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The Secret Erotic Life Of Princess Karen Sue Cantrell Of The Republic Of Aquitaine (Kasiutrella's Mother)



This will be Gianni Truvianni’s last sexually motivated story, it dealing with the characters; H.R.H. Princess Karen Sue Cantrell of the Republic of Aquitaine and her fictional daughter Kasiutrella. Naturally, all of which also making this but a tale of fantasy, never to be taken for anything but that which has never seen the light of reality.

My name is Kasiutrella, daughter of an American aristocrat, if such one can be labeled; for my mother, Karen Sue Cantrell bears the title of H.R.H. of the Republic of Aquitaine. Regarding my mother, she in many ways is my best friend; as we get along almost to perfection, to the point of making many believe she is my much older sister or perhaps at times some might even get the impression we might be “lesbian lovers”. This however I say but in jest yet it is unknown to me what those observers make in their minds when they survey how close we are; specially on our outings to those places of so much interest to us; such as the opera or the golf club.

My mother for the most part is a woman; who in my opinion at least goes from one extreme to another, as she can at times appear to be very conservative, though when saying this I refer not necessarily toward politics but her views on life, overall as she at times seems not to want to accept what ours has become. It being two women, in love and still sharing intimate relationships with the same man; who at present is my husband and father to my only child, though it was my mother with whom he first took to the ways of sexuality.

It being the case that it was my mother who even arranged Pierre’s and mine first encounter, of the sort that explores the acts of carnality yet it is not ours to talk about how she in her almost secretive fashion still keeps up her relationship of the physical kind with my husband. It despite the fact that this which I have come to label a three party affair has been going on for sometime. I have even come to believe that it is her Midwestern American attitude toward sex in general that prevents her from being open about what she and my husband engage in, it being as if it were less acceptable to talk about what occurs than actually having it take place.

I, in all this must however declare that contrary to troubling me; Pierre’s and my mother’s romance, brings me a large degree of pleasure. It being the case; as I would not deny my mother, that which I obtain from Pierre, specially since it brings so much to her; who in fact has entered if ever so slightly in to what not so delicately could be classified as “old age”. I in my acceptance of hers and Pierre’s would even go to the extent of finding it immoral to ask my husband to deny her, as if it in a perhaps strange way were the equivalent of refusing him his rights to our child.

As for my mother and I, we have had what to many would seem like a very odd relationship to say the least and not only because we share the same love interest but because at times we have even encouraged it. I having asked my mother to accompany my husband on the many trips he takes when involved with a film, which I am sure has led to intimate situations between the two of them.

As for my mother, there was a time which I will never forget, for contrary to the first which I only found out about till after she had planed it, this one I actually saw unfold in front of my eyes, which I am sure must have giving away their shock at the time. It occurring when I was deeply in to my first and last pregnancy or at least so far. I had gotten in to an argument with my husband. It being of the kind where one thing leads to another and rather than one of us backing down; as we should have or simply not going on, we continued to say that which we knew, even at the time to be inappropriate yet we followed through.

It leaving me in tears as I sat in the living room, wearing but my nightgown, while I considered what had been said by both of us which in all reality, I knew not to have been meant yet it was just the fact that it had been stated. It was my mother, Karen who then approached me and as she always had managed to sooth me with her words of comfort and the love we both shared for each other, yet it was when I told her I had had a quarrel with Pierre, that she called him over.

I for my part at that moment did not say anything as we waited for him to come, not really sure how she could solve the almost inane argument we had had; which I was sure, would require but an apology from both of us. My mother however held me tight, also wearing her nightgown, after having just taken a shower; as she seemed about ready to go to bed yet as we waited for my husband to come, who had announced he was on his way, I could feel her tender care for me. I, her daughter through the softness of her body. She still an attractive woman to most men, despite her being over the half century mark by more than a couple of years.

Pierre approached us, also dressed in his clothes for bed which in his case included but a pair of shorts. I feel it was the sight of me still in tears and being held but my mother that made him sorry for what he had said as he seemed about to claim his wrong doing, which would be followed by mine, for I truly as had he in this case had been at fault. It however happened just as he was about to say something that my mother, in a delicate yet authoritarian voice said “Pierre (looking at him softly who stood almost above us, who were sitting side by side on the sofa), Kasiutrella (looking at me, likewise) don’t say anything just make up for what you did to each other, and I will help you”.

It was with these words that my mother proceeded; as Pierre and I looked at each other not really knowing what to expect, other than my mother to make everything alright as she always had yet it was then that she was stunning in her actions even for what we already knew her to be. She embraced Pierre, who stood next to her, wrapping her arms around his legs, from her sitting position, and as she did he smiled at both of us; who looked upon his face, yet it was at that moment that my mother without warning started her deviltry.

My mother suddenly pulled down Pierre shorts and took his root in to her mouth, which had probably become slightly aroused by my mother’s warmth, as to a certain extent I had yet it was the site of seeing my mother perform this most intimate of acts upon the man who was my husband that sent mine way beyond moisture; as I came but within very little of having an orgasm of my own, without even being touched, in any way. It was however enough to send shivers down my spine, as I saw her take this part of Pierre in her mouth, letting it glide in and out with her saliva, as I knew it must have already yet the view of it was more than I could have ever imagined. It was incredible or so I perceived this act of beauty when performed by my mother, whom I could see was more than capable of arousing not only my husband but me as well.

I in all truth, along with my husband, who still did not utter a word; did not know how to interpret my mother’s actions, as she simply continued to orally assault this part of my husband, so much to both our likings, yet it was then that she again surprised us. As she now in a full commanding voice said to me, too afraid to refuse anything at that moment “Take of your clothes and get on your hands and knees on the sofa!”. This being exactly what I did as I looked at my husband, who could also see where my mother’s action were leading us to.

For my own it did not take me long to get out of the night gown I was wearing, exposing my advanced pregnant body to his sight, he seemingly taking on a new appreciation for what I considered to be my swollen state. It was once my body was in the position my mother had wanted, that she led Pierre by the hand to where he was in a pose to take me yet it would not be via the traditional route that she would guide his root but by the one which up till that point had remained un tampered by not only man but any form that did not include a suppository.

My mother, me now only catching glimpses of her as I looked behind, took my husband’s root in her mouth one last time, perhaps just to give it more lubrication, placing it in the position that was just right so it might make its way in this most secrete passage of mine. It in fact was pain that made me slightly even scream at first yet it was but the initial thrust. For once, Pierre with the help of my mother had performed it quickly and decisively, ours become but bliss or at least to me, as his own onslaught started of this part of me which he had once claimed to desire but had been held from by my un decidedness yet the matter had been solved by mother. She being the one to leave the room; feeling her presence was no longer required, once we were engaged in what is commonly known as the act of “sodomy”.

I could feel him all about me yet strangely enough despite it feeling near wonderful it did not bring me closer to orgasm. This being the case despite my moaning, in what after the first few strokes could not have been further from pain, as Pierre continued to penetrate me in a way he never had till then. It also being with the confidence that my consent had been given by my mother and my desire, which I let be known through the way my eyes smiled as I looked back at he, who seemed very much concentrated on not letting up on what he could see was much the source to my newly found joy. Pierre and I had made up and all was as should be yet it was bizarre and endearing at the same time; how my mother had arranged it all. Once again as we without saying even as much as one word of sorry had reconciled; as he made love to me, with not only his body but his emotions which I could sense wanted to tell me how much he regretted what his words had been as I did the same with my own.

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