King Charles III & Crusty Camilla's Tampon

III

Camilla's pov

I finished shoving the tampon in me, thinking lovingly of Charles and I's tampax phone sex from the night before. I was drawn out of my naughty daydreams by one of my useless servants, who was reminding me that I was due to go annoy Diana at the palace.

I skipped along the hallway, like a happy school girl, ready to go back to stealing her sex god of a husband again.

Charles' pov

I felt Camilla bouncing around like a giddy horse, while I was stuck soaking up her front bottom's blood bath. The smell and texture now starting to annoy me, 'why ever did I wish to be a tampon?' I thought to myself, praying that she would change me soon.

A few moments later, I felt her open, as she sat down on the magical toilet again. 'I should have wished to be her toilet' I thought to myself again, suddenly feeling her fat fingers painfully yanking me out of her saggy lady garden.

I breathed a sigh of relief, I was finally free, or so I thought...

I was smacked across the face with a new blanket and rolled up, as snug as a bug in a rug. I then heard the peddle of the bin being pressed, panic filling my bloody tampon body, knowing where I was about to be thrown.

I jumped up in bed. It was all a dream. A horrible, yet wonderful wet dream.

Author's Note

I'm never writing fanfiction again and if you don't hear from me within 72 hours, assume King Charles has taken care of me, just like he took care of our Queen Diana.