The Prince of Sussex aka Prince Harry was sitting at a fashion show in L.A. At the age of 40 he was going bald like many redheaded men did. He was with his wife, she had a new line of fashion out. All famous people were doing it, Rhianna and all the rest. So his wife was in on it.
The catwalk was something he was used to, having attended various shows as a royal since he was a kid. His wife was bi-racial, but identified as black. So her outfit was being warn by a black woman who came out on to the catwalk. He had a slight hard on. She was wearing a fabric bikini that his wife had designed, the model was chunky, full figured. She had her hair in a mop of corn rows.
He couldn't see her eyes as she was wearing sunglasses. Her boobs bounced and jiggled in the confines of the cups of her bikini. Meghan hadn't fucked him for a couple of weeks. Some stupid argument had led to her refusing to have sex with him for a month, he felt like he was being sanctioned. Sent to his room like a naughty boy. Strange how he had turned to masturbating at his age, what was the fucking point of being married? Who gave the bitch the right to withdraw sex as some kind of infringement? Yes she had given birth to children, but was the idea of being married you both wanted kids. He had fucked up most of his family when he married her, she just ruined his relationship with the Queen then when his dad became King, well she wouldn't return to the UK.
He was bored feeling like, a balding handbag, at his wife show fashion show. The SHE appeared. Walking on to the catwalk as the black model returned to backstage. He felt blood rush to his cock, it swelled to the point he had to put a guide over his cock. She was a redhead, taller than the black woman, but with big tits. They bounced and swayed inside the cups of her one piece bathing suit as if they might burst free of their confinement at any moment. She wore heels and walked in them with a poise and grace he hadn't seen since his mother had last been alive. He was both horny and very sad. She had no jewelry on except for a gold chain on her around her ankle. As she advanced toward him he started to drool. The black woman was gone and now it was just the redhead.
Her hair glinted like copper wire. What he saw next was etched into his memory. He could almost see where nipples were as her breasts bounced, rebounded, jiggled and swayed with her movements. His cock was as hard as a wooden baton, his wife looked at him as he started give off a low groan. Her skin was white like porcelain and free of freckles. She had bright blue eyes set in a very pleasing oval face with high cheekbones. She wore no makeup but needed none. The ginger stopped in front of him, his wife and the VIPs behind them. She had a look that seemed to be directed at everyone, she had a smile on her lips like the Mona Lisa. A small, knowing smile that made her cheeks blush. Harry was groaning now, then her blue eyes found his. She winked at him! He was almost doubled over with the hard on he had.
He watched her turn and saw her perfect profile, the figure of a perfect woman white, black or whatever. Harry was going to blow his royal load. She paused showing serious side boobage and then turned. The thin strip of fabric barely concealed the white globes of her butt as she walked away. He was going to come, no woman had had such a pull over him since he lost his virginity.
"Excuse me" he gasped "very sick".
Harry ran off to the disabled toilet and locked the door. He worked the zipper around the bulge in his pants started jacking off. But instead of his wife's tanned face he saw HER face, the smirk, the ass, the tits, the eyes and orgasmed like it was his honeymoon. "AAAAHHHH FFFFUUUCCKKKK!" he moaned as he shot his load on to the floor. His wife was at the door saying his name, fucking bitch. She had denied him the right to fuck for so long, then she drags him to a fashion show where sexy women half his age are wearing next to nothing? What was going to happen? He thought about the great men he admired in his life. At least most of them had an affair once in their life. The models were at the after function, if he could pass a note to his friend. Maybe he could get her number or email, then he extramarital affair.
His left hand was still clutched in the throes of climax. THen he noticed it, the guide. He flicked through the pages and found her name. Anna Karenina, it had her Instagram page. Models like her started out as influencers, had website and even fans like groupies. Where do I sign up? He steadied his breathing and went out to face his wife and seduce a sexy redhead. He found HER standing there with the black model, the Asian one and the Latino one from Cuba or wherever. She was standing there with a poise and grace that would rival his late and much beloved mother.
She had just shown that she could make him come in a one piece bathing suit. Anna was wearing a light blue long sleeve knit crop top and jeans that looked like they had been sprayed on. Her tummy was a toned and flat as a cutting board. The swell of her breasts pushed into fabric but he couldn't see any nips, must have had a bra on. She was so feminine, her long flowing red locks were long and messy but Anna made it work. She could push the bangs out of her face with a delicate hand and look like she was walking catwalk. She was so natural she seemed to float above the other models, who looked like wet grass next to her.
She had a slight accent, models came from around the world. Hell even his own wife had an accent, she was an American. Anna had handed Prince Harry's wife a flute of champagne with something extra. She brought a gloved hand up to her face and stifled a retching noise. Harry turned to his wife. "You okay babe?"
"Going to be sick" she rushed off to the toilet.
"Is your wife alright your highness?" Anna said with her Russian accent.
Harry shifted has his cock hardened.
This, he realized, was a moment where you could turn left or right.
He felt so frustrated he just wanted to get laid. He spoke to Anna about his frustrations. She seemed concerned, for him and showed him a warmth and he had a feeling like he had known her for much longer than today. To someone walking past it just looked like a Prince talking to a peasant. She saw his wife coming back looking pissed and sick. Anna shook Harry's hand and then left. Harry noticed the handshake was more than that, it had a piece of paper folded in half.
His wife said she was ready to leave. He pocketed the note like a boy trying to hide porn from his mom. This is what this relationship was turning into, she had become a more dominating, bitchy mother than the one he remembered or wanted to be married to. When she had been such a bitch to the staff and they had leaked her actions the print media he had to choose, her and their children or his father's family, his older brother and a dying grandmother who would soon made his bastard of a father King?