tagGroup SexPleasing A Prince

Pleasing A Prince


(Dear readers. If you are not entertained by a story that dwells on the size of a man's cock, then this story is not for you.)

Betsy Duncan started dating Chuck Gibson their senior year at Southern University of New Orleans. Her mother had sent her to the University to catch herself a bright husband, and Chuck was all of that. Chuck had a sparkling wit and personality. She also knew that he was a straight A student, who had his sights set on becoming a professor.

Betsy was a bridge master, having played with her mother since she was eight years old. She was so excited when she phoned her mother to tell her about her new guy.

"Mother, I'm dating just the greatest guy. You will adore him. He is witty, nice, smart, and... You will love this. He is an accredited master-of-bridge."

"Really! I can't wait to meet him. Why don't you bring him up for a visit this weekend?"

"I'll ask him. How is Dad coming along with the business?"

"So, so. I don't think that we will have near as much income as we did before, but your father seems to be really happy having his own business."

"Got to go Mom."


There were two Chuck Gibsons. One was the happy-go-lucky guy who fascinated students and teachers with his photography memory. The other Chuck Gibson was the grandson of Mike Gibson, riverboat gambler. That Chuck Gibson been taught everything that there was to know about gambling in general, and poker in particular. The tells, how to detect a cheat, and the odds of any hand combination. His brain was a finely tuned machine. He paid his entire tuition and costs of attending Southern by winnings from poker. That Chuck Gibson was all business, as you might well imagine.

The following weekend, after a nice dinner at Betsy's home, Jean, her mother said, "Betsy tells me that you are very good at bridge. Have you played in many tournaments?

"I had some luck and won the Florida, and the Denver tournaments last winter."

"Then you have met Phil Blackburn, the Grand Master?"

"Yes, I know him well."

"I'm impressed."

Chuck was impressed too, but not in a way that he could tell the Duncans. Jean Duncan was the most attractive older woman he had ever had the pleasure of being around. Not a woman who had seen much hard work. She wore feminine, soft, garments which while being modest, still left no doubt that she was a woman. Her hair was long, silky, light brown. Her perfume was faint, but there. Her eyes displayed that she was friendly, yet there was a mind in there that was measuring Chuck in a way that few could, or would.

Chuck was suddenly alert. The gambler instincts took over as he looked for her "tells," to determine if she was friend or foe. Her eyes were normal. He couldn't say. What he could tell is that he was being measured.

Betsy and Chuck were married in August. Jean Duncan gave Betsy enough money for them to have a four day honeymoon in Las Vegas. Chuck had some misgivings about accepting the gift. Sooner, rather then later, he would come to realize what a mistake that was.

It was Chuck's first chance to play poker with the real sharks of the game, men who played poker for a living. His Grand Daddy had taught him well. He sat watching a low limit table for several hours before joining the game when a seat opened up. After playing for sixteen hours straight, he left the table. Back at his room, he counted out his winnings, which came to four thousand, one hundred, and thirty-six dollars. His seed money was five hundred dollars.

He took a teaching position at a local high school, while he finished his masters. Once a month he flew to Las Vegas, for two days of poker. Consistently, he returned with five thousand, tax free dollars in his bag. Life was good.

Of course, Betsy told her mother of his winnings, as was to be expected. Jean played the poker slots at the local casino. She knew the game, or so she thought. Just before the Thanksgiving, two week break, Betsy approached Chuck. "Chuck, honey, my mother and I were talking. She suggested that she and I join you for your next Vegas trip."

"Gee, I don't know, Betsy. Those trips are all work for me. I don't eat fancy meals. I don't drink any liquor. I don't sightsee. Besides, with your mother along, we would need two rooms."

"We talked about that. She said that it would be okay for her to sleep in the second bed. Remember, it was she that paid for your wedding trip."

Chuck knew that he had been trumped. Off they went on a seven day trip to Vegas. By the third day there, he was ahead by sixteen thousand bucks.

That same day, Jean and Betsy were at the pool. A dapper, older gentleman, using binoculars viewed them through a window, as he said to the bellhop, "Are you sure that these are the Duncan women?"

"Yes, sir, that's them."

Just then, Jean, who could dive quite well, did a one and a half dive. As she climbed the ladder to stand next to her daughter, her swim suit clung to her, like a second skin. Her nipples could be seen, as could her cuntal mons, covered by her course cuntal bush.

"The mother is very well preserved. The Prince likes small American Southern women, with all their refined airs." Mr. Frome said.

"I would think that he would like the young chick?"

"Oh, no. It is the older woman who will understand what he will do to her as he enters her, who will turn and twist. Her mind saying no, as her body betrays her, finally accepting him."

One of the other players, an older guy by the name of Texas Burt, approached Chuck. "Yo there, Charlie Boy. I've a been watching you play. Who taught you to play like you do? You bluffed the britches off Slick once or twice."

Chuck just smiled. One never boasts about wins. "Ever hear of Mike Gibson?"

"Can't say that I have."

"He was my grandfather, rode the Mississippi river boats."

"Well, if you're interested, there is a high stakes, no-limit, game that goes on in the Red room."

"Will they let me in."

"I told them that I was going to talk to you. Your in, if you want to be."

"Owe you one, Texas Burt. Thanks. I'll go take a look."

The game being played was "Texas Hold'em." First is the open bet of one thousand dollars. Then each player is dealt two cards, face down. The player can fold or bet. Next are dealt three cards face up. That is called the flop. All three cards can be used by all players still in. Bets are placed. Then the fourth card is dealt face up. It is called fourth street, or the turn card. More bets. Then the fifth card is dealt. It is called the River. Final bets are made, and then everyone still in the game shows their cards, and declares the best five card poker hand that he can make with his two, and the five community cards. An easy game to learn, but it takes a lifetime to master. Why? Everything depends on how well you read the other players.

Chuck watched for an hour, and then left to get a bite to eat. Betsy and Jean joined him. When Jean learned of the high stakes game, she wanted to come watch Chuck play. Reluctantly, Chuck said it was okay with him, if the other players did not mind.

When they returned to the Red room, there were only four other players. "Say, Guys, do you mind if the lady sits next to me and watches us play."

The dealer spoke. " If you sit at an end seat, it is permissible."

Jean was so quiet that Chuck forgot that she was there. He was winning. Seven hours later, he needed to take a leak. Not wanting to lose his seat at the table, he whispered to Jean. "I have to go to the men's room. Are you comfortable sitting in for me?"

"Sure, no problem."

When Chuck returned he was shocked to find that she had doubled their winnings. One of the players said, "Your lady went all in with a couple of ladies (Queens) and drew a third lady (Queen) on fifth street to beat my American airlines (Two aces.) Gutsy move."

Chuck smiled, but he was not smiling within. It was a dumb play which could have cost him all their seed money.

The next day, it happened again. Jean had sixty-five thousand dollars in chips in front of her when he returned.

That night they split their winnings. Jean wanted to sit at the high rollers, high limit table as a player. Chuck had decided that he would play very conservatively, by betting only on high percentage cards, such as an ace-queen of the same suit, which gave him two face cards to match up, and a shot at a flush.

Players come and go. It was just after one AM that a short, dapperly dressed, older gent took a seat at the table. Chuck studied him. Money. Hair razor cut. Rolex watch, silk shirt, big diamond ring, and four thousand dollars of gold around hid neck. Stacked in from of him was one hundred thousand dollars worth of chips. Had what had to be a bodyguard sitting near the far wall. When he spoke to that man, he did so in Arabic.

Betsy joined them. Mr. Frome introduced himself, and asked which of the lovely ladies belonged to Chuck. He said, "Well, I guess they both do. This is my wife, and this is my mother-in-law."

By four AM there were only Chuck, Jean and the man they now knew as Mr. Frome, who said little, but smiled broadly whether he won or lost a hand. In a soft voice he asked the dealer. "Please provide me with another fifty thousand dollars worth of chips."

"Certainly, Mr. Frome."

Everyone left the table to use the rest rooms. While they were away, the bodyguard approached the dealer. Instructions were whispered into his ear, and ten thousand dollars stuck into his pocket. The fix was on.

Two hands later, Chuck was dealt two cowboys (Kings) Jean received the six and seven of spades. Since the cost of staying in for the flop was low. Mr. Frome had checked, as had Chuck, Jean did not fold. The flop was another king, and the eight and nine of spades. The bets were forty thousand, for a total pot of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Fourth street was the ten of spades. For Jean, it was a once in a life time hand, a straight flush.

Jean moved all her remaining chips in. Chuck, with three kings, moved all in. Betsy could sense the tension. Chuck stood up. Mr. Frome smiled. All he had to do was bet enough chips to match either Jean, or Chuck. Instead, he said, "Why don't we make this very interesting. I will be willing to sweeten the pot another hundred thousand dollars if you two will sweeten the pot too?"

Chuck, the Gambler, knew that two hundred and fifty thousand dollars could change hands in the next few minutes. Jean asked, "Sweeten the pot, with what?"

"Nothing much really. I want you to consent to being my companion, and doing what I tell you to do, for the next five days."

Betsy spoke, "No way."

Chuck spoke up. "Will you approve if we discuss our hands, and if we want to do this in the next room?"

"I have no problem with that."

Chuck to Jean, "What are you holding?"

"Straight flush, ten high. You?"

"Jesus. I've got three kings, and you have me beat. Your straight flush is a one in 1,780,000 hand deals. You should go for it, that is tax free money we have sitting out there."

Betsy asked, "Mother, you can't do this. That man would surely want to be intimate with you."

"Betsy, I have to try. Even if I lost, he is a clean man. Besides, how often could he be able to be intimate?"

They returned to the room. Chuck folded. Jean said to Mr. Frome, "If I win, I get everything. If you win, I will go with you for five days.

"Jean, I would expect you to accept any suggestions that I might have."

It suddenly hit Betsy, one way to protect her mother was to agree to go with her. "Mr. Frome, if you win, you have to take me along with my mother, and you must agree that we will be in the same room all the time."

For a moment, Mr. Frome lost his smile as he considered what had just transpired. "Certainly dear, that would be no problem."

All Chuck could think of is that Jean's straight flush was bulletproof.

Mr. Frome said to him, "Are you okay with that?"


He produced three contracts stating that if he won, that he would have three employees for the five days.

"Let's see what you have my dear?"

Jean placed her spades next to the ones on the table.

Mr. Frome lay down the jack and queen of spades, a straight flush that beat Jeans'.

"It is time to leave," Mr. Frome ordered.

Another bodyguard appeared, so that two escorted them all to Mr. Frome's suite, which was the size of a small house, complete with deep leather covered couches, chairs, and a servant.

Chuck thought to himself, I didn't want Jean to play, that is what got us in this mess. If this old guys shoots his little pecker into Jean, it won't kill her. Sort of like to watch that. Wonder how they will occupy Betsy?

Food was produced, as were drinks from a wet bar. Mr. Frome motioned them all to sit. No one approached the women. The bodyguards retreated to the front door. It was surreal in a way, but everyone relaxed.

When it was evident that all had finished eating, and that the late hour made them all sleepy, Mr. Frome said, "Chuck, you may sleep in the first bedroom. Your wife, and Mrs. Duncan are to sleep in the second bedroom. You will be awaken at eleven. Ladies, please take another bath and douche as soon as you are awaken. Clothes will be provided for you in the morning. I will join you for lunch."

It bothered Chuck that both women were required to douche, but he said nothing.

At eleven the next morning, Mr. Frome stood before Prince Samaad. "When would his majesty like to start?"

"I will enter at one PM. Am I to understand that there will be two others in the room with the Southern woman?"

"Yes, your Majesty. Each of the women shall be tied to the bed, while the man will be tied in a chair between the beds, blindfolded. He will not know which woman in in which bed, and he knows nothing of your presents. However he will be able to tell when the women are taken by the movements of the bed."

"Very well."

Chuck, Betsy, and Jean were dumbfounded by the elegant lunch they received. It was as though they were in a fine French home.

If we had to lose, this is the guy to lose to, Chuck thought.

Jean, of course, expected that sooner or later Mr. Frome would want to see her naked, and to have his way with her. She was not a stranger to extramarital sex, having had two, one night flings in the last three years. She was confident that she could control this Mr. Frome. The truth be known, she was sort of looking forward to having sex.

In his room, the Prince, injected his cock with a steroid, as he had been doing for twenty years. He took a Viagra pill, which would keep him hard for three hours, on and off. Then, as was his custom, he took out a ruler to measure his magnificent member, while admiring himself in the mirror. He confirmed, what he already knew, that he was slightly shorter than eight inches long, and exactly seven and one half inches around. All women could take him, his doctor assured him. One does not perforate a vagina, which can pass an eight pound baby, with a mere cock. Oh, but it was his experience that the Southern American woman, who has been coddled in her genteel, protected life, was ill prepared to accommodate his magnificent member.

He picked up the picture of this Jean Duncan, taken in her swim suit the day before. His practiced eye measured the distance between her legs, and the length of her waist. When he was fully in her, he knew, his member would distend her belly outward. At over six feet tall, and close to three hundreds pounds, his body would cover her, pinning her down, as his ass did it's work, driving his member into her. It was time.

Chuck, Betsy, and Jean suspected when the bodyguards approached them that something was up. (Excuse the pun.) They were taken to the third bedroom, which had two large beds, separated by a chair, as well as sex swings and dungeon equipment.

"Please undress."

When they had done so, Chuck was lead to the chair. He was strapped in so that he could not move his legs, and his arms were outstretched so that they lay on the beds with his palms up.

Mr. Frome stood smiling before them, fully dressed. "My good Mr. Gibson, this is what is now going to transpire. I will place on your head a blindfold, as well as a "Bose" Acoustic Noise Canceling Headset. Through the headset, we will play an opera sung by Charlotte Church, the wonderful young girl from Wales.

Your Mother-in-law will be tied on one bed, with her hand touching yours, and your wife will be tied on the other, so that she can remain in the room, as she requested. Her hand will also be touching yours. That way you will know that they are both well."

Weird as hell, but so is this guy, thought Chuck. What-to-fuck? Jean is going to get fucked, but I can't watch.

A few moments after the music started, Chuck could feel a hand rest on each of his, but he could not tell, which was Betsy, or which was Jean's.

The Prince entered wearing a red silk robe. He ignored Betsy, who had a ball gag in her mouth, and stood next to Jean, who looked up at him with a worried, quizzical expression..

"It is I who will have you first this afternoon. I expect that you and your daughter will provide enough exercise so that I will sleep soundly this evening."

"My daughter is not part of this. She should not even have suggested coming."

"But she is here. We will treat her well, but first, it is time for you to entertain me."

The robe was removed and tossed to another chair. The Prince stood a few inches from Chuck, as he stroked his member. Jean had never seen such a thing. She reacted by clutching Chuck's hand, as she dug in her heels to twist and turn in a panic, but her arms held her in place.

It was now fully engorged, pointing slightly upward. A Butterfly vibrator had been placed on both women's pussy. With one hand, the Prince dialed up medium speed on Jean's

Jean's eyes went wild. Now she knew. Oh, God, she knew. Whoever this guy was, he knew just what he was doing. And there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fuck her with THAT, as long as he damn well pleased.

Betsy tried to scream out to her mother. She too twisted and turned, trying to escape the bonds.

What-to-fuck is going on, thought Chuck. Both the women were clutching his hand, as they made their bed shift with their movements.

Jean's heart was pounding. The damn vibrator on her clitoris was making her thrust her ass and open her legs, but her mind said to clamp her legs together. The result was what the Prince had seen so many times before, her legs would open wide, and then shut, then open again, while she panted from the excitement. All caused by just the sight of his member, and the vibrator doing it's work to swell her pussy, wet it, readying it for him.

Tears filled her eyes, as her legs moved apart, as she thrust up at the machine on and in her pussy that was bringing on an orgasm that she did not want, could not control. She knew that he would take her now, that her body would accept him. Jean closed her eyes, accepting her fate.

She felt him knee walk between her legs as she pumped at the Butterfly as her orgasm was shaking her body. It was removed. His cock was at her entrance. His body covered her, forcing her small legs out to the side.

His chest forced her head to turn to the side. In no hurry, he maintained a downward pressure. Jean could not prevent his member from easing slowly down her wet, tender, now so sensitive cuntal tunnel.

Betsy was straining upwards, as best she could, to watch the man's cock enter her mother.

Chuck felt the second person crawl on the bed to his left, and could feel the right bed move. The hand to his left relaxed, when Jean gave up. But then, as the Prince bottomed in her, while not fully in her, he started to power the thrust of his cock deeper. The result was the hand griped Chuck's tightly, and the bed started to move up and back in a motion that can only be caused by a man powering his cock into a woman.

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