A Jolly Good Christmas Eve

Story Title: A Jolly Good Christmas Eve

Author’s Name: Gelding

Content Codes:  FF, FFf, cons, fist, oral, preg, inc, inter

Celebs:  Kate Middleton, Pippa Middleton, Ellis George

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Kate Middleton, Pippa Middleton, Ellis George or any others named in passing. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. This story means no harm.

“I say, Pips! The best thing about Christmas is getting a little break from one’s child. It’s so much work being a mother, especially with another on the way.”

The bath tub of Apartment A1, Kensington palace was large enough for gallons of hot, steamy water, soapy bubbles, and both the Duchess of Cambridge, known widely as Kate, and her sister, Philippa Middleton, known widely for her arse, and called Pippa.

“What do you mean, Kate?” asked Pippa, stretching back through the suds for a festive glass of port, and the other half of a low fat mince pie from the Harrods hamper. The famous luxury store had somewhat fallen out of favour in royal circles for the period when the former owner had repeatedly claimed the fuggin’ Duke of Edinburgh’s personal involvement in the Paris business, but now the august emporium was firmly under the control of the Qatari royal family, it was once again filling the boxes of everybody from the Queen down.

“Well,” said the Duchess, oblivious to the narrative aside, “One just hands George over to the nanny and she takes him off to do all kinds of fun games, and japes, and then there’s a pile of presents for him in the morning that one personally had a chap sent out to buy.”

“Yes, it did seem a trifle cruel to choose the flunkey with the biggest white beard and ask him to go in red!”

The sisters laughed, amused by the mild seasonal witticisms.

“Still, it does rather make the point that you’re free of George tonight. Why, we’re completely alone on Christmas Eve,” said Pippa, and the statement was true except for the baker’s dozen of generic servants, skilled security personal, a butler, an actress researching a role and a soon to be identified and removed care in the community patient found throughout the apartment. Apart from that, though, they were all alone on 24th December – within the half-acre or so expanse of the bath room, there lay only two sisters, naked but for soapy water.

“Why, Pippa! What on earth could you have in mind?” Kate asked, coyly, massaging the small mammary mounds revealed to the world by frantically masturbating French cameramen. The Duchess of Cambridge’s breasts had been proffered by commentators as proof of her fantastic personality, and truly giving nature, because it certainly wasn’t through them that England’s future King noticed her. That Kate Middleton could truly be described as a beauteous English Rose had passed the tit obsessed gits by.

Pippa didn’t reply. Slowly sipping from her near full glass of rich, red port, she eased a foot under the water along Kate’s leg. Her toes wiggled against her sister’s inner calf, then her thigh, and stopped tantalisingly short of the smoothly shaven vulva of her sibling. The gentle lap of water mixed with the crackle of the roaring fire and the increasingly heavy breathing of the two girls. Certain that she had Kate’s full attention, Pippa stretched her foot so that her toes rubbed Kate’s most intimate skin. The Duchess groaned in a manner most wanton, her face flushed not with embarrassment but arousal.

“We haven’t got a lot of time you know, the Christmas Eve Banquet… for charity…” she gasped, but took a grip on Pippa’s ankle that clearly stated they had time enough.

Pippa worked her toes against Kate’s thoroughly English quim, though the warmth of the water hid from her the heat of the Duchess’s sex. The slippery smoothness was evident to her skilled, perfectly pedicured toes, and she eased the largest of them inside her sister. The Duchess’s eager moan was heard outside the bath room, but ignored by the staff who’d either heard it all before, or were listening to their apple products. As she worked her toes into her sister, Pippa thought back to her 16th Birthday, when the older girl had first seduced her at the family home, to the braying appreciation of the debutante crowd.

Kate stood, revealing her lust-swollen labia to her little sister, the lips parted to show the deep pinkness within. Above, the growing bump showed all too clearly that she carried within her the future sibling of her Son, Prince George. She had been offended by snide remarks that the child might be ginger. There was only room for one man in Kate’s life; her husband. Rather a lot more room for any number of simply scrummy girls, of course. The Duchess waded carefully across the wide tub, until she stood within reach. Pippa raised her hand, reverently stroked the bump of the Duchess’ belly, and then in the same movement dropped her hand and slid two fingers deeply inside her groaning sister.

“Oh, Yah! That’s totes amazeballs,” the Duchess drawled, slowly humping herself on Pippa’s probing fingers.

Pippa had two more inside herself, and her thumb upon her clit. Water splashed over the side of the tub from the rather vigorous motions of her arm. She marvelled at the tightness within her sister; Kate had given birth, dash it all. Clearly those pelvic floor exercises worked! Pippa was altogether looser, through a penchant for fisting and for the large anal beads that she had inherited from her Grandmother. They were truly beautiful as such masturbatory aids went, being of Anglo-Aaxon construction on the order of Queen Sexburga of Kent, they’d accompanied Lady Godiva on her naked ride and reportedly provided much comfort for Mary Stuart in her last years. Pippa wished she had thought to bring the well-used beads, to slowly ease out of her clutching anus as she frigged the frothing fanny of the future Queen. The fanny of all English ladies is found towards the front, for those readers in the former colonies.

“Do we have any toys here at all?,” Pippa asked, with a note of need in her voice that was really rather fetching.

“Hmm? I think nanny might have left George’s golly doll,” murmured the Duchess happily, missing the point.

“Never mind, dear sister, never mind. Look! That admirable chap Crichton has hung mistletoe above the tub.”

Pippa twisted in the tub, stood, and kissed Kate. As the senior sibling, by birth and rank, the Duchess pushed her tongue far inside Pippa’s mouth, washing over perfect teeth and muffling the shared cries of incestuous desire that had done so much for the European upper classes distinctive physical features and tendency to congenital disease. There was nothing diseased about Kate’s genitals though, and Pippa rubbed her knee into her sister’s groin with enough force to make the Duchess shudder with pleasure. Her own hand, stripped for bathing of its rings, cupped Pippa’s dripping quim.

The younger sister’s entire body jolted as Kate’s skilled hand manipulated her. She broke the kiss, and squealed piercingly, threatening the glass all about. One finger, two, three, she ground her knee upwards to spread her thighs and allow even more sibling fingers inside her. Their nipples, Pippa’s larger atop her fuller breasts, Kate’s smaller and unaffected by her first or even current pregnancy, rubbed together as they kissed, fingered and fondled.

“Gosh, you’re gotten really good at this, Pippa. Have you been practicing?”

“I spent a few weeks in the summer with Beatrice and Eugenie,” Pippa groaned back, kissing her sister’s face with urgent need. She could feel her peak, already close, brought closer by remembrance of the highly skilled ministrations of the daughters of the Duchess of York. Beatrice had had a penchant, extreme even in royal circles, for anilingus that perfectly complimented her sister’s love of cunilingus. Pippa had climaxed again and again, sandwiched between the two Royal slutty sisters as they ate her, and fingered each other to paradise.

Kate, hunched slightly, worked her fist inside Pippa. At the same time, she rubbed herself to a beautifully extended orgasm against her sister’s thigh. She thrust her entire hand up into Pippa’s guts with all the force of a surfeit of lamprey. Pippa came too, fisted to climax by the Duchess of Cambridge, her scream of ecstasy drowned out only by her sister’s passionate yell of pleasure.

They shaking sisters slowly submerged sensually in the water, sighing and sobbing, and petted each other with gratitude. The two girls only looked up when the door opened to reveal the actress on the research project. She wore the uniform of a lady’s maid, and had been carrying out the duties of the role. Though the security team and full time servants had assured her the screams were not of fear, nor panic, she had thought it her duty to check. Biting her lip, she looked form one smiling face to the other. 16 years old and still at stage school when not dressed as a maid, her name was Ellis George.

“We’d best make sure she doesn’t talk about this sort of thing,” declared Kate, knowing that one thing that really muffled words was a Duchess’ muff.

“Yes,” said Pippa, firmly, “You, girl! Get that uniform off, and get in here, or I’ll spank your bottom until it’s red, uh, dark red!”

Ellis didn’t need telling twice. Having lost her virginity to Jenna Coleman on the set of Doctor Who, as a sixteenth birthday treat, the black British teenager had been aching and eager for more lesbian experimentation. She half believed it to be the requirement of any good acting job, though was street smart enough to realise Jenna had been joking.

She stripped from the maid’s outfit in record time, beating even the times set by the famously well fucked ladies in service to Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire in the 18th century. The petite girl virtually ran over to the tub. Pippa sat back down in the water, and motioned Ellis to sit between her legs. Ellis did so, and felt immediately the girl’s fanny rubbing against the ridge of her spine, just above her bubble-like arse.

“How cruel they were to make you work on Christmas Eve,” said Pippa, with her arm wrapped her arms around the eager teenager. Those tanned even in the depths of winter, there was a striking contrast between the far paler skin of her arms, and Ellis’ melanin rich beauty.

“I don’t mind, this job is good experience,” Ellis replied, spreading her legs for Pippa’s fingers. She wasn’t shaven, but the thick teenage bush didn’t faze the white woman. She rather liked the rough short hair against her hand, though she knew Kate would insist on shaving. It wasn’t 1970s England or modern France, she would declare firmly.

“You won’t have many experiences as good as this,” Kate told Ellis confidently, as she crouched before the teen’s upturned lips.

Knowing exactly what to do, Ellis stuck her tongue out and licked Kate’s freshly oozed juices. The taste of a Duchess was, in truth, no more refined than that of any common girl, but to Ellis it was still heavenly. The mistletoe high above surely made her kiss on Kate’s nether lips as valid as any other, anyway. Pippa had one hand on the teen’s large left breast, another working fingers inside the bright pink interior of Ellis’s fanny. Ellis was sure she’d have been just as wet without sitting in the tub, especially from the intense erotic sensations coming from the white woman’s quim rubbing hard into her back. She tried to concentrate on licking Kate’s pussy.

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant,” said Kate, only slightly embarrassed to remember the quote was biblical in origin.

With their duty of an appearance at the Christmas banquet fast approaching, Kate took a firm grip on Ellis’ frizzy afro and humped against the 16 year old’s face. Her pale folds smeared their sopping juices across shiny black skin, while the inexperienced actress licked and sucked as best she could. Even Jenna’s fingers hadn’t felt as good as Pippa’s, and she knew she’d come soon also. She reached up, slid her hands across Kate’s small baby bulge and held them there for a moment, before reaching up to fondle the Duchess’s somewhat-less-than-handful sized breasts.

Pippa hadn’t been left out. She had just the right angle to grind herself against Ellis’s back, and a really sensuous handful of black breast that fit firmly into her hand. She came first, crying out with stuttering pleasure that half-deafened the younger girl. Ellis found herself driven over the edge by the feel of Pippa coming against her, and she came too, screeching tunelessly into Kate’s quim.

The Duchess, for her part, felt the intense pressure building inside that always made the second orgasm of a good session far more pleasurable than the first. She ground her folds almost painfully hard into Ellis’s shining face, and then came with a forceful squirt that splashed across Ellis and showered Pippa too. It was only the black girl’s strong arms that prevented her collapsing into the tub, and she sank gratefully into the water as the aftershocks buzzed her from breasts to quim.

“Jolly good show, young lady, you’d go far if you stayed in court.”

“Yes indeed,” said Pippa, “we’ll have to make the most of you while you’re here.”

An hour later, primped, primed and ready for the banquet, Pippa and Middleton took one last look in at the bedroom. Ellis George was still naked, tied with silken ropes in a spread-eagled position. A large Chrisstmas bow was tied loosely across her belly, shiny red against dark skin. The gag in her mouth muffled the cries she made. Not of fear, or pain, but of wanton lust from the large vibrating dildo plugged into the mains and strapped firmly between her newly shaven labia, the rabbit-style finger from the side vibrated to either side of her clit. Harrods could deliver very fast when called upon. Smaller, battery operated vibes, were taped to her dark nipples.

“Now, you be good, you hear? We’ll be back in a few hours, and have you back home by dawn. Probably.”

The sisters left with a final joint chorus,

“Merry Christmas!”


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