Chapter 5

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 21^st-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.”