My Times with Charles and Camilla

By Susan Greenway

[This story is entirely fictional. Although there's been an effort made to capture the character of the narrator, I've never met her and have no special knowledge of her. This piece does feature plenty of sex, discipline, and bodily functions, so if those are not subjects you find compatible with your interests, please read no further. All characters are over 18. The principal characters in this story are well-known figures; suffice it to say again and firmly that the story is indeed fiction and that any resemblance here to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.]

I've always had a close relationship with my brother Charles, and our rapport has remained close despite the two huge changes in his life: becoming King and marrying Camilla. I'm only three years younger than he is, which makes me 72, and I've also been married and divorced. Today, it seems wild that my mum probably ruined her sister Margaret's life by forbidding her to marry a divorced man who happened to be the perfect match for her. And way back in 1936, my great-uncle David--Edward VIII, then the Duke of Windsor--gave up his throne to marry a divorced woman.

Charles has always turned to me for advice, and I've always been happy to provide it. This was emphasized in that series, The Crown. There were a lot of errors in that series, but I felt I was portrayed fairly, so I'm not complaining about it at all.

I was the closest of my siblings in terms of our relationship with my father. Even though I was his only daughter, we seemed to get on better than was true of his three sons and him. It might have been that I remain the best equestrian of all of us, with Olympic medals to prove it, and that's something my dad respected.

I've never been very jealous of Charles because he always had a bit of a rough ride growing up as The Heir. Unlike him, I like roughing it and I'm a good athlete besides my riding skill. Charles does play polo, but I suspect that no one in the royal family really shares my enthusiasm.

Charles was pleased with whatever advice I gave him because I liked Camilla and hoped he would end up with her, which he has. Although we had nothing in common, I didn't dislike Diana. She was fantastically good at what she wanted to be, and during her time as Princess Di, nobody could have done it better. I never had the heart to tell my brother than she left him in the dust, but I know he was clever enough to figure that out himself.

You know how uptight we English are, and we royals are even tighter. I never would ask him about what sex was like with her, although they must have done it since they did have children. I give her credit for how well they became as adults. Harry has made rather a mess of things, but that's because we were never close enough for me to give him some tips. I do think he means well, but he does have this capacity to insert his foot into his mouth, alas.

I do think I saved Charles from some troubles he might not have avoided were it not for me. God, do I wish he had spoken to me before he mouthed off that embarrassing idiocy about wanting to be Camilla's tampon. Maybe that could have been squelched if I'd let him have it off with me during my period. He'd have seen that even the monster-sized super plus tampons I used were hardly the size of his cock.

And on that subject, he has a nice-sized cock. I'm sure he can satisfy Camilla. In fact--oh, I'll tell you about that later on.

He and I started doing the nasty when we came of age at 18. My other two brothers weren't ever involved with us a lot. I don't know how Andy got involved with that horrible Epstein creature, but he really took a dive when he tried to bluff his way out of it with the Beeb. Poor Andy. He's more of a nonperson that the Duke of Windsor was, and it's a shame that he broke up with Fergie, who really was just right for him--which as you can guess isn't a compliment.

Diana was a star, and I respected her for being what I wasn't. I got a reputation as a hard ass, which I didn't resent all that much. She was gorgeous and I was sort of horsey, which I suppose was appropriate. She wasn't taking a long view, though, which was sad because she would've made a great queen. She did outshine Charles, which isn't that hard if you're as beautiful and cool about it as she was. He had the right idea about Camilla, but he hesitated long enough that she went and found a husband.

This led to his having a barely concealed liaison with her, in the tradition of our randy ancestors like Edward VII. Since he was hardly a romantic ideal, no Cary Grant or Laurence Olivier, nobody made too big a fuss about it, although it's hard to ignore that whoever he stayed with for real might end up being queen. But she was willing to sneak around when he was married to Diana, and they must have been having off like crazy up at Highgrove.

We did it right in Buckingham Palace when we became 18. The staff were omnipresent, of course, but we knew how to be by ourselves. We had some nice times in bed. I taught him a lot. I learned a lot from my girlfriends. It was easier for me because everyone knew that I was highly unlikely to be the Queen. That only happened to Victoria when her uncles who both were Kings died childless and then her father predeceased her, so there she was in 1837--the Heiress and longest-reigning queen until Mum.

Before I did anything with him, I had to get on the pill, which I could do once I was 18. I knew that he better damn well wear a condom. I liked it and still like it rough. I usually was able to ride him in the cowgirl position and if I were truly mean, I'd get into the reverse cowgirl so he could stare at my arse instead of my boobs or my fanny. It didn't take us long to get into a good functional sex relationship. I really needed it: By the time he was with Diana, he had gotten over premature ejaculation.

He wouldn't go near me when I was on the rag, which was his loss, because I was a totally randy bitch when I was flowing. Fortunately for me, my first husband, Mark, loved it and went down on me then. He was rather good in the anilingual department, too. Now, I'm too old to care a whole lot, but my current husband, Tom, loves it too.

After Charles got annoyed once when I was doing the reverse cowgirl, I dared him to bugger me. It turned out that I liked that a lot. I probably taught him some stuff too, although I have a hard time thinking that Diana would've allowed it. I like both my holes filled, thank you.

I guess I also gave Charles some cover with Camilla when he didn't want her at Highgrove. I'd take her to my place, which was far less in the headlights. We could even get there and await his arrival, which took more doing, because he got the attention that goes with being The Heir. Camilla and I always got along, even when I was going with Andrew Parker Bowles, whom she stepped in and took from me, then married when Charles couldn't get it together.

Camilla picked up her liaison with Charles after she was married, and they continued to get together privately even after Charles married Diana. I had been married too and was already drifting apart from Mark even after we had the two children. Charles, Camilla, and I had a royal good time in those days, since I was able to show her how to stir him up. Charles was always a slow starter and now he did have two randy women ready to share him in bed.

I was the most down-to-earth of all of us, even if I was a true royal and had been brought up as the Queen's daughter. Horses were always my greatest love, and you don't get upset by shit when you're around them.

Camilla was fun because she had been around royals a lot and that allowed us to let our hair down. She was the only female besides me with whom Charles could break out of his shell. She was good for him, but he didn't realize how extraordinary she was until she had given up on him. Then he married Diana, and everyone regarded him as the luckiest bloke there was, but although she had not had the experience with royals that Camilla had had, she was so gorgeous that she soon grasped her power.

I liked her, too, because she had the same positive attitude toward service as a royal that I have. She loved getting out and making people happy to see her and be with her. She did have a bad habit of getting it on with sleazy guys before she was married and after, though, who then told all to the tabloids and made her life hell. We did get along and I really did try to help them both: my brother and Di.

Since we had so much in common in our personalities and experiences, it wasn't surprising that Camilla and I enjoyed each other in bed, too. She had also had horses in her life, so when I suggested with a silly grin that we adjourn to the loo and play in the tub, she was all for it. She had more curves, but I had an athlete's firm body, and it helped that I was no beauty, just sufficiently regal. She played the subservient game with me, and offered to lie on her back in the tub while I squatted over her and let loose from both holes.

I have a great system, so I made nice big solid turds and she seemed to like licking my arsehole clean, since I excreted like a well-trained lady, and enjoyed thinking that I pissed hard like a horse. Camilla herself was hot to trot and really liked to play this way. I didn't mind letting her make her doody on me because I had been so close to my horses that I might as well have tasted their shit, too.

When she and Charles and I had become a trio in bed, I would tease Charles by making him take her tampon out when she was on. I lectured him that since he said that stupid crap about wanting to be her tampon, I wanted him to get his tongue way up in her wazoo when she was flowing. "Time for tampon duty for you!" I would cry.

Camilla was more bi than I was. She loved licking my fanny when it was flowing, and now I tease her that she finally could use royal tampons like I always did but of course, she doesn't need them anymore. I suspect that I may have shown her how to satisfy another woman sexually.

I've let my current husband Tom in on this stuff although I wouldn't let him get it on with Camilla, before or after she married my brother. I wasn't going to set him up to be cuckolded. And I wasn't going to play with her myself unless it was OK with Charles. I'm basically an adult Girl Guide, so I can't be underhanded about this.

Actually, I've had so much fun with the two of them that I wouldn't want to endanger my closeness with Charles. Tom understands. I've made him realize that this is something that just happens in groups like royal families. He and I have had a great sex life together for years, even though now we're both in our 70s.

People don't realize that all of this kind of stuff has been going on among well-off families in England for centuries. The weekend country house parties featured everyone moving around between bedrooms, and the hostess making sure no one was left only with their own partner from home. Hell, I bet it goes on with working class folks too. (But not middle class--they have scruples!)

I have my own place in the country to spend time with Tom and my grown kids when they deign to visit. I set them an example by showing them I can still ride with the top people in the field. I don't show them how I can ride in bed. I do enjoy dressing in military uniform for spectacles and it helps that the guys know I can handle my horse easily. No one else in the family looks as natural in that particular saddle as I do.

And as you've gathered, that's not the only time I'm in the saddle. Both my husbands actually preferred that I be on top. After all, just wearing riding clothes makes you look like a dominatrix. Do I like some of that spice in my life? Of course I do. The men who get close to me want me to use my riding whip on them.

I used to get bad publicity for acting like Daddy in public. I realized I had to behave better. I maintained my packed schedule of appearances--for years. I've done more of these than anyone else in the family. Making all these stops to help people and groups celebrate is something I still enjoy; it has helped me recover a positive image.

The times when I've been in the papers other than for an appearance have been few. One great one was when a crazy guy tried to kidnap me from a car in which I was being driven to an appearance. It happened on the Mall right out from Buckingham Palace. My personal guard tried to fire at the guy, but the gun jammed. The intruder tried to make me get out of the car. I responded, "Not bloody likely." That made the papers--some other men in our retinue were there pronto and took the guy out--in other words, got him into a police car. For once, I came off as a tough broad, not a nasty one.

Charles was not in good shape when he became King. After all, he was already 75. Now, he's being treated for some kind of cancer, but it seems to be going well. I've invited Camilla up to my country place and hopes she'll bring Charles when he's allowed to travel. She really could use some fun for a change. I would ask the recovering Kate too, but I figure she wants to be with her family.

I've spoken to her, though, and told her how I managed to deal with the press. She started out a heck of a lot better than I did because she's a nicer person. Really. I also liked Megan, too, because she didn't see what kind of media crucifixion was going to come down on her. I always tried to be nice to her, but I figured--wrongly--that being from Hollywood and the entertainment business, that she was ready for all that occurred. She wasn't.

Some of my friends do come up to the country to visit, fairly often. I love having them stay and yes, we all just love playing in my gorgeous bedroom. Hey, I deserve something for the time I put in as Princess Royal. You would think we were very bad girls if I told you some of what we do in bed. It's everything you're thinking of...and more.

One of my friends, Jenny, has what could be the most incredible collection of vibes and dildos. I've managed to acquire some delightful strap-ons, so this is all still a source of terrific pleasure for all of us--even at our advanced age!. Because, as I've already told you, my ability to piss like a horse is legendary--at least among my friends--we usually engage in that activity in my sumptuous personal bathroom with its huge tub. Two of the girls--yes, we're girls even if we're hitting our 70s--lie on their backs while yours truly sheds her knickers and squats over them so I can move my bottom and spray them both. Yes, I've also been compared to a fire hose.

None of us has her period anymore so we don't have to fret about contraceptives and all that. And since no tampons are around, I don't get kidded about Charles's embarrassing moment anymore. When they used to tease me about that, I would tell them that as a royal, I had staff who were skilled in discipline and that we had plenty of nettles growing out back in the garden. I bet you've all read about how punishing they are when stuffed in the gusset of your knickers but how many of you have actually been made to wear them like that, or with soap slivers inserted anally?

No, I'm not some kind of sicko, I'm just a randy old lady now whose vagina hasn't dried up and whose tits are surprisingly firm. Must be Daddy's genes; we got along so wonderfully that I always thought we must have had the same chromosomes, even if he was XY. I never wanted to know about what went on in their royal bedroom. They did have Charles and me, and then Andy and Edward, after all.

But I doubt that Mum dominated Daddy, even though she wore the crown. He was such a great take-charge guy and like me, he didn't suffer fools. Unlike him, I cleaned up my act in public. But whatever issues I had with my first husband, I appreciated our having two charming children and a lot of good sex, too. Now, I still enjoy bedtime with my second partner, but I'm not saying anything more about how much fun we continue to have at our advanced ages.

Many men really do want the woman to take charge in the bedroom. Camilla confided in me, but I'm sure you all suspect that she whipped Charles from way back when. Well, she still does. I'd say that she wears the pants, but everyone wears pants now. She never made him lick her fanny or her bottom-hole when I was in the bedroom with them, but since she and I engaged in that when we were involved at my country house without husbands, I was always pretty sure she had him serving her in both those places.

For a well brought-up woman, she had quite the libido. Once, just to see how it would look, we both shaved down there. We did it at my place in the country. We were young enough that we both felt it made us look like jerks. We went on to have even more fun shaving around our bottom holes. We also enjoyed fingering each other's bottom-hole to check whether there was anything in there within our reach waiting to emerge. I've heard this is called "checking her oil."

She also has big tits. Mine are average-sized, which is fine by me. I never wanted guys wanting to play with them all the time or fuck them or tease them. Yes, when someone knows what they're doing and gently teases my nipples and they get firm and pointy, of course I love it. The feelings in my nips carry right down to my cunt.

I was very happy for her when she managed to divorce Andrew, whom I had gone with before he went with her. I liked him, but there were no hard feelings, and he was a true gentleman in not making a fuss when she left him to go back with Charles, now that he was available again, but this time was focused on her.

My feeling is that she took charge of their relationship for good after that notorious tampon incident. Now that he's King, they can be more assured of privacy; well, I hope they are. I do want them to be happy. I gather that she started having him wear her knickers she wore the day before. She will sometimes have him dress in a schoolboy outfit, which usually results in his being caned by her. If she is especially peeved with him, she may make him wear girly outfits.

No one else is permitted to see him when dressed like this. She once laughed when I was asking her about what I suspected and said that she's never promised him that she wouldn't tell anyone about it. Apparently, he said it was all right to tell me.

I suspect he has never told anyone about his intimate relationship with Diana. Camilla said she really wasn't interested. I think that's the right approach. After all, he was miserable. Camilla's pleased that she was always the woman he wanted. That's a marvelous thing for her, since she was preferred over one of the most glamorous women in the world.

Camilla may not be gorgeous but heck, she, Charles, and I are senior citizens now. We all know we don't have all the time in the world left, although Granny lived to be 104, and had her gin and tonic every afternoon. As much as I liked Aunt Meg, I wasn't into drinking big time. I wanted to stay in shape, and it wasn't going to go well with my riding either. Moreover, I already had a bad enough reputation with reporters, and I'd seen what happened to Aunt Meg because she was known as such a hedonist and lush.

I do think that Daddy may have wished I were a guy, so that I wouldn't be limited. That never bothered me. I didn't have to put up with most of the guff that Charles did and still does. Andy was the second son, so he brought his problems on himself. We never knew if Mum liked one of us better than her other offspring. We got on fine but there wasn't the same rapport I had with Daddy.

Mum took her job so seriously: that's no big secret. She got on with almost all of her prime ministers and she dealt with quite a few during her long reign, beginning with Sir Winston. The only one I think she didn't like at all was Mrs. Thatcher. One strong woman not getting on with another. Makes sense. Maggie wouldn't try to become close. She wore her usual London dress clothes when she and Denis came up to Balmoral. She didn't care if everyone considered her clueless. I don't think she was. I think she just didn't give a damn what these people--the royals--thought. Maybe she was right.