Queen , Prince Together Forever #1

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Redhead

Queen Emma desperately tries to make sense of her dreams with her son, Prince Henry

Emma yawned and stretched herself awake. She had another disturbing albeit sexually exciting dream again last night about her son, Henry, again. Hard for her to believe, it took her a moment for her to realize what year it was. Returning herself to present day, it took her a moment for her to clear her head from enough of the dream to realize that it was 2014 and not 1585, the era she’s been dreaming about lately. If it wasn’t bad enough that she was dreaming about having sex with her son, she was having disturbing dreams of traveling back in time. She had no idea what caused her to have such strange, sexual dreams of her son and of 16th century England, a time of kings, queens, princes, princesses, knights, lords, ladies, and castles.

After thinking more about her recent, reoccurring dreams, she was preoccupied living more than four hundred years ago. What was that about? Seemingly some of her dreams made sense while several other of her dreams totally confounded her if not sexually frustrated her. As if more Déjà vu and not really a dream, there were those dreams that were so real, so sexually exciting, and so violently disturbing that she felt that she had lived through them before. Playing tricks with her mind, it was sometimes difficult for her to tell fantasy from reality and fact from fiction. When she wasn’t wondering if she had lived before, she wondered if she was losing her mind.

“Did I or didn’t I live then? Did I or didn’t I do that all of those sexual things with my son? With it all so real, I feel as, while living them, if I’ve already experience that and had incestuous sex with my son over and again.”

As disturbing and sexual exciting were her dreams, she didn’t understand them. Even with those dreams that she remembered more in detail, she couldn’t make sense of them. She didn’t understand why the suddenness of all of these dreams of things that may or may not have happened centuries ago? She had no idea why her realistic dreams and sexual fantasies suddenly took hold of her and controlled her mind.

Now that she was dreaming about her son while sexually fantasizing about having sex with her son, she couldn’t remove him from her mind. With her naked body always before him, his naked body was already before her. Maybe something that’s happening to her now in real life triggered something and is helping her to remember what happened to her in the past. Has she lived before? She didn’t know. Just as she was so upset by her dreams, she was so sexually aroused by her dreams. She didn’t know why she was having such dreams. Has she been reincarnated to live now? She had no idea other than she felt as if she was going crazy.

* * * * *

Evidentially hot from her warm room, from the erotic heat of her sexual fantasy of a dream, or a combination of them both, she had kicked off the sheet from her naked body sometime during the night. With her awake and still tingling from her sexy dreams, she felt even more sexually aroused that she was in bed naked. Only, she wished she wasn’t alone. She wished she was with her special someone. She wished she was in bed naked with her son, Henry. With her always dreaming of him as her Prince in her dreams, she was his Queen. She looked down at herself and at the shapely curves of her naked body. Unable to stop herself from wishing her son was there with her naked too, she wondered how she could make what happened in her dreams happen in real life today.

Sexually frustrated and horny, she was tempted to flash her son and to sexually tease him when he did finally arrive home from England to live with her again. Only afraid to make an ass of herself, fearing her remorse for flashing him and her regret for sexually teasing him, she wondered what he’d do if he happened by her bedroom and saw her sleeping naked in the way she sleeps now. As if he was there now at her bedroom door looking in, after giving him a good, long look of her naked ass, she rolled over on her back and parted her legs to expose her trimmed, auburn pussy to him. From where she imagined him standing at her open bedroom door and staring inside of her room, she imagined what he’d see.

He’d see her long, shapely legs, her pussy slit, and her bare, big breasts. If she rolled over again, he’d see her round, firm ass. In her dreams, she dreamt of him taking her vaginally and then anally, before taking her orally. Making her suck him, she offered no resistance and had no compunction about sucking his cock after it had been buried in her ass. In her dreams, he totally controlled her before she turned the tables and totally controlled him. After he had his wicked sexual way with his mother, she made her son her bitch. Obedient only to her, she made her son her sexual slave.

Assuredly, if she was any other woman but his mother and he was any other man but her son, undoubtedly, when walking by her open room and seeing her so nakedly indisposed, he’d look. No doubt, more than just sneaking a peek, he’d stop and stare. Assuredly, if she was any other pendik escort woman but his mother and if he was any other man but her son, he’d step in her bedroom and awaken her with his deep, wet kisses and with his slow sexual touches. While touching herself, feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples, she imagined Henry feeling her breasts and fingering her nipples. While lightly rubbing her clit and exploring the wetness of her vagina, she imagined it was Henry’s fingers instead of her fingers rubbing her clit and fucking her pussy.

“Henry, I want you. I must have you,” she said out loud and for no one to hear. “Come to me Henry. Come to your mother, your queen.”

Undoubtedly, if she was any other woman but his mother and if he was any other man but her son, acting upon the fact that she was in bed naked, he’d take her and she’d submit to him. Even though she’d be more than willing to give her son hot sex, playing her part as the reluctant mother, she imagined him forcing himself on her and forcing her to kiss him. She imagined him parting her lips with his tongue while exploring her naked body with his hands.

“No, Henry. Stop. You mustn’t. Please. No. I’m your mother and you’re my son,” she imagined saying. “We mustn’t do this. It’s so wrong.”

Only, how could something so right be so wrong? How could she possibly say no to him? How could she deny her son the pleasure of her body when they being sexually together through history was their destiny?

“Sorry Mom but I can’t control myself. You must sexually submit to me, if even just this one time,” she imagined him saying to her and her willingly going along with him.

If she was any other woman but his mother and if he was any man but her son, she imagined him walking in her bedroom where she lay naked. She imagined him staring at her breasts while feeling her breasts, fondling her breasts, squeezing her breasts, and sucking her nipples. While spending time with her big breasts, she imagined him reaching his hand down to finger her clit before sliding his naked body down to lick to comfortably position himself between her shapely thighs. If she was any other woman but his mother and he was any man but her son, he’d finger her pussy while licking her pussy. If only she wasn’t his mother and if only he wasn’t her son, she’d be so happy to have Henry as her lover.

“Henry, I love you,” she said moving her hands down between her legs as if she was holding his head in her hands while he licked and pleasured her with his fingers and tongue.

If she was any woman but his mother and he was any man but her son, she imagined him having hot, passionate sex with her more than willing body. Surely, even if she’s his mother and he’s her son, a hormone driven, horny, young man his age, at only 22-years-old, should definitely be sexually attracted to someone who looks like her in the way that she’s sexually attracted to someone who looks like him. Perhaps what holds him back from acting on his lustful desires and sexual impulses to have sex with her, whenever he was home for the weekend, was because she was his mother and he was her son. She really didn’t know why he didn’t take her but she suspected that negative aspects of incest was the obvious reason why he didn’t make the first move to seduce her.

With incest getting in the way of ruining her sexual good time, it was such a waste of time and energy to ponder such things that really didn’t matter to her. Truth be told, Emma didn’t care that Henry was her son and she was his mother. With her knowing for sure that she has already had sex with him in another time and in another place, she needed to somehow continue their sexual, love affair in the present. Yet, not ready to make a fool of herself, if only she knew that he wanted her too, she’d flash and tease him enough for him to make the first move. If only he’d make the first move, with her not strong enough to resist him and in the way that she so wanted him, she’d make every move thereafter. If only he knew that they were sexually and intimately together in another time and another place, maybe he wouldn’t be so reluctant about making the first sexual move on her now.

If only he knew it didn’t matter to her that he was her son and she was his mother in the way that it obviously mattered to him, she’d show him such sexual passion that she’s never shown any man before. She’d make him a sexual memory that no other woman could possibly match. Wouldn’t it be funny albeit amazing, if he wanted her as much as she wanted him? Wouldn’t it be funny albeit sexually appropriate, if he masturbated over her in the way that she masturbates over him? She wanted him. She had to have him. Being that she already knew what it felt like to be sexually intimate with him already in her dreams and sexual fantasies, she needed to know what it felt like to be sexually intimate with her son now.

She wondered if he lusted over her in the way she’s lusted over him for years. Glad that she was alone albeit feeling so sexually frustrated, sleeping naked with her bedroom door open was something that maltepe escort she’d no longer be able to do once Henry was living with her again. As usual, waking up horny, she was tempted to touch herself and pleasure herself with her pink, blue, or purple rabbit while thinking of making love to Henry. She so loved her vibrator that she had more than one in different colors. While masturbating herself, it was then that she remembered more of her dream. She had another dream that she made love to her son again. So very real, as if she had already made love to him over and again in a prior life, those were the dreams that felt more like reality than they did sexual fantasies. Those were the dreams that haunted her with inescapable feeling sexual frustration, horniness, and of Déjà vu.

“God, why am I dreaming about Henry in that sexually disturbing way? What’s wrong with me? How can I even contemplate having sex with my son but I can’t help myself. I not only want him but also in the way that a woman loves a man, I love him.”

* * * * *

Obviously working too many hours lately, she’s been taking her work home with her, so to speak, albeit in her wet dreams. Unconsciously while in her sleep, she worked her way through ancient history times with some of the historical elements of her dreams sometimes distorted, twisted, incorrect, and at times jumbled together. Seemingly every 500 years or so, she traveled to a different time and a different place. She recalled dreams and sexual fantasies from 1 A. D., the 6th century, the 11th century, and now the 16th century.

She remembered being so dirty. She remembered being able to smell herself in the squalor where she lived more so before she became queen. Before becoming queen and before living such a lavishly spoiled life, she remembered being so angry and ready to kill any man who so much as looked at her never mind touched her. Obviously to the demise of her husband the king, she had been saving herself for her son. She only needed her husband to give her what she really so wanted, her son. Where she was expected to have sex with her king, it was her son who gave her the unbridled, sexual passion to have sex with him. It was her son that she wanted and not her husband. It was her Prince that she loved and not her King.

Yet, sexually and excitingly, in every one of her dreams, no matter the place or the time, there was one common theme, a finely woven thread, and that was her son. Always, she was there with her son and always her son was more to her than just her son. Her son was her lover. In every one of her dreams, she had intimate sexual relations with her son. Whether they are real or imagined, the dreams she had of the past surely were remembered for her to explain her sexual attraction to her son now. Certain of the fact that she’s be reincarnated, perhaps not immediately remembering all of the details is something she must go through every time she’s reincarnated. She wondered if her son was having similar dreams about her. She wondered if her son was dreaming and sexually fantasizing of her in the way she is of him.

* * * * *

Employed as one of the curators at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston before traveling a quarter of the way across the globe, 6,500 miles or 10,460 kilometers to the Middle East, she accepted a job as one of the curators of the National Museum in Doha, Qatar. The ultra-modern museum is built around Sheikh Abdullah bin Jassim A-Thani’s original palace, his family home and the seat of the government of Qatar for 25 years. Even though she was not from that part of the world but obviously by her accent was born in Boston, Massachusetts in the United States of America, she was still considered for the job. She was so chosen for the position as a good fit because she was not only an expert in Islamic art but also fluent in Arabic.

Never thinking she’d be living in the Middle East, and with her now living here for several years, a place like no other, surprisingly, with her seldom missing her life back in Boston, she loved this part of the world. Close enough to travel to, a short plane ride away, she only lived about 1,750 miles or 2,820 kilometers from the Great Pyramids in Giza, as far as Boston is from the middle of Kansas. For some reason, ever since she was a little girl, she had a keen interest in ancient history, especially in the ancient history of Egypt. Now that she’s been having these dreams, perhaps her interest in ancient history has more to do with her being reincarnated in different places during different times than they do in inspiring her interest in ancient history.

When America bombed Iraq and Saddam Hussein’s palaces and Iraqi’s museums were vandalized, burglarized, and raided by thieves and those who didn’t appreciate and know the intrinsic value of the invaluable artifacts that they stole, she wept. With this part of the world having a history that transcends thousands of years instead of the mere hundreds of years in the way of America’s history, there was something magical and mystical about this part of the world. Now that she’s visited kartal escort here as well as other countries along her journey of reincarnation, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’s lived here before in another time.

Only more alarming than the dreams she’s recently been having of England’s 16th century castles, rather than dreaming of places and things, she’s been dreaming of people, real live characters who she imagined living with hundreds of years ago. With the dreams and sexual fantasies that she’s be having about Satan, witches, warlocks, wizards, dragons, kings, queens, knights, Lords, ladies, mythical Gods, and castles, she never knows what time or which place her dreams will take her. Some of her dreams combine with characters from one dream showing up in another. So colorfully vivid and so seemingly real, her dreams were so alive with action and fantasies, sexual and otherwise, that they filled her head with memories that made her wonder if she had lived another life before this one. In the way she regarded her son as her Prince and always dreamt of herself being a Queen, she wondered if they had been born to royalty.

“Whether then or now, wouldn’t they be all shocked, if they knew that the Queen and her Prince were having sex?” With not even the maid there to hear her, as she gave the maid the day off today, she freely talked out loud to herself. “If only I could have sex with my son without guilt, remorse, or consequences, I would, that is if he wanted me.”

More than her dreams being about snapshots of history and about her living prior lives, no matter the time or the place, in every one of her dreams, she dreamt about having sex with her son. As sexually exciting as it was morally disturbing, a reoccurring theme of her dream, she’s been dreaming of being sexually intimate with her son. Yet more than just sex, it was debauchery between the two of them. In every one of her dreams, with her willing to do any sexual thing with him and to him, she was his whore and he was her man. In some dreams, he sexually contorted her and in other dreams, she sexually controlled him while tying him to a beam naked in the dungeon.

* * * * *

A time so different from today, incestuous sex was not only prevalent back then but also having sex with your mother, aunts, sisters, sons, and daughters was regarded more as a matter of course rather than of exception. With less people alive on the planet, with little communication, and with limited transportation, mostly due to lack of roads and bridges, it was difficult to meet a mutual agreeable companion for love and/or for sex from other parts of the country. Aside from all the whores that roamed the countryside, sometimes the only available women were the mothers and sisters of horny men. Men who lived hundreds of years ago and who could die in battle tomorrow gave little regard to the guilt and remorse that they’d feel today while having incestuous sex with their blood related relatives.

Without having men of their own, widowed mothers gave way to the horny emotions they had for their sons while lonely sisters gave way to the sexual lust they had for their brothers. Without having women of their own, horny men didn’t think twice about having sex with their mothers, sisters, and daughters. It was just the way it was back then. Who was to know? Who was to judge, especially when everyone was doing it?

Understandably, in the way that Emma was so very sexually attracted to her son and with her always questioning her inappropriate sexual attraction to him, she couldn’t help but wonder now if they were lovers in another life. With her continually dreaming about him in another time and another place, more than curious but with a nagging interest to know the reason for her vivid sexual dreams that always involved her son, she wondered how she could explore the truth of her past. Not thinking of it before but with her now wondering about reincarnation, she wondered if she should be hypnotized or analyzed to reveal what may have happened to her in a prior life. Only, with Islam not believing in reincarnation, not trusting anyone to keep her sexual secrets, not even trusting a Qatari psychologist, psychiatrist, and/or hypnotist with her dreams and fantasies, especially where her son was the incestuous, sexual star, she kept her sexual fantasies to herself.

In thinking about another solution to discovering the reason for her disturbing albeit sexually exciting dreams, she wondered if it would help if a writer recorded all that she was dreaming and sexually fantasizing about for her to piece together her unconscious puzzle of dreams. Recently, she had met an American travel writer, Susan Jill Parker, at the café downstairs who was visiting Qatar while on vacation. What may sound silly to someone else may not sound so silly to a creative writer. Hoping to finally understand them by documenting them, the explanation of her dreams was important enough to Emma that she wondered if she could persuade Susan by commissioning her to record her dreams. So long as she kept her identity secret, perhaps she could even use her dreams and sexual fantasies in an erotic story. With Susan returning back to America in a week or two, safe with her secret, so long as she promised not to use her real name, no one would know her sexy secrets of wanting to sleep with her son.

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