybe she’s on to something.
So I send an email to Luke, opening up my computer for the first time in more than a week.
I don’t hear anything back, so Monday I head into work as planned. Everyone’s curious about my trip, and I just tell them it was fun and relaxing, but I don’t mention anything about meeting, not to mention fucking, a real prince.
“Hey, Becs,” says Tom, one of my cubicle mates, a guy in his fifties with a long ponytail. “Witherbottom wants to see you in her office.”
“Shit, am I in trouble?”
“Dunno,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and heading off to the break room where he’s always likely to be found.
“Thanks for seeing me, Rebecca,” says Miss Witherbottom, in her normal very formal manner. “Take a seat, please.”
“What’s this about?” I say. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“I was just hoping you could explain this to me,” she says, handing me a very thick an expensive-feeling piece of paper. On her desk is an elaborate looking card with some kind of purple and gold crest on it. It looks like something out of the middle ages, when kings would send messengers with similar documents, emblazoned with the royal seal.
The royal seal…something’s ringing a bell. Oh, how stupid of me! It’s the initiation from Luke!
Somehow, I was imagining something like a phone call or an email. I didn’t ever imagine it would be something so fucking elaborate. I also didn’t expect Luke to work so quickly. I only emailed him last night, after all.
“This arrived this morning by private messenger,” she says, giving me a weird look that I can’t quite place.
“Oh…” I say, completely unsure what I should say.
“Is this for real?”
I nod.
I’m waiting for her stern face to break into a grotesque mask of anger, waiting for her to scream at me for wasting her time with something like this. Why’d I ever think this would work? There’s no way she’s going to let me leave the office to go gallivanting around Liseria for who knows how long.
Instead, to my incredible surprise, her face breaks into a smile. A smile like I’ve never seen her wear.
“How exciting!” she says. “I’ve always loved reading about the Liserians.”
Liserians…wow, I had no idea they were even called that.
“You must be so excited about finally visiting the palace,” she says. “I actually went there in my youth, on a tour of Europe, and it was just utterly magnificent.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to smile, but I’m still in shock at her reaction. “The only thing is that I wasn’t sure about work, you know. I mean, I’ll have to take off a couple weeks from work at the very least, and I know I don’t have any more vacation days for the years. The thing is I really need this job, but I also would really like to check out the palace…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that at all, dear,” says Miss Witherbottom, with a wave of her hand. “I’ll see to it that everything’s taken care of. Now, you must tell me how you met this wonderful prince. That is who you’re going to visit, isn’t it? Oh, how marvelously exciting. We’re going to have or own royal lady in the office in no time at all.”
Wow, first of all, she thinks that if I did marry into the royal family, I’d still be working at this dump. I try not to let these thoughts show in the least bit on my face. Instead, I’m keeping it frozen in a nervous smile that I hope is passing for royal excitement.
In the end, I make it through the meeting, telling her all about Prince Lucas, as she likes to call him. Well, not everything, obviously. I try to leave out the parts about the wild sex out in the wilderness, or the wild sex in the RV—basically I leave out all the wild, lustful sex.
But despite how uncomfortable her enthusiasm makes me, I walk out of her office beaming inwardly.
I’m going to Liseria! To see Luke! The first thing I’m going to do when I get there is ride him like a fucking cowgirl, really fuck his brains out. Wow, my mind’s really heading to some dirty places, and very quickly.
All I have to do now is contact Luke and wait for Eugene to send me the information on how to catch the private plane to Liseria.
13.
Luke
“Good to be back, eh, sir?” says Eugene, to me in French.
“Let’s stick with English, buddy,” I say. “I don’t want us to get sloppy with out language skills that we worked so hard to achieve.”
Eugene nods curtly at me.
A line of elaborately dressed Liserian royal guards is waiting for us on the runway, as Eugene and I walk down the stairway from the plane.
They’re all saluting, frozen completely motionless, staring straight ahead as if they’re rag dolls. Why can’t they just lighten up a little? Fuck, I’m glad I never joined the military like my dad wanted me to. I would have just been like one of these suckers here.
“Your royal highness, sir,” says a lieutenant, judging by his uniform, coming out of nowhere and saluting me. “I have orders to take you directly to the king for a private appointment.”
“Great,” I say. “And what if I don’t want to go? I’m tired, you know. Just explored an entire continent with Eugene here.”
“Sir, the orders are mandatory, sir,” barks the guard, his back perfectly straight, staring straight ahead at me. I look into his eyes and I don’t see anything there.
Shit, now I remember why I’d wanted to get the fuck out of Liseria so badly. Sure, there are some parties and good times here once in a while, but everyone’s so uptight all the time that the chances for fun are few and far between, even for a prince.
There’s no point in running away or trying to disobey the orders. Trust me, I know. I’ve done that plenty of times, and it often ended in what felt like half the military chasing me. They always caught me. Well, except that one time I escaped to France hiding as a stowaway on a tugboat. That wasn’t too fun, though, and by the end of the trip I fucking stunk like nothing else. And they caught me at the dock in France.
“Fine,” I say. “Come on, Eugene.”
Eugene doesn’t need to be told twice. I know he’d advise me to just go along with it. Sometimes I wonder who’s fucking side he’s on. He’s supposed to be my advisor, but he also technically just works for my dad, and I always wonder how much the two talk, and how much Eugene reports. Hopefully he at least has the common sense not to give the gritty details of my daily life, especially not my recent American life.
We drive down the palace’s long, supposedly impressive drive, and up to the castle with the towers overhead, tall ramparts, metal gates, and even it’s own fucking moat. I’ve seen the whole thing so many times that it bores me to fucking tears, and I just hang my head in absolute boredom, not to mention dread for what’s about to come.
There are more guards at the palace, brightly dressed in their ridiculous costumes. There are also straight military guys, wearing modern style camo fatigues, holding automatic riffles, standing at attention.
My dad’s study has huge wooden doors made out of
some rare wood that I’ve heard him brag about countless times, but I’ve never even remembered the name of the wood. I could care less.
“Sit down,” says my dad, his face stony as he stares at me from behind his massive desk.
No, “hey, son, how are you?” Just a commanding order and an expressionless face.
“How’s it going?” I say, in English, just to annoy him.
“You will speak Liserian French in this palace or nothing else, at least while I’m alive.”
“OK,” I say, in French.
“What was that?”
I know there’s no point in continuing. He’s not going to let it go until I say “yes, sir,” the way he wants.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“I don’t even know where to begin with you,” he says. “I always knew you were a trouble maker, but I thought you at least had respect for the crown and the royalty of Liseria. I thought you cared about your country, unlike your brother. But now, it seems like you’re even worse than he is!”
My older brother, Benjamin, famously renounced his Liserian royal status to become a professional farmer. It made my dad more than mad. They still haven’t spoken one word to each other in ten years. For a while, I could fuck up almost as much as I wanted, and I still wasn’t as bad as my brother Benjamin. To me, Ben’s all right. I like to hang out on the farm and chill with him once in a while, although he’s pretty busy these days with three kids and a wife, not to mention a farm to run.
My father’s wearing his ridiculous crown that sits on his head like a dead decorative bird. It’s got the fucking Liserian crest on it and everything. How fucking stupid. Doesn’t he realize it’s horribly outdated? Doesn’t he realize he looks like a fool.
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