Up until last week, I had never heard of Breynia and Andalia.  They were tiny little countries sandwiched somewhere between France and Italy.  Apparently, they had a shared embassy in Los Angeles and were known for throwing elaborate parties.  Naturally, my agent got me an invite.  My movie, “Justify Your Love” had done decent box office.  There was even talk of a sequel.  It wasn’t as big as “Big Bear, Montana”, but I had the lead so the offers were flowing in.

In the meantime, this is what Hollywood actresses do in their “down time”, go to parties and be seen with people who are rich and are “in”.  The Princes of Breynia and Andalia were apparently insanely rich and liked to party.  They had been all over the tabloids in Europe and the natural progression was to come to America and embarrass their parents in a whole new way.

Naomi came with me.  She was married to the director of Big Bear, but they had an understanding when it came to Hollywood parties.  If it would get either of them work, it was okay with the other.  Not my style of relationship, but it seemed to work for them.  Thank God for Naomi, I couldn’t handle all this Hollywood bullshit without her.

Two weeks before the party, we had spent three days getting fitted with some designer she knew.  Mostly it was an excuse for him to splash a bunch of selfies of us on his blog.  I was fine with it.  Who doesn’t want a $12K dress for free?  He pushed for me to model for him in New York, but I quickly told him to call my agent to work out the details.  There was no way he was dealing with Hank, who’d squeeze him for every dollar, so he dropped it and went back to giving us champagne and compliments on my ass.

Now Naomi and I were in the limo on the way to the embassy.  I was strapped into this little dress because, believe you me, the paparazzi would have my bear cooch and tits all over the Internet if I were to fall out.  Those little sleaze bags.  How is it not illegal for these greasy fat fucks to stalk me continually to try and get an upskirt just because I’m famous?  I’m not even that famous yet!

The princes had this ridiculously ostentatious embassy building.  It had originally been an Art Deco hotel in the 20’s, then was refurbished for a movie shot in the 50’s, left to rot for 20 years, then brought back during the retro period in the 80’s, turned into a dance club in the late 90’s to early 2000’s and finally, bought up by the princes’ countries five years ago.  You wanna talk about décor?  I mean, it was swanky.  The chandeliers had chandeliers.  There was furniture that hadn’t seen the light of day since Louis XIV sat his royal butt on it.  The paintings on the walls alone in the foyer could’ve financed my last two movies.  There was gold leaf, gold plating, gold fixtures---  They even had a cake spray painted in gold.

Naomi and I spent most of the time dancing and hobnobbing with Milos and his current secret boyfriend.  Milos had been the leading man on a movie we did where I was his love interest.  Believe me, he’s a great actor.  I’ve never been that close and that naked near a man and felt him go limp against me.  I was happy to be his beard for the evening, since I really didn’t expect to meet anyone.  Besides, who has time for a relationship these days?  Not this rising star.

I was at the bar when I felt the princes enter.  I say that because the air in the room shifted and people all seemed to turn toward the front door.  I was in the middle of tipping the bartender, so I didn’t turn around right away.  Then I sipped my Mohito and it was so delicious, I decided to tip the bartender another five.

“My God,” I said.  “You are a true mixologist, my friend.”

“You,” said someone behind me. 

The bartender seemed to look down, but signal to me with his eyes I had made a faux pas.  When I turned around the two princes were standing behind me. 

“Madame,” said the first, dressing me down.  “It is customary in my country to acknowledge a royal when he enters the room.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if a Kennedy enters,” I joked.

“Dominique, you’re being rude,” chastised the other.  “I’m Crown Prince Byron Bianchi of Breynia, Ms. Kelly.”

I offered my hand and he kissed it.  He was extremely handsome.  Toned, muscular, early 30’s, sandy blonde hair---  He kind of reminded me of David Beckman.  Dominique had darker hair and a darker personality.  There was a little danger behind those eyes and he reminded me a young Burt Reynolds, only with an accent.

“Crown Prince Dominique Edwards of ,” said Dominique introducing himself.  “I hope you find our humble vacation home to your liking.”

“Vacation home?” I laughed.  “What’s your house like?  A castle?”

“Yes, actually,” smiled Dominique.  “My family has several.  One overlooks the Mediterranean.”

“Sounds cinematic,” I said.

“They shot exteriors for a James Bond movie there, I think,” he recalled.  “Tragically, I did not get to meet Daniel Craig, but then again, I do not play at being a rich bon vivant.  I live it.”

Dominique stepped forward a little, took my hand and kissed it.  He was pretty intense and sexy.  Were these guys fighting over me?

“My family helped finance one of the Connery Bond movies.  You Only Live Twice, I believe,” humblebragged Byron.  “I’m sure you would make an excellent Bond girl.”

“That does sound like fun,” I admitted.  “And profitable.”

The princes were fighting over me in their own way.  Back and forth, they bragged about what their families owned, what their countries had and how insanely rich both of them were.  It was everything from private helicopters to personal concerts by Beyononce.  Naomi waved to me from across the room at some point.  The dance fest continued.  Since I was sort of trapped at the bar, I kept ordering those delicious Mohitos.

I don’t know if it was the Mohitos in me or the fact that they were just gorgeous hunks, but I was into it.  And the upside was that this could only add to my rep.  It was just tawdry enough to be naughty, but not quite so insane that I would lose any traction in my career over it.  I know, it sounds cynical, but when you’re in movies, you have to remember your image.

Byron took off his shirt and he was ripped.  Quite frankly, I felt myself getting wet right there.  He must’ve worked out constantly.  His muscles and definition were so prominent, it actually interfered with his ink.  Dominique had some tatts as well, not as many, but still just as ripped. 

“Hold up,” I said, a little drunk.  “Let me do this.  I’m taped into this thing.”

On my knees on the bed, I carefully removed my $12K dress.  That was probably a pittance to these guys, but I wanted to keep it nice.  I tried to take the boob tape off without ripping anything.  I grimaced.  I used the stickiest stuff I could find.  It would practically take off your skin.  I stood there in just heels and panties.  I figured these guys would like it with the shoes.  I sort of resembled a blonde Rita Hayworth in the Lady of Shanghai, not that the princes would get the reference.

I crawled back on the bed on my knees.  Byron pulled my panties down from behind and buried his face in my crack.  He was licking my pussy and my asshole.  I took Dominique’s magnificent cock in my mouth.  He had some kind of perfume on it that make it taste a little fruity. 

“Ah, yes, excellent!” he complimented, as I sucked him.  “You are doing that wonderfully, Savannah.”

I was moaning on his cock.  The wonderful feeling was coming from Byron’s tongue.  The guy was a master at getting into every nook and cranny.  Eating pussy was enough of a rarity with men, but eating ass was extremely rare.  I could tell Byron was really enjoying it and gushed from my pussy as his tongue penetrated me. 

We switched sides and I spun around.  Dominique began teasing me with his cock, as I sucked Byron with gusto.  I lifted up his shaft and tickled his balls with my tongue.  He deserved to have his balls licked after that performance.  It was above and beyond. 

I found myself moaning into Byron’s scrotum as Dominique penetrated my soaking hot box.  He stretched me good!  He had a nice rhythm with his cock too.  It was slow, deliberate, but strong.  There was a confidence in every stroke. 

Some of the sex session was a blur.  I knew there were moments when they were both inside me.  One was in my pussy, the other my ass.  They came at least three times.  I lost count of how many times I came somewhere in the 20’s. 

The final time, Dominique’s hot cum shot down my throat and I swallowed it eagerly.  It was rich and tick.  Byron blasted me from the inside and I moaned in pleasure, feeling the condom filling up with his warm cum.

We were all a little sore and spent and drunk.  I couldn’t believe I had actually gone through with it.  Not only was it wild, it felt great!  I just hoped it was worth the Walk of Shame I would invariably have to do to get out of there.