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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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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.]
--------------------------------------------------------

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