And all of it, all of it," he repeated, thumping the table, "was for naught because I would wake up each morning and try to think of something to do. ... will never be King, my son will inherit from my father. I have no talent for war, no talent for hunting, and I make a poor excuse for a drunk. Years ago I reached the point where even lechery was boring." Carefully he topped off his wine, then he belched."I kept asking myself why I continued. Why did I bother?" He smiled, but it wasn't a pretty. How we'd used the tour to catch up on each other's lives. How I flirted with him mercilessly the entire showing, eventually ending the tour in the loft, where Mike had bent me over the window seat and fucked me with abandon, making me cum three times in the process. How, while he fucked me, I told him of my cuckold husband, who's cock wasn't big enough to satisfy me. How I loved him for finding big cocks to fuck me. How when I went home after getting fucked by them, he cleaned every bit of. More

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