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So that’s decided, then.
There’s nothing left to do but finish myself off and join her on the beach.
It takes less than five sturdy pulls to my aching shaft before I come, with thoughts of my cock nestled in that magnificent cleavage. I close my eyes and think of my seed spilling all over that luminous, freckled skin. Then my thoughts switch to Kala’s mouth, envisioning her lips wrapped around my length, sucking me dry.
Other thoughts intrude on this fantasy. Why put it in her mouth when you can kiss those lips instead…when you can feel her strong legs wrapped around you while you pump into her softness. But what if I got her pregnant? What if…
What. In. The. Hell?
I’ve never looked at anyone with thoughts of impregnating them. It’s never been a turn-on. But here I am, yanking it to thoughts of putting it in her. Spilling my seed inside her, gripping those hips, burying my face in her neck, feeling her nails dig into my back, feeling the grip of her sex milking my shaft. Filling her up with my cum as I thrust, painting her inner walls with my spend. Giving her my baby. Giving herourbaby.
I turn on the shower head and use the spray nozzle to clean my cum off the tile walls, disturbed by the places my brain went. I had a fantasy about Kala. About my wife. About getting her pregnant when that’s the exact last thing I want. Imagine the smug satisfaction on my father’s face at learning that a grandchild and heir to the throne was conceived on my honeymoon. His match would be justified. He would step down knowing that he chose this for me and knew what was best all along, despite all the years of us locking horns. Despite all the years of ignoring me. He could claim in his delusional mind that he knew me so well.
But I’d never bring a baby into this mess. We’ve agreed to a divorce.
So I can’t imagine why my brain even entertained that thought.
It’s just a simple fantasy. A fantasy based on physical urges and not much else.
My wife doesn’t need me groping her in bed, and masturbating to thoughts of her like a wanton teenager.
Kala needs a companion. A husband.
Now, what would a husband bring to his sweaty wife on the beach?
14
Kala
The bright sun, the blue sea, the white sand, and the lush hills are almost too beautiful to bear.
I wish I could share this moment with someone who likes me even a little bit.
Who knows who made the first move to cuddle last night. But that’s all it was, a cuddle that turned a little bit heated because one of us or both of us was having a sexy dream.
The beach is not as long of a run as I thought. It’s rather secluded, no more than half a mile in either direction. When I reach the north end, the rocky edges give way to a hill jutting out abruptly over the water, its cliffs rising about a hundred meters.
I scan for hints of a trail or footpath, but it’s a sheer climb and not for the inexperienced rock climber. That’s not me. I turn around and see the bodyguards hanging back, scattered here and there on the beach. There’s a fishing boat at the small dock. A kiosk where you sign up for hang gliding and cliff diving. A bartender putters at the beachfront bar. A few employees tend to the beach chairs. But no other tourists anywhere.
Is there some sort of code that people are supposed to sleep late on vacation? I check my phone, and it’s already 7:30. Back home in Gravenland, I’d have greeted a dozen other runners on my morning routine.
Well, no matter.
As I make my way closer to the resort, the concierge, Steffen, dressed in a Polynesian print shirt and khaki shorts, buzzes toward me in an electric golf cart outfitted with beach tires.
“Good morning, Your Highness! Is there anything I can get you?” Before I can say no, he hands me a tall, pink beverage with a sprig of mint leaves.
“You’re so kind. I don’t need anything, but what’s this?” I say, automatically taking a sip of it because it’s pretty, and I’m thirsty.
“Guava juice.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, it’s wonderful.”
He nods.
“Let me know if you or the prince need anything.”
Then a thought occurs to me. “Now that I think of it, I wonder if you can have the chef whip up something for the prince. He’s feeling dehydrated this morning.”
