Naughty Threesome

1904

"I missed you so, my darling!" she cried as he slipped beneath the covers beside her. "Will you hold me? I feel so safe and secure when I'm in your arms!"

"Of course I will!" He held his arms out to her, and she eagerly went into them. After months of separation, they were finally together again, for good this time. He'd been away fighting in a war. Not just any war, but the war to end all wars. As the leader of his country, he'd felt that his place was on the front lines with his countrymen, fighting right alongside them. Left at home to wait with their children, she'd often wondered whether she'd ever see his face, feel his touch, or hear him tell her he loved her again.

"My bed has been so cold and empty ever since you left," she told him as she relished in the warm softness of his touch.

"As was mine," he replied.

"Was it?" She knew that he loved her, but she also knew that he was human.

"Of course it was! Every day without you was pure torture for me. It was almost more than I could bear." His hand softly caressed her shoulder as she placed a soft kiss on the bare skin above the top button of his pajamas. Lazily her hand wandered the length of his pajama top, lightly grazing the patch of skin below its hem, then deftly pressing beneath the band of his pajama bottom.

Within seconds her fingers met first the stiff curls of his pubic hair, then the softness of his flaccid penis, which they slowly began to stroke. He moaned softly and raised his hips so that she could tug his pajama bottoms down and then off. She took his partially erect member into her mouth, using her fingers to massage his testicles at the same time. The musky, slightly salty aroma and taste drove her wild with passion, and soon he was rock hard.

They changed places, and his fingers moved beneath the silky softness of her nightgown to gently tug her panties down. She parted her legs to give him full access to her most intimate parts, and then his fingers were there, stroking her slick folds. They found her sensitive nub, and she moaned involuntarily.

"I want you, right now!" she gasped. He entered her, and she clasped him tightly, her fingernails digging into his back as he moved inside her, quickly bringing them both to fulfillment.

1874

It was the wedding of his cousin to her older sister. He was sixteen, still incredibly boyish looking with dark brown hair and solemn blue eyes. She was a slight girl of twelve, with wispy chestnut hair and pale grey eyes, delicately beautiful. He looked into those eyes and was immediately smitten.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Boris."

"Astrid." Her voice was barely a whisper as she smiled shyly at him.

There was a tragic air about her which he sensed right away but didn't understand the reason for until they were deep in conversation as they strolled the grounds of his family's palace.

"My mother died of diphtheria when I was only six years old," she told him. "My little sister died two weeks later."

He felt sad for her but didn't quite know what to say, as he couldn't really relate. Both his own parents and all his siblings save one were still alive and well. He'd lost a baby brother to meningitis once, but he'd only been two or three at the time, much too young to remember the sad occasion.

During her brief visit to his native land, he got to know the beautiful but sad princess quite well. She was intelligent and seemed mature far beyond her years. To her, he was the handsomest and kindest young man she'd ever met. They seemed destined to be together. Before she left, their initials would be inscribed on the trunk of a tree near the palace.

It would be five long years before they were to see one another again.

1884

She waited until she had his attention before timidly handing his diary back to him. Upon her much belated but sincere acceptance of his proposal, he'd given her the diary to read, wanting there to be no secrets between them. Indeed, she had found certain of his entries to be quite painful to read, although her love for him had never wavered.

She'd given him her own diary to read as well, thinking it only fair, although she certainly had no qualms about anything she'd written in it over the years.

"Why, certainly!" he'd responded, sounding both taken aback and delighted when she'd offered it to him. "I'd be honored."

"Your diary..." she said now as she handed it back.

"Oh, of course! Thank you." He smiled briefly, then looked a bit flustered. "Excuse me for just a minute."

He vanished into his study to return a moment later with her diary, which from the looks of it had obviously been much handled. "Here's your dear, sweet little diary back as well. To be honest, I do have to say that it is with great reluctance that I return it to you, although I realize that it is only right that I do so. Your words of love and devotion have brought me immeasurable comfort in my time of deep sorrow."

His father had unexpectedly fallen ill and died, and he'd taken it very hard. Her presence was the only thing that had eased his pain. Having lost both her own parents by now, she knew the grief he was going through. He'd held her diary close against his heart every night as he'd slept, wishing that he could hold her instead, but they were not yet wed.

1877

"Isn't she beautiful?" Boris' father, Ivan, asked his son. The two, together with Boris' mother, were at the ballet watching a performance of Swan Lake. The star performer, a tiny brunette named Sophie, was performing each step of the dance perfectly.

"She's quite attractive," Boris agreed, thinking to himself that Sophie didn't hold a candle to Astrid.

"I want you to meet her," Ivan continued.

"Father, you know well that I am not inclined toward such frivolities," Boris replied, somewhat indignantly.

"You are entirely too serious for a young man of your age," his father scolded. "A bit of frivolity may well be just what you need."

"Father, you know that I love Astrid and have no desire to be with any other woman but her."

Ivan snorted. "You are a young man of but nineteen, and heir to a vast empire," he said. "You know nothing of life. How well do you think the daughter of a lowly duke will be received by your future subjects?"

"It matters not what her father's status is. Her grandmother is ruler of a vast empire of her own, one to nearly rival yours, father, and besides that, she owns my heart."

"How can you say that your heart is possessed by this strange, cold maiden who has no social graces at all?"

"You misunderstand her, father. She suffers from sciatica, which often makes her life miserable, and more serious than that is the deep wound left by the loss of her mother at a very tender age."

"That is regrettable, yet you cannot allow her misfortune to become your own," Ivan said.

The performance had ended, and graceful, lithe Sophie was introduced to the royal family backstage. Her dark eyes gazed deeply into Boris' fair ones as he kissed her hand. Something stirred deep inside him, a sensation relatively new but not unpleasant in the least.

1906

It was a grand night at the palace. The massive vaulted ceiling of the ballroom was covered with chandeliers glowing brightly, and a long balcony stretched the length of the wall all the way around. On the floor, dozens of dark-uniformed noblemen danced with white-gowned ladies. Joy reigned in the heart of Boris, as tonight his Astrid would dance with him.

It was rare that his fragile consort attended such functions. The sciatica that had plagued her since childhood had worsened, and she now suffered frequent migraines as well. Even more significant was the burden on her heart caused by the knowledge that the life-threatening malady from which their only son suffered had been inherited from her side of the family.

Yet tonight she was glowing, her still-lovely face shining with happiness. As he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, she smiled a rare smile that sent a surge of love through his heart.

"Tonight I am yours alone," she whispered.

"As I am also yours alone," he whispered back. He scarcely dared to hope that they would be able to express their love for one another physically that night, but that was all right. He was happy just to dance with her.

On previous such occasions when Astrid had been unable to attend due to illness, he'd never taken any other dance partner save for one of his own daughters. Astrid herself had expressed concern over the situation.

"I would not be offended if you were to dance with one of the ladies of the court," she'd told him. "It is only a dance, and you have your public image to maintain."

"I have no wish to dance with anyone other than you," he'd protested. "My love for you matters more to me than does my public image."

"My dearest Boris," she said now. "How happy I am to be dancing with you!"

"I am even happier for the improvement in your health," he replied.

To his great joy, Astrid's strength never faltered for the remainder of that night, and much later, they made love with as much passion as they had in the early years of their union. The following morning, she looked about twenty years older and could barely move. He saw the tired way her eyelids sagged and it tore at his heart.

"Guess I overdid it." She gave a weak laugh.

"I'm so sorry, my darling." Softly he caressed her cheek.

"Will you stay with me, Boris? I feel so much better when your arms are around me."

"Of course I will." The leader of a vast nation spent most of that day holding his beloved tight, her aching head resting securely on his shoulder.

1879

Boris was devastated. He'd proposed marriage to Astrid, and she'd turned him down. With tears streaming down her face, she'd explained to him that she simply couldn't abandon the faith of her birth, as she'd be required to do upon marrying him.

Not that his father would have agreed anyway. Ivan's desire for the perfect political match for his oldest son eclipsed any sentimental feelings on the part of said son. The despair felt by the young heir was overwhelming.

Suddenly she was there, dark eyes shining, a brilliant smile on her face. "What troubles you, darling?" she asked.

"My beloved Astrid shall never be mine," he told her.

Her smile widened. "Do not despair," she told him. "Your little Sophie is here now." She kissed him open mouthed, and he didn't pull away. Her fingers lightly danced over his still fully clothed body, coming to rest at last on the growing bulge between his legs. Hot desire flowed through him like lava as he groaned, desiring nothing more than release.

Sophie knelt before him, busying herself with the unfastening of his pants. He moaned again, more loudly this time, as his throbbing, aching member finally sprang free of its constraints. Instantly the warm cavern of Sophie's mouth surrounded it, bringing him pleasure such as he'd never known before.

His back arched as he released into her mouth, and she grasped his bare buttocks, pulling him even closer and taking him deep into her throat. When he was spent, she stood again to kiss his lips. Slightly repulsed at the unfamiliar taste, he hesitated, but her hand was already stroking him, getting him hard once again.

Clumsily he fumbled with her clothing, removing her dress, fondling the soft peaks of her newly exposed breasts. It was the first time he'd ever seen a woman's naked bosom.

"Oh, Boris," she encouraged, helping him to remove the rest of her clothing. When they were both completely naked, they lay back on the bed, his body covering hers. She gave a little yelp of pain as he broke her hymen, but the only sounds that followed were moans and grunts of pleasure as they each yielded their virginity to the other.

Much later, Boris lay awake in bed beside a sleeping Sophie, his mind tormented by guilt. How had he given himself so easily to the ballerina? She was beautiful and had a very pleasing personality, but there was no way he could ever wed her. Her station in life was much too far below his own, and besides, his heart still ached for Astrid, the woman who could never be his.

1884

Astrid stood beside her beloved in his country's grandest church, exchanging vows. Only days before, poor Ivan's casket had sat where she and Boris now stood, and she had gazed down at his cold face with a mixture of horror and awe. Given the tragedies of her early childhood, the mystery of death had never been far from her thoughts, although in this case, it had led to the fulfillment of a dearest dream. Ivan, unwilling for his country to be ruled by a bachelor, had finally consented for Boris to wed the woman for whom he'd pined for so many years.

Astrid herself had shared that dream, never imagining what devastating news would come her way before its culmination. For all the years she and Boris had been apart, she'd kept herself pure for him, never even allowing the thought of another man to cross her mind. She'd truly believed that his devotion to her had been just as chaste, and the realization that it hadn't been had cut her to the core. Who was this woman who had cast such a spell upon her Boris, who had moved in and taken what should have been hers alone?

"It's quite all right," she had assured Boris when he'd confessed to her and begged for her forgiveness. "I realized that it's in the nature of young men to behave thus."

Over and over again, he'd assured her that his love was as pure and undying as ever before. Yet how could that be true, when he'd shared his body with Sophie?

"You may kiss the bride," the priest said. Boris lifted her veil and kissed her lips, their very first kiss. She knew that it was the happiest moment of his life, and it would have been hers as well, if not for that one dark smudge on the story of their love.

That night, her heart raced in her breast as she was alone with Boris for the first time. His lips were all over her, and as his hands caressed her still-clothed body, she felt desire well up inside her for the very first time. Had Sophie felt the same in his presence? Had his hands touched his first lover the same way they now touched her?

He unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor, freeing her breasts, and the next second, his mouth was on them, licking and suckling her nipples. They ached for his touch, and as his lips and tongue gave her pleasure beyond any she could previously have imagined, she felt a burning ache, a moistness, between her legs. Suddenly she wanted Boris to touch her there more than anything.

He began to remove his own clothing, and she wondered whether or not she should help him. As each article was removed, her heart beat more and more quickly, until at last he was clad only in his underwear.

"I...have never seen a man as he emerged from his mother's womb before," she confessed.

"Are you afraid?" There was a soft teasing lilt to his voice.

"A little," she admitted.

"Don't be," he told her. "There's no reason for you to be."

He grasped the waistband of his only remaining article of clothing and quickly removed it. Astrid gasped at the sight of what she'd only ever imagined before. He took her hand and placed it on his already fully erect penis, and she tentatively began to rub him there, marveling at the velvety softness of his skin.

"That's right," Boris encouraged her. He eased her onto the bed, then expertly slipped her panties down her legs and then off. Instinctively she parted her legs for him, and at last his fingers were there, exploring her most intimate parts and bringing her indescribable pleasure. He chuckled softly at her moans of ecstasy.

Unwanted thoughts of Sophie entered her mind. Had he touched the ballerina as he now touched her, hearing the young woman's moans of delight? Boris saw the look of concern on her face and misinterpreted its reason. "Please don't be afraid, darling," he said. "I promise, I'll be just a gentle as I can."

Despite his promises, she did feel a twinge of pain when he first entered her, although it was quickly replaced with a euphoria such as she'd never known before as she shared her first act of intimacy with the man she loved.

The following morning, Boris awakened to the gentle pressure of Astrid's head resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin a little. Memories of the previous night's activities came flooding back to him, and he embraced her tightly. For him it had been magic, the fulfillment of his most cherished dream. The secret trysts with Sophie, merely a distant memory now, were nothing by comparison. Although highly pleasurable, for him they'd been merely physical, the satisfaction of lustful cravings. With Sophie he'd never felt the emotional connection, the baring of his soul, that he'd found at last with his true love. He had to chuckle at the contrast.

The slight noise awakened his bride. "Boris?" she murmured.

"Good morning, my sweet." Instantly his lips were covering her face with kisses.

"Am I really here with you? It seems so hard to believe..."

"Yes, my dearest, we are finally together." His lips softly grazed hers as he gazed into her eyes with a gentle smile. "Are you all right, my love?"

"I think so. A little sore, perhaps."

"I'm sorry. It will get better."

How does he know? Did it get better for Sophie? She struggled to push the unwanted thoughts from her mind and relish the comfort of her new husband's embrace.

Life with his beloved Astrid was heaven for Boris. He grieved his father's death deeply, and her presence was the only thing that brought him comfort. Yet sometimes when he looked into her eyes, the love he saw there was mingled with pain.

"What troubles you, darling?" he asked her one day.

"Why, nothing!" she replied, unwilling to say anything that might spoil the perfection of their relationship.

"I can see in your eyes that something weighs heavily upon your heart," Boris said patiently. "Please share it with me, as I cannot bear to see you suffer alone."

"It's simply that...no matter how hard I try, I can't stop wondering what it was like with her," she admitted.

"Please don't concern yourself with that, my love. She was nothing to me. You're the only woman in the world whom I've ever loved."

"I believe you," Astrid replied. "And yet, I still have the burning desire to know exactly how it was between the two of you. I would like very much for you to have one more liaison with her, and for me to watch."

"What?" Boris had never been more shocked in all his life. The idea that his pure, sweet Astrid would have made such an outrageous suggestion was simply too much for him to take.

"I want to watch," Astrid repeated. "I want to see how she pleases you. Perhaps it would help me to know how better to please you. After all, you and she were lovers for far longer than you and I have been."

"I am well pleased with your lovemaking techniques," Boris told his wife. "There's nothing new that you could learn from her."

"Are you truly?"

"Yes, truly I am!" Desperate to reassure her, he was quite fervent in his insistence. "Our physical relationship has brought me true joy and contentment beyond my wildest dreams. I shall never have any desire to be with anyone else again for the rest of my life."

Astrid sat silently for a long moment, wondering what to say next. Even her husband's most persuasive words had failed to squelch her insatiable curiosity.

"Do it for me, then," she said softly after awhile. "You once said that you would do anything in the world to make me happy. Is that not still true?"

"Of course it is!" he replied. "If you're sure that this is really what you want, I shall contact Sophie and arrange for it to take place."

As he could have predicted, Sophie was thrilled at the opportunity for one more tryst with her former lover and didn't even object to the idea of Astrid looking on. She arrived at the agreed-upon time to find Boris and his wife awaiting her, Astrid in eager anticipation, Boris with far more reserve.

As Boris and Sophie began to kiss, it was like a dagger through Astrid's heart. She had to remind herself that this was, after all, what she'd asked for. As articles of clothing were removed one by one, and Sophie's bare breasts came into view, the young wife felt her own nipples harden.

Sophie gave her a friendly smile. "You may touch them, if you wish."

Astrid stretched out a tentative hand until it came into contact with the other woman's flesh. Seeing the look of rapture on Sophie's face, she slowly moved the tips of her fingers over the smooth skin, coming ever closer to the hard nub of the nipple. Eventually reaching it, she gently squeezed it between her finger and thumb, as Boris had done to her own nipples numerous times, causing Sophie to gasp in pleasure. As she did so, Astrid felt a sudden gush of moisture deep within her own privates.

In the meantime, Boris was fumbling to disrobe as quickly as possible, and as he removed his last article of clothing, Sophie grasped his fully erect member and slid it into her mouth. Boris gasped with pleasure as Astrid's eyes bugged out in shock. She'd never pleasured her husband in that manner before. As she watched in rapt attention, the ballerina's mouth expertly milked the monarch's throbbing organ until he was groaning and thrusting into her. She swallowed several times in quick succession and then released his now-limp penis, then smiled at Sophie, who was practically squirming in frustration.

"You look very uncomfortable, dear," she said. A moment later, her nimble hand reached beneath the hem of the consort's dress to feel her underclothing. "Just as I thought," she announced a moment later. "You're soaking wet. well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"

Astrid felt her heart pounding behind hear eardrums as her own clothing was slowly peeled away. "My, what luscious breasts," Sophie mumbled, expertly suckling each nipple in turn. As she did so, she gently lowered Astrid onto the bed and spread her legs wide, then expertly fingered the moist folds of skin at her center, lightly brushing Astrid's sensitive nub as she did so.

"You're all wet for me," Sophie whispered, then replaced her fingers with her mouth, using her lips and tongue to do what her fingers had previously done. Astrid cried out as she felt her orgasm wash over her, and Sophie inserted her fingers deep into the other woman's entrance, thrusting them in and out very quickly.

By this time Boris was rock hard again, and he began to thrust into Sophie from behind as she continued to pleasure his wife. Astrid was feeling so much bliss that she didn't even notice.

When it was over, a dejected Boris sat on the edge of the bed, opposite his wife, who watched him with guilty eyes. "I had no idea that in your heart dwelt the desire to be with another woman intimately."

"Neither did I," Astrid replied. "Yet the sight of you two together unexpectedly stirred up such desires in me, so much so that I needed release."

"I've always considered such acts to be highly unnatural." His eyes didn't meet hers.

"Yet the sight of her pleasuring me seemed to have aroused you as well," she pointed out.

"Perhaps it did," he said thoughtfully. "Yet I cannot banish the thought that what we've just done is an abomination."

"Why any more so than what you and Sophie did together in the months and years before we were finally able to wed, during which time my heart longed to be with you alone?" She was unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"That really hurt you, didn't it? More so than you were willing to admit. And you thought that what we just did would salve that pain. Did it?"

"Perhaps to an extent. Yes, I think that I am on the way to healing now."

"So shall we arrange for Sophie to join us again, or was once sufficient?"

Astrid considered the question. "I have never taken you into my mouth as she did," she said at last.

"It's something I've often desired, but feared you would find repulsive," Boris confessed.

"I also greatly enjoyed her mouth upon my womanly parts." Astrid wasn't able to get the words out without blushing furiously.

"That's one thing I've never done," Boris admitted. "But I'd be willing to try it the next time we're intimate."

Yet that occasion soon seemed unlikely to come, perhaps ever, as Astrid was stricken with a deadly fever. For many hours she lay tossing and turning in bed, delirious, as her devoted husband pleaded with God to spare her life. Eventually the fever finally broke, and the fragile consort fell into an exhausted sleep.

Hours later, she opened her eyes to gaze into a pair of very concerned blue ones.

"What happened?" Her voice was so weak that he could barely hear it.

"You've been dreadfully ill, my darling." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "So ill that I feared I'd lose you." Tenderly he brushed her hair back from her forehead. "Get some rest now, darling. Everything's going to be all right."

Over the next few days, he rarely left her side, gently urging her to eat to get her strength back. When her appetite returned, she discovered that she was ravenous. Boris brought her fresh vegetables and fruit from the garden, fish soup and rich pastries, and she ate them all eagerly. Soon the rosiness returned to her cheeks, the roundness to her figure. As soon as she was able, she began to go for long walks in the garden with Boris. On one such occasion, he picked a flower and gently tucked it behind her ear, then stepped back to observe the effect.

"You're lovely, my dear," he said softly, feeling the faint stirrings of desire in his loins. Astrid saw the hunger in his eyes and felt the flames of passion ignite within her own soul.

She was waiting when he came to her bed that night. "I...would like to explore the ideas we discussed before I was taken ill," she told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She responded by reaching for his belt, which she deftly unbuckled before unzipping his pants, then slipping to her knees and taking his member into her mouth. Hesitantly at first, then more boldly, she suckled him, reveling in his moans of pleasure. He began to thrust madly, then groaned loudly as he ejaculated into her mouth. She swallowed every drop.

"Ah, darling, you have brought me the most exquisite pleasure!" Boris exclaimed. "And now, it's time for me to reciprocate." His expert fingers swiftly undressed her, then helped her to lie back on the bed. She spread her legs for him, and he gently parted her delicate petals and ran the tip of his tongue up to her sensitive nub, which he gently flicked.

She cried out as her orgasm washed over her. Boris inserted his fingers deep inside her and swiftly thrust them in and out, causing her to squirm in ecstasy.

"Are you ready for me?" His voice held just a hint of mischief.

"Oh, yes!" she panted.

He entered her, and they had the most passionate lovemaking session they'd ever had. "It's funny," Astrid said as they lay cuddling together afterwards. "The woman I resented so bitterly turned out to be the very person I have to thank for adding spice to my marriage."

"I could have told you that there was no reason at all for you to feel threatened in any way by her. I never felt anything at all for her like I've always felt for you. You've always been my one and only true love."

A few weeks after that encounter, Boris arrived home one day from taking care of important business matters to find Astrid with her eyes sparkling with happiness. "What is it, my love?" he asked her.

"Just today I found out that I carry our child within my womb," she told him.

"Dearest, I love you now more than ever before!" he declared.

Boris and Astrid had a long, happy marriage. Over the years, their passion for one another never dimmed. Sophie's name was never mentioned again, but neither of them ever forgot the one encounter that had changed their lives forever.