American Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Wolf
Chapter 6: Sex Education
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6: Sex Education - Princess ‘Carrie’ Caroline disappears, but for Jim she becomes a visitor who captures his heart. They start their adventures, dodging the public, authorities, and then abductors. Her new life sex, swinging, polyamory, and some wild parties, all while building a new career. The princess, Jim, and new friends fall in love and enjoy unusual experiences and adventures. Much sex.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Royalty
As we lay in our afterglows from our latest round of happy sex, Carrie said, “Is it time for the late news? I want to see what they’re saying about me.”
I reached over to the bedside table and captured the remote for my bedroom TV. I flicked it on, and we waited for the news with the sound off. When the news started, I turned up the volume.
The top news story started and still was about Princess Caroline. ’Police report receiving several phone calls today regarding the whereabouts of Princess Caroline. One of those calls from the Fairfax area proved credible, police even retrieving a cell phone to augment their investigation.
’Based on that call, the frantic nature of the search for the Princess has been reduced. Police have reason to believe that the Princess is reasonably safe and acting on her own, although they would like to find her and will continue their search. Police plan to revisit many of the initial leads they had in the investigation, also believing that one of them may be the key to her mysterious disappearance.’
The story continued with erroneous and idle speculation about her whereabouts, and her motivation in disappearing. The news was making her sound a little deranged or intoxicated, but didn’t come right out and say that.
As the news story ended, Carrie speculated, “That sounds like the police will come back here soon.”
“You’re probably right. We need to do something about that. You’re stamp of femininity is all over the apartment now.”
“I could try to make it disappear – return it to what it was when I first arrived.”
“No, I have a better idea, I think.”
At nine o’clock on Sunday morning, I called my friend Paul. His neighborhood roots had always made me suspect he had some loose ties to the underworld, and I wanted to tap into that dark zone. Paul answered, and a few minutes later had agreed that I could come over to his place.
Carrie and I drove the ten miles to Paul’s apartment, but she stayed in the car enthusiastically playing a game on my iPad.
I went up and talked to Paul. “I need some fake ID. I’ll pay, but I’m very naïve about this kind of thing. I need a credit card which we won’t use, but one that should have a picture on it, and a Maryland driver’s license.”
Paul laughed, “That’s easy and not too expensive – about $500 cash. How soon?”
“Immediately, if you can.”
Paul nodded and slipped to the side of the room and made a phone call, talking in inaudible tones into his phone. A minute or two later, he returned and passed me a slip of paper with an address on it. “This is Micky-J’s address. He’s waiting for you. You owe me a case of beer real soon.” He put out his hand to bump knuckles with me.
I promised the beer, and soon we were on the road again, this time heading towards College Park.
Micky-J stood about as tall as a door and about as wide. He must have played football, no doubt as a defensive back. He looked nimble ... and dangerous. Nonetheless, he was cordial, especially after I paid him the $500 in cash in response to his request for up-front payment.
He had Carrie sit in front of two different drapes and wearing a shawl in a second shot. He took her picture a couple of times. A few minutes in front of a computer, the whirrs of a special printer and laminator, and the new credit card and license were done. Carrie had become Karyn Bishop.
As Micky-J finished and we made to leave, he said to her, “I’ve never met a real princess before, and may never again. It has been a pleasure helping you, and helping my friends. I wish you luck with whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
Carrie smiled at him, and then kissed his cheek after pulling his head down to her level. Micky-J blushed.
We stopped at a couple of weekend garage sales on the way home looking for an old purse and wallet. At our third sale, we found what we were looking for: a battered purse that had seen better days, and a wallet on the verge of falling to pieces. After paying a dollar for the lot, Carrie and I drove home.
I gave Carrie some cash to put in the wallet, and showed her how to display the license and credit card. I spent an hour on the Internet, and printed up some other cards on stiff paper that were typically found in a wallet. I also had an eclectic collection of small photos that helped fill out the wallet’s bulk so it looked normal for someone her age. We made everything look as though it had been in that wallet for years. Before going into the wallet, some items were put through some hammering, some soaking, a trip through the washing machine and dryer, and some more folding, bending, and mutilation. She filled the purse with some tissues, cosmetics, and several feminine products like tampons, and finally we declared the purse definitely belonged to Karyn Bishop.
Carrie stood in front of a mirror for a couple of minutes with the purse over her shoulder, the Redskins’ t-shirt, baseball cap, sunglasses, and her new tight jean shorts. She had great looking legs. She pronounced in a thoughtful voice, “I look so much like a normal person. This is so right. This is the person I want to be ... providing you’re there with me.” She turned and looked adoringly at me. God, her look of love melted my soul.
I came up next to her and looked over her shoulder; I put my arms around her and nuzzled into her neck as I copped a feel of her breasts. She turned in my arms, and we were kissing, and thirty seconds later we were stripping our clothes off so we could make love.
The sunlight was streaming in my large front window, painting a bright swath across my red-toned living room carpet. Carrie said, “I want to make love in the sunlight.” She pointed at a spot on my carpeting lit by the sun, “Right there!”
We did. We coupled up and did the dirty right there on my rug. Neither of us wanted to prolong the experience. I was afraid in our rush to finish that she wouldn’t have an orgasm, but that turned out to be far from what happened.
In our afterglow, we lay side-by-side, just touching and panting until our respiratory systems regained some semblance of routine breathing.
Carrie said, “Now we need to recover for a couple of hours; so can we go somewhere out in the nice weather for a late lunch? I’d love to eat outside for a change. Please take Karyn to lunch.”
I smiled and agreed. I figured I couldn’t keep her cooped up and hidden for the rest of her life. We dressed, and drove to a nearby Panera’s where they had outdoor tables. We went through the sandwich line, plus got our soft drinks, and sat just like ‘normal’ folk did.
I felt myself laughing inside because for me this was anything but ‘normal.’ I was sitting with a princess and every cop within a thousand miles was looking for us. Then I wondered whether I’d get shot, thinking I had warped the princess’ mind, and then I’d be dismissed as collateral damage.
Carrie did attract a couple of stares from people, mostly other guys. I worried that she was being recognized, but then detected just the roaming male eye that’d spotted a hot chick that they were checking out. With her great legs and shapely body, plus the red hair and tattoos, she looked extra special. She kept the large shades on, so I wasn’t too worried about identification.
After lunch I drove us to Rock Creek Park, and we walked along with our arms around each other as we talked. There were a lot of joggers, but no one paid us any mind.
Carrie asked, “Do you suppose those two guys back at the restaurant recognized me?”
“No, not as the princess. They just thought you were hot – the same way I do.”
“Hot?”
“A dish. Somebody desirable. Someone they’d like to ... make love with.”
“You mean fuck?” Carrie giggled.
“That especially,” I laughed.
Carrie opened up a new door suddenly, “When we were fucking earlier, you’d said something about dirty talk in response to some crude words I used. What did you mean?”
“Errr, this is going to corrupt you even more than I already have. Dirty talk is a kind of sexual foreplay, although it can carry on through the entire lovemaking act or be ever constant between love birds. It means using graphic words and painting pictures of lewd acts that turn you and your partner on. Often, what’s said is more alluring than what we’re seeing.”
“What’s an example?”
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