Morag - Cover

Morag

Copyright© 2004 by Kaffir

Chapter 13

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - A young woman discovers that with love sex really is alright after all but it needs an older man to show her.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Spanking  

Normally when I go away for the night I don't have any problem about packing for it. This time I did. Morag was going to cook 'dinner' not just 'supper'. What should I wear? I wished, for a moment, that I was an American. Their dress codes are so much simpler. Casual? Smart casual, whatever that was: tie or no tie? Just casual: jeans and a tee shirt? Semi-formal: definitely a tie, sports jacket? I knew that Morag could carry off the most formal attire and still stand out in the most casual and yet "Dinner" seemed to have a more formal note. She had said dinner and not supper. In the end, possibly age was an ingredient; I plumped for jacket and tie. With the warm weather I could always dispense with the jacket and pull off the tie at a moment's notice. I also reckoned on a complete change of clothes to meet my beloved. She wouldn't give a damn what I was wearing, even though I would try to look attractive and please her. On the other hand she would certainly not want to meet me reeking of another woman, much as she loved her.

I drove up to London in a high state of excitement. In less than twenty-four hours I would have my beloved back, my queen. I was also going to see my princess who was going to be welcomed by my queen.

Like a love-besotted youth I arrived early so had, as I'd often done twenty plus years before, to drive round the block killing time.

At five past seven I rang the bell.

"James?"

"Yes, Princess!"

"Press the button and come up to the second floor."

"Very well, your Highness!"

I was teasing but when I stepped out of the lift I realised I'd been right.

She was waiting for me at the door of her flat. She was dressed in a long form-fitting cream dress. From her left shoulder was a green sash that hung loose behind her. On her sash just forward of her shoulder was a huge circular brooch. On her head was a tiara and her beautiful dark hair flowed over her shoulders.

I stood utterly speechless, stunned by the beauty of my princess.

She did a full court curtsey.

"Please come in, your Majesty."

I entered in absolute silence, still stunned by this vision of beauty and, for that matter, regality.

She closed the door behind me.

"Welcome, Sire!" she said and offered me her hand.

I had to do something instead of acting like a complete goof. I took her hand, bent over it and kissed it.

That was it. With a cry of "Darling" she launched herself at me and wound her arms round my neck smothering me with kisses.

Abruptly she pulled away from me.

"Is that alright, Sire? she asked.

My power of speech came back to me, and a bit of common sense.

"Yes, my darling princess! You look stunningly beautiful and magnificent as well. So much so that I was speechless. And what a welcome! That you should dress yourself like a princess, welcome me like a king and then show me your love. Darling princess, thank you. I love you and now I'm reduced to speechlessness once more."

Her face lit up. Her eyes changed from a sparkle to a glow and she radiated beauty from her depths. Then abruptly her face changed and she became demure except that her eyes were sparkling with fun.

"Please be seated, Sire," she said. "Would a whisky and soda please your Majesty?"

"Yes, madam, it would." I said playing along with her.

She went and got one and kneeling presented it to me. I took a sip.

"Perfect and thank you, your Highness!" I said.

"With your permission, my Liege!" she said and immediately began to unzip my trousers and pull out my cock that was so surprised that it didn't have time to react.

She took it in one hand and stroked it gently with the other before bending forward to kiss the end.

"Welcome to you too, King Willy! I shall enjoy renewing our acquaintance later."

With that she replaced it and zipped me up again.

"Right, my darling James! That's the formalities over. Dinner in about half an hour! So close your mouth. Relax. Have another suck at your drink and then talk to me."

She sat back on her heels with a loving smile on her face while I tried to do as she said.

I put my drink down and, taking her hand, patted the sofa beside me. As she sat I took her other hand.

"You are amazing, my darling. You are a complete change from the girl you were a week ago. You were beautiful then but now you are utterly stunning. Last week you were withdrawn and only showing glimpses of your fun side. Now you're brimming with happiness and confidence and your beauty positively radiates."

"And it's all due to you."

"No, princess, it's not. I merely showed you that making love is wonderful and that sex with love is nothing to be afraid of. You've done the developing and the blossoming and that shows the depth of your character. I'm very proud of you and you should be just as proud of yourself."

"Thank you, darling. I don't entirely agree but I won't argue." She pecked the tip of my nose. "Anyway we're starting to get soppy so let's change the subject."

"OK! Where did your beautiful clothes come from?"

"Well the dress is actually mine. My parents threw an eighteenth birthday party for me and this was my dress. The sash came from a material shop and I did a bit of sewing. The brooch and the tiara are on loan from the Royal Opera House wardrobe."

"What?"

"I have a friend who works there and owed me one."

"Brilliant! As I said, you look absolutely stunning. I am very, very flattered."

"Thank you."

"Any more trouble with that bloody Charlie?"

"No, he's going round with his tail between his legs and avoiding me. Sam gives him a quick verbal every now and again just to keep him in his place. Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to chuck the job in a month's time and go and spend a couple of weeks with my parents. After that I'll come back here for a week and sort things out before starting at Bristol."

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