Enough was enough. Kate had been growing increasingly tired of William's poor sexual performances. Sure, he's the future King of England, rich beyond belief, the ultimate catch and all that, but, when it came to the bedroom, he left much to be desired.
Especially in the way of penis size. He probably only measured maybe five inches when hard, and his cock was woefully thin. Plus, there was the matter of his endurance, or, better yet, lack thereof. Nearly every time they shagged, he prematurely ejaculated. The longest he ever lasted was perhaps two minutes. Usually he was in and out in around thirty seconds flat.
She figured maybe he could use his skinny little knob to give her a good comfortable bumshag. Bumsex was something she'd fancied enormously back in University, but, much to her chagrin, William never even attempted it with her.
One time, right before he was about to give her a usual boring missionary go, she'd flipped over and got on all fours, telling him to be naughty, thinking he'd get her implication, but, sadly, all he did was fumble around for a minute or two, trying to stick it in her pussy, almost slipping over a couple times in his futile attempts to put his semi-hard little cock in.
Exasperated, she simply flipped back over, laid on her back, grabbed his little prick and stuck it in, letting him have his standard less than a minute sleep-inducing fuck.
And maybe you'd think his cunilingus would make up for his penile failings, but he couldn't even do that right, either! The few times he tried, all he did was slurp away at her labia and outer folds of her fanny. Had he never heard of a clit? she wondered. Probably not. But it's not like he's got much work to do. He didn't have to be good in bed.
Although not necessarily blessed in the looks department, being a tad of a bucktooth horse-face, his being Duke of Cambridge meant that merely breathing on birds made them orgasm. But for Kate, well, it was like that at first; however, after a while his lack of sexual prowess became terribly tiresome. She needed a real man, someone to provide her with the sexual satiation she so desperately needed.
She started constantly daydreaming back to her past sexual exploits, which, thank goodness, William never caught wind of, particularly those times back in Uni. Oh how she missed her drunken sex binges back then, when she'd sometimes take on two or three fit blokes from the row team in one night, a couple times getting tag-teamed by them, a couple times tag-teaming a bloke or two with her sister, Pippa.
Things had gotten so bad that she'd taken to tip-toeing into the toilet late at night while William was asleep, locking the door, pulling out the dildo she hid in her feminine hygiene drawer, and sitting on the edge of their rhombus-shaped bathtub with her legs parted, fucking herself quietly, imagining back to those glorious chinwags of her Uni days.
Even though Kate had always enjoyed using dildos, especially monster-sized ones, she much preferred it when a bloke shagged her with one, rather than only shagging herself, and this late night routine of hers was getting old quick.
Ever passing day she became more and more fed up with the whole situation. It'd gotten far worse after they'd married, too. William hadn't even fucked her once since his pathetic thirty second go on that nauseating waterbed the night of their honeymoon.
She'd simply had enough of his skinny dick and lacklustre performances. True, she knew what she was getting into when she accepted his proposal. Wallet size definitely trumps penis size when it comes to matrimony, at least for her, but still, she craved more than her late night trips to the toilet to fuck herself with a piece of plastic. She wanted a real, hot, big dick attached to a strapping young lad. She wanted to get fucked the way she knew a girl of her calibre deserved. It was time to take drastic action.
So she decided to ring someone she knew could help, her sister, Pippa.
She knew Pippa would understand. Pippa loved dick and prided herself on being able to ride a different dick every night and take one in bum or (occasionally two) in the mouth during "that time of the month."
She and Pippa used to trade lads and tag-team them every so often. And yes, when they were drunk enough, they'd do stuff with each other, 69ing a few times, and there was that night a Greek shipping magnate's cheeky son got Pippa to fuck Kate with a strap on, but most of the times they'd just kiss and fondle, which always drove mad whichever bloke was lucky enough to be in between them.
However, Kate was a tad embarrassed to talk to Pippa about her problems with William. She knew how much Pippa fancied him and how she'd been trying to bag him right before Kate dug her claws in. Sure, the two sisters loved each other, but they still had a competitive spirit, especially around blokes they wanted more than a night of sex with.
Kate knew Pippa would feel vindicated knowing William was a skinny dick lousy lay. She knew Pippa would now feel as though she'd beaten Kate in some way or at least be happy to have averted the unfortunate fate of being both perennial tabloid fodder as well as the continual victim of premature ejaculations.
But whatever, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, one afternoon when William showed up to afternoon tea wearing his stupidest looking white jumper and those wretched plaid pants that always made her cringe, Kate decided to put her Blahnik-heeled foot down and decline his invitation to play croquet with him, the Queen, and Duke of Edinburgh, and instead ran upstairs, barricaded herself in one of her palace's secluded libraries, reached for her mobile and tapped on the "Pippa" speed dial icon.
"Hiya!" Pippa yelled out over loud music.
"Hiya, Pips. Where are you?" Kate asked, barely able to hear her over the blasting house music in the background.
"Hold on, darling..." the music began to fade a bit, "can you hear me better now? Just went down to the cabin... I'm in the Med, with Eduardo, the bloke from Majorca, on his yacht. We're having a right laugh. The whole pubcrawl gang from Uni is here. Wish you were too..."
"So do I..." Kate exclaimed with a noticeable sigh.
"What's wrong, babes?" Pippa asked, able to tell something was amiss.
"It's William. He's... Just..." She was unable to bring the words out of her mouth.
"I think I know what it is." Pippa responded, reluctantly. "It's his, hmmm, bedroom habits..." It was hard for Pippa to talk about, too, and with good reason.
"How'd you know?" Kate whisper-shouted.
"Listen, darling, before you two met, there... there was this party, and, he was there, and so was I, and..." Her voice trailed off. A moment of mutual silence ensued.
"You tart!" Kate again whisper-shouted, on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you. Especially since he, was, you know, but he's the Prince of England, not some yokel from the town pub who we shared back in Uni. And you were so smitten with him. And I still fancied him, too, for ages afterwards! I thought maybe he was just bad because he was drunk. And they do have ever so many penis enlarging thingamajigs now..."
The line went dead quiet. Kate didn't respond, but Pippa could hear her sniffling in the background, probably crying. "I'm terribly sorry, Kate..."
