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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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The Rich Old Man And My Wife
by StoryAce (storyace@hotmail.com)
***
A rich man decides that a guy's wife would make the
prefect breeder to provide him with a healthy, smart and
goodlooking child. And he could more than afford the
service. (MF, voy, oral, anal, cuck, huml, preg)
***
The first time I met him was at a staff party; everyone
was pretty shocked when he turned up, he was a
billionaire media mogul after all, and we were just a
small newspaper he'd obtained when he bought a bigger
outfit in Chicago that owned us.
But there he was, in the flesh, right in our grimy
little office.
He spent most of the evening talking to my wife.
Now Joyce was never a woman who stopped traffic, she
wasn't in the same league as the models he was normally
associated with, or the supermodel he'd recently
married. My wife was [and still is] a beautiful woman,
but it's her personality and intelligence that sets her
apart.
"What were you talking to him about last night?" I asked
her the following evening, the first time we had time to
talk.
"Lots of things. He's such a nice man, Rick; and so
interesting."
"Did he say anything about the future of the paper?"
"Not really. He asked me a lot of questions though."
"What kind of questions?"
"About the staff mainly, but he was really nice."
"You said that."
"I told him about your ideas to help the circulation. I
think he liked them."
We were still talking about him when there was a knock
on the apartment door. I opened it to find Him standing
there; Him, our new owner, my boss, the billionaire
entrepreneur, alone at my very humble door!
He offered me his hand; "Rick isn't it?" he asked.
"I... yes," I said, stunned.
He shook my hand and entered. I wondered how he'd gotten
through the downstairs door without getting buzzed in; I
never did find out.
The big man looked around our small place, until his
eyes settled on Joyce, who seemed fairly flustered.
"I wanted to talk to you in private," he said. "Mind if
I sit down?"
"Of course not, p-please..." I stammered, still not
believing he was here. "Can I get you anything? Wine,
juice?"
"A glass of wine would be nice," he said, seating
himself on our sofa. "Sit with me, dear." He said to my
wife, patting the cushion next to himself, "I enjoyed
our conversation last night."
I poured us each a glass of wine, feeling confused and
threatened, yet helpless.
"I came by the newspaper last night to announce my
intention to shut it down," the big man said, putting
his arm around Joyce's shoulders; she just looked
straight ahead into empty space, her eyes big and round,
like an animal on a lonely country road shocked by the
headlights of an unexpected truck.
"I'm sure you know that the losses it runs are
significant," he continued, "But then I started talking
to Joyce here, about all the people involved. You all
seem so nice; well, what's the point of all my power and
wealth if I can't give a second chance every now and
then."
I struggled to come up with some words; I'm a writer,
not a speaker. "But sir, I'm just a junior editor. Why
have you come to me?"
His powerful hand clamped my wife's bare shoulder; she
was wearing a simple strapped smock. Joyce just stared
at me in shock, as if seeking some direction from me;
but I had none to give her.
"Because of your wife, Rick. I'm very impressed with
her; a PhD in mathematics is really an achievement. Now
she's told me of your energy and ideas. I like the idea
of throwing a new man into the ring, giving someone a
chance to make a difference. Perhaps you can turn the
paper around, perhaps you can preserve all those jobs
and the families that depend on them. The position pays
well, so Joyce could stay home and work on her theorems.
Would you like that?"
My throat was dry; was this a joke? "Yes; yes sir I
would."
"Excellent. I like to do something really good every now
and then; I also like to do something bad on occasion.
Sometimes, I do both simultaneously."
And with that, he shifted his hand to the back of
Joyce's head, and twisted her face around towards him.
He wrapped his other hand around her neck for good
measure, and he kissed her, he kissed my lovely young
wife on her mouth. Her eyes bulged in shock, but she let
him kiss her, making absolutely no effort to stop him.
How could she, after what he'd just said?
I stared in helpless shock; what should I do? A hundred
jobs, our local paper, my future, or my wife? He was a
hundred times the man I was, and we all knew it. A
million dollars was pocket change to him, the business I
worked for was just a nuisance.
"Now here's how this would work." he said, breaking the
kiss, and running his hand behind Joyce's back. "You'll
do an article about me, you'll accompany me around for a
few weeks. It will be mainly complimentary, with just
enough criticism to make it seem balanced."
He brought his hands to my wife's thin pale shoulders
and pulled the straps of her smock down before I
realized he had just unzipped her dress; her small firm
breasts stood proud, the pink nipples erect in the cold
air of the room. Her face was blank with confusion, and
I guess mine was probably pretty much the same.
"Your publishing director is retiring in a month anyway.
I'll promote you to the post, everyone will say it was
because of the article, no one will ever guess the
truth."
"And what is the truth?" I asked.
He turned to me for a moment and smiled, before tugging
her dress right out from under my astonished wife and
threading it over her long thin legs.
"I think you know the answer to that, Rick. Let's not
discuss the specifics, all right?"
I looked at Joyce, and she looked back at me, her big
innocent eyes begging for an answer to this conundrum;
how could we agree? Yet how could we refuse?
In the next few seconds, his shoes and trousers were
off, he pulled my wife's panties off, her milky pale
legs were splayed out, and right before my bulging eyes,
he was holding a large and stiff old penis against her
groin.
"Relax my dear." He coaxed her persuasively, "Just relax
and lean back."
"But I couldn't!" she objected feebly.
"Of course you can, my dear," he answered her, the full
force of his considerable personality focused on her. I
was simply ignored, as if I was no longer there.
My tongue was swollen and parched, my limbs had gone
weak; what kind of a man were we dealing with? who could
do such a thing and expect to get away with it?
He could.
Joyce is a delicate creature, with thin limbs and long
slightly wavy orange hair. Her complexion was smooth as
a baby's; at 24, she was still asked for ID when we went
to clubs. Her slim fine youth was in stark contrast to
his large grey middle-aged bulk. Her innocent beauty was
the opposite of his corrupted desire.
He lifted her long legs in either arm, opening her and
pushing her slightly back. She stared up at him
silently, as helpless and stunned as I was.
I felt a weird numbness, like when I'd had a bad car
accident once. I had not yet acknowledged what was
happening, that an overwhelming force had suddenly
crashed into our lives, and was now taking my wife right
before my eyes.
On his knees on our carpet, the powerful man maneuvered
his stiff rod to Joyce's spread pink snatch. She stared
at him silently, her mouth hanging open, the tension of
this weird moment painted across her face.
His penis rested on her for a moment, then he pushed his
hips forward, and the tip entered her; before my eyes,
my young wife was being defiled by the billionaire.
"This is wonderful!" the media mogul exclaimed as he
worked his bottom tighter into the valley of Joyce's
smooth spread thighs. She looked at me for a moment, her
clear eyes impossible to read, then looked away.
"There's just no feeling like this in the world; total
domination, complete power, to take a young wife while
her helpless husband watches." He said, sliding his big
stiff member right into her. I realized that there must
be some lubrication coming from one of them.
"I have thirty-five thousand employees, I have dinners
with world leaders, but this is true power. How old are
you, Rick?"
"Thirty five."
"And have you ever watched your lovely wife with another
man before?"
"N-no."
"Well that's good. It was once normal for a chieftain or
a king to have his way with whichever woman he desired,
but things have changed."
He was not obese, but he was fairly overweight. I knew
he was past sixty, he'd had several wives, several
children, and some grandchildren. His big ass moved up
and down, driving his big cock into Joyce's body as he
spoke.
"This is something primal, Rick." He continued, "I'm
alpha male right now, I'm having your woman and you've
chosen not to oppose me. As you watch, you will probably
feel aroused; this is nothing to be ashamed of. Your
instinct is to have her as soon as I'm through, so that
your sperm will have an at least equal chance."
My wife was sprawled on the sofa below him, one leg
trailing on the floor and the other thrown over his
pudgy thighs; she stared into his eyes with a strange
expression, as if unsure what she felt herself. As if
she was ashamed of her own feelings, her unspoken
consent to his desire and my utter humiliation.
"The thing you should know is that your wife is more
than willing, Rick." He said as he thrust himself into
her, "She was flirting with me for hours yesterday. You
have to realize what I represent, I'm the ultimate
successful male. She's flattered that I should choose
her, that a man like me would compromise myself this way
for her. Yes, I'm old and not in perfect physical
condition, but I'm top dog."
He loomed above her, his hands on her slim hips; her
knee fell to the horizontal, and I could see right
between them, I could see her sweet pink snatch and the
stiff old cock slipping easily in and out of it. She
looked so sweet and young below him, so fine, like a
child. It was too horrible to watch, too fascinating to
look away from.
He stopped for a moment, and taking her head in his
hands, kissed her tenderly for a minute before resuming.
"You're a lovely woman, Joyce, but what really gets me
is your intelligence. The idea of mating with a really
brainy woman is totally appealing to me. Tell me, do you
love Rick?"
He stopped fucking her while he awaited her answer.
Joyce spoke for the first time since this madness had
begun, several minutes and an eternity before; "Yes...
yes I do."
"Excellent! And you Rick, do you love her as well?"
"Of course," I said, my voice sounding weirdly normal.
My employer started up again, banging my wife hard at
the end of each stroke, so her body shuddered at each
impact.
"You love her even at this moment, as you watch me
defile her, as she succumbs to me?"
"Yes!"
"Say it again, tell her. Go on, tell her!"
"I love you, Joyce," I said, as my eyes began to run and
my voice choked.
Her hands gripped his wide shoulders, her skinny legs
wrapped around his middle, and her breath came in short
sharp gasps; her long orange hair fell over the edge of
the sofa onto the floor, her green eyes stared at the
face of the old billionaire she was coupled with; he
fucked her hard, his big body dominating her totally.
My wife came, groaning with the intensity of the
sensation; the conflict, the outrage, the pleasure, the
passion. He groaned as well, and holding her tightly,
ejaculated deep inside her.
"Fantastic," he said after a minute's quiet. He kissed
my wife again and sat up, his cock pulling out of her.
"There's nothing in the world that can top that, and
believe me, if there was I'd know about it." He said.
Joyce lifted her leg over him and got to her feet. She
looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes, and
silently went into the bedroom.
"Ok, Rick, here's the deal," he said, making no move to
dress himself.
"You, and your wife of course, will spend a few weeks
traveling around with me and my entourage while you
write your piece on the new owner of your paper. Is she
on the pill?"
"She has an IUD."
"All right. That'll have to come out as soon as
possible. You can catch up with me in a few weeks."
"Wait a minute! You want to make my wife pregnant!"
"Of course Rick. Why do you think I find her so
attractive? I want fit children, smart children.
"As a wealthy man, I want to diversify my assets. As a
father, I want the same thing. I don't have the time to
raise and love all the children I'd like to have; so
this is the deal. I place my child in your house. No one
will know, you will bring him or her up as your own.
That's it, that's all. I know, you know, Joyce knows, no
one else. I keep your paper open, you're in charge, good
salary, respect. Joyce doesn't have to get that job in
the city to pay her student loan, she can stay home with
her computer and our child, thinking deep thoughts,
perhaps solving a theorem or two, while being a mother."
I stared at him; even after what had just happened, this
was way too far.
"Forget it! No way. I know you're a big guy, but we have
our pride too! We'll get by somehow."
"Rick," Joyce spoke from the bedroom door. "We should do
it."
"What? Are you crazy?"
"I want to do it, it's a good arrangement."
She was now wearing a short robe; her hair was
disheveled, her feet were bare, but her green eyes were
clear.
Janet was a stunning woman, and the big man's PA. She
was about 5'9", six feet in her heels. Her complexion
was perfect and pale, her eyes clear and blue, her hair
very blond. Joyce seemed almost dull next to Janet;
although the PA was dressed for business in a dark skirt
and white blouse, she reeked of an efficient glamour.
She took my wife away to a gynecologist for a complete
checkup and to have her birth control removed.
We heard nothing from the man himself, but after another
couple of weeks, Janet turned up again, and took us and
our luggage in a limo to the airport. We boarded a
private jet, and were flown to New York. Another Limo
took us to the Waldorf Astoria hotel, where we were
booked into a suite.
That night, the mating of my wife and the affluent man
who had bought us began for real.
Janet came by our suite first. She brought some things
for Joyce to wear; black pumps and stockings, a pair of
diamond ear studs, a bottle of perfume. She helped my
wife get ready, fixing her hair and telling her what a
wonderful man our employer was. I wondered why he didn't
breed with Janet instead; she seemed pretty suitable.
But then of course for all I knew, he had.
He let himself into our suite with his own key. He shook
hands with me first.
"Good to see you again Rick, how are you?" he said
affably. "Janet. Ah, Joyce; I've been thinking of little
else for these last few weeks, how are you feeling?"
He took both her hands and looked down at her in
apparent concern.
"I'm fine, thanks," she said. She was wearing a short
silk robe over her nakedness, but the sexy nylons and
shoes were very much in evidence.
"Excellent," he said. "Let's go into the bedroom. You
too, Rick. I want you to be there."
"Why?" I asked despairingly; the reality was bad enough
without having to actually witness it.
"Because it's more fun that way," he said with a laugh,
leading my wife through the door.
"Sit there and watch," he instructed, waving at a chair
opposite the bed. I sat down as he gently removed the
robe from Joyce's shoulders, as they tentatively kissed
each other.
She was small in his arms; tiny and young, vulnerable.
We were just ordinary people, we stood no chance against
his charisma, his confidence, his awesome wealth. He'd
pressed us into a corner; we could save the paper, the
jobs of all our friends, we could jump into the life we
wanted. All we had to do was let him impregnate Joyce.
Just pretend that his child is mine; the child would be
mine actually, I would be the psychological father. All
He wanted was the biological part. And the sex of
course.
Joyce was on the bed now, and he was lowering his head
between her thighs. He pushed her knees farther apart,
spreading her so wide that I could see his tongue stroke
her gleaming pink vaginal lips.
Joyce shuddered, clutching at his head, squirming at his
attentions; he didn't have to pleasure her. He could
have just done the deed and gotten back to his very busy
schedule, but he clearly intended to take his time.
"I adore the taste of woman, don't you?" he said to me.
"I like the taste of my woman," I answered.
"The way Joyce wraps her thigh around my neck is sweet
too," he said, reaching behind himself to stroke her
foot as he licked her some more.
"There's just one problem," he said, looking up from his
task again; "The smell on your mouth can be offensive to
some women. My wife won't kiss me after I've been in her
box. Take over for me, Rick, while I rinse my mouth."
"Take over?"
"Come on, man! She's your wife after all, keep her warm
for a minute."
He gestured at her orange framed hole, the entrance of
her womb, soon to be filled with his seed.
Her pale thighs were spread wide in invitation; against
my better judgment, I stepped to the bed and lowered my
head to my wife's waiting clit. I didn't have the
gumption to disobey him, even here in the privacy of the
suite.
She moaned, clamping my head between her legs. I pushed
my tongue into her, tasting her sweetness while I still
could.
After a minute, I wondered what had become of the other
man; I looked up to see that he was back already. He was
kissing Joyce on her mouth as I did her lower parts.
There seemed to be something wrong with that, so I
pulled away, back to my chair.
He rolled into the gap I'd left, filling the vacuum
between her thighs with his bulk; I saw her reach down
to guide him into herself.
"Ah, that feels good," he said to her with a smile, "How
is it for you, my dear?"
"Wonderful," she said. "It's really nice."
"And you Rick, are you alright over there?" he asked
considerately, "Why don't you pull it out and please
yourself while you watch?"
It did feel good to have my cock in my hand, to stroke
myself while they did it together. It was a humiliation
of course, but it hardly mattered; there was no lower to
go, so I figured I might as well take my small pleasure.
He wasn't very talkative this time, which was a relief
really. He just held my lovely wife tenderly as he
screwed her energetically, his big barrel of a body
moving above her, pushing his big stiff cock in and out
of her, readying her to receive his sperm.
Joyce began to come; he pumped her harder. She began to
whimper, clutching him tightly; he stiffened, she cried
out, he held her tight and grunted in satisfaction as he
filled her waiting tubes with his premium sperm.
I held my stiff dick as they finished; he turned and
looked at me. "Joyce darling, would you like to take
Rick in your mouth? He's looking a bit left out."
She looked at me sadly, her big clear eyes regarding my
lonely dick. She nodded her assent. I went to the bed,
and she sucked me off as he watched.
It was a busy few weeks for me, I had to follow him
around all the time, staying out of the way and making
notes for my article. Every night, he made love with my
wife, and I had to watch.
The second week though, he asked Janet to come into the
room.
"Yes sir?" she asked.
"Janet, would you please give Rick a blowjob? Watching
his wife and I has been getting him a touch frustrated."
"Of course," she said, as though it was just another
task. I guess it was.
"Janet loves cock," he explained. "You don't mind, do
you Joyce?"
"No, it's a good idea," she said. "Then I won't have to
feel sorry for Rick anymore."
The stunning Janet dropped to her knees in front of me,
and took my cock into her mouth; it was incredibly
friendly, so warm and wet. She sucked me gently,
stroking my balls as I watched the couple on the bed.
She was very beautiful, in a very different way to
Joyce; she used cosmetics skillfully, her lips were ruby
red, her lashes teased out, eye shadow accentuated her
face, her thick blond hair was done twice a week, never
a split end on Janet.
I came in her throat, and she milked every drop from me
before she was through, pulling at my cock and balls for
more.
After that, she would sit with me each evening, and we'd
make out as we watched. Janet loved two things, kissing
and giving head. She liked me to strip down, but she
never took her own clothes off. She'd feel me up,
playing with my cock as we shared some tongue; then
always sucking me off, swallowing it all down.
She was an extremely proficient woman.
At last, our strange time with the superrich was over;
we returned to our town, our life, our friends.
And Joyce was pregnant.
We didn't see him for about five years. Administration
people would come from headquarters to check up on the
paper, he didn't waste his time with such trivia.
***
Joyce and I never discussed those weeks, the dark secret
of our success as well as the conception of our first
child. We just got on with our lives, and I loved our
first baby as much as our second, which came along a
couple of years later.
Then one evening there was a knock on the door; it was
him.
He shook my hand and kissed my wife; with some passion,
too.
How are you, Joyce?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
"Very well, thank you," she said, her eyes shining up at
him.
He strode into our house and our lives; he was too big,
too powerful for us to change his set course, and we all
knew it.
"So, I see a lovely house now, a happy family... two
children, mother, father. Very nice. How are you two
getting along? Has your relationship held up well?"
"I'd say so," I said, following after him as he looked
through our ground floor.
"Me too," Joyce said. "I love being a housewife and
taking care of my children. I have enough free time to
do some nice math as well. I've had a couple of papers
published, one of them has picked up a lot of
citations."
He sat in our living room and we talked for some hours,
he smiled at the baby photos and played with the child
he'd fathered. It was strange to see him this way; he
wasn't an omnipotent financier, he was just an old man,
a father who had never known his own child.
As little Amy fell asleep in his arms, he got to
business.
"Rick, I know you've been trying hard, but your paper
still lost three million dollars last year."
We discussed the details for a while; they aren't
important to this story.
"I can't justify keeping you afloat much longer," he
said, "It's a bit hard to explain to the board."
"So you're going to shut us down?" I asked, deflated.
"Just when I've got sales on the rise?"
"Well, I could give you another five years to get it
into the black. If..."
"Yes?"
He looked at me piercingly, then shifted his gaze to
Joyce.
"Amy is a wonderful child," he said. "I've listed her on
a scholarship trust fund I started a while back. If she
gets accepted to one of the top ten universities,
tuition is covered."
"That's good to knowh" I said.
"Another five years," he said again; "In return, I want
another child with Joyce."
I looked at my wife; she just stared at me wide eyed.
That same blank poker faced look I'd seen the first time
he proposed his little deal, that look that meant
nothing, but really meant everything.
"I'll just step into the other room and make a call
while you two discuss it." He said, easing our sleeping
child onto the sofa as he stood up.
"What should we do?" I asked.
"Have another baby," she answered. "We sort of wanted
one anyway, so why not?"
"But I wanted it to be my baby."
"It will be your baby. Isn't Amy your baby? Don't you
love her as much as Sam?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"So what's the problem then? You aren't uptight about
the sex are you?"
"I was never really comfortable with that."
"Well you'd better get used to the idea then."
What else could we do? If I lost my job, we'd have to
sell our house and move to the city. And of course,
nearly everyone we knew was employed at the paper. It
was more than a job, it was a community.
We had a responsibility to do what we could; all my wife
had to do was let him fuck her a few times, and we could
keep everything floating along.
He came back to the living room, and we told him our
decision.
"Do you know when you'll be menstruating?" he asked her.
"In a week or so," she answered.
He stood, took Joyce's hand, and kissed it gallantly.
"I'll be counting the hours," he said.
She stepped closer to him; she reached up and put her
arms around his neck, he put his hands on her narrow
hips. They kissed, lips and tongues, bodies held close,
their passion for each other nearly palpable.
Their passion had an odd simplicity; it was sexual in
the purest sense. They didn't want to live together or
know more about each other, they just wanted to have sex
to make a baby. They wanted to mate, each respecting the
reproductive fitness of the other.
"You're welcome to stay," she told him.
He hesitated; "I should get back to town. I have a plane
waiting."
"Let it wait," she suggested.
In response, he lifted her off of her feet, he kissed
her again, deeper, harder. He lifted her t-shirt from
her, he began to fumble with her bra.
"You have big breasts now," he observed.
"Suck them," she whispered, ignoring my presence in the
room.
The old man held her, his big hands under her ass, her
legs wrapped around his waist and she arched backwards
as he lowered his face to her pale breast. He sucked one
nipple, then the other; she laughed in glee, clamping
herself to him.
"Where's your bedroom?" he asked.
"Upstairs," she told him.
He set her down, and they started up the stairs, holding
hands. Joyce stopped for a moment, turning to look back
at me; I was just standing there in our living room,
waiting for feeling to return to my legs.
"Put Amy to bed and then come join us," she said with a
grin, as if it was all about nothing.
By the time I got to the bedroom, my wife and her
wealthy lover were undressed, legs entwined, kissing on
our bed.
The years and two children had left their mark on
Joyce's young body; she was now 29 years old, with a
more generous rear and larger breasts about the size of
small grapefruits. They hung slightly, but were full
with enormous nipples. Her hair was as ever, that
angelic orange. Her skin was still smooth and pale, and
her belly was fairly flat, the stretch marks the proud
trophies of her childbearing.
Her lover, on the other hand, was definitely looking the
worse for wear; his age had caught up with him now. His
hair was very thin, and white. His belly had grown
significantly, and he had bags under his tired eyes that
weren't there before.
I watched them for a minute, standing alone in the
doorway. I could understand she wanted him as a sire for
our baby; he was a self made billionaire, he'd been born
in utter poverty. He was still essentially fit at sixty
eight years old; what man could be better breeding
material? But I didn't understand why she was so into
having sex with him. He just wasn't very attractive
physically.
He pushed her onto her back, then spread her knees so
that her soft middle was open and vulnerable.
"Look at her, Rick; her long red hair, her smooth skin,
her big breasts. She's a perfect mother, nurturing and
loving. She does higher math just for fun, yet she likes
to keep your house and care for our kids."
His big hand stroked over her naked body.
"Just now, she told me that she's never been with
another man since she met you, except me of course. Do
you love her as much as she deserves, Rick?"
I looked at her, shivering at his touch, waiting to mate
with him, eager for his old dick to slide into her pale
frame. She had his organ in her hand, she was pulling on
it gently but emphatically.
"Yes."
"Does it hurt you to see me make love with her?"
"Of course."
He smiled; "But you've had her all to yourself for all
these years. Surely you don't mind sharing her a couple
of times with your benefactor."
He lifted his bulk over her, he kissed her, his knee
pushing against her groin.
He rolled back again, and stroked her open crotch. "Do
you give her head when you make love?" he asked.
"Sure," I said.
"Show me. Come on, man, pleasure your lovely wife. You
owe her everything you have, don't you? So then. Put
your face between her thighs."
Joyce looked at me expectantly; she looked so edible, so
tender, so tasty.
He was right, of course. Although I was the boss at the
paper now, the editor in chief, a respected man in our
little town, it was all fake. My position was entirely
due to Joyce and Him, my true job was cuckold, playing
father to another man's child. That was what I was
really paid to do.
I crawled onto the bed and did as he told me.
As I licked her, they kissed; after a while, they
twisted around, and she sucked his cock as I licked her
clit.
"Move aside, Rick," he said at last. "I'm going to have
sex with your wife now. Sit back and watch, watch
closely; see how much she likes it."
As he spoke, he took my place between her legs. He held
his powerful old cock in his hand and pushed it into her
wet waiting tunnel. Joyce arched her back and pushed
back, her younger body sucking the big man's organ into
herself with a happy sigh.
I just stepped back and watched in painful humiliation.
We'd been happy the last 5 years. We had fun together,
we laughed at each other's jokes, we had good sex. But
somewhere underneath all that, this was always present;
the knowledge of Him, the awareness that she would have
sex with him anytime he wanted her to, that she would
accept his sperm and carry his baby not only for the
material gain it brought, but because she wanted to.
Because she wanted him, his time, his approval, his
attention, and his genetic material. She wanted his
kiss, his cock, and my suffering was included in the
deal. My humility was part of their foreplay, it turned
them both on as much as the potential for procreation
did.
He pushed her knee onto the mattress, so I could see
where his cock was clamped by her wet vaginal lips, and
he began to pump her that way, his bulk rising and
falling over her small frame, his billionaire cock
ruling her.
"One of the things that I find so special about Joyce is
the way she sees me; not as an overweight old man, but
as a powerful and attractive man. Am I right Joyce?"
"Of course! Powerful and sexy."
"You want to have my baby, again?"
"Oh yes!"
"Now that's sexy to me. Very, very Sexy!"
With each word he spoke, he drove his big cock home for
emphasis, bouncing the mother of my child, and his,
below him.
"Are you going to come, my lovely?" He asked her, "Will
you come for your daddy?"
"Oh yes! I will if you just... if you just... Ahhh..."
I sat on the edge of the bed as she climaxed in his
arms, pinned below his expensive expansive bulk.
He pulled out of her and held his cock to her lips. She
opened wide and took him into her mouth, sucking happily
at his pleasure. His cock was perfectly rigid, the shaft
quivering in her mouth, on the delicious edge of climax.
"Ah, that's good," he said, kneeling over her face, "Do
you ever have anal sex, Rick?"
"No."
"You should try it, it's great. What about you, Joyce?
Anal sex?"
She stopped sucking for a moment. "I haven't done that
for years, since before Rick and I were together," she
said. It was the first I'd heard of it.
"Honey, there's some Vaseline in the medicine cabinet,"
she added.
I got the jelly and came back into the bedroom, where
Joyce was still working the rich man's cock with her
mouth, stroking his big loose balls with her hand.
"Don't just stand there, man! Grease yourself up," he
insisted.
Joyce lifted herself onto her hands and knees, her knees
splayed out, her rear end open in invitation.
Well, I was pretty horny; watching her with him always
did that to me, despite the pain and jealousy that was
always there as well. And Janet wasn't there this time
to administer her efficient blowjob. And I'd always
wanted to try it...
Her ass was tight as a fist around my dick as I pushed
it into her. She kept sucking his cock while I reamed
her, I fingered her clit at the same time, and she
started to come again.
He held her head in his hands, sliding his dick in and
out of her mouth. I avoided looking at him, I closed my
eyes and reached forward and around to fondle Joyce's
generous breast. She was shaking and moaning, clenching
my cock in spasms of her ass; I came.
Soon afterwards, the tycoon squirted into her mouth. My
wife rolled over onto the mattress, exhausted.
"Get packed Rick," he said, stepping off the bed.
"You'll have to spend the next week with me."
"Why?"
"So I can be sure that you don't make Joyce pregnant,
but I do. She has to take care of the kids, otherwise
she could just spend a few weeks with me like last time.
Quick now, my plane is waiting for us."
We flew to New York, and then to London, then by
helicopter to his estate. We had a lot of time to talk;
it was a privilege to have that much of his time nearly
to myself [he was on the phone a lot, and there was a
flunky or two around].
"Janet doesn't work for you anymore?" I asked him.
"Janet? No. he's gone back to being Gene now. Has a wife
and a child on the way."
"Gene?"
"Just an experimental phase he told me. Too bad, he made
a great girl; multitalented one could say."
"Do you know what a cuckoo is, Rick?"
"A stupid person. A type of Swiss clock."
"A cuckoo is a large black tropical bird. It lays its
egg in the nest of a crow, among the crow's eggs. The
cuckoo hatches first, eats more, and grows faster than
the crow chicks. The parent crows feed it diligently,
unaware that they've been fooled. Or, if you prefer,
cuckolded. Of course, what I'm doing with you is
slightly different, you know you're nurturing my
offspring."
"I love her like my own."
"I know that Rick, and I appreciate it."
His wife was a few years older than mine, a few years
younger than myself. She seemed surprised that he was
home at all.
She was a remarkable woman; I'd never been in the
presence of someone so gorgeous. It was very difficult
to not simply stare at her continuously.
She was tall, at least 5'10". She was thin, yet shapely;
she had long auburn hair and longer legs.
Her face was stunning from every angle; every expression
was a new delight, a new vision of beauty. Yet she
seemed sad; her life wasn't a very happy one.
We had dinner together, but my boss was gone before
breakfast the next morning.
"Make yourself at home, I'll be back for you in a few
days. We'll travel back to the states together," he'd
said.
I guess I made myself more at home than he might have
intended; I slept with his wife.
She was hungry for company, and I had little to do. She
told me all the anguish of her life, and we became
intimate.
It somehow doesn't have much to do with my story, except
to add a small touch of poetic justice. She was into
appearances, and I was still a good looking guy;
powerless, [relatively] young, and handsome. The
opposite of her husband. I fantasized of making her
pregnant, and did my level best; blasting my sperm
repeatedly up her middle, as she clamped me between her
long shapely legs. It's a rare privilege to make love
with a [former] supermodel, but it was a bit spoiled by
fact was that I love my wife.
He phoned me from New York;
"I'm going to leave you with my wife while I'm with
yours," he announced. "I like you Rick, and I don't
mind. Hell, I'd have divorced her years ago except it
would cost me too much. She isn't too bright you know,
but she did get one over on me; she's not fertile." He
laughed, as if that was something really very funny.
The tall beautiful woman seemed to lose her allure; we
slept together anyway. We chatted, kissed, made love,
and enjoyed our artificial relationship, passing our
lonely hours together.
Her husband sent his jet to take me home, after he was
sure my wife was pregnant with his child. I never saw
either of them again.
After his suicide, it was revealed that the whole empire
was built on massive debt.
He had plundered the pension funds; my newspaper was
closed immediately, and we had little to fall back on.
We had to move to the city. I kept the house now, and
took care of the three children. Joyce, with her PhD and
published math papers, got a high paying position with
an international bank.
The only resources that seem to be entirely intact, and
cunningly protected from all creditors, was a massive
scholarship fund. The beneficiaries are 97 children of
varying ages; as well as 26 older kids that have already
been paid through school.
It wasn't hard for me to discover that all of these
children have a parent who had been promoted to a top
position by the big man personally, mostly in loss
making divisions that just kept making losses until the
whole corporation went under.
They say he was a loser, he was never the success
everyone had thought he was.
But I say they're wrong. Altogether, I believe he
fathered no less than 134 children with 75 different
women. Isn't that the true meaning of success?
END
Comments: storyace@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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 66