Sleeping Beauty

Finally, after many trials, the Handsome Prince arrived outside Sleeping Beauty's chamber. Hesitantly he tried the door. It yielded with a soft click, swinging open on oiled hinges.

There, laid on the bed as motionless as if she were indeed dead, lay the Princess. She wore a green kirtle neatly arranged around her slumbering form, her long auburn hair unbound and fanned out over the pillow beneath her head. Her arms lay by her sides, and her chin was tilted up slightly with her lips parted as if they expected a kiss. Which, in view of the prophecy, they probably did.

The Prince simply gazed at her for a long moment, taking in her clear pale skin, the long lashes fluttering on silky cheeks, the fine coral curve of her lips. Her chest moved gently as she breathed, her rounded breasts rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Recalling himself, the Prince remembered the duty imposed on him as the Princess's true love and the breaker of the spell. For this moment he had endured hardship, cold, hunger and mortal peril in his quest to reach the Princess's side. He moved towards her, leaning on the side of the bed and arching over her body as he bent forward to place his lips on hers in a chaste, tender kiss.

As he did so, however, he was startled when she moved, her head turning away from him, her brow puckering momentarily and her lips forming a small moue of frustration. Recoiling slightly he looked down at her as she lay on the bed, and was fascinated to notice that one of her hands had left its position at her side and was now placed squarely on her own breast.

Open-mouthed, he watched her hand as the fingers began to describe small circles, stroking and caressing the rounded curve of her breast. Her head turned back in the other direction, facing him now as her lips parted so that the tip of her pink tongue was just visible between perfect white teeth.

After a few moments, during which the Prince watched in rapt attention but with a mounting sense of guilty unease, the Princess's hand moved to her other breast, sliding and circling across the fabric of her gown. The unmistakeable bumps of her nipples grew and hardened under her attentions, and it was only a matter of seconds before her fingers found one and began to rub and caress.

Her other hand now joined the action, both breasts receiving strokes, tweaks and gentle pinches. Her body clearly responded as the nipples hardened even more, standing out now like small marbles. Her head moved from side to side on the pillow, her eyes still closed and her lips parted. A small moan escaped her.

The Prince, caught between fascination and horror, did not know what to do. Of course, he should wake the lady with his kiss, or else he should leave the room. However, he found he could do neither. He stood over her as she caressed herself, and felt an undeniable response in his own body.

Then the motions of her hands changed. Both suddenly slid down her body, moving across her flat stomach and then outwards to smooth the sheer green fabric of her gown over her hips and waist. She stroked the length of her upper body in long motions, one hand returning to carry on caressing her breasts and nipples while the other moved in slow sinuous motions, describing circles over her stomach, hips and waist. Again, she sighed softly.

After a minute of this the expression on her face changed. He became aware that a small frown creased her brow, and she was biting her lower lip in what looked like frustration. Her hands began to pluck at the fabric covering her hips; she seemed to be trying to remove it.

The Prince, his breath coming slightly faster now, glanced back over his shoulder. He knew the castle was effectively empty of conscious life, with all its inhabitants slumbering under the same spell as the Princess. He was the only person awake in the entire place, and yet he hesitated. The lady clearly wanted access to her own skin, but was it gentlemanly for him to grant it?

Paralysed by indecision he stood over her, both of them frowning although for very different reasons. Her roaming hands continued to pluck at her dress, starting to ruck it up around her hips. The Prince, seeing this and reasoning that she would eventually disrobe herself anyway, overcame his hesitation. Being careful not to touch her skin (somehow that seemed like more of an invasion that simply raising her dress) he took hold of her skirt at the hem and carefully pulled it upwards, exposing the white skin of her legs.

As soon as her hands slid across the gathered material and touched the tops of her thighs she took over the task herself, grasping the fabric and pulling it up her body. The Prince gasped himself then, gazing entranced at the neat triangle of silky dark pubic hair revealed as the dress was tugged upwards to bunch around her waist. Princesses, it seems, do not wear underwear in bed.

The frown disappeared from her brow then, and her hands resumed their stroking and sliding movements over her skin. She pinched a fabric-covered nipple especially hard, making herself gasp and shudder slightly. Her legs twitched, opening a fraction and then closing again.

Her hands became more insistent on her body as she continued to caress herself, and after a few moments one of them found its way between her legs. Instantly she gasped, her back arched slightly, and her legs opened fully. A choked gasp escaped the Prince as her index finger slid between her lower lips, parting them and starting to explore the glistening pink wetness within.

The Prince suddenly found he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his own underwear. His guilt at observing the Princess obviously pleasuring herself in her sleep was dissolving, to be replaced by an overpowering desire to experience the same pleasure himself. With slightly fumbling hands he unlaced his hose and pulled aside his undergarments, releasing an erection of enormous proportions. He sighed as the air cooled its throbbing head, and then sighed again as his hand closed around its shaft.

Cock in hand, he moved around the bed until he was standing at its foot, perfectly positioned for a fine view of both the lady's hands as they went to work between her legs. She was wet with her own excitement, the fingers of one hand spreading her lips as if to display herself to him and the other rubbing, stroking and circling the small nub of flesh where her pleasure centred. The Prince moved his own hand on his cock as he watched, stroking up and down, his breath coming faster.

Suddenly the hand parting her lips moved. He almost exclaimed with disappointment, until it became clear where that hand was headed. While she continued to caress her clitoris with gentle but insistent movements, her other hand slid below it and the Prince watched, his own movements temporarily stilled, as she circled experimentally and then pushed first one, then two fingers inside herself and began to move them in and out.

Both her hands were now wet and glistening with her own juices, the plunging and rubbing fingers clearly expert at their task. Small gasps escaped her with each breath. The Prince groaned and resumed pumping his cock, the slumbering castle at his back entirely forgotten.

Together, although apart, their pleasure mounted. The Prince was almost unbearably excited by the sight of the Princess's hands busy between her legs, and found he occasionally had to slow or still his own movements, grasping his erection firmly at the base to avoid triggering his ecstasy too soon. The Princess's head moved from side to side, her body writing and her legs twitching as her hands drove her towards orgasm. Her gasps grew louder, and her movement faster and more urgent.

The Prince, entranced, began to move his hand on his cock in time with her plunging fingers as they dipped inside her body and out again. As her tempo increased so did his, the act of concentrating on her rhythm helping him to prolong his pleasure. Before many minutes, however, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. His cock was pulsating in his hand, straining upwards and forwards as if trying to reach the promised land that was so invitingly displayed before it.

Suddenly the Princess's back arched and she gave a loud gasp and then a moan as her body twitched and convulsed. The prince saw an unmistakeable gush of wetness around her fluttering fingers as her orgasm overcame her. The fingers inside her body plunged deep, deeper, and remained there as she rubbed her clitoris with tiny jerky motions. Her neck and back arched even more, and she gave a long loud cry of release.

The Prince gasped himself then, the unbearable ache in his engorged cock and balls rising to become an uncontrollable gush. His pumping hand moving urgently now, his cock twitched and the head pulsed once and then opened, shooting semen over his hand and the bed in front of him. Gouts of it fell on the silk sheets, on the Princess's still-twitching legs, and some even reached as far as her glistening clitoris and the pubic hair on her mound. His orgasm seemed to continue forever, as intense as anything he had ever experienced.

After an eternity, however, the aching and the gushing subsided, leaving him trembling. The Princess's hands still lay between her legs, sodden and shiny, but stilled now apart from the occasional tiny flicker of aftershock. His semen ran down her thighs and dripped from her pubic hair onto her fingers as they rested against her swollen clitoris. Her breathing was slow and regular -- she had never woken up, he realised.

The sudden realisation of what he had just witnessed and done struck him. Half appalled, half elated, he rapidly tucked his subsiding cock away and rearranged his clothing. Then he gently restored her dress to its former state as well as he could, hoping that the wet patches where his semen soaked through would remain unnoticed. He placed her legs together and her arms by her sides, catching as he did so the aroma of her female musk from her hands. Suppressing a gasp he gently arranged her limbs exactly as they had been when he first entered the room. Her hair was in some disarray, but he could do nothing about that.

He stood over her again as he had done before. Her face was now slightly flushed, her lips parted in a post-orgasmic half-smile. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful as he bent and gently kissed her on the lips.

The rest of the story is retold elsewhere -- how the spell was broken and she awoke, claiming him as her true love, and the two of them married, ruled long and wisely over their dominions and had many fine and healthy children and grandchildren to rule after them. What the stories do not tell, however, is how in later years the Prince would sometimes stand over his wife as she lay in their bed and gaze down at her increasingly matronly body with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he would take her in his arms and make love to her with especially tender intensity.

If the Princess herself ever wondered about this, she never asked. And the Prince certainly never told.