Gaming the Suitor's Feast, Or, A Prince's Party Plots

You stand nervously by the door to your sister's room, needlessly adjusting your handsome formal raiment. You hadn't planned on having to escort Ginny to the feast, but you reassure yourself that your plan is still solid. You've got the mask in your pocket, you can keep Ginny's suitors away until around the second course, then slip off to don your disguise and make a big entrance as Candyland. That will work, right? It should work. God you hope this works.

You're deep in a panic when the door to the princess's room opens, a pair of maids serenely gliding out before Ginny somewhat bashfully steps up to you. Her pastel pink hair is elegantly piled atop her head, gracefully falling in elegant curls and ringlets around the sides of her angelic face. She smooths out the skirts of her gorgeous light green gown, and you notice that she has certainly found the time to visit her seamstress. But while her gown is ably fitted for Ginny's vast bosom, it doesn't even try to suppress it, rather lifting and presenting her royal frontage like the glorious national treasures they are, valiantly covering much of her ample flesh but good enough to leave a girlish line of incredibly deep cleavage.

Ginny clutches her hands in front of her nervously, squishing her huge breasts between her slender arms as her emerald green eyes sparkle up at you. "How do I look?"

You reach out, Ginny biting her lower lip as you take her delicate little hand and give it a chaste kiss, responding with utter sincerity, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Your sister grins widely at that, stepping in close and lifting up on her tiptoes to give you a kiss on the cheek. It's a nice moment, only slightly sullied by the fact that you cannot and will not ignore the way her breasts slide across your chest on the way up, or the fact that Ginny stumbles slightly and instead of a sisterly peck on the cheek plants a full kiss square on your lips. Her soft lips part slightly in what is probably surprise, and honestly it's hard to say who's tongue gave who's tongue an inviting little tease.

Either way, Ginny remembers herself quickly and drops back to her feet, creamy cheeks flushed as she steadies her jiggling rack with the hand you aren't still holding. She looks up hesitantly, apparently not sure of whether or not you'd be annoyed with the accidental sibling pre-Feast makeout. She giggles in relief when you just smile down at her and loop her arm through yours. Fuck she's cute.

"Shall we, Princess Genevieve?"

She nods in mock officiousness, adopting a regal tone to her chiming soprano voice. "We shall; indeed we shall."

FUCK she's cute.

The two of you start off towards the suitor's feast, happily chatting about anything that happens to cross your mind. You really do feel at ease around Ginny, which is impressive seeing as she also instills a near primal level of utter lust in you. What do you even call that? Ease-Lust? Casual Boners? You bet Ginny has some good thoughts on the matter; she always has something worth hearing.

...on second thought, maybe hold this particular topic for later.

You escort your sister to the ballroom, the throngs of well-appointed guests bursting into applause at her arrival. You're a little surprised to see that she accepts this adulation with the pleased poise of a picture-perfect princess; doesn't she usually get flustered from attention? Oh shit, is it just when you give her attention?! That is the fucking best thing ever. It's lucky that your princely instincts have become second nature now, because if they weren't you absolutely would have forgotten to pull out Ginny's chair for her and give Lady Gwendolyn a light kiss on the cheek, so focused are you on the memory of Ginny's beautiful face heating up in embarrassed pleasure.

You actually do forget that you're still just standing there, only slipping down into your seat beside Ginny when your aunt gives a little cough, prompting your sister to giggle before lightly tapping her spoon against her empty glass to announce that the feast has begun.

Alright, time to set the stage, and let Candyland of Sexbomb work his magic.

Well, the best lain plans, and all that. It turns out feasts are really fucking fun. Like, you don't even believe it. You've had fun before, sure, but this makes all of that look like garbage for babies. There's an endless array of the greatest food you've ever tasted, a bottomless ocean of some sort of booze you don't quite recognize but fucking rocks never the less, and oh yeah, Ginny.

You realized a few minutes into the party that you hadn't actually spent much time with the girl you've realized you desperately love, and that hey that's sort of weird right? Maybe just spend a bit more time here before slipping away to put on your disguise, right? That was hours ago, and so far "a bit more time" isn't anywhere close to ending. For her part Ginny seems perfectly content with the arrangement, the princess happily squeezing one of your arms between hers and the side of her pillowy breasts as the two of you ramble on. Even when neither of you have anything to say, you both seem more than pleased to sit in silence together, simply enjoying being there with one another. If there's anyone out there who's got a better idea of how to spend their life than this, you'd like to hear that shit.

Of course, her suitors still come up to spend a moment or two chatting up your sister, which is a bit odd. Well, maybe it is; it's hard to tell when you don't really give a shit about how they feel. Is it weird for them to try courting a girl who's almost titfucking her brothers arm in public, right in front of them? It's not weird for you, and Ginny doesn't seem to mind, so hey! Screw those guys. Gaspar at least seems to understand how to handle it, simply greeting Ginny with a courtly bow before gallantly inviting Gwendolyn to dance, your aunt demurely accepting the giant lord's offer. You smile inwardly as you watch them walk to the floor arm in arm; that's right Gaspar, you go find your OWN...wait.

Oh wait, that's perfect.

You widen your eyes as a plan begins to take shape, so distracted that you have to ask Ginny to repeat herself. Your sister huffs a little, her cushiony breast stroking your arm. "I said, do you know when Sir Candyland is arriving? It's getting ever so late, and I want to ask him if..." She trails off, suddenly going beet red. "...I, um....should just speak to him, is all. You said you were friends?"

You nod absently, then shake yourself out of your reverie and turn to Ginny, giving her a more assured nod. "Oh, uh, yes! Yes, I'm certain he's simply held up a bit; I should go and fetch him."

Ginny makes a little noise of displeasure, clutching your arm more tightly and laying her head on your shoulder. "Awww, don't leave me Big Brother; I'll be bored without you!" She flutters her long eyelashes at you prettily. "Please stay? For me?"

Fuuuuck that's a goddamn full court press if you've ever seen one. But no! Will! Determination! Other Forceful Personality Traits! "I'll be back, I promise." Ginny pouts a bit, but can't help smiling as you kiss your fingers and lightly stroke them across her still-hot cheek. She sighs dramatically as you rise from your seat, forcing you to free your arm inch by inch from the prison of princess boob that she had you trapped in. You knew this job was dangerous when you took it.

You turn back to Ginny as you step away from the table, giving her a gentlemanly bow before darting off. Okay, time to go get into disguise and figure out how to make the next step of your genius plan happen.

Because you've found a perfect solution for your Gaspar problem, and her name's Aunt Gwen.