Tudor Sex: Katherine, Arthur, and the elder Henry.
By: Adriana M
Tags: Erotica Series, Sex, Historical Fiction, Erotica, Tudor Sex

Image by Klaus Hausmann from Pixabay

Katherine stared out the window, lost in thought. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her breasts tight against her bodice as she took a deep breath. Her brief marriage to Prince Arthur Tudor had ended abruptly, though not surprisingly, with the sickly boy’s death. She was supposed to be a widow in mourning, yet her body had a different opinion. Her short marital experience had not been enough to create an attachment to her late husband, yet it had sufficed to awaken her to the desires of the flesh. She was not quite sure if the one time fumble she had with Arthur between the sheets did away with her virginity or not. She had felt nothing but a brief sting; then the prince had spilled hot, milky juices over her stomach.

His infirmities kept him from trying again for fear of exertion, so a few nights, they had only laid in bed, him caressing her breasts, her touching his cock until his release would come. Due to his fragile health, Katherine had not dared ask her husband to reciprocate her caresses, so after he fell asleep, she would experiment with her fingers, discovering a lot about her points of pleasure. Alas, the prince never recovered, and a few weeks later passed. Katherine was left in utter uncertainty, not Princess of Wales anymore, neither was she an Infanta of Spain. Moreover, her body was left teased and eager, a half virgin of sorts, and a horny one at that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of her father-in-law, King Henry the VII. The dowager princess fell into a curtsy.

“Your Grace,” she said in her Castillian accent.

That sound made the king’s dick spring up. He was now a widower too. The loss of his beloved queen Elizabeth had been devastating. Still, he was now considering the possibility of finding consolation by having his cock squeezed in between the tits that right now threatened to spill from the Spanish princess’ cleavage. The Spaniards taught women to bow very low, and he had always found that enticing: it put a woman’s mouth at the ideal height to suck a cock. King Henry indulged for a few seconds in the thought of his prick bouncing from mouth to tits and back again.

Katherine lifted her gaze, searching the king’s face, but a big tent in his breeches obstructed her view. Had she lifted her gaze a tad more, her nose would have brushed the hidden snake. The princess blushed prettily, ashamed of the moisture that pooled between her legs at the sight of her father-in-law’s manhood. She should not want it to be firm for her. She should not yearn to be taken by an older, experienced man that probably knew his way around a woman’s body quite well. But what could she do? After all, if the king of England were to release his cock right now and order her to take it deep in her cunt, how could she deny her lord and master? Rumors had reached her that the older man might choose to take her as a second wife.

The king was also considering another option: giving her to his youngest son Henry, who was now the Prince of Wales. Henry was a beautiful adolescent, grown for his years, and already experienced with women. Katherine tried to reproach herself for her sinful thoughts, her mind jumping between conflicting desires: spreading her legs for an older, expert lover or riding a young, hungry stallion.

“Do you want my son Henry as your husband, Katherine? Do you want to be once more princess of Wales and then Queen of England?” The king’s voice startled her, almost making her face bump into his cock.

“If your majesty so desires,” she responded demurely. The king did not fall for her act.

“The daughter of Isabel of Castille, shrewd as her mother. Of course, you want to marry him. Put your son on the throne as king after him. Very well, then. Give me what I want, and I will give you what you want.”

“Sire?”

He released the hardened prick. It bounced in front of her face. She looked up, stunned.

“We need to protect what’s left of your maidenhood. I cannot fuck your cunt; if I put a baby in your womb, I will have to return your dowry. But I can get pleasure from you. With no risk of unwanted outcomes,” he said, caressing her lips with the wet tip of his cock. “Please me, Katherine, and I will grant your wish.”

Shrewd indeed, the princess did not hesitate. She opened wide to take the royal prick whole in her mouth. The older man moaned, lacing his fingers roughly in her hair, making her head bob up and down hard and fast. It was too much too fast, but the young widow was resolute. She would gladly choke on that cock if that made her queen. The king fucked her face hard, relishing in the gagging sounds, one hand reaching down to pull one tit from her bodice, pinching the nipple hard.

“Fuck, like that, just like that, you whore. If you want my sons one after the other, you squeeze me with that velvety throat.”

Katherine made an effort to relax and took the thick meat piece balls deep, nose touching his pubes. The man shook like a leaf as his prick pulsed inside the girl’s throat, filling her belly with load after load of cum. He pushed her away. The princess fell on the floor, gasping for air, spitting a mix of drool and jeez.

“Good girl. You make sure to please my son just like this. You will have your wedding.”

“When?” she demanded, wiping her mouth, one tit still hanging out.

The king turned and slapped her insolent face.

“Whenever I say so, you cunt. Maybe I want to fuck your throat for a while before I give you a fucking throne. What do you say?”

Katherine fumed but kept her eye on the prize. If he was going to do that, she could trick him into pleasuring her too.

“As you wish, my lord.”

“Atta girl,” he responded, satisfied.