The Morning After the Titfuck Incident

You aren't entirely certain when or how you made it back to your chamber. You vaguely recall a giggling Issa trying to pull you from the velvety embrace of your sister's boobs? And a significantly less pleased Issa, covered with cum from when the perfect feeling of sliding out of the snug embrace of Ginny's tremendous rack caused you to pop directly into her face, shoving you through the door to your room and slamming it shut behind you. Either way here you are, still wearing your disheveled party clothes and coated with your own dried spooge.

Fucking Gross. Great party, though.

So what did we accomplish? You try to take mental inventory ask you slip into the bath you've drawn for yourself. This was the first real interaction between Ginny and Sexbomb, which has to be important. Big black eye right off the bat, you didn't get to really spend much time together. Going forward, spend less time seducing and boning your aunt. Your gorgeous, powerful aunt, who transforms into a teasing top-heavy sex kitten in bed...

You shoot a frown at your growing erection as it questioningly pops out from underwater. Give it a rest you monster; after last night you're pretty sure all you've got left to shoot out would be vapor and, like your own bones.

That being said, the time you did spend together was telling. Drunk as she was, Ginny made no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that she was interested in Sexbomb. Like, quite the opposite of it. Even after you prattfalled into an accidental titfuck, it didn't take her very long to give you that little lick--

You claw the sides of the tub, teeth gritted as your exhausted cock fires off a final, defiant rope of cum, jizz splattering down across your bath as your desiccated penis withers triumphantly back into the water. Goddamn did that hurt. You'd better take it easy today if you don't want your manhood to shatter like one of those roses dipped in liquid nitrogen.

Just...hurry up get clean. Avoid those puddles of your own cum and...ugh.

Okay whatever, you're clean enough.

Still a bit groggy but at the very least no longer disgusting, you throw on a robe and sleepily start towards breakfast. The maids and footmen busily swarm up and down the hall as you pick your way through them, finishing up the cleaning from last night's party. Must have been a rager if they're still clearing it all away. Bit weird that they kept on with the feast for much longer after all the hosts had left, but whatever. It's not all that surprising that Nobles are self-indulgent party guests.

So when you pop your head into the banquet hall, you're not surprised to see that a few tables and some debris is still being tidied up. What does surprise you is that no one is currently seated at the table that's been set for you and your family. It's pretty late in the morning, even by your standards.

You wave over a footman, who puts aside his task of disposing of an ice swan someone has stolen just the wings off of to come over. "Hey, were is Lady Gwendolyn?

"The Lady gave us strict instructions she was not to be disturbed until further notice, my Lord."

Huh. Well that's promising. "And Princess Genevieve?"

"Ah, the Princess is feeling a touch under the weather, my Lord."

Oh, Ginny's hung over? Well you aren't particularly surprised, given her state last night. Suppose there is nothing that can be done about....uh hey, where are you going?

Even given every insane thing that has happened since you came here, you're more than a little surprised when your body essentially autopilots itself out of the banquet hall and down the hallway. It's not like someone else is controlling you, really...more like, you know what needs to be done on such an instinctive level that your conscious mind doesn't get it yet. But fuck, let's just roll with it. If it ends up you're being controlled by a witch or something, and she's going to use you in experiments, everything you know about this world leaves you confident she will be a sexy witch with big fat tits and the experiments will mostly be plowing her.

It turns out, almost to your surprise, at that isn't the case, and rather than screwing a hot witch you find yourself in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea that smells powerfully of ginger. You leave the giggling kitchen girls instructions to burn some toast as the tea finishes seeping, taking a moment to strain it out before snagging a cup and a few pots of honey and jam before starting back towards the sleeping chambers.

You re-assumed active control once it became clear what as going on, and don't need any assistance to steer you towards Ginny's room. You knock quietly on the door, a maid carefully peeking through as you hear Issa's voice from within "--drink so much, you won't be sick. Vi, go and have the kitchen girls brew a pot of--"

The exiting maid steps back as she recognizes you, and you waste no time entering. Sure enough, there's Issa, gamely using a damp cloth to cool down a very grumpy looking Ginny, clad in just a light dressing gown with her hair tangled and sweaty. Okay fine, let's just get it out of the way right: her gown is practically sheer, and the way that her rack strains against it leaves the full outlines of her thick nipples and puffy areola plain as day. Yes, it's incredibly erotic. And then there is the way that Ginny's face softens the moment she sees you, wearily smiling with the beaming relief of a girl who's been through a rough patch but implicitly believes it's all going to be better now. The way she coos 'Big Brother...' ALONE would have probably been enough to push you over the edge, usually.

You came here for a reason, though, and that reason WASN'T to blast all over two maids and your hungover sister. You can admit that you're a little impressed you avoid doing that, though. They should call you Prince Iron Fucking Will.

Instead, you simply pour a cup of tea and sit down on the bed beside Ginny, stirring in a more than generous amount of honey before pressing it into her little hands. She gives you a grateful smile and carefully snuggles against you as you take the washcloth from Issa, who to your deep irritation is still incapable of playing it fucking cool. The excessive winking was one thing, but now she's shooting you fucking finger guns as she backs out of the room. Finger Guns.

Issa is history's greatest monster.

You swallow your irritation by running the cool cloth across Ginny's brow, then down her neck. She hums in deep satisfaction, closing her eyes and pressing herself practically into your lap as she sips her tea. She moans a little when you carefully draw it across her chest, unable and a bit unwilling to avoid caressing the top expanse of her pillowy breasts. Right, don't get aroused by this; Prince Iron Fucking Will and all that.

She finishes her cup just as the kitchen girls arrive with a plate of very dark toast, prompting Ginny to make a bit of a face. She glances up at you, only to be met with a slightly admonishing look. "You need to eat something."

She pouts a little, but doesn't object when the servant places the tray down beside her and exits with a bow. The princess picks up a piece of the charred toast gingerly. "Can I at least have some--"

Her **** melts as you produce the little jar of strawberry jam and spread a dollop onto her otherwise dry recuperation fare. Her smile is angelic as she gives a deep sigh. "You always take such good care of me..."

"Of course I do," you remark as you slip your arm around her, "I love you, Ginny."

The princess sighs again as she takes the toast from you, tilting up her head to gently lay a soft kiss on your cheek. "I love you too, Big Brother..."

You can't contain your smile as Ginny begins happily enthusing about how much fun she had last night through her rather un-princesslike mouthful of toast, her mood totally revived by this turn of events. It doesn't sound like she really remembers much of anything after getting drunk, which is handy. You settle in comfortably, sinking into the easy pleasure of your sister's happy chatter and her warm embrace.

This is what you are doing today. Prince Iron Fucking Will demands it.