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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Copyright 1997 [Feel free to re-post, review, etc. --
but please give me credit. Feel free not to read if you
are under 18 or 21, depending on your locality. This
story (and most others in this newsgroup, I suspect) is
purely fantasy and takes place in a world just like
ours, except my penis is huge and STDs are unknown.
Finally, I know nothing about the sex lives of Spanish
royalty.]
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Juan Carlos, King of Spain
by Walter Mitty (wwmitty@aol.com*)
***
A man's fantasies come true, even against all the odds.
He talks his wife into a threesome, when a friend of
hers comes to visit for a week. (MFF, threesome)
***
Serrafina and I have been happily married for several
years, and the love-making is good if not mind-blowing.
As you can probably guess from myname, my wife says I
am prone to fantasize excessively; I prefer to say that
I have a "rich inner life."
Indeed, Serrafina doesn't have any idea how many times
she's been ravished by the King of Spain while she
plays the Queen of the Gypsies. When I enter her she
cries out "Mitty, oh Mitty!" -- Walter being the least
sexy of names and long since banished from the bedroom
-- but I hear "Juan Carlos, oh Juan Carlos!" Forgive me
my silly pleasures.
As I said, I enjoy our love-making, but it is
circumscribed by two serious limitations; first, my
wife simply will not learn to speak Greek; and second,
she has long been unwilling to indulge my fantasy of
having a harem, which would be so easily satisfied by
simply bringing another woman into our bed. I have it
in my head that all the Kings of Spain have been proud
adulterers, and who is Serrafina to deny royalty after
all? But it is the case that I have not pressed the
issue too hard -- I would not tolerate a man in our
bed, after all.
Let me tell you about Serrafina, my beautiful gypsy,
before we go any farther. Her eyes are wild and dark,
her skin is buttery, and she laughs when she climaxes.
Her breasts are soft gypsy hillocks which she hides
underneath baggy and modest clothes, so that only I
know that her nipples are tawny thimbles that hum when
I kiss them. Her sex smells as sweetly as the morning
and tastes even better and when I have strained my
tongue and pushed it into her as deeply as I can she
will sometimes whisper "motherfucker, motherfucker,
motherfucker....."
Not long ago my wife's college friend -- we'll call her
Isabella -- came to our home for the week. She had
recently quit her big city job and wanted to unwind
with old friends, as she put it.
Serrafina knew that I had mixed feeling about Isabella.
On the one hand, she was irresponsible and represented
Serra's wild college past, about which I knew very
little. The combination of Isabella and Serrafina
sometimes brought out the prude in me.
Is it just me, or does it seem that all men in these
situations know both less and more about their wives'
sex lives than they would like? On the other hand,
Isabella was sexy and busty and enjoyed provoking me
with a flash of breast (accidental?) from beneath her
morning robe. Truth be told, Juan Carlos had ridden
Isabella around the room more than once in his mind.
Late one night, after two bottles of Merlot, Isabella
said "I'll be right back," and slipped out of the den.
Serra and I were in the habit of sitting up late, just
talking and relaxing, and Isabella had quickly taken to
our ways.
A few moments later she returned with a joint and a
lighter. I tensed up.
"What's that?" I asked, all prude, no King.
"Of course it's a joint, silly. Don't tell me you've
never been high," Isabella responded.
I had, and I said so. But college pot-smoking had been
so long ago and I felt so much more conservative now.
Serra spoke up. "I'll smoke with you."
"Atta girl," said Isabella, and promptly fired up.
Several minutes later, we were all extravagantly high.
You didn't think that I'd sit and watch two beautiful
women light up without me, did you? And naturally, our
talk turned to sex. Isabella began ribbing me about
Serrafina.
"You know, don't you Mitty, that Serra was quite a wild
one at the U. I could tell you all about it." Serra
blushed and giggled. The two were sitting awfully close
on our couch, and I began to wonder if they had a
history. Serra had confessed to the occasional lesbian
fantasy, which thrilled me, but I was almost certain
that she had never indulged.
"No, Mitty, I've never fucked your wife," said
Isabella, as if reading my mind. "No Mitty, I'm not
reading your mind," she said, apparently reading my
mind again, "it's just that a mouse seems to have
crawled into your pocket." It was true, and I could
only laugh and take another pull on the joint in
response.
"What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done with Serra,
Mitty?" asked Isabella, and I held my smoke while
contemplating a response. What sort of question is that
to ask a King, I thought to myself, and fantasized
about taking out my royal scepter and...
"He's drifting away," said Serra. "You have to watch
him or he'll be off in fantasyland in no time."
Isabella knew that I would never answer such an open-
ended question, so she began a laundry list to which I
nodded in the affirmative: blowjobs, light bondage,
whipped cream, etc.
"Have you ever fucked your wife in the ass?" This
brought me up short, and I looked at Serra, who laughed
and said, "No way. My gate only swings one way! But I
bet he'd bugger you if you'd let him," and giggled at
the thought of it.
Isabella looked me in the eye and asked me directly,
"Walter, have you ever had another woman in your bed?"
This I answered instantly and truthfully. No, I had
never cheated on my wife.
The room was quiet, and crackled with sexual tension.
It was one of those moments where anything could happen
and that anything could be very right or very wrong.
"Mitty, why don't you go to the kitchen and refresh my
wine," asked Isabella. This I did with alacrity. The
King of Spain was happy to flee from his subjects for
the time being, having been inflicted with an
unpleasant case of royal nerves. As I stood in the
kitchen, I could hear Serra and Isabella whispering and
giggling, and after several minutes I returned. Serra
was smiling, but nervous, and her voice shook as she
said, "Sit down between us Mitty."
I placed myself on the couch between these two
beautiful women, and each held one of my hands. I was
perspiring, and was a bit embarrassed by my sweaty
palms, but they seemed not to notice. "Okay," said
Serra, "here's the ground rules. You can have both of
us in your bed tonight, but you cannot put your sex
into Isabella's -- that crosses a line I want uncrossed
for now." Did this mean that the royal scepter would
enter Isabella elsewhere? I looked at her and in
response she raised an eyebrow. She leaned over to me
and whispered in my ear, "I've never spoken Greek, but
I pick up languages quickly."
We stood, and I moved on wobbly knees into the bedroom.
Tonight the King of Spain would have his harem.
As I followed Serrafina and Isabella into the bedroom,
my mind raced with anxieties -- could I satisfy two
women? would I perform up to Isabella's jaded
expectations? would Serra be jealous watching me take
another woman into our bed? I pushed these fears aside,
and asked myself, who am I tonight? Tonight I am Juan
Carlos, King of Spain, and a King must rule his
subjects with a firm hand and a firm scepter. It would
never do to show weakness to one's harem.
I snapped back to reality when Isabella turned to me
and said, "I'm hot. Let's shower." The three of us
moved into the bathroom. Isabella quickly lifted her
dress over her head and released a beautiful set of
buoyant tits. Just as quickly she shucked her panties
and there she was, naked. Her body conformed to the
stereotypical fifteen year old's fantasy -- enormous
breasts, thin waist, and curvaceous buttocks. Although
I am thirty-five, I remember those adolescent fantasies
well; indeed, I have never stopped having them. Serra
looked at me and grinned. As my wife, she knew I liked
a bit of a strip tease, and slowly unbuttoned the top
of her blouse.
I, Juan Carlos, King of Spain, sat on my throne and
watched this poor, trembling gypsy girl present herself
to me. The shirt came open. Was that a hint of nipple?
Was the gypsy girl afraid of what her master would do
to her later in the evening, or was she afraid of what
her master would do to a different subject and how much
her master might like it? Come now gypsy girl, off with
the blouse.
The gypsy girl warmed to her subject, and peeled down
slowly to bra and panties. Come now, gypsy girl, off
with the bra. Smiling, the gypsy girl then slowly
turned around and bent to touch her toes. Her black
panties cleft two ripe peaches, and she reached back to
pull the panties slowly over her backside. The King
applauded, the court huzzahed, the jester laughed, and
---
"Honey, are you paying attention?" said Serra. She
turned to Isabella and said, "Thank god you're
focused." Isabella in response reached out and placed
her hand gently on Serra's breast. If you have ever had
the good fortune to see a beautiful women engage in her
first sapphic caress, you will understand why I thought
I saw a bolt of electricity leap from finger to nipple,
and you will also understand why I began to undress
quickly.
Serra leaned forward and, with that dreamy closed-eye
expression I knew so well from our own love-making,
placed her mouth on Isabella's. I use the awkward
phrase "placed her mouth" because they did not properly
kiss; when their lips touched, they dissolved in a fit
of nervous giggles. We were still very stoned, and I
was relieved to learn that I was not alone with my
anxieties.
"Let's get the dreamer out of his clothes," said Serra.
The two turned to me and slowly pulled off my pants.
Isabella then lifted my boxers past my erection and
gasped -- I am not a small man, and this may not have
occurred to her when she hinted that I could take her
from behind.
There we stood, all three naked, all three nervous, and
all three very aroused. I kissed Serrafina fully on her
mouth, and she returned with a slow embrace. Isabella
stepped into the shower and began to run the water. Our
bodies pressed closely in the confined space of the
shower stall, and Serra washed us with a bar of soap,
first Isabella, then myself. Isabella next washed
Serra, who moaned quietly when Isabella's hand moved
between her legs. Once clean, we toweled off and
stepped into the bedroom, hand in hand.
Please consider the scene. There I stood naked between
Isabella, a pinup fantasy made flesh, and Serrafina, my
beautiful and loving wife. My sex was so hard that the
head had turned purple. Isabella whispered to me, "Kiss
me."
Reader, I did. I took her in my arms and placed her on
the bed while pressing my lips gently to hers. As
Isabella's tongue slipped past my lips, Serra climbed
into bed next to us and pressed her body into ours. The
room filled with the unique and wonderful aroma of
expectant pussy, and my head reeled.
There was no etiquette. It was the first time any of us
had been in bed with more than one person, and the
first several minutes were spent frantically groping,
grasping, pulling, tweaking, and poking in our glorious
madness. Isabella would take a hand from Serra's sex
and grasp mine with it, pump vigorously for a moment,
and then place her fingers in Serra's mouth as I put my
tongue in Isabella's ear and Serra pinched my nipple.
To their surprise and my embarrassment, I came quickly
and copiously, coating Isabella's stomach as Serrafina
gripped my member. We all laughed, startled, still
addled by the wine and pot, and I sat back to watch my
wife make love to another woman as I recuperated.
Serrafina pushed Isabella onto her back, and with her
tongue traced a line from Isabella's chin to her left
nipple. Swirling her tongue around and around
Isabella's aureole, she then nipped her skin as
Isabella yelped in surprise and pleasure.
One of the things that has kept my love life with Serra
fresh over many years: she loves to express herself
verbally in bed. I realized that any shyness she may
have felt with Isabella had evaporated when she said,
"I'm going to lick my husband's come off your stomach."
Isabella moaned and wriggled on the bed as Serra licked
her stomach, lapping the last of my come out of her
navel, and moved to kiss her squarely on the mouth. I
could feel my member stir again as I saw a thin strand
of my come connect the women's tongues.
The gypsy girl kissed her way down the stomach of our
captive princess, and I, Juan Carlos, King of Spain,
moaned in approval. When the princess came to our
palace, did she know she would be used in this manner?
Did she suspect? Did she come to our palace because she
wanted to be used in such a fashion?
I pondered these weighty matters as the gypsy girl
placed her face between the captive's legs, and
breathed into her nether hair. The captive moaned and
writhed, and the gypsy girl moved her tongue lightly
across the captive's lips before placing her mouth
gently on her clit. The captive sat bolt upright and
said "aaaaaaaahhhhh..." as the gypsy twirled her tongue
around this most sensitive nub, and...
"Hey there Mitty, care to join me down here? You look
lost," said Serra. Removed from my reverie, I placed my
face next to my wife's and we took turns licking and
kissing between the legs of Isabella. Her juices were
flowing freely, and I marveled at the scent of another
woman being rubbed onto my face. Serra must have had
the same thought, because she turned her face towards
mine and licked Isabella's juice off my lips.
Isabella forcefully grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth
back to her clit. As I licked ever more quickly, Serra
quietly slipped a finger into Isabella's sex and sent
her immediately into orgasm. Isabella bucked as I
struggled to keep my mouth on her clit and Serra probed
her with her index finger. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh
fuck......" moaned Isabella and she rode the wave of
her climax as long as she could, then collapsed back
into the bed, for the moment lifeless.
As she recovered, my wife moved onto the bed on her
back, and Isabella and I gave her the same treatment
that our guest had received minutes before. I grew
thirsty, and went to the bathroom for a drink of water.
When I returned, here is the tableau which greeted me:
Serra, my wife, on her back, legs raised above her
head, moaning and thrashing and coming, while Isabella
licked and fingered her glistening sex.
Isabella was on the bed, kneeling between Serra's legs,
with her face low to lick Serra's pussy and her
buttocks high in the air. Serra opened her eyes and
must have seen me staring at Isabella's globes, because
she grinned and said, "I think it's time for that Greek
lesson."
I grabbed my member and moved toward the bed, a little
quickly; I was nervous again. Isabella looked at me
over her shoulder, and smiled. My wife's come was all
over her face, and I moved to lick it off for her. The
three of us lay together on the bed. Each of us had had
at least one climax, and were ready to move on to the
best part of the evening -- that time in a love-making
session when the desperate desire to get off has come
and gone for the time being, and all that lies ahead
can be savored.
Serrafina propped herself on one shoulder as I
indolently nuzzled Isabella's neck, and said, "Mitty,
if you're going to penetrate another woman, you have to
let me set the pace. That goes for you, too, Isabella.
Agreed?" We both nodded. I could see that Serra was
torn between apprehension for watching her husband
enter another woman and desire to explore new facets of
our sexuality. I kissed her on the mouth and said,
"This is your call now."
Allow me to be more honest with the reader than I was
with my wife. When I told Serra that what happened next
was up to her, I tried to sound blase as possible. In
my secret heart, though, all I could think about was
entering the beautiful Isabella, and therefore was
sending the strongest possible "please, please, please,
let me enter her," brainwaves to my wife. As everyone
knows, this sort of brainwave is the stuff only of
children's tales; let it be said that Serrafina knew
exactly what I wanted by the hardness of my sex and the
eagerness on my face.
Serrafina kissed Isabella and said, "Lie flat on your
stomach. We'll massage you and relax you so my husband
can fuck you in the ass." I was startled and aroused by
Serra's language, but knew that it served two purposes:
first, it turned all of us on that Serra would make
explicit the taboo act, and second, it reminded me --
in case I had forgotten -- that Isabella's sex was
absolutely off limits for now.
As I straddled Isabella, Serra leaned over and reached
into the drawer of our night stand to pull out a bottle
of massage oil. She poured a small amount on Isabella's
back, and was rewarded with a quiet sigh of pleasure. I
gently massaged the oil into her back, warming her
skin. Isabella's skin is very tan, much darker than
mine, and I was aroused by the contrast of my light
hands on her olive shoulders. Slowly I moved my hands
lower and lower on her back, and she began to squirm
and moan quietly.
I, Juan Carlos, King of Spain, rubbed the scented
potion into the skin of the captive princess. I moved
no lower than the small of her back; is it not unseemly
for a King to be hasty with his captive? Better to draw
out the pleasure, both for my sake and hers. Besides, a
King who is careless with his captive will reveal
himself in the one way a King should never be revealed:
he will let his captive see that he has lost control
and thus ceded power.
"Honey, are you with us?" said Serra.
"You've got that look again. If you can't stay focused
when you're about to sodomize a woman while your wife
assists you, I don't know, maybe you just smoked too
much tonight."
I looked Serrafina in the eye. I screwed up my courage.
I opened my mouth. This is what I said:
"Tonight I am Juan Carlos, King of Spain. Tonight I
rule with the scepter you see before you."
I held my breath. I waited for Serrafina or Isabella to
laugh. I waited for the evening to fall apart because
of my foolishness. Serrafina leaned close to my face.
As she spoke, I could smell the dried juice of
Isabella's sex on her face. This is what she said:
"Tonight you are whoever you want to be. Tonight, you
are Juan Carlos. King of Spain. This is your subject,
and your authority is your staff."
I felt a rush of blood to my member and my face, and
continued to caress Isabella's back. Serrafina poured
oil onto her hand and began to massage the back of our
princess' thighs. Isabella moaned again and pressed her
sex into the bed. Noticing her increased arousal, Serra
took a pillow and placed it under Isabella's hips so
that her buttocks were tipped into the air and slightly
separated. Serra then nodded to me and pointed to
Isabella's mid-section.
I moved my oiled hands to her cheeks, and contemplated
her beautiful backside as I massaged it. Her bottom was
snowy white, in marked contrast to the rest of her body
-- two pale globes waiting to be gently pried apart.
As I was massaging Isabella, Serra returned to our
night stand and pulled out a tube of KY jelly. She then
placed a second pillow underneath Isabella's hips,
thereby lewdly raising her backside well above the bed
and separating her cheeks a bit more. I briefly
wondered if such a position could be comfortable, but
Isabella strained to raise her buttocks even higher to
meet my wandering hands.
No one had spoken for some time, so Serra's voice came
as a surprise when she said, "Isabella, put your knees
under your body and raise your ass off the bed. That's
good, now put your face down on this pillow." Isabella
gasped, but complied quickly. If she was uncomfortable
to so revealed, she did not show it. My wife sat down
next to Isabella's raised bottom, and placed a hand on
each cheek.
Again she looked into my eyes and said, "Juan Carlos,
King of Spain, kiss the ass of your captive princess."
I leaned forward and placed my lips on the left cheek
of Isabella, and then moved to kiss the right cheek.
Serra, still looking into my eyes, pulled Isabella's
cheeks apart to expose her back hole, which appeared
pink and embarrassed to be exposed so.
"Juan Carlos, King of Spain, kiss the ring of your
captive princess," said Serrafina. I leaned forward and
pressed my lips to Isabella's anus, and Isabella gasped
with pleasure. Evidently she had never been paid
tribute in such fashion.
Serrafina was smiling, and I could smell that she was
as turned by this as any of us. "Juan Carlos, King of
Spain, open the path with your tongue so that your
staff may follow." I pushed my tongue as far into
Isabella as I could, and could feel Isabella's ring
squeeze around my tongue as she climaxed and pressed
her ass back into my face.
When Isabella finished climaxing, I raised myself and
looked for the lubricant. I took the tube and began to
apply it to my index finger, but Serra shook her head
and said, "Remember, I set the pace." With that, she
took the tube from me and squeezed the gel onto her
fingers. "Isabella, [or did she say 'captive princess?'
-- at this point I could not distinguish] reach back
with your hands and open your cheeks." Isabella
dutifully obeyed, face in the pillow, hands pulling her
cheeks open.
"Wider," said Serrafina. Again.
Serra then massaged the lubricant into Isabella's back
hole, all the while being careful not to penetrate with
her fingers. That virgin hole, after all, was meant for
me. Serra then squeezed out a larger amount of
lubricant and applied it to my member. I was grateful
that I had come earlier in the evening, because the
shear anticipation was making it difficult to hold
back.
Serrafina then said, "Captive princess, ask your King
to press his staff into you." Isabella, in a weak
kittenish voice, said, "Juan Carlos, please press your
staff..."
"That's not how a common captive, even a princess,
should address a King." Serra interrupted. "Ask him in
your own words."
Isabella, frantic with desire and filled with
apprehension, mumbled something that was muffled by the
pillow, but whatever she said it was not sufficient to
pacify Serrafina, who leaned down to Isabella and
whispered fiercely in her ear.
Isabella moaned again, and spoke in a clear voice:
"Juan Carlos, King of Spain, please put your cock in my
ass."
I wasted no time. I placed the head of my member near
her puckered hole. It was then I first realized the
difference in size: recall that I am not a small man.
But Serra was not about to let the moment pass and,
seizing my member, pressed the head firmly against
Isabella's back entrance.
"Wider," Serra said to Isabella, "wider still."
Isabella complied again and pulled her cheeks even
farther apart. I pressed firmly, but without haste, and
Serra held on the base of my sex to guide me. My head
suddenly popped into her, and we both gasped. We held
still for a moment while Isabella relaxed, and then at
Serra's behest I pressed a bit deeper. Isabella yelped,
and we held still once again, only to press deeper at
Serra's continued urgings.
This process went on for what seemed like ages until,
almost without anyone realizing it, my hips were firmly
pressed against Isabella's cheeks. Serra leaned forward
and whispered, "He's all the way in." Isabella gasped
in surprise and Serra whispered another instruction to
her.
Isabella said, "Carlos King" -- her royal syntax was
getting garbled in the confusion, but nobody minded --
"King, please fuck my ass."
I pulled my member out most of its length and pressed
back in to the hilt slowly. Isabella was groaning with
pleasure. Out and in. Out and in again. Serra then
grabbed my member and pulled it all the way out and
said, "Push it in to the hilt in one stroke." I did.
And again. While Serra, wicked and funny and altogether
new to me, whispered to Isabella a final time.
"King, please buttfuck me hard and deep," yelped
Isabella, and as she was making this request Serra's
hands moved from my member to Isabella's clit and
worked it lovingly.
Reader, in this instance euphemism will not do.
I fucked Isabella's ass as deeply as I could. I fucked
it vigorously. I could feel Serra insert her fingers
into the pussy of our captive princess and I could feel
the asshole of our captive princess clamp rhythmically
around my cock as she screamed out a climax. I could
feel the telltale tightness in my balls as my time
neared, and this time without prompting Isabella yelled
"King Carlos, come in my ass! Come in my ass!"
That was all the invitation I needed. The disparate
tinglings all over my body gathered to the head of my
cock -- the center of the universe just then -- and
poured out through the tip as I unloaded wave after
wave of come into the asshole of my beautiful captive
princess. I roared and she shrieked as I pumped my cum
as deeply between her cheeks as I could.
As the orgasms subsided, we collapsed onto our sides,
and Serra kissed Isabella on the mouth. I felt glorious
and dizzy. As my erection began to pass, I gently
pulled my member out of Isabella's back hole. She
squirmed as drops of my come slowly slipped out of her
ass, and I kissed her on the mouth.
The three of us remained there unmoving, catching our
breath, Serrafina on one side of Isabella and I on the
other spent, while Isabella quietly moaned in pleasure
of the memory of my sex reaming her out.
One by one we dozed off, but the night was not over,
and before long I awakened to Serrafina's gentle
whisper in my ear. "Wake up sleepyhead, you still have
work to do."
As I came to, I felt Serrafina gently cleaning my
member with a soapy washcloth. I was unsure of the
time, or how long we had slept, but it did not take
long for the blood to flow to my sex when I replayed
the evening's events in my head. Isabella slept on,
while my wife leaned over to kiss me on the mouth and
squeezed my sex again.
Serrafina then traced a line down my body with her
tongue, from my mouth to my thigh. I flinched as she
gave the head of my sex a flick with her tongue, and
moaned as she wetly licked up and down the shaft.
Without warning, Serra engulfed my cock in her mouth,
stuffing as much of myself past her lips as she could.
Slowly she stretched her lips to accommodate my cock,
and I lifted my head to watch. There are few sites I
enjoy more in this world than Serra's lips pulled tight
around my cock while my head brushes the back of her
throat. After several minutes of slow sucking, she
began to bob up and down and pump my cock with her
hand. She knew that there was not much danger of my
coming yet -- having already climaxed twice earlier.
She pulled her face away from my groin and brought her
mouth to mine. I could taste my sex on her mouth, and
she whispered, "Juan Carlos, King of Spain, you must
attend to the satisfaction of your subject."
I, Juan Carlos, King of Spain, was relieved to know
that my subject wanted to receive her liege's staff.
For tonight I had discovered that sodomy, like
fellatio, was wonderful and exciting and a welcome
supplement to any King's repertoire, but it simply was
not a substitute for the tight, well-oiled pussy of a
loving subject. As I rested on my back, my gypsy queen
straddled my lap and rubbed her dripping sex against
mine, already well lubricated from her saliva. I would
toy with her. I would rub my sex on the outside of hers
without entering for ages. I would make her crave the
introduction of my staff to her womb, and then --
Serra snapped me out of my reverie by quickly impaling
herself on my cock. If she realized the I was
woolgathering, she was having none of it and we gasped
in unison as her pussy lips spread apart and thighs
pressed against my abdomen in one forceful stroke. I
remained motionless as she pumped up and down,
searching for just the right angle to bring on a
climax.
Her orgasm came almost immediately when I gently placed
my thumb on her clit, and her moaning awakened
Isabella. As Serrafina's shudders subsided, I gathered
her in my arms and the two of us rolled over, she on
her back, I on top.
I pulled my cock out of her, and rubbed the head
against her beautiful lips. Nearly overwhelmed with
emotion and gratitude for such a sexy wife, I gently
pressed my head just inside her pussy. Isabella sat up,
reached between her legs, and caressed her clit as she
watched me once again enter Serrafina. The princess,
however, seemed to respect that this was my time to
make love to the gypsy queen, and thus did not
interfere.
Serrafina lifted her legs over my shoulders, licked her
lips, and whispered "Fuck me Juan Carlos, King of
Spain." I drove my cock firmly to the hilt, pulled out
to the tip, and drove in again. Her pussy squeezed my
cock like a grasping hand, and as our bodies slapped
together I sensed the imminent arrival of my third
climax of the evening.
Each thrust brought me closer, and when I felt her
pussy contract around my staff I reached the point of
no return. I lifted my chest off hers, grasped her legs
in my hands, and in my roaring cowboy glory unloaded my
come as deeply into her pussy as I could. We yelled
together as we forgot our identities and simply came
and came and came as pure hedonistic beings.
As our pulses slowed, I collapsed on Serrafina, and
Isabella -- forgotten by either one of us -- gasped as
she reached orgasm by her own hand. I withdrew as my
erection dissipated, and Serrafina's head lolled about
in lazy bliss. Isabella looked at me, and asked "May
I?"
I nodded my assent, and in the last intimate act of the
evening, Isabella placed herself between my wife's legs
and sucked my dripping come from her sex. We were all
very sleepy, and fell into a pile of arms and legs and
tits and skin, this time with Serra between Isabella
and myself. The last words I heard before falling
asleep were Serrafina's whispers:
"Viva Juan Carlos, King of Spain. May he reign
forever..."
***
The next morning, we awakened late and got out of bed
even later. The next few days are worth relating, but
that must wait for another time. Isabella left several
days later; although she seemed to want to extend her
stay, she also respected our boundaries and saw the
week for what it was -- a playful experiment, and not
the beginning of an open marriage.
One question still nags at me: how did Serrafina know
that I thought of Isabella as my "captive princess?"
When I confessed to her that I was Juan Carlos, King of
Spain, I did not mention anything about a captive
princess. Could she read my mind after all? Do I talk
in my sleep? Are my fantasies just too predictable? Or
am I having trouble distinguishing between fantasy and
reality?
I have never asked her. Some things, after all, are
best left alone.
The End
This story was inspired by the novel "In Praise of the
Step Mother," by Mario Vargos Llosa. E-mails to
wwmitty@aol.com* are encouraged. If you'd like to see
Mitty and Serra (possibly Isabella?) again, let me know
or suggest a scene...
END
This was the complete version of this story.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 65