This is a fantasy story and involves a fantasy version of Prince William that has nothing to do with real life.
At the end of a typical day, Mark Stratton would go to the gym to work off his aggression. To exercise, strain himself and push the limits of his body until - the idea was - finally, after a couple of hours or more, he could relax, be at ease with himself. He had to exercise with brutal regularity anyway, because of the nature of his job as hired muscle. Not the kind of hired muscle crooks rely on, mind you. At least not any more - though he'd had some pretty shady dealings and questionable occupations in his past. Now he was very much legit, and his employers were as above board as you could get. In fact his employers were crooks still, as far as he was concerned, but he didn't let it get in the way of his job. He, with an army of others, had the job of protecting the royal family from harm, and he did it to the best of his ability.
It was a defensive rather than a proactive job. Perhaps that was why he so often found himself looking for an outlet for his aggression at the end of the day. All that energy pent up inside, always at the ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. It could be damn frustrating, really, if that trouble never kicked off. And in fact it rarely did. And so he ended up taking it out on a punchbag in the gym, and then on practising his martial arts.
But the feeling that he was bursting with furious energy stayed with him even after several hours of working out. It seemed that rather than releasing it, working out just increased it exponentially. Of course there was no denying that working out had always turned him on, and all the more so when he was able to watch other men doing it too. There were some hot, beefy men at the exclusive gym he used, a lot of them in the same profession as him, and the sounds of their groans and the sight of their bulging toned arms as they lifted weights, fucking massive weights at that, some of them... it fired him up no end.
He'd have had the confidence to approach some of those guys if he'd thought it would have done any good, buy he could tell when a guy was interested or not and he knew none of these men were. A shame, because a bit of totally anonymous fucking in this horny setting might just have made the workout a success and sent him to bed relaxed.
Instead he went back to his flat at night alone. He wished Sean was still around, but his younger lover had left him for another guy some time ago. Yeah, he'd treated Sean like shit, but Sean had always been into that. And Mark had loved having that gorgeous young Irish guy in his home all the time, always available, always ready to make love. Sean had dark beauty, black hair, black lashes around bright blue eyes. He had a pretty boyish face, but a body like a man. It was muscular and defined, but not as much so as Mark's, and Sean was shorter so that when Mark held him close, Sean's chin had to rest against the slope of his chest as he looked up at him. He'd love to hold Mark close. he'd loved to mock-fight and wrestle with, both of them stripping down to their underwear and then to nothing as he playfully pinned Sean down and then passoniately rammed himself into him. And when Sean gave in to the pleasure, it wasn't playful any more. Sean lay foetal, his hands clutched together in front of him as Mark fucked, and Mark watched, with a curious dispassion in his eyes considering the urgency with which he pummelled his ass, watched and savoured the realisation of his teenage fantasies. This man. Mine. Miiiiiine.
Those days, for the moment, were gone. Now he went home charged up by the men at the gym, and found himself stripping off and looking at himself posing in the mirror. Fantasising about having someone here to see how impressively powerful his body was, and to submit to it.
There was one particular guy he always thought of these days. It was the prince. William. He absolutely longed to make that teasing man-boy his. The only perk of the job, being able to be so close to him. Not a lot of time for checking him out, but he had a usefully photographic memory.
He mentioned this one evening to Dylan Maitland, his boss, over a drink. The pair had been friends and worked together long before this job had came along, and knew each other's tastes pretty well. He suspected Dylan wouldn't mind having a crack at the prince either. "I wouldn't say no to a bit of William", he said. "I man I hate the family, but you know..." "Yeah" Dylan said. "I know what you mean. When a guy's sexy, he's sexy and you just can't resist" Dylan nodded. "And it's kind of a turn-on, all this sanctimonious crap. I mean, sometimes you just feel like you wanna give him a slap on the ass or something. I mean, why should we act like he's our superior? We're the ones protecting him" "Yeah" Dylan smirked, "So we should be able to feel him up a bit now and then" "Hey, it's the least he could do to repay us. We drop him off safely at the palace, he get down and gives us a bit of head. Fair exchange if you ask me" "Hmm. Not totally. It'd be better for him to get his trousers down and bend over" Mark leant forward over the table. "Oh man, now you're talking. Yeah, really show him what it feels like, huh? To get a man in him" He leant back again, blowing air between his pursed lips. "Yeah, that'd be hot" Dylan was lost in thought after that. Not surprising, Mark thought.
He went to the gym straight afterwards. No rest for the wicked. His fantasies about the prince energized him, and he was there for a good hour longer than usual. Blood and testosterone busting through his system. Imagining stripping the formal suit of that hunky prince and getting him to himself, making him into pussy. Hot... submissive... man... pussy.
He was aroused by the smell of his own sweat and didn't even bother to shower or change. He drove him in shorts, trainers and tight, sweat-drenched T-shirt. He knew he was going to wank long and hard when he got home, and wanted to keep that smell on him.
When he got into his flat, Dylan was waiting for him with a surprise. A pretty good one.
He found the prince lying naked on his stomach, on Mark's coffee table. His arms were folded in front of him, and his legs, bent at the knees were in the air, one foot crossed over the other. He was smiling suggestively like a whore. His body was oiled. It was glistening delicously with oil!
Dylan himself was standing only in black briefs, reaching down and stroking William's hair.
Mark was speechless, so Dylan spoke instead.
"Now, boy" he said to the prince, "This is your new master. You muts obey him as you would me" He turned his head to smile at Mark. "But first you need to get the scent, don't you, boy? Here, Mark, give me those shorts.
Mark kicked off his trainers and pulled the shorts off, finally grasping the situation. "Oh Dylan yes, you son of a bitch!" he grinned, throwing the shorts across to him.
Dylan snatched hold of them, turned them inside out and dangled them in front of the prince's handsome face.
"Here boy" he said, "Get the scent. Have a good sniff"
"Yes, Master Dylan" the prince said, obviously relishing being in a position of subservience at odds with his priveleged existence. He clutched the crumpled shorts in both hands and pressed them to his face, inhaling the strong odour of sweaty bollocks. "Mmmmm yess" he moaned, "So good, that man's smell..."
Mark had a rigid boner already as he heard those words coming from the prince's mouth, in the prince's voice. The degrading sight of him sniffing those shorts - oh yeah, and now sucking on them! - was fantastic. Oh yeah. Trust Dylan to make the prince one of his conquests. The prince raised himself from the table, climbing down from it and crawling over to Mark on hands and knees. Mark saw his fat dick swinging from side to side. "If I may, sir" the prince said, kissing at Mark's toes when he reached him, "I'd like to have a taste of the real thing". Mark tore off his T-shirt, staring at the prince's hot arse. "You may, boy" he growled, reaching down to put his hands underneath William's armpits and lift him onto his knees. William reached out to hold onto Mark's thighs and Mark took him by the ears and pressed that face against the underside of his dick before taking aim and thrusting himself into that eager, open mouth.
So wet, so hot. So expert. Oh fuck yes! The prince was an expert cocksucker!
And right here, on the dirty carpet of his own flat, Prince William giving him a blowjob... "Fucking suck that manmeat, boy! Yeah!" he hissed, watching as Dylan stripped completely and got into position to fuck William from behind. Dylan wrapping his thick arms around the prince's chest and, gently, slowly, up and down, sliding that mammoth cock up the prince's arsehole as the prince deep throated Mark's own burning penis. "Uhhh yeahh princess, doing a good job, princess, doing a good job..." Dylan muttered into the prince's ear as he buggered him and watched him suck, suck, suck... And now cum. Uh yeahhh... cummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm all the way down the prince's throat, the prince's face in Mark's hands as he came endlessly inside him.
They took him to Mark's bed next, carried him between them, one on arms one on legs. And when they dropped the prince face forward onto the mattress, he reached round for his butthole and pulled it wide open. "Fuck me, Mark" he gasped, the strong hunky young prince.
Oh yeah*. Hold your big cock in front of you. Picture the ( O ) of that anus only inches away.