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The Grimoire - Part 5 Carl Gustaf

Contributing Authors: ChrisM 

John & Agnes meet the King of Sweden in a time of fun and sexual liberation.

Returning home from France, Agnes and I settled back into our usual routine. It would be tricky, if not untruthful, for me to suggest that our pace of life could possibly be related to the one I lived before receiving my Uncle Darcy’s book. Life with Agnes could never be considered normal. Living with a witch would always be different. But spending your days with a sexy, always horny, enchantress made my existence quite special.

Consider the possibilities. In my life with Agnes, I had no need for a job or money. We could live in the book and have no need for a house or apartment. My goal each day was to be entertained. I had endless time to read, a luxury I had never known. I wouldn’t say that Agnes was a nymphomaniac, but I could tell that she never grew tired of any and all forms of sexuality. The fact that she displayed her exceptional body to me throughout the day (and night), kept me in a constant state of arousal.

Each day I would spend time on my computer doing research of people from the past that I desired to meet. Agnes would often sit with me and discuss the possibilities of where to travel. We had made a few quick trips to places I had read about not needing to meet anyone in particular.

We traveled to Rome to see an event in the Colosseum in the year 100 AD. I wanted to see one of the great spectacles in the amphitheater, while Agnes was curious about the vast Roman orgies. The show in the Colosseum was indeed remarkable. The orgy that Agnes led me to was a sight to behold. I have to admit that while my senses of hygiene had to be stretched, the party was wild and went on for the better part of a day.

On a lark, Agnes and I decided to spend some time in an old west town. We made a trip to Virginia City, Nevada in 1860. Large deposits of gold and silver had been discovered in the area, and the city was flush with money. I checked into the best hotel and spent a week in the saloons playing poker. Agnes became a dancehall girl, spending most of her time on her back in an upstairs room. We saw more than one gunfight and once again found our 21st-century senses of hygiene challenged.

After doing some reading on the South Pacific, Agnes and I decided to travel back to Tahiti in 1765, a few years before the first white men anchored in Matavai Bay. We were well received by the local people because Agnes could speak their language. We stayed with them for two weeks enjoying their hospitality and their beds. Agnes found the men were not especially experienced lovers but possessed great stamina and joy of sex. The women were sweet and lovely. They were amused by my circumcised penis, but all too ready to give it a test ride.

On each of our trips, we found some little trinket to bring home as a reminder of our adventure and something to subsidize our next outing. We returned home with a handful of coins from our trip to Rome. We kept two as mementos and sold several for a substantial amount of money. We knew the paintings we bought in Paris would bring in a ton of cash as well.

During my daily research projects, I came across something exciting and called Agnes in to take a look. Pointing at the computer screen, I showed her information I had found while studying Sweden. “Here’s something that might be interesting,” I told her. “Carl XVI Gustaf is the King of Sweden today. Digging around I see that while he is a first class guy today, he was quite a rounder in his early years as King.”

Looking over my shoulder, Agnes looked at the computer monitor. “I seem to remember that he had a spot of bother after he became King.”

“Indeed he did. Shortly after he took the throne, the country’s ruling body passed a law that essentially did away with all of the King’s power. He became a figurehead ruler, and I gather he wasn’t too happy about it.”

Playing with my ear while she looked over my shoulder, Agnes said, “I seem to remember that he was crazy about fast cars.”

“That’s what I just read,” I answered. “But digging down pretty deep here I’ve found that after Carl was stripped of his kingly power, he did a lot of partying at underground clubs in Stockholm.”

Whispering in my ear, Agnes said, “Can’t you imagine how much fun he could have had with all of those Swedish blonde beauties? It must have been a huge scandal. When did all of this happen?”

“As best as I can determine, he was a full-time party guy in 1975. He’d been King for about two years then.”

“We’ve never gone back in time to meet someone that’s still alive,” Agnes pondered. “It seems a little strange.”

“I’ve read that he put down a few bottles of brännvin during his party days. We might want to bring back a few bottles.”

“What is that?” Agnes asked as she wrinkled her nose.

“I think it translates from Swedish as ‘burnt wine,’ but I wouldn’t swear to it,” I answered. “But it seems that it sort of morphed into the vodka that we see so much of today. Their brännvin was always made from potatoes.”

“It’s too bad the Irish didn’t know how to make it. Vodka sounds a lot better than their bad warm beer.”

I pulled Agnes into my lap and hugged her. “I think another trip is in order. The young king liked to play. There wasn’t much going on in Sweden in 1975 other than ABBA getting a start. Maybe you’d like to party with the King.”

“Maybe you’d like to get into some of those big titted blonde girls,” Agnes pouted.

“I’ve heard that Swedish men are pretty well hung,” I said with a grin as my hand slipped up under her skirt. When I found that warm spot that was always waiting for me, her eyes closed and she moaned softly as my fingers moved inside her. “You liked Josephine’s gentleman friend,” I whispered in her ear. “As I recall you were pretty fond of his big cock any place you could put it.”

“Take me to bed now, and I’ll work out the details after we’ve had sex and a nap,” she told me.

“I’ll take you right here!” I demanded and bent her over my desk chair.


As was often the case, once Agnes and I began our sex play, time was forgotten. We went from the desk chair to a living room sofa, before using the kitchen table and ending on our bed. The breeding frenzy lasted almost two hours and left us both exhausted.

When Agnes woke up from her nap, I was standing beside the bed. “This is what we’ll need for our trip,” I said as I hand her a sheet of paper.

She looked my list over and gave me an odd look. “You’ve never asked for this much stuff before.”

“I’ve done some additional research and believe I’ve found a surefire way to get to see the Swedish King. Can you get those things for us?”

Agnes examined the list again before she smiled. The smile turned into a laugh. “I see what you’re doing. I’ll need 24 hours.”

“Why would any man not want to be married to a witch?” I said before I jumped on the bed and rolled my sweet witch wife under me.




On the third day of August 1977, Agnes and I drove into Stockholm in a new black Pontiac Trans-Am with a giant eagle painted on the hood. I was wearing a cowboy hat and jeans. Agnes was sporting long brown hair and a body that would, as the saying goes, stop a clock. I pulled into the Grand Hotel in Stockholm wearing my dark aviator sunglasses and watched the people on the street stop and stare.

“I think you got what you wanted,” Agnes giggled.

“Let’s just hope that Carl Gustaf gets the word.”

The valet came to my door speaking Swedish. I turned to Agnes who told me he was saying, “Welcome to the Grand Hotel.”

We got out of the car and sauntered into the main lobby.

“This place opened in 1874,” I told Agnes in a low voice. “I’d guess they’ve got some stories to tell about what’s gone on in here.”

When we reached the registration desk the man on duty looked like he had just seen a ghost. I felt quite confident that not many people had walked into the renowned lobby wearing blue jeans. When I reached the desk the man looked at what I assumed was his reservations list and his eyes grew even larger.

“Good afternoon, sir,” he stammered in reasonably good English. “Would you be John Wilson?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered with a big smile. Pointing to Agnes, I said, “And this would be Mrs. Wilson.”

“Very good, sir,” the man stuttered. “We have your suite ready. If you wait just one second, I’ll get the hotel manager. He would like to show you to your room.”

“Sure thing,” I said with a smile. “We’re not in a hurry.”

“You want everyone to get a good look, huh?” Agnes asked quietly.

“I certainly do. I’m hoping word gets out quickly and the right people hear it.”


“What makes you think the King will find out and want to meet us?”

Looking around the lobby and speaking softly I told Agnes, “First off, the King is a car guy. He loves fast cars. I’ll bet there’s not another Trans-Am in this country. Secondly, I read that he loved the movie ‘Smokey and the Bandit.’ We’re enough like Burt Reynolds and Sally Field that he’ll want a closer look.” Then looking down at my lovely witch wife I added, “And the King likes fast women. How could he resist you?”

“You planning on giving me to the King as a gift?” she asked with a sly grin.

“Given the opportunity, I guess you’ll do the giving yourself. You’ve probably never bedded a King.”

Agnes chuckled. “No, but I’ve had a Queen. In fact, we shared a Queen at the same time.”

Just then the hotel manager arrived. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilson,” he said as if he understood that we were using fake names to avoid being discovered. “We are so happy to have you at the Grand Hotel. Is this your first visit here?”

“It is,” I answered. “We’ve wanted to visit your country and friends told us that this was the best place to stay.”

“I hope you won’t mind, but I’ve made a change in your reservation. You requested a suite, and we had one saved for you, but I’ve made a small change and moved you to one of our larger suites with a wonderful view of the harbor and the Royal Palace. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Agnes said, giving the manager a sexy smile. “I hope you’ll feel free to make suggestions for the things we should do and see while we’re here.”

Agnes already had the manager eating out of her hand. “I’ll have a list of suggestions typed up and delivered to you,” he said as he bowed and kissed her hand. “Now, if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to your suite.” Speaking in Swedish, he ordered two bellmen to bring our luggage.

Turning back to Agnes he said, “You appear to be traveling light. You only have two suitcases.”

Touching the man’s arm and speaking softly, Agnes said, “That lovely car we have has little space for bags. Besides, Mr. Wilson prefers me naked, so I don’t need a lot of clothes.”

The manager blushed and glanced at me.

“It’s true,” I told him. “But what Mrs. Wilson didn’t tell you is that she loves to shop. I assure you that when we leave, she’ll have at least one more bag… maybe more.”

The man grinned at Agnes. “Come,” he said. “Let me show you the room.

The suite was, in fact, lovely. On the fourth floor, it had a fantastic view of the harbor and the Palace beyond. It had a sitting room with a separate bedroom. Stepping into the bedroom, I patted the manager on his back. You Swedes know how to make a bedroom to delight the senses. I think this bed will probably get a good workout while we’re here.” I stuffed a $100 bill into his shirt pocket and patted him again. “Yes sir, this is just what the doctor ordered.”

I stepped into the bathroom and found it reeking of sexual escapades. The tub was large enough for two. I couldn’t imagine the possibility of not having a bath with my sexy wife.

Agnes joined us in the bathroom and immediately lay back in the tub, giving the manager a generous view of lack of panties and hairless pussy. When she caught the manager looking between her legs, Agnes used her sexiest voice. “I told you, he prefers me naked.”

Being totally embarrassed, the manager turned to leave the bathroom saying, “I’ll order you extra towels.”

The bellmen came into the bedroom with our suitcases. I slipped them both US dollars. The manager spoke to them in their own language, and they hurried out.

“I’ve instructed them to set up a bar for you, Mr. Wilson. You will, of course, have a complimentary bottle of champagne and two bottles of our own Swedish wines. Is there anything else I can get you?” the manager asked me.

“Yes, thank you,” I answered as I looked around to see that Agnes had left the door to the bedroom wide open and was beginning to undress. She was obviously putting on a show for the manager, and I made no attempt to interrupt his view. “I’d like to have a bottle of single malt scotch.”

“Any particular brand,” he asked not taking eyes off of a now naked Agnes.

“Anything but Islay,” I answered. “And perhaps one evening this week you could stop in and have a cocktail with us. So include a bottle of your own favorite.”

Agnes was bent over going through her suitcase giving the manager an excellent view of her shapely ass. “It is magnificent isn’t it?” I asked him.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson. It certainly is.” Turning back to me he said, “I must go now, but thank you for the invitation to join you for a drink. I would love to know you and Mrs. Wilson better.” He shook my hand and left the room.

Walking into the bedroom, I spoke to Agnes. “You plan on fucking the hotel manager?”

“He seems like a nice man,” she said as she turned around and cupped her breasts. “I’ll bet you’d enjoy watching.”

“I always enjoy watching you have sex.” Walking to her and taking her in my arms I told her, “You are the rare woman that truly enjoys every imaginable form of sex. To you, it is an adventure. Can you imagine the stories that will be told about Sally Field after we’ve left town?”

Reaching her hand between my legs, Agnes rubbed me as she grinned. “Will we continue this charade as long as we’re here?”

“We will continue to say we are John and Agnes Wilson,” I said as began kissing her neck. “We can’t help what others might think.”

There was a knock at the door. “That’ll be the bellmen with our bar setup. Be certain to give them a nice view.”

As I left her to get the door, Agnes answered me, “Of course I will.”

True to her word, Agnes left the bedroom door open. She paraded around the room naked making the bar arrangement difficult for the men as they strained to get a look without me catching them. I thought the two of them might faint when Agnes stood in the doorway to the bedroom and asked if I had packed her favorite dildo.

“Look in my bag,” I answered. “I think it’s under my socks.”

I turned back to the bellmen, and they quickly finished setting up the bar. Giving them some more cash, I held open the door for them as they tried to sneak one more peak before leaving.

Walking into the bedroom I found Agnes on the bed, her legs opened and fucking herself with the toy. “I made myself horny showing off for those men,” she told me. “Get your clothes off and let’s break in this bed.”

Pulling a chair up to the end of the bed, I sat down. “I think I’d rather watch a while.”

“You like to watch me, don’t you?” she asked.

“I do. And you enjoy being watched.”

“That’s true,” she said as she began to move the toy faster. “Let me see your cock,” she blurted out. “I want to see you stoke it.

I dropped my pants to let her see that my member looked like a piece of stone. Walking to the side of the large bed, I slid my hand over the hard surface. Agnes’ eyes were fixed on my cock while she fucked herself faster and deeper until she cried out as an orgasm swept over her.

When her body stopped trembling, she rolled over to take my member in her mouth. Agnes looked up at me saying, “I think this trip will be fun.”






For the next two days, we spent our time being tourists. Agnes found a lingerie shop that she fancied, bringing back to the hotel no less than five shopping bags filled with things she insisted would make my blood boil.

We wanted to see the Royal Palace but were told that it would be on Thursday. The hotel manager, ever ready to be of assistance to Agnes, told her he would make a reservation for us to get into the Palace the following day.

On Wednesday we visited the Vasa Museum, a maritime museum that holds an entirely intact ship that was launched in 1627. After the museum, we went to Stortget in Gamla Stan, the old town in central Stockholm. It is the oldest square in the city. We marveled at the colorful old buildings and the cobblestone surrounding what appeared to be an ancient fountain. We had a relaxing and entertaining day. Because Agnes is a witch, she had no trouble speaking or understanding the Swedish people that we met.

Before dinner, we took a stroll through Kungsträdgården, a city-owned park located just a short walk from our hotel. We were told that it was one of the most popular spots in Stockholm. Indeed, it was filled with people moving in and out of the many outdoor cafes. We felt like we got the flavor of the city and its people.

After dinner, Agnes was anxious to get back to our room. She planned to present a fashion show for me demonstrating all of the lingerie she had purchased. While I thought it was a grand idea, her show only lasted fifteen minutes. I became aroused looking at her in the sexy things she was modeling. I have always preferred her without clothes, but have to admit the garments she displayed did the trick for me.

Having breakfast in the hotel Thursday morning, the hotel manager, Anders Magnusson, stopped by our table to give us tickets for entry into the Royal Palace. He told us that the person in charge of the Palace tours was a cousin of his and he would be looking for us. Before he left, he said, “I’ll be working late this evening. If you’ll ask for me after dinner, I would love to treat you to a cocktail in our bar.”

As we prepared to walk the short distance to the Palace, Agnes made sure I saw she was wearing some of the lingerie she didn’t have the chance to show me the previous night. I was tempted to delay our trip to the Palace but decided that a short delay would only make the final conquest sweeter.

When we arrived at the Palace a man approached us, “Are you the Wilsons?” he asked, winking as if he knew our names were fake.

“Yes, we are,” I answered holding out my hand. “I’m John, and my wife is Agnes.”

“So very nice to meet you,” he said with a smile in heavily accented English. “I am Gunnar Nilsson and cousin to Anders. He asked that I take special care of you two.”

“Your cousin is a fine fellow,” I said, knowing anything I said would get back to Anders at the hotel. “He’s been very gracious to us.”

Gunnar’s eyes held Agnes’ form. I could see his lust and knew that we would be well treated by him.

“If you’ll allow me,” Gunnar said as he extended his hand toward the palace, “I’ll give you a personal tour of the palace.”

Agnes could see his intent as well as I could. “That would be lovely,” she cooed to him as she lightly touched his arm. “It’s an interesting building. What goes on here?”

As we began walking, Gunnar talked about the Palace. “This construction of this building began in 1697. The first designer passed away, and another took his place. Construction continued until 1760. The Palace currently has more than 1,000 rooms. More than 600 of the rooms have windows to the outside. The royal family has lived here for hundreds of years. They have taken different apartments, but always lived within these walls.”

Playing up to him, Agnes again touched his arm. “The King actually lives here?”

“Yes, he does,” Gunnar answered, obviously pleased to be getting Agnes’ attention. “Our current King doesn’t have the same powers as his predecessors did, but he is still our King.” After pointing out a statue, Gunnar went back to his story about the King. “Our governing body, which is like your Congress, voted to take the King’s powers a few years back. Carl Gustaf remains King, but he no longer has the authority that the previous kings held.”

“How did the current King take the loss of power?” Agnes asked.

“I would have to say that he wasn’t happy about it, but had the good sense to not show his displeasure to the public. That was four years ago. I believe that he is still unhappy, but seems to be adjusting to the new way in our country.”

Listening to the two of them talk I had time to study the building. While I couldn’t say that I found it all that interesting on the outside, it was quite beautiful on the inside. The building was massive and old.

As we stood there talking about the King and the Palace, a man in a dark suit came walking toward us. He looked dangerous and appeared to be on a mission. Reaching us, he looked directly at me. “Sir, are you John Wilson?”

“Yes, I am. Do you need something from me?”

Pointing at Agnes, he asked, “And is this Mrs. Wilson.”

“Correct,” I answered.

“If you would accompany me please,” the man said dryly.

“Is there a problem,” Gunnar asked seemingly quite concerned.

The man looked at Gunnar to answer. “No, Mr. Nilsson. There is no problem. The King has asked me to bring these people to him for an audience.”

“Oh my,” Gunnar gasped.

“You may return to your post,” the man told Gunnar. Then with just the hint of a smile, he said to Agnes and me, “Please follow me.”

We walked briskly behind the man in the dark suit. Leaning in to speak softly I told Agnes, “I told you the car would get his attention.”

“Maybe he just wants to see me,” she whispered back.

After walking through a garden and a series of hallways and rooms, we stopped outside a large double door that appeared to be quite old. The man opened the door saying, “King Carl Gustaf will greet you inside this room. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

While I had been expecting some grand place with paintings of previous members of Swedish royalty, we found ourselves in a room about ten feet by twenty. It was actually rather cozy and had a feeling of intimacy. Neither of us sat but walked the room inspecting everything.

Suddenly the door at the far end of the room opened. A tallish man in a dark gray suit walked through the door and directly to us. Agnes bowed saying, “Your Highness.”

“There is no need for that,” the man said with a wide grin. “You two are the people going by the names Agnes and John Wilson, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

Holding out his hand to me, he said, “I heard you had come to our city. You may not know, but I am a motor car enthusiast. I own a Ferrari and a Porsche along with a few others, but I have to admit to being intrigued with your black Trans-Am.” He grinned at Agnes. “I suppose you know a car very similar to yours was used in filming the movie Smokey and the Bandit.”

“So I’ve been told,” Agnes answered.

“I haven’t driven many American made cars, but I did see that movie and was taken with the car and the people who rode in it.”

“It was an entertaining movie,” I told him, paused a moment and asked, “Would your highness like to have a test drive of my Trans-Am?”

“What a lovely suggestion,” he answered with a bright smile. “Would you be able to meet me outside of town around four o’clock this afternoon?”

“It would be our pleasure, sir,” I answered. “Just let me know where and we’ll meet you.”

Reaching into a pocket inside his jacket, the King produced an envelope. “In hopes that you would agree to meet me, I’ve already written out directions. From your hotel, it will take you approximately twenty minutes to reach the spot. You’ll see a Swedish flag mounted on both sides of the entrance. Simply turn in and follow the road. I’ll meet you there.”

The King took Agnes’ hand and kissed it. “I’m so sorry I can’t spend more time with you, but I have two meetings to attend before I can get away. I’ll look forward to seeing you later.”

The King quickly left the room leaving Agnes and me to stare at each other.

Finally, she said, “He’s much more handsome than the pictures you had of him. He’s also taller than I thought he would be.”

“What color were his eyes?” I asked.

Before she realized I was baiting her, Agnes answered, “Blue. A lovely deep blue.” Determining that she had just fallen into my trap, she added, “At least I think they were blue. Doesn’t everyone in this country have blue eyes?”

I just chuckled, “Right.”

Another door opened and the man that had escorted us to this room re-entered. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you parts of the building that most tourists don’t see.”

It was past noon when our private tour ended, and we headed back to the hotel to get some lunch. As we ate, Agnes was busily trying to decide what to wear to see the King in the afternoon.

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Of course, John,” she blushed. “What would you recommend?”

“I think you should wear something that requires no lingerie. I watched the King sizing you up. He’ll want to do it again. I would suggest you give him an eyeful. I think I would call it being outrageous without being whorish.”

Agnes grinned at me. “I know just what to wear.”


Following the King’s directions, we arrived at the destination at four o’clock. It appeared to be some kind of villa that was at least ten miles from civilization. As soon as I stopped the car, the King appeared and opened the door for Agnes. By the look on his face, I assumed that she had given the King a good look at her bald pussy.

Walking around the car, I pitched the keys to the King. “Take her for a spin.”

“The car or your wife?” he replied.

“Why not both?” I answered.

He looked at Agnes, and she got back into the car. As he walked around to the driver’s side, I leaned in and whispered to her, “Get that skirt up as high as you can.”

“Outrageous without being whorish?” she asked.

“Exactly,” I said with a grin. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The two of them were gone about three-quarters of an hour. As they got out of the car, I could see the flush of red around Agnes’ collarbone. I didn’t have to be told that there had been some ‘hanky-panky’ between the two of them.

“How did you like the car?” I asked the King.

“It is quite wonderful,” the King responded with a broad smile. “I don’t know when I’ve had as much fun. It would be great to drive it on some of your long American highways.” He laughed adding, “And it would be fun to be chased by a Sheriff. Thank you, Mr. Wilson, for giving me such a treat.”

I was guessing he’d had more than one treat. “Please your majesty, call me John. I’m very pleased that you enjoyed yourself.”

Putting his hand on my shoulder, the King said, “Tell me, John. Do you and your lovely wife have plans for tomorrow night? I’m hosting a little party in one of Stockholm’s underground clubs. I would be pleased if you two would be my special guests.”

“We certainly couldn’t turn down such a request from the King of the country,” I replied. “Just tell me where and when.”

“Better yet,” Carl Gustaf said, “I’ll have a car pick you up at your hotel at 9:30 PM. We start a little later here so you might want to grab a quick nap in the afternoon.”

On our way back to town Agnes told me that while the King was a good driver and tested out the car, he had also wasted no time in getting his hand between her legs. She explained that he was a man of experience and stopped the car long enough to get her off with his fingers. After some prodding from me, she admitted that she had uncovered the royal cock and demonstrated an American deep throat on what she described as an imperial sized penis.

“Does royal cum taste different than that of commoners?”

“A little salty… a little sweet,” she answered before she laughed.

“We’re joining him for a party tomorrow night,” I informed her. “There may be more to come.”




The following night at precisely 9:30, a black sedan pulled up in front of the Grand Hotel. The same man that had taken us to see the King at the Palace got out of the car and opened the door for Agnes. After we were inside the automobile, he told us it would be only a short drive.

The car stopped outside a large old looking building. The man escorted us to a stairwell leading to a doorway below street level. He knocked three times. I almost broke up laughing when someone inside opened a small window in the door, saw our escort and opened the door for us. Our guide said good night and left us on our own.

We entered a relatively large room with a long bar and a series of booths. Each booth was a semi-circle, and all of them faced what appeared to be a stage. The only thing on the platform was a golden metal bed.

We were led to the center booth where King Carl Gustaf greeted us. “Please join me. We’ll want to have a few drinks before the show begins.”

As Agnes scooted into the booth and slid around until she was near the King, I noticed that as she moved she somehow managed to pull her skirt up until her sex was almost visible.

Shortly a bottle of vodka appeared with a bucket of ice and glasses. “I hope you’ll enjoy a local favorite,” the King said to Agnes as he filled her glass.

After thirty minutes of drinking and small talk, the lights on the stage came on. It appeared that there were two or three spotlights focused on the bed. A few moments later two beautiful blonde women walked to the edge of the stage and bowed. We heard applause from all around us but were unable to see anyone in the other booths.

The King leaned over and whispered. “The young ladies are Anna and Eva. They are twin sisters.”

The blonde women began undressing each other, revealing wonderfully perfect bodies. As we sat there watching we could hear whispers and moans from all around us. I looked over to see that the King had placed his hand on the inside of Agnes’ bare thigh. I decided to be still and watch the show… on the stage and right beside me.

I heard a soft sigh from Agnes and looked down to see the king had begun to finger her. Her skirt was up to her waist. I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be naked very soon.

Once the women on the stage were naked, they lay down on the bed, head to toe, fingering and licking each other. I wasn’t sure which show would be the most entertaining. I wasn’t surprised to see Agnes begin to tug at the zipper on his trousers.

Looking back at the stage, I saw the young women on the bed had moved into a sixty-nine position. As they licked and fingered each other, I could hear their soft moans. My own excitement was reaching a fever pitch. My cock was so hard it began to hurt.

Feeling Agnes’ hand on my pants, I let her get it out and stroke it while she was stroking the King. Glancing over I could see what Agnes meant when she said he had a “kingly cock.” It was long and thick. No doubt my witchy wife was anxious to get it back in her mouth, among other places.

The duet on the bed got louder as did the sounds around the room. This was a show worth seeing.

On the stage, it appeared that both of the beautiful young women had reached orgasms. There followed some applause from around the room. One of the girls, Anna, I think, got off of the bed and sat beside the King. They had whispered communication before she smiled, dropped her head down to kiss his cock, and stood, beckoning her sister to join her.

When Eva arrived, they whispered to each other for a few seconds before they began to giggle. Anna came around the booth, reaching out to me. When I took her hand, wondering what she was doing, she pulled me from my seat and put me between her and her sister. I looked back at Agnes and the King. I must have looked surprised. Agnes grinned, and the King waved his hand as a directive for the girls to take me to the bed on the stage.

Thirty minutes later I had become part of the show. I was naked on the bed with Anna riding my face and Eva riding my cock. When given the opportunity, I turned my head to look around the room. The sight was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. In every booth, people were in some form of sexual activity. I felt like the blondes and I were a pornographic movie and those watching were merely acting out on their impulses. The smell in the room was intoxicating as it reeked of sex. Glancing to the center booth, I saw Agnes naked and straddling the King. She was taking every inch of his kingly cock and crying out in pleasure.

Vodka and sex turned out to be a stimulant that led each person in the room to a hedonistic Nirvana. The cries and moans, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the fragrance of raw sex kept the people in the room going for hours.

While the people in some of the booths ended up swapping partners with another booth nearby, my Agnes stayed with the King. The last time I saw her, she was lying on her back on the table with her legs over the King’s shoulders.

At some point, I must have passed out. When I woke, my watch was showing the time as 6:30. I looked around the room to see that everyone was asleep. My Agnes’ head was on the King’s leg, her mouth no more than three inches from his relaxed cock. We had enjoyed an orgy in Rome, but it couldn’t compare with this one.

Finding my clothes, I gently woke Agnes, dressed her and slipped out the door.

We didn’t speak until we reached our hotel room. Finding bits of dried semen in Agnes’ hair, I suggested that we should spend some time in the shower. As the warm water ran over our skin, Agnes finally said, “It was a wild night.”

“One we’ll never forget,” I replied. “I take it you found the King to be a good lover.”

“And you seemed to find no fault with those two blonde beauties.”

“Guilty,” I said with a chuckle. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“It is,” Agnes said as she wrapped her arms around my middle.

“I’ll call Anders and ask him to make reservations for us to leave her.”

“Good idea, but invite him up here to see us before we go,” she suggested.

I saw the twinkle in her eye.

Two hours later Anders entered our suite with a packet in his hand. “I’m sorry that you have to leave,” he told me, “It was our pleasure to have you here.”

“The pleasure was all ours,” I said shaking his hand. “But before we leave, Agnes has something for you.”

I stepped back, and Agnes sauntered into the room. She was completely naked with a pillow in her hand. Reaching Anders, she dropped the pad at his feet, dropped to her knees and began unbuckling his trousers. When his pants hit the floor, and his erect cock jumped in front of her face, she looked up saying, “I want to give you my personal thanks for such a lovely stay in Stockholm.”

When Agnes was finished and looked up at Anders, she said, “Thank you.”

The hotel manager still had a shocked look on his face, but I had no doubt it was an experience he wouldn’t forget. I tossed him the keys to the Trans-Am. “Why don’t you keep the car for us until we come back.”

“When will you be returning?”

“I’m not certain, but you keep the car until then, OK.”

“Certainly, John,” he muttered.


Later that afternoon we stood on board a ship leaving the Stockholm harbor. Holding hands on deck, we watched the city disappear.

“This was a great trip,” Agnes whispered.

“Excellent. By the way, did you find anything that we could use to increase our treasury?”

“I did,” she said with a bright smile. “I bought a significant share of a company that I think will probably amount to something in the years ahead. The company’s name is IKEA.

I couldn’t even imagine what that stock purchased in 1977 would be worth in 2018. I patted Agnes on her beautiful butt and said, “You are amazing.”


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