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Sugar Daddy

By: Suzanne



The summer before my senior year of college I spent the third week of August with my roommate Karen. She had kept begging me to come and hang out with her.

"More fun than you can possibly imagine," Karen nagged, “please come for a visit. You’ll love it, I promise.” 

"What's up with that?" is what I usually responded whenever she went on about her family and their big old farmhouse in western Kansas. "What exactly is there to do in west Kansas? There are no oceans, no lakes, just miles and miles of flat land and tornadoes. Where do you wear your bikini to, the tanning salon?" 

"We do have Finney Wildlife Area and Bison Refuge nearby," Karen whined about her hometown of Garden City. 

Well, I went. At least I could ride my Harley because they did have roads. I muttered as I cruised along I-70 through Kansas , "No frigging wonder Dorothy took the first ride outa the place."

Did you ever see a dude ride a Harley in Kansas? They pull one variety of farm equipment or another behind it. I don't know what you call them damn things; threshers and tillers and whatever. I am definitely not mechanically inclined except when it comes to Harleys and vibrators.

"And where the hell are my fresh batteries?" I kept asking myself out loud as I rode and rode and rode. The vibrating Harley between my legs gave me a little buzz but not nearly as good as my favorite toy.

Of course, the first thing I had to do when I got to Karen's rhymed with see. Nobody seemed to be around. I opened the screen door to the front porch and the door to the house being wide open, I went right in. I mean, I like had to go, you know?

They didn't even have a door to the john; just a curtain. Nice big bathroom though.

I'm sitting there doing my thing and feeling a whole lot better about life in general.

This wimpy little dude walks in on me just wearing a towel. Of course, I recognized Karen's brother who she talked about like some of our campus galpals talked about sexually transmitted diseases. I recalled she called him Willy.

So Willy, he never says "Excuse me" or nothing, stands right in front of me just sitting there on the can in total shock, drops his towel, grabs his little dick and says, "Yo, biker babe, you want some of this?"

I am not often speechless but this act defied words. He turned around and got into the shower. Well, I simply couldn't let this just pass with no comment.

I pulled back the shower curtain and yelled over the streaming water, "Your sister is right. You are the only living abortion. Do your friends call you 'Needledick the bug fucker' or what? I'm done on the toilet. It’s your turn now. I see what Karen meant when she said you are the only guy she knows who has to pee sitting down."

And then Karen walks in. Getting a little crowded here, but like I said,, a big bathroom.

She gave me a big hug and we kind of slobbered on one another. 

"What's up with your brother? What a dweeb!"

"Yeah, but he is family. We all have a cross to bear." With that she stripped off her clothes and got into the shower with her brother.

Well, I was hearing noises and I simply couldn't resist pulling back the shower curtain.

Karen was on her knees in the shower and sucking her brother's cock.

And then their father walks in. Getting a little more crowded here, but like I said, big bathroom.

I'm thinking like "Oh, shit!" because he looked really angry. At the same time I'm whispering, "Oh, shit!" because isn't whatever happens next going to be so amusing; the stuff of which soap operas are made. "Don't bend over for the soap, Willy," I said under my breath and giggled.

William, the father, he looked pretty rugged for an old dude. He was a widower. Karen's mom, like mine, was an angel up in heaven.

I'm still standing there with my jeans and panties down because things were moving too fast for me to even think about pulling them up. And the old dude is paying me no mind, at least for now.

William ripped open the shower curtain. The kid Willy was so shocked he pulled his dick out of Karen's mouth. 

"Yo, dad!" Willy said in greeting and looked quite pleased. 

Karen, her mouth empty at the moment, squealed "Hi, Daddy!" and continued to stroke her brother with her hand. 

Karen went back down on Willy again hard and fast, pulled him out and he shot cum all over her face. She looked at her father, not her brother, and asked, "How’s that? Better?"

I almost choked, which prevented me from saying, "What in the hell is going on here?"

William said to his son sternly, "Get your ass up in your bedroom. I'll deal with you later. After I finish with your sister and ..." and he looked at me.

Willy ran out and didn't even bother to grab his towel. I figured Karen just might get a beating right about then.

But no, William looked at me, not her. "Do you think this is funny, bitch? I heard you snickering."

"Well, ah, no. No sir. It's just ..." I stuttered and stammered.

William grabbed my long hair roughly as he sat on the toilet. He pulled me down on his lap and started paddling my bare bum.

I couldn't believe my ears. Karen screamed, "Harder daddy! Fucking smack her good. She likes it rough."

With that Karen got out of the shower, got a stool that was sitting in a corner, stood on it right in front of the toilet, bent at the knees and stuck her pussy in her father's face. Oh my, I thought, he's spanking his daughter's best friend and eating his daughter. This definitely should be on one of those talk shows.

I knew it wouldn't take Karen long from personal experience. Put your tongue on her clit, show a little enthusiasm and she would get off in minutes. I'm quick but she's quicker.

When she did, her daddy turned his full attention to me. He pushed me off his lap and onto the floor, slipped it right inside me and started humping like crazy. This went on for what seemed like an eternity and I'm fighting him, scratching and biting and trying to squirm free. None of it seemed to faze him one bit. 

I suppose I could have pushed him off if I wanted but I didn’t and for whatever reason I stopped fighting. Well, I know why; I began to enjoy it. I made the mistake of grabbing William’s face and kissing him passionately. He stopped. He fucking stopped!

William nonchalantly pulled up his pants and walked out of the bathroom. Karen helped me up off the floor and we straightened ourselves up. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. Karen was smirking and finally I just couldn't help laughing myself. I mean, talk about some crazy shit!

We crept upstairs to hear what was going on with father and son.

"Willy," we heard dear old dad say, "your sister is going back to college in a few days. You need a girlfriend. Here's a phone number. Her name is Jennifer. Ask her out. I'm very good friends with her mom. You can use my car but dammit, be careful. Remember you don't have a license. Don't go far. With the car I mean. You can go as far as you want with Jennifer. Just make sure you use a condom. Here. If you need more just get them out of my top left dresser drawer."

We crept back downstairs, me in total shock and Karen giggling.

Dinner with the "fucking family" was wonderful. Lots of invigorating conversation. Willy kept right on pissing me off.

Willy thought he him to be so computer literate and me to be so stupid. "Hey, you are old, you know anything about DOS," he threw at me.

When I replied, "Yeah, asshole, that's Spanish for two," he like went spastic.

"Keep spanking that monkey ten times a day, shit for brains," I continued. "It'll grow. Pretty soon it will fit in a thimble, you pimple faced pussy. You are what you'll never get. Pussy."

And then the daddy slapped Willy with one hand and me with the other. Willy shut right up and so did I. But I would not have except William put his hand under the table and started tickling the inside of my thigh.

After dinner Willy actually started being nice to me. He and Karen pleaded with me to go to the nursing home with them and daddy to visit their grandmother. Really big fun I'm thinking but I said OK.

We get there and grandma is really spaced out. Karen explained the situation. "She has Alzheimer's disease and only rarely recognizes people or familiar things. Daddy knows how to jar her back into the real world. Watch him! He should have been a doctor." 

William helped his mother out of her rocking chair and onto her knees. He unzipped his pants and pulled it out. "Mother, let me help you take out your dentures."

"Son, is that you?" she said as soon as she felt him with her gums.

"Willy, come here and say hello to your grandmother," the father commanded. Sonny had his pants down before daddy even finished the sentence.

Fifteen minutes later this old biddy was as lucid as you or I and the five of us really had a pleasant visit. She told some great stories about her life in the circus fifty years ago. What a memory! The stories about her and the midget triplets seemed just too incredible. The dudes were named Little Larry, Little Curly and Little Moe.

"They had little you know whats but really long tongues!" Grandma cackled in fond remembrance.

When we returned to the house we were all beat and I became a little concerned about the sleeping arrangements.

Not to worry. We all slept in William's bedroom, in his king size bed. I even got to like Willy a little that night. I mean, he could get it up quickly again and finally I found the answer for getting him to shut up. Karen and I gave him a cute little nickname, Muffy. 

As for William, well, he finally finished what he started in the bathroom hours before and quite well, thank you. I now understood why Karen occasionally referred to him as Daddy Dearest.

I stayed for seven days. By the time I left, they all joked about adopting me. 

"Sorry. I have a father. And I'm on my way to see him for a couple days before I have to be back to that wonderful institution of higher learning." We all kissed and hugged and off I went.

My mother had passed away more than five years ago and my father went into a shell. He never seemed to be interested in women or much else for that matter.

It was about 2:00 AM when I pulled into the driveway. Home sweet home. I had my own key of course.

I crept up to my father's bedroom and went right in like I always do. Always the light sleeper, he heard me even as I tiptoed and woke. "Sugar, is that you?"

"No, Daddy, it's the Avon Lady, like you would pay any attention to her anyway, even if she looked like Sharon Stone and wasn't wearing ... , oh never mind."

"Sugar, why didn't you tell me you were coming? Your room is a mess. I moved a bunch of furniture and stuff in there while I remodel the den."

"Daddy, I'm not sleeping in my stupid room with all the stuffed animals. Would you please get rid of that shit? I'm a big girl now."

"OK, you know where the blankets are, in the front closet, if you are sleeping on the couch."

"Daddy, I'm not sleeping on the couch."

"Sugar, you have to stay. You can't go riding off in the middle of the night. I want you to stay."

"I am, Daddy."

"You are one crazy girl. I'll talk to you in the morning wherever it is you decide to sleep." With that he turned on his side away from me and stuck his head under the pillow.

I slipped off my clothes, got in the bed and snuggled up to him.

"Sugar, whaaa ...?

"Daddy, here's your Sugar." I kissed him lovingly and gently placed his hand between my legs and I slipped my own hand down the front of his pajamas.

"Daddy, pretend I'm an angel. Pretend I'm Mom. I miss her so much, don't you Daddy?"

Daddy held me tightly and kissed me hungrily and then he called me "Margaret" as he entered me. That was my mother’s name. 

I visited Daddy again at Christmas break. I met his girlfriend Evelyn, very pretty and a super person. Daddy gave her an engagement ring on New Year’s Eve. He has never quit thanking me for reminding him why God made woman. Daddy doesn't call me Sugar anymore.

Sugar Daddy



Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story.

*

The one thing that pleased Jack Brewer the most, since he had taken his early retirement package, was the time to finally spend almost unlimited amounts of time outdoors. At first it had just been time spent in the shade of the old oak trees scattered throughout his big backyard but then it gradually expanded to the world around him.

He began to visit the pocket parks in his township until he had pretty much explored each of them several times. Then, consulting an area map, he had expanded his horizons to the metro parks and walking trails that fell within the seven county area. That had given him months of exploration. Some of the places contained wilderness areas that could be explored over and over without ever crossing the same ground twice.

Jack watched birds, squirrels, rabbits, moles, and gophers as they went about the business of living every day. It wasn't that he wanted to become an expert in any of those categories, but rather that he reveled in the feeling of being close to nature. He also studied the trees and bushes and grasses along the way but only for the purpose of seeing how nature protected its own and how it presented its glory to the world.

When Jack got up this morning, he followed his usual routine of fixing breakfast and leisurely eating it and sipping coffee while going through the daily newspaper to see if anything interesting had happened, checking out the sports results and chuckling over the funnies.

By late morning, he had showered and dressed in walking shorts, knit shirt and hiking boots. He filled his water bottle with fresh water, dropped it and some energy bars into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder as he started for the garage.

Jack climbed into the Jeep Wrangler, which gave him the feel of being in the country even when fighting city traffic. He left the canvas cover over the top and back but would probably remove it this afternoon.

His destination this morning was the last metro park that he had explored. Not that he had exhausted the possibilities in the other five but he had heard that this one had some very interesting terrain and was more like real wilderness than most of the others.

It took over an hour to make the drive so it was already just after noon by the time he arrived. Like most of the other similar parks, the front contained the usual picnic and playground areas for kids and families, and this one had an interesting Frisbee golf course that started near the front. Slowly Jack drove the Jeep along the winding park road, checking out the facilities and noting trail heads leading into the more undeveloped areas. Gradually the road wound around until it had curved back to the entrance. Having surveyed as much as he could from the road, Jack had decided on a trail for his day's explorations so he started the distorted loop again, planning to park close to the beginning of the trail.

Adhering to the low park speed limit, Jack had time to observe the families that had gathered in the picnic and playground areas. He had always found it fascinating to watch people, to see how the adults played with their kids ... or not, or to simply see how close and comfortable a family seemed with each oth....

Whoa! That wasn't a family sight!

Sitting at a picnic table with no one else around was a woman ... a young woman obviously, maybe late teens or early twenties. She was wearing a lightweight summer dress ... except that the top was completely unbuttoned, there was no bra underneath, and she had just flashed him.

Jack looked at her face but there was no discernible expression there. While he stared at her very nice sized hooters, she quickly glanced to both sides to insure that no one was watching her and then she seemed to stick out her chest, raising those big boobs noticeably.

Jack jerked the wheel, pulling the Jeep to the side of the pavement, where he parked and quickly climbed out of the car. Not wanting to scare the woman, he walked a bit tentatively toward her.

She was sitting on the far side of the table, her legs under the tabletop. He walked around the table and sat on the bench, facing away from the table. He looked down appreciatively at the soft white globes just inches away.

"Hello," he said, a little hesitantly.

"Are you my sugar daddy?"

"Are you looking for a sugar daddy?"

"Yes."

"Oh? What's that mean to you?"

"Someone who can give me a place to live and feed me and give me a little spending money."

"Oh? And what does he get?"

"All the lovin' he ever wanted."

"Really? That sounds ... great."

"Go ahead, touch 'em. I know you want to. It's alright."

Jack made sure no one was watching and then gingerly reached out and touched her breast. It was just as soft and smooth and full and enticing as it looked. Her nipple was hard but pliable. But the biggest surprise was the white watery liquid that oozed from her nipple.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. Oh, yes!"

"Would you like more?"

"What?" he asked, startled at the question.

"Here, try this," she said, spreading her legs and pulling her skirt up to reveal a curly haired triangle between her legs. He could see the pink lips of her pussy nestled beneath the patch. He licked his lips in anticipation.

"Go ahead, touch it. It doesn't bite."

Jack dropped his hand between her thighs, feeling the soft smooth skin as he slid his hand higher and higher toward the brown-haired thatch. Then the tip of his finger touched the soft lacy petals of her inner lips standing proud above the puffy outer lips. The softness of her tit and thigh suddenly was rough and course in comparison. She was wet and ready when his finger slid up and down among the lips and as his finger carefully pushed inside her, she was staring intently into his eyes.

"Do you like that, honey?"

"Yes," he croaked.

Somehow she draped her skirt over his leg so that it obscured her hand as it settled lightly at his crotch. His cock was straining inside the shorts, begging for admittance to her treasures.

"Would you like some of this?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"You can have it every day."

"Yes."

"As many times a day as you want."

"Really?" he groaned. "What ... what do you want?"

Again she stated what she was looking for, this time telling him how much spending money she wanted per week. It surprised him how reasonable she was being.

Reluctantly he extracted his finger from her hot core. "I was about to take a hike. Would you join me so we can continue our discussion?"

"Sure, honey," she said, buttoning up the top of her dress.

They walked to the Jeep, where Jack helped her up the high first step, although not without getting a nice feel of her round bottom. She said nothing about it though.

Jack drove slowly on around the road to the few parking spots at the trail he'd selected. He walked about the Jeep to help the young girl out, and it seemed like she made a special effort to rub her body, particularly her tits, against Jack as he was putting her down.

They headed off down the trail and in just a few minutes seemed to be miles from civilization. The only connection with other people was the faint path that they walked. They could see no other people nor could they hear the sound of cars over the sounds of the forest. There was a soft moaning of the gentle breeze in the treetops, an occasional call of a bird passing, and the crunch of their shoes as they stepped on twigs and leaves underfoot.

Generally the trail was only wide enough for one person so Jack let the woman lead, careful to stay very close behind her. In fact after nearly 15 minutes of trekking in and out, up and down, crossing a small stream three times, she came to such an abrupt stop that Jack smacked into her back, curling his arms around her to insure that she did not fall. She caught his hands and pulled them up to her breasts, at the same time pushing her buttocks back against his crotch. He felt the sticky liquid coating his palms where he had held her tits.

Jack's erection was back instantly. In spite of the fact that she was a young woman, her tits were large and heavy, just the kind he had always preferred. He breathed in her scent of fresh soap and some faint sweet perfume.

"Are you sure you want to do this, sugar?"

"Yes."

"But why would you want a man who is so much older than you?"

"I like older men. They make gentler lovers."

"Oh? What if I can't please you?"

"You won't have a problem. I've felt you. I'm sure you are a good lover."

"Mm, wish I had as much confidence as you."

She wiggled her butt back into his crotch, feeling the hardness of his manhood. "Come on, honey. Let's do it."

"Now? Out here in the open?"

"We haven't seen anyone since we got on the trail."

"Well ... yeah, but ... ok, where?"

"Look. Up there." 

She pointed to an opening off to one side of the trail. By pushing through some sparse bushes, they came to a small grassy copse. Before he could react, she sat on the grassy carpet and pulled her skirt up to her waist, opening her top buttons at the same time.

Jack sank to his knees and opened his shorts, pushing them and his briefs down. His erection eagerly sprang forward and, as he leaned forward between her spread legs, searched for her secret hiding place. Finding it, he found her wet and ready and he slid easily into her depths.

Bending over her, he took one nipple into his mouth and began to lick and suck. He could not believe that warm sweet milk quickly filled his mouth. Her fingers raked through his hair and held him close, encouraging him to continue as long as he wanted. With his cock flexing inside her velvety glove, he changed to her other tit and began to suckle. Long, delicious minutes passed while Jack lost himself in her arms. Finally shifting his lips to her mouth, he began to move slowly in and out of her pussy. 

Jack figured if she was a professional at selling herself, there was no way he would make her cum. He had enough experience with those types of women to know their tricks for faking an orgasm. However when this young woman stiffened up and bit her lip to keep from crying out while her body shook, he was fairly certain that it was real. If not, then she was a much better actress than any other woman he had known.

Soon after she relaxed, she began to concentrate on getting Jack off. He could feel her pussy grab his cock with every out stroke, releasing when he pushed back in. It worked and just a couple of minutes later, he shot what felt like a personal record-sized load of hot cum into the young lady.

Very satisfied, Jack rolled over and lay beside the woman, staring up at the beautiful blue sky, lost in the afterglow of his own pleasure. However she was not content to let him vegetate after that action. She rolled up until she was laying across his torso, her left elbow on his left side, her body on the other. She captured his flaccid member in her left hand and guided it to her mouth, alternately licking and sucking his slick cock. Her right hand cupped his balls and gently, warmly massaged them and, after a few minutes, his probe began to return to life. She threw a leg over his lower body and eased herself down onto his arrow, piercing herself until she was sitting on his crotch. 

Leaning over him, she said, "Honey, if you like the taste, I need to get rid of several ounces of milk from both my tits. Would you like to suck them? It would make me feel much better."

Jack grinned and captured one of her nipples in his mouth. He was soon nursing naturally, savoring the taste of her mother's milk. Soon after, she started to wiggle her bottom, feeling his distended cock wandering from side to side within her. Both of them loved the roving mini-shocks coursing through their bodies. By the time Jack had sufficiently reduced the pressure in one globe, the woman appeared to wander through another shattering orgasm.

Pulling her tit from Jack's mouth, she shifted just enough for him to clamp onto the other breast and he resumed suckling. She resumed her wiggling - back and forth, side to side, around and around. She was, in Jack's opinion, the greatest overall sexual partner he had ever experienced, and she was so young!

As Jack got close to emptying her tit, the woman picked up speed, ramming herself up and down his shaft mercilessly, making it difficult for him to hold onto her nipple. He had to capture her tit with both hands to keep sucking. Meanwhile it felt like she was sucking the contents of his balls through his cock ... and that is exactly what she did. His climax exploded upon him before he had a chance to think about it. He bucked upwards to thrust his cock deep into her hot pussy and sprayed her insides with his sticky white sperm.

Finally she lowered herself to Jack's chest and he held her to keep her from rolling off. Both of them were spent but felt fantastic.

"Did you like that, honey?" she asked.

"Yes, very much."

"So did I. You could do that every day if you want to."

"Every day?"

"Several times every day if you want to."

"Really? How often do you think ...?"

"Three. Five. More if you can. Whatever you want to."

"Wow! I'd like that. What about the tits?"

"The milk? Well, I had a baby and I was forced to give it up for adoption because I didn't have a way to support it. I guess if you want to suck them four or five times a day, you could keep the milk going. Would you like to do that?"

After straightening their clothes, the two went back to the trail and hiked for another half hour. However the longer they went and the more Jack watched her shapely ass bouncing under the skirt of her dress, the more he wanted her again.

Still they passed no other hikers on the trail. Spotting a dead-fall off the path a ways, Jack tugged the young woman to it. Bending her over to lean on the old tree, he lifted her skirt while she spread her legs. Pulling out his cock, he aimed it at her pussy and watched it slide in so easily. He held her hips while he probed her pussy and smacked into her ass from behind. The round smoothness of her bottom was such a turn-on that he didn't last long, shooting another satisfying load into her cunt.

By the time he had finished, Jack decided that he had enough exploring for the day - at least as far as nature goes. They headed back to the Jeep but still didn't arrive back at his house until nearly dark that evening.

Her name turned out to be Sula Mae but she said she would kill anybody who called her that. She preferred to be known as Sue. That made it simple for Jack.

Sue took a look around Jack's modest house and agreed that she would be delighted to call it home. Jack gave her an unused bedroom for her own but she said that she'd spend most of her time in his master bedroom.

Four summers later, Jack was still Sue's sugar daddy. True to her word, she satisfied his every sexual desire. Even when she was on her period, he had no complaints. She either serviced him with her mouth or with her ass just as often as Jack wished. Never in his wildest dreams had Jack believed he would ever get so much pussy.

Sue was quite happy with the arrangements as well, although she had some mixed emotions about her tits swelling from D-cups to DD-cups. Still it was so sexy, so erotic to have Jack sucking her tits while his cock roved around inside her sloppy wet pussy, it was impossible to think of letting them dry up. After all, the attention to her nipples definitely made her orgasms stronger than ever.

Jack was so considerate. Yes, he expected to have sex with her frequently but he was so much more gentle with her and considerate in making sure she had her own enjoyment. She had never had a lover who pleased her so much. The difference in their ages had never been an issue. She was sure that she had her sugar daddy for many more years to come, and she intended to do everything she knew how to insure that she kept him.

The End



Sugar Daddy



There is no sex in this little exposition. It is just me venting a little about what may or may not be happening between my wife and another man.

*

When my wife and I first met, she was a sexual dynamo. At first she was afraid to tell me all about her sexual history. She was afraid of how I would react to it, although in all honesty I always assumed that I had been more of an old perv than she could ever have been a dirty slut. As it turns out, the answers to those questions were more complicated than I expected.

One of her closest friends was a woman who, it turns out, had been intimate with my wife in a MWW session with a prior boyfriend. There had also been a MMW experience with that guy, and a bunch of other rather steamy incidents. That relationship ended badly. The guy who had been with her at that time had pressured her into those things, and he had been cheating on her on the side as well. In my mind, it was hiss loss, my gain. I loved her from the moment I first met her. Although I would enjoy any or all of the above mentioned situations, I am extremely cautious about bringing them up to her. I had tried to do so at one point, and she began to think that I was going to be like her ex. Her fear got the better of her, and when she told me I was being like him, I decided to let the subject drop forever.

However, she knew how I felt. And she likes to stir shit and push buttons from time to time. She asked me once, flat out, if it would be Ok with me if she had a girl-girl weekend with her one-time lover. I flat-out told her that it would be more than fine, that I would be very turned on if she were to do so. I think that she decided that that idea wouldn't get under my skin enough. I had also told her once that I had a fantasy of watching her get fucked by another guy. She had shut me down at that point. She made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was not going to go down that road. However, lately she has been teasing me. She started asking me if she could get a sugar daddy. It was a joking request I am sure, but she did not seem to realize how close to home the request actually hit me.

There are a couple of points that I should clarify. First, our income is limited, but she works in the financial world surrounded by guys with a lot of money. We are chronically short of cash for home repairs or other expenses. She drives my cheap economy car to work and parks it next to Mercedes and BMWs. Her boss spends money like water, and since she is the junior staffer, her co-workers make much more than she does.

In the past few months, her business has been growing. It has required later hours from her, she has upcoming overnight assignments out-of-town, and she has virtually cut me off in the bedroom. Each of these things, taken separately, is innocuous. However, one of the rich guys at work constantly complains of his wife, to mine, and enjoys bragging to her about how he "used to be a playboy, a ladies' man". For quite a while she would laughingly tell me all of this. Lately, she has not talked about him very much at all.

Tonight we talked about the "sugar daddy" idea again. She likes to bring it up to mess with me, to push my buttons and see how I will react. She promised that if she had a sugar daddy, that he wouldn't get any more nookie then I would. I told her "Oh, well that is OK then." Then I told her that if she got a sugar daddy, that I would get a girlfriend. Her response to that was that, as long as it was a sugar momma, it was OK with her.

Back in reality, I don't actually think that she would do this. I don't think that my wife would fuck another man, be it for love or money. And the truth is that I'd never find a sugar momma. Sure, I could probably find a girl to fuck if I looked, just as she could probably find any number of guys who would fuck her till the cows came home, but it just isn't happening.

The problem as I see it is two-fold: One, Although I don't THINK that she would do this, all of the above reasons for suspicions are true. And Two: Although I am turned on by the fantasy, the thought of this happening in reality frightens me. The thought of another woman eating my wife's pussy thrills me. The idea of watching another man or woman making love to my wife with me as a participant turns me on a great deal. The idea of her fucking another guy without me, or in secret, fills my heart with lead. Although, if it should happen and she wants to stay with me... well, we will just have to see...



Sugar Daddy



Author's Note

This story was inspired by an ad placed on a "No Strings Attached Sex"website. I contemplated dividing it into chapters, since it is quite long. I hope those who read it, enjoy it. I am indebted to BrownSugar82 and Juicy Starchild for their editing which has made my story more readable.

*

It was three thirty on Friday afternoon, and I was counting down the hours. At forty-eight I was heading for what may be the most exciting day of my life. I was getting married to someone I considered the most beautiful girl in the world. Jane was being an old fashioned girl, telling me that it was unlucky for me to see the bride on the night before the wedding, so she'd gone to stay the night with an old college friend. I was just going up to my home office to check that I had all the arrangements done when I heard her key in the door.

"Okay, scatterbrain, what have you forgotten?" I called out as I came back down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs I turned towards the front door and froze. She stood there, with her Mediterranean tan, wearing a two-piece suit that probably cost as much as I took out of the company in a week. She looked at me, gave me a big smile and ran the best she could in her tight skirt and high heels, with her arms outstretched.

"Kevin—I'm back."

She tried to kiss me but I turned my head so that her lips landed only on my cheek. Grabbing her arms, I pushed her off me.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Kevin—that's no way to talk to your wife. This is my home. I've come back home."

"Firstly, you're not my wife, and secondly, this is not your home. This is my house and you have no right to be in it." I turned and walked towards the lounge.

"Well, I thought you might be angry, but I think you're taking this a bit far."

I opened a drawer and took out a small card. Picking up the phone I dialled the number on the card. "This is Kevin Bryant. ... Yes, the same. ... She's back. ... Yes, my ex-wife, Lisa. ... Yes, she's right in front of me. ... Well, you'd better be quick because I'll be sending her on her way pretty soon." I switched the phone off.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Detective Inspector Maynard of the local police."

"The police ... but I've done nothing wrong."

"Maybe not, but they think I have."

My next call was to my son, Elliott, and the conversation went much the same way.

"Why don't you take a seat, Lisa. It seems that some people would like to talk to you. You're welcome to wait here for them."





Sugar Daddy



Although our relationship seemed to improve from time to time, on the whole we started to develop our lives in different directions. I wasn't an ideal husband—most of the time I didn't know what Lisa was doing and, to make it worse, I didn't care. I felt that she'd already turned her back on me, and it was obvious that we both wanted different things. Maybe I should have done something about it then, but I had promised for better or worse and I always kept my promises. If Lisa wanted to call it a day, then it was up to her.

By the time Elliott went to university we were leading separate lives. We shared a bed but that was about all. Elliott was influenced more by his mother than me and decided to study business. I can't pretend I wasn't disappointed but, hell, the country needs businessmen. I tried to give him some holiday work at Danvers, but his mother said he should be enjoying himself and, of course, he didn't argue with her. He graduated with second class honours and joined a management consultancy in London. It was during these three years that I started to hear stories about Lisa's behaviour. Even Bob Danvers told me where he'd seen her and with whom. My secretary made faces at the telephone whenever it was Lisa on the line. I never knew whether or not she still had any love for me, but it was clear to me that she had no respect for me at all. When I came home that night to find her gone I was more relieved than anything else.

******

"I still don't understand how you wouldn't know we were looking for you, Mrs Bryant," Inspector Maynard said. "The search, and your husband's arrest, was in all the newspapers."

Lisa looked across at me. "They arrested you? Oh, Kevin, I'm so sorry. I didn't expect anything like that to happen. I left you a note."

"Yes, you did, computer printed and unsigned. No one believed it."

"Frankly, Mrs Byant, I'm having difficulty accepting that you didn't know about the search. It was in all the newspapers and your husband's arrest was carried by the foreign news media."

"Inspector, I was in a foreign country and couldn't speak the language. The only news I saw was on the television, and that was in French. I had no idea what was going on here."

"And you didn't much care," I added.

Lisa turned to me. "No, Kevin, to be completely honest, you're right. I didn't care what was happening here. We hadn't been on the same wave-length for years. You couldn't stand my friends, and I didn't have much interest in your life, but you have to believe me, I didn't want to cause you any trouble."

WPC Cavendish had left the room to use her radio. She came back and passed a paper to Inspector Maynard.

"Mrs Bryant."

"Will you stop calling her Mrs Bryant," I said "She's not Mrs Bryant—she's my ex-wife with the emphasis on the ex."

Lisa looked confused, and the inspector was stuck for words.

"Okay—Lisa, is that your Range Rover outside?"

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"Well, it seems the Spanish police have been looking for it and you, in connection with a death in a bordello in Malaga."

"He just died in the girl's room—it was nothing to do with me."

"So I believe. The case has been dropped. The post mortem said it was a heart attack. The Spanish police are a little annoyed with you for leaving the country while the case was still open."

"I just had to get away. Away from those horrible people. You were right about them, Kevin—they just use people to get what they want, then drop them."

"Okay, Mrs ... sorry, ... Lisa, I think we're done. We'd like you to come to the station sometime to provide a statement, but as far as I'm concerned it's case closed."

I walked inspector Maynard and the WPC to the door. As he left he turned and offered me his hand. "Thank you, Mr Bryant, and good luck for tomorrow."

"Thank you, Inspector. Goodbye."

I watched them go and heaved a sigh of relief. I closed the door and waited for the next visit.

*****

I can't say I didn't miss Lisa, because I did. The house was empty, and you even miss the arguments when they're not there. However, things could have been worse. She'd left her bank and credit cards, so at least I didn't have to worry about her taking all our money. She even left her brand new Mini, something that pleased me because I was paying for it. I took some time off the following day and went in to the bank, surrendered Lisa's cards and took her name off the accounts. I took Lisa at her word. She'd said don't try to find me, so I didn't—I didn't even report her missing.

It was ten days later when Elliott called that things took a turn for the worse. Elliott couldn't believe his mother would just leave like that. He insisted on involving the police and came home to file a missing person report. That was when I first met Inspector Maynard. He seemed to be most interested in the fact that I hadn't reported her missing. After a couple of weeks he returned to tell me they'd got nowhere trying to find Lisa. None of the local taxi drivers had picked her up and they didn't think she'd used the bus. I laughed at the last statement. Lisa hadn't used a bus since the day we got married.

"Mr Bryant, do you have any idea where your wife would have gone, or who she might have left with?" he'd asked me.

"I have no idea and I don't much care, Inspector," had been my reply.

Of course, after that he wanted to know about our relationship and I told him the truth. I had been brought up to do that: "Tell the truth and shame the devil," my mum had always said. She'd obviously never dealt with a policeman eager to make a name for himself. My admission that we were like two people who shared a house and sometimes had sex didn't do me any good. I knew something was afoot two days later when I left for work and found half the world's press camped on my front lawn. As I walked to the garage I could hear shouts from the reporters.

"Where is your wife, Mr Bryant?"

"Is she dead, Mr Bryant?"

"Are you a suspect, Mr Bryant?"

I backed my old Skoda out of the garage, and as I went back to close the door I got more of the same questions fired at me. As I got back in the car I simply said, "You people know as much, if not more, than I do."

I was in a meeting with Bob Danvers when Maynard turned up again.

"Mr Bryant, I have here a warrant to search your house and grounds, and another to impound and examine your car. I must ask you to accompany me back to your house in order to guarantee full access."

I looked at Bob and sighed, rolling my eyes. "Look, Inspector, if you want to search my house that's fine. Here are my keys and these are the keys for the car. You'll find it in the car park. I really don't think you need me." I handed over both sets of keys. "Now, Inspector, Mr Danvers and I have important business to discuss."

What followed took me completely by surprise. Inspector Maynard took hold of my left hand and clamped one side of a pair of handcuffs on my wrist.

"Kevin Bryant, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Mrs Lisa Bryant. You're not obliged to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Now please stand, sir, and put your hands behind you."

I did as instructed, the other cuff was locked on my right wrist and I was led from the room. As I went out of the door Bob called out to me. "I'll call the company lawyer. Don't say anything until he gets there."

For two days they kept me in the cells at the police station with several interviews each day. I followed Bob Danvers instructions and refused to say anything without my solicitor present. At the end of two days Maynard applied to the court for more time to question me, but my solicitor challenged him to produce any evidence that a crime had actually been committed. Maynard had to accept that there was no evidence and I was released. Someone had tipped off the press and there was a gang of photographers waiting as I walked out to the waiting cab.

When the taxi pulled up outside my house I could hardly believe my eyes. The garden and the house were cordoned off with tape bearing the legend 'Crime Scene—Do Not Cross'. The gate to the back garden was off its hinges and the front door was open. I used my phone to take photos. I asked the taxi driver to wait while I packed a case. Walking straight through the tape, I entered my house. The sight was unbelievable. Downstairs the carpets had been ripped up and I could see two mechanical diggers and a number of policemen digging large holes in my garden. The patio had already been ripped up. I was about to go up to my bedroom when a policeman came down the stairs.

"What are you doing here? Can't you fucking read? It says, 'Crime Scene—DO NOT CROSS'."

"First, there has been no crime, and second, this is my house. I LIVE HERE."

The policeman used his radio to ask permission to let me in, then looked back at me. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I certainly can't live here, so I need to pack a case to move out."

"He says he needs to pack a case, sir," he said into the radio.

"Okay. Sir, you can do that, but I have to supervise you so I can check what you take."

Upstairs, all the carpets had been ripped up, there were floorboards up in every room and a ladder up to the loft hatch. I took photos as I went. In the bedroom I found the contents of my wardrobe draped over the bed and the contents of the drawers spread about the room. As best I could, I collected up what clothes I needed. My suitcase was already out on the floor, and I put what I could find into it. I got back in the taxi and asked the driver to take me to a hotel.

The next day I saw my picture splashed across the tabloid newspapers. One, the Morning Post, captioned the photo with the headline "Getting away with Murder". The bastards will pay for that, I thought. When I got into work I walked across the factory floor and someone started clapping. As more people noticed me the applause grew louder. As I reached the door to the offices I turned, took a very theatrical bow and the applause turned to laughter. Sally, my secretary, welcomed me with a kiss on the cheek.

"I knew it couldn't be true," she told me as she put a cup of coffee down on the desk.

Within minutes, Bob Danvers was in my office. "Good to see you back where you belong, Kevin. The lawyers told me what happened. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Bob. I wish I could say the same for my house. They've wrecked the place." I showed Bob the pictures on my phone.

"Print those out for me and I'll get them over to the lawyers. It seems to me they've no right calling your house a crime scene when they don't even know that a crime's been committed. Then there's the damage they've done—you deserve to be compensated for that. Come to think of it, where are you living? You can't live in that mess."

"I spent last night in a hotel. I thought I'd stay there until the weekend then try to find a short term furnished flat."

"You'll do no such thing. Wendy and I have plenty of room—you can live with us for a while until we find you somewhere suitable to stay. Just you remember, Kevin, you have friends here, and friends help each other. Now don't forget to give me those pictures." He left my office and I got to work.

As I was on my way out to lunch Sally called out to me. "Kevin—Bob asked me to find you somewhere to live, but I don't really know what to look for. If you don't want a hotel, do you want a flat, or would a bed & breakfast do? Would you consider being someone's lodger?"

"I hadn't given it much thought, really, Sally."

"The reason I ask is that my Aunt Helen takes in lodgers and she doesn't have anyone at present."

"Are you sure she'd be okay with having a murder suspect in her house?"

"You're no murderer," she laughed. "Anyway, we don't even know if there has been a murder."

"Well, if you check your aunt and uncle are happy, it might be a good solution."

"I'll phone Aunt Helen this afternoon. Oh, by the way, there is no uncle—he died five years ago."

That afternoon Sally called her aunt and arranged for me to visit her that evening. I took the pictures in to Bob and told him that I wouldn't need his offer of help.

Helen Warrender was a fine looking woman. She was in her early fifties, though at first glance you'd have put her age closer to forty. She was five foot six inches tall with a slim waist and a delightful curve to her hips. She had piercing blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair which was greying but not yet grey. She had a nice home, and when she showed me the double room she had available I was convinced I should take it. I felt it only right to make sure that she was fully in the picture. Her response sealed the deal.

"Sally told me all about it. I think it's disgusting they should treat you like that."

I had forgotten what it was like to have someone look after me. Every morning I was treated to the sight of the lovely Helen serving me with breakfast. She insisted I didn't restrict myself to my bedroom.

"This is a big house for me, Mr Bryant, and I do get lonely. Just having someone else in the room of an evening is welcome."

As the weeks went by, I came to realise that lodging with Helen was better than living with Lisa, with the exception of the occasional sex. Even the latter resolved itself as time went by. One night I came back to find Helen in a panic. She couldn't stop water flowing through the toilet cistern. I told her not to worry, found the stopcock and turned it off. I inspected the cistern, found the problem and after a quick trip to the Do-It-Yourself store, I fitted a new valve and turned the water on again. Helen was completely overwhelmed with gratitude. She hugged me tightly and kissed me on the lips. Possibly it was because it had been so long, but more likely it was the feeling of Helen's body against mine. My cock started to swell and pressed against her as I kissed her back. We stood there for several moments looking into each other's eyes.

"It feels like you need something as much as I do. Take me to bed, Kevin, take me now."

I swept her up in my arms and carried her up to her bedroom. I put her back on her feet and kissed her again. I eased the zip of her dress down below her waist, lifted it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. For a while I stood and looked at her.

"Don't look too closely," she said. "It's all seen better days."

"Well, if it has I'd like to have seen it. It looks pretty good to me right now."

"Oh, you say the nicest things."

She unbuttoned my shirt and released my belt. As I stepped out of my trousers I kissed her again, with a passion that I'd forgotten I had. I pulled the duvet back, swept her up in my arms and laid her out on the bed. I lay down beside her, reached around and unclipped her bra, releasing what I can only describe as her beautiful breasts. They weren't big and they sagged a bit, but I thought they were beautiful. I reached down, put my thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pushed them down. Helen raised her legs so that I could remove the panties completely.

"Be gentle, Kevin. It's been a long time."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything you don't want."

I pulled her to me and held her tightly. As I kissed her tenderly she brought a hand around and pulled my head closer, her lips parted and our tongues danced a sensual rumba. My hands ran down her back. As I reached her hips she thrust them forward, grinding against my very erect dick.

"We shouldn't be doing this—but I want it so much."

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

She wrapped one leg around mine, and I ran my hand over her arse cheeks then slipped my fingers into her crack. When I started to probe her anus she forced herself harder against me.

"Oh, yes, Kevin, I need this so much. Please, please take me now."

I turned her onto her back and started to play with her nipples. I ran my fingers down to her pussy and fastened my lips on her nipple. My fingers found her clitoris and gently circled and stroked it. In less than a minute, several years of pent up frustration were released in an orgasm that took her breath away completely. As I lay beside her she shook uncontrollably and I hugged her until she stopped shaking. I rolled onto my back, pulling Helen on top of me. I moved her knees up to my waist and she sat back onto my hips. I lifted her up a little and eased my cock into her. As she started to move up and down on my dick, I squeezed her breasts and used my thumbs on her nipples.

"Oh, Kevin, I've missed this so much. Fill me, Kevin. Fill me with your seed."

Her breathing became more erratic, coming in gasps. I could feel my cock throbbing as it was caressed by the wet walls of her pussy. She tightened around me as I rhythmically moved up and down.

"Oh, no—oh, no—oh—oh—oh, yes!"

Her pussy squeezed my cock, and I sent streams of sperm shooting into her cervix. She was trembling once again, and I pulled her down on to my chest and hugged her. As we lay there I stroked her back and kissed her shoulders. Gently I rolled her onto her back and got up to get us both a glass of wine. We sat, we drank, and then we fucked some more until eventually Helen fell asleep. There are many times in a person's life when they think, what would have happened if I had done things differently? This was such a time for me. I decided to go back to my own room and leave Helen to sleep. I've often wondered what would have happened had I stayed with her that night.

The following morning things were back to normal. Helen was waiting on me, and I was Mr Bryant again. That evening I invited Helen to go to dinner with me.

"Mr Bryant—Kevin—what happened last night was a mistake, it should never have happened."

"But it did happen, Helen, and it was good, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was good, it was more than good—but it was wrong. You're still married and I—I have someone."

"You have someone? Then why last night?"

"He's old school. He won't take me to bed until we're married, but it has been so long since I felt a real man inside me. I'm so sorry, Kevin, that I took advantage of you, but it must never happen again."

"Helen, if a man has the opportunity to make love to you and turns it down, I have doubts about his sanity."

"Nevertheless, we have an agreement and I will marry him. So, you see, last night must never happen again."

"Like I said last night, Helen, I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

I kept my promise to her, but in the three months I spent with her we had another two nights of passion. Each was followed by similar guilt on her part. The police occupied my house for over a month, and when I was handed back the keys the place was far from habitable. It took almost two months to get it back in a condition I could live with. Much of my furniture had to be replaced and the garden was a mess.

*****

"Well," said Lisa, "looks like you haven't been celibate while I've been away."

"What do you mean by that?"

"This place. If I'm not mistaken, I see a woman's touch in the decoration. The colours and the furniture, definitely not your choice."

"I paid someone else to do it. When the police were finished with it I either had to completely refurbish it or sell up. Since I'd paid off the mortgage, and didn't want to start again, I got a designer in and we made it better."

"Was it that bad, then?"

"I'll show you the pictures if you like. They even checked I hadn't buried you under the concrete floor."

"Oh, Kevin, I never imagined anything like that. I really am very sorry."

"It's water under the bridge now, Lisa. We're divorced and both free agents, and to be honest that's all that matters to me now."

"You keep saying that. How can we be divorced without me knowing about it? I haven't agreed to it, and I still won't."




Sugar Daddy



"You don't have to, Lisa. You deserted me."

*****

Once I'd moved back home I looked into divorcing Lisa. I'd got to the point where I wanted to forget all about her. While I was living with her she was doing her best to humiliate me, and even now she was gone she was still causing me problems. My solicitor advised me to wait for a while so he could sound out the courts, to see what I'd need to do to show that Lisa had left and wasn't coming back. It was two months before he came back to me.

"I need to know what you want out of this divorce, Mr Bryant, as it has some bearing on what you'll have to do. If you want to take all your joint assets, then it'll take longer. It's possible, especially since she left her bank cards. This will be taken as your wife not wanting any of your assets. I said it will take longer because you'll have to show that you've made every effort to contact your wife and inform her of your intentions."

"And if I want a quicker option?"

"Well the quicker option involves you in setting up a trust fund for your wife, which would have to be worth up to half your joint assets. The court would say exactly how much that would actually have to be, but the important thing is, should your wife re-appear, then she'd be able to claim the money she might have been awarded had she defended the case."

"I think we'll take the long route—I'm in no hurry."

"Okay, Mr Bryant, I'll get started on the paperwork right away."

I thanked him and left him to start the work.

It didn't take long before Inspector Maynard got wind of the divorce terms I was pursuing. He sent a couple of his gentlemen round, to invite me to come into the station for an interview. He may have thought that he'd found a motive, but he still had nothing to indicate that Lisa hadn't just left, which of course she had. Once again, as I left I had to run the gauntlet of the press. Strange how they always seemed to know when I'd been questioned.

The police had left me plenty of work to do in the garden. Although I had no plans to do it all myself, I certainly intended to design it. Even with garden design and my everyday work, I still found myself feeling very alone. I registered with a couple of internet dating sites and found myself surprisingly popular. The problem was that, almost always during the first date, the woman would say, "Do you think your wife will ever come back?" Of course, what they meant was, "Did you murder your wife?" I felt I was often being dated for my curiosity value. I had no problem getting sex, but as to finding anyone I'd want to live with, I was having no luck. I started to look at other sites, ones that focussed just on getting laid. I never tried them, just looked to see what was available. I was surprised to find girls of eighteen and nineteen advertising. One girl in particular caught my eye. I tried to ignore her, but time and time again I found myself drawn back to her profile.

Jane was being remarkably open and upfront. The more often I read the profile the more naive she seemed.

Profile:

I've just started at Uni and, thanks to the tuition fees, I need some financial help. I'm not talking about designer dresses and Gucci bags—just help me avoid the drudgery of a job. In return, I will be yours exclusively. If you're married, I will be your secret girlfriend. Not interested in one night stands or short term relationships.

I looked at her picture and read the profile and imagined all of the creeps she'd get responding to that ad. After a while I could almost convince myself that if I contacted her it would protect her from all the perverts. It had nothing to do with her youthful good looks. In the end I could resist no longer—I contacted her and set up an appointment.

I sat in the bar of the university theatre nursing a cup of coffee. I was just wondering how the staff managed to concentrate on their jobs with all these nubile nymphs around, when I saw her. I'd studied her photo so often that I recognised her immediately. I stood up and motioned her over. She was almost at my table when I realised she'd brought a friend.

Jane was about five foot six, with slim hips and an ample bosom, wearing jeans and a sweater. Her shape was immediately noticeable. Her high cheeks, full lips and big brown eyes were the reason I'd been drawn to her picture, and now I could see her long mousy-brown hair. Her friend was smaller, with short blonde hair. Her frame was somewhat slight, but she was still an attractive girl.

"Hello, I'm Jane, and this is my friend, Abby," she said, holding her hand out for me to shake.

Abby stood back and took my picture with her phone.

"Hi, I'm Kevin. Can I get you ladies a drink?"

"I'll have a coffee. That's the reason I suggested we meet here—it's the only place on campus that serves good coffee."

"What about you, Abby? What would you like?"

"Just water, thanks."

They sat down at my table and I went to the bar for the drinks. When I got back to the table Jane looked more relaxed than either me or Abby. I gave them their drinks and sat down.

"Well, you've passed the physical," Jane said with a smile. "I could do it with you."

"Well, that's comforting to know. You have me at a disadvantage, though. You seem to have this all worked out, while I still can't believe I'm doing this."

Abby just sat there shooting icy glances in my direction.

"Are you married, Kevin? I can be very discreet—you don't have to worry."

"It's not my wife that worries me. I'm worried for you. Are you sure you really want to do this?"

Suddenly, she looked angry. "Is that why you've come here—to try and talk me out of it?" She pushed her coffee away and started to get up.

I reached out and held onto her hands. "Please sit down—I was just checking that you were sure. Now, what is it you want from me?"

"Well, you can cover that for a start," she said, putting an invoice on the table.

The invoice was for her halls of residence accommodation. Three hundred and sixty pounds for ten weeks. I smiled to myself, Lisa would have spent that much on a pair of shoes. I took out my cheque book and wrote one for the full amount, made out to the university estates department. I held the cheque out for her. She took it and studied it.

"The full amount, up front—you would do that for me?"

"Yes, I'll do that and I'll do it again next term, but there are conditions. You must cancel that ad and there is to be no one else."

"Of course, that goes without saying."

"Good, then here's what I propose. I'll pay your rent, your food bills and your books, and next year I'll pay your tuition fees. In return I expect you to be diligent in your studies and to be available to me for social events and engagements."

"Social events and engagements. Huh—I've never heard it called that before," muttered Abby.

"Now, Jane, do we have a deal?"

Jane fixed me with those big brown eyes. "We most certainly do."

"Good. Now, unless you two ladies have already eaten, may I take you to dinner?"

"Now hold on, Mr Pervert," Abby interjected. "I'm not part of this deal; I'm just here for Jane's protection."

"I appreciate that, Abby, I really do, and that's why I'd like you to come. Call it a thank you, for looking after our mutual friend."

With that we, all three, left the theatre and walked across campus to where I left my car. They were somewhat surprised to see the Skoda. As we got in the girls looked at each other and then to me. Jane reached out and put her hand on mine.

"Kevin, can you really afford to do this?"

"Of course I can. I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't."

She looked at Abby again, then back at me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you, it's just that this isn't the car a wealthy man drives. My dad has one of these. It's older, of course, but it's the same car."

I laughed out loud and only stopped when I realised how embarrassed she was. "Oh, Jane, you just reminded me of my wife—she couldn't understand it either. You see, I'm a man who lives his life according to his needs, not according to his means. This is a good reliable car, and it was good value for money. That leaves me more cash to spend on the important things in life."

"And I'm important?"

"I hope you'll become so. I really do. My wife has left me. My son finished university and has moved to the big city to make his fortune. The two of them cost me far more than I'll be spending on you, so don't worry about whether I can afford it."

We had a very pleasant meal at a little Italian restaurant in Bath. I let Jane do most of the talking, and before the end of the evening I found out that her father was in his early sixties and her mother was almost twenty years his junior. They lived in Doncaster, where Jane had grown up. Her father had a second family to keep, so they were far from well off, but he had instilled in his daughter a healthy dislike for debt.

"Dad always says that borrowing is like paying someone money simply because they have more than you in the first place," she told me.

I liked the sound of her father, even if it did mean his daughter was taking big risks to avoid being in debt. Of course, she hadn't told him what she was doing. As far as he was concerned she worked in the campus bar. At the end of the evening we exchanged phone numbers and I drove them back to their halls of residence.

I may have been acting like an old fool, but I wasn't totally stupid. The next day I called the company lawyer and asked for the name of the enquiry agent they used. I gave the guy all the details I had and asked him to find out all he could. I didn't think she was taking me for a ride, but it made sense to be sure before I got in any deeper. In the meantime I took things very gently. In the first two weeks I took her out a couple of times a week. We went out to dinner and we went to clubs. I knew I was becoming attached to her, but I tried to keep her at arm's length, at least until I got the report from the enquiry agent. At least that was the plan—the problem was that Jane hadn't read the script.

One Saturday I decided to take her out to one of my favourite restaurants, so that afternoon I took her shopping for appropriate clothes. Then that night we went into town and had a wonderful evening, first at the restaurant then at a night club. I had booked us into a hotel, with separate rooms of course. As we walked into the hotel that night Jane had hold of my arm with both hands and her head was on my shoulder. As we got to our rooms we stopped outside her door. I attempted to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned so that our lips met. I kissed her gently, but she took my head in both of her hands and kissed me back with a passion.

"We need to talk," she said. "We could do that in your room, but I'd rather it was mine." She turned, opened the door and gently led me in. She sat me down on the bed and walked to the mini bar. "Shall we have a drink?" She got out two small bottles of wine and came back with two glasses. "Kevin. I'm very grateful to you for helping me, but I thought we had a deal."

"We do have a deal. I've kept to my side of it, haven't I?"

"Sort of, but you haven't let me hold up my side of the deal. We said you'd meet my expenses and in return you get me, exclusively. I really enjoy going out with you, and how could I not like dresses like this." She reached up her back and I heard the zip being pulled down. She pushed the dress off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor, then stepped out of it. She stood before me wearing only stockings, red lacy bra and matching thong. She looked down at my lap and could see the tent forming there.

"I know you find me attractive, so why do you treat me more like your daughter than your girlfriend? I already have a father—I don't need another one." She sat on the bed and held my hand.

"I'm just not used to arrangements like this. I suppose I'm trying to break us both in gently. I don't want you to feel like a prostitute."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? If I was a prostitute, clients would be choosing me and trying to make deals. A prostitute isn't in control of the relationship. I'm in control of this relationship. I chose you, not the other way round. If you're unhappy with that we can end it now."

"Okay, I was trying to protect myself as well as you. I'm a man in his forties, you're nineteen. How long's it going to be before some young student captures your heart and you want out of our arrangement? Where is that going to leave me?"

She got up, then sat on my lap and stroked my face. "That's not going to happen. I don't go for young men. They're all so Wham bam, thank you, ma'am. I want a mature man who takes his time and can teach me how to enjoy sex—I want you, Kevin. Not just for the money—I really enjoy being with you. Right now, I want you to release this bra and start to play with my breasts. Isn't that what you want?"

Damn right it was what I wanted. As I reached around to release her bra-catch she took my face in both hands and kissed me tenderly. I eased the bra down over her arms and hands and revealed her close-to-perfect breasts. They hardly dropped as I removed the bra and, pulling it forward, revealed her dark areola. Her nipples sat like morello cherries on top of an iced bun. My hand moved up to fondle her breasts, and I immediately noticed the difference between her and Lisa. Lisa always had great boobs, but Jane's were soft to touch and firm at the same time. There was no wobble of flesh just beautiful globes. I took one of her cherry nipples into my mouth and sucked, using my tongue to lick and circle her nipple. Jane's head went back as her hand came up behind my neck, holding my head firm as her breast was being pushed further into my eager mouth.

"Oh, yes, Kevin, that's what I want."

I moved my hand down her back. As I stroked her back around her hips and the base of her spine, she started to wriggle on my lap and made some unintelligible moans.

"Take me to bed, Kevin—I really want you inside me."

She stood up and I removed her panties. I stood up and swept her up in my arms, carried her round the bed and laid her down on the covers. I undressed and lay down beside her. She reached out to me and ran her hand down my body. When she reached my hips she moved down to grasp my cock. She gently squeezed it.

"Mmm, that will do for me. Now come on, you lovely man. Take me."

I turned her onto her back and continued my assault on her breasts. As I moved my head to her right breast I used my left hand on her left breast while my right hand made its way down between her legs. Her back arched, pushing her breast up into my mouth. Her legs parted for me, and my fingers parted her labia and entered her wet pussy. I found her clitoris with my thumb. As my fingers slid in and out of her pussy, my thumb stimulated her clitoris. In no time at all her pussy clenched on my fingers. Her hips rose up to meet my hand. She started to cry out.

"Oh—yes, Kevin, yes, yes, Y-E-S."

Her juices flowed over my hand. I pulled her to me and kissed her passionately. I slipped my knee between her legs and pushed her over onto her back. I climbed on top of her and she reached for my cock. She guided it to her pussy and I gently pushed into her highly lubricated love channel. I sank into her with a slow, gentle movement, giving her chance to get used to my cock. I slowly moved in and out, and her legs wrapped around me. I rolled on to my back, flipping her on top of me. I ran my hands down her back and gently massaged her arse cheeks. Again I was reminded of her youth. Her buttocks were firm and toned—not at all wobbly like Lisa's. She forced herself down harder onto my cock as I ran my fingers into her arse crack. As I started to run my finger around her tight little anus, her breathing got more erratic and her movements even more forceful—she was coming.

"Oh, Kevin, fill me, fill me up with your seed. Fuck me, Kevin, fuck me hard."

As her pussy started to squeeze on my dick and her cervix started close over its head, I felt my seed starting to rise. Her breath now came in gasps as I shot my load into her. We gripped each other tightly, both of us covered in sweat. I stopped pushing up into her and she lay on top of me, shaking. As she regained control of her body my cock started to soften inside her. She lifted herself slightly and kissed me.

"I just knew you'd be good," she said. "I just knew it."

We lay there for several minutes, just enjoying the closeness of each other. I was struck by the difference between this lithe young body and the softer older woman I was used to. I was also conscious of the difference between her body and mine. Yes, the bit of exercise I did had kept me reasonably fit, but I was getting a bit soft and floppy.

"Would you like to share a shower with me?" she asked.

"Try to keep me out."

She got off the bed and ran for the bathroom. I followed. With the water spraying down on us we kissed and cuddled. We lathered each other, and I washed her breasts and pussy with relish. Jane seemed to take great pleasure in washing my balls and cock which obliged her by immediately standing to attention for her. As we towelled each other dry there were more hugs and kisses which then changed to tickling with both of us running naked around the room and over the bed like a couple of children. When I caught her and pulled her, still laughing, down onto the bed we both got under the covers. I held her tight, and after a few more kisses I lay on my back and she snuggled under my arm with her head on my chest.

"So did you really choose me?" I asked.

"Of course I did—you didn't think you were the first candidate, did you?"

"Well, I hadn't really thought of it until tonight, but yes, I suppose I did."

"No—there were many who wanted to have me. You were the first one who really wanted to look after me. One fat old man wanted to go back to my room so that he could see what he was getting. You just gave me the money, and if I hadn't forced the issue tonight, you still wouldn't have had anything for your money."

"Please don't say it like that. Getting something for my money. It makes it sound like I'm paying you for sex. I don't see it like that at all."

"Oh, Kevin, I know you don't, and neither do I. That's why you were special. Add to that, I really fancied you, and when we all went out to dinner you were so charming I've wanted to go to bed with you ever since." She hugged me and pressed her firm young breasts into my side. "So how did you see our little arrangement?" she asked.

"I don't know, I think I wanted to protect you. I desired you sexually, of course, but you're twenty years younger than me. I only wanted you in my bed if that's where you wanted to be."

"Well, it is, so please, no more separate rooms."

I hugged her close then she turned over and we spooned with my cock nestling in her arse crack. We must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew I was waking up to the sound of Jane talking to someone.

"I'd like to thank you for such a wonderful night. Now what can I give you to say thanks? How about a nice big kiss?"

At first I thought she must be on the phone, but that last question forced me to open my eyes. I managed to bring her into focus just as she planted that kiss on the head of my erect cock. The feeling was amazing.

"Hmm, you know, you taste good enough to eat."

She knelt beside me completely naked, addressing every word to my own little soldier who dutifully stood to attention. She kissed it again.

"Sorry, but I'm just going to have to eat you."

With that she took my cock into her mouth. She went to work with her tongue and lips. Licking, swirling then sucking. She brought her head further down until the whole of my cock was in her mouth and pushing into her throat. Her head moved up and down. This nineteen year-old girl was giving me the best blowjob of my life. I reached down and stroked her hair. She lifted her head and looked at me.




Sugar Daddy



"Anyone ever tell you how good you taste?"

"Not until now."

"Well, you do," she said and returned to her task, looking up at me as she did.

"Wouldn't you enjoy having me inside you more?"

"Would you enjoy that more?" she asked.

"I really think I would. I want to admire that beautiful body while you ride me."

She lifted herself up, straddled me and lowered her pussy onto my erect dick. As she moved up and down on me I was treated to both visual and physical stimulation. Her tight pussy stroked my cock as it moved up and down, and her lovely breasts bounced about in front of my eyes. I reached out and put my hands on her hips. I moved my hands slowly up her sides and brought them round under her breasts then slowly down to her hips again. Her movements slowly increased in speed and her head went back, making her hair hang down straight. I brought my hands up once more and, supporting her breasts with my hands, I started rubbing her nipples with my thumbs. She gasped for breath and her pelvis rocked as she moved down on me. I could feel the mouth of her cervix closing over the head of my cock.

"Oghh—Oghh—Oghh—A-a-argh—" she let out a moan that was almost a scream, and I blasted another load of semen into her. She was shaking, and I pulled her down onto my chest and held her tight until she recovered.

After a shower I had to go back to my own room for a change of clothes before going down to breakfast. We left the hotel with my arm around her shoulder and hers around my waist. We had arrived looking like father and daughter, and we left looking like lovers.

On Monday morning I called the enquiry agent and asked for a verbal report. He told me what I hoped to hear. Everything was just as she'd said, and as far as he could tell she had no love interest at university. In fact the lads had found her so hard to crack that there were some rumours that she and Abby were lesbians. I thanked him for his efforts, told him the case was now closed and asked him to send his account direct to me.

I asked Sally if she had details of the gym that gave the company employees a discount and told her to book me an appointment with the personal trainer. She gave me a peculiar look.

"What's with the sudden desire for fitness?"

"Well, Sally, I thought this old body was somewhat out of shape."

"It's not that bad and it's not that old," she hesitated, then gave me a knowing smile. "You've found someone, haven't you? Oh my god, you have, you've really found someone. Oh, Kevin, I'm so pleased." She rushed over and kissed me full on the lips then pulled back looking embarrassed. "I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have done that. I'm just so happy for you. I can't wait to tell everybody."

"I'd rather you said nothing, Sally. Who knows how long these things last? I'd rather people found out in the fullness of time."

"Any girl that lets you go has got to be mad or stupid. That's all I've got to say."

"Well, thank you, Sally, and I promise not to tell your husband you said that."

"Oh, he knows, he heard me and Aunt Helen talking about you. If I didn't love him so much I'd have made a play for you myself."

"Well, I just hope he knows what a lucky man he is. Now can we get some work done around here?"

She left my office in a state of excitement, and I wondered just how long she could keep a lid on things.

Things had moved on at Danvers. We were into chip design, specialising in digital signal processing. Our manufacturing side was still working, but the biggest money spinner was from licences to use our designs. This was mainly my doing. Design and Development had expanded fast and we were employing two new graduates every year. Meanwhile Bob, now in his sixties, was looking to take more of a back seat. I'd just got back from seeing the personal trainer when he came into my office. He looked at my red face and sweaty forehead.

"My god, you look like you've just run a mile," he said.

"Three actually, Bob. What can I do for you?"

"It's your mileage expenses—you're costing me a fortune."

"They're all legitimate expenses, Bob. I don't count the short hops."

"I know that—if I thought you were cheating me you wouldn't be sitting there. No, I think the company would be better off if you had a company car, so you'd better choose one—and no, it's not going to be a bloody Skoda."

"There's nothing wrong with Skoda—you get a lot more car for your money."

"Alright, alright, I know the arguments, but the fact of the matter is, it doesn't give the impression of a successful company if the acting CEO rolls up in a Skoda. Make it a Merc, Jag or Beemer, something with a bit of prestige attached to it."  

"Hold on, Bob, just back up a bit. What did you say about acting CEO?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you about that? Wendy and I are going on a world cruise after Christmas. We'll be gone a couple of months. I'm putting you in charge while I'm away. We'll talk about what happens after that, when I get back. Wendy wants to see more of me, so I'll be looking to take more of a back seat. Now get on that computer of yours and find yourself a car. You can spend up to eighty grand."

It took me two weeks to sort out the car. I didn't say a word to Jane about it. We were seeing each other about four nights a week, and most nights she'd stay over at the house and I would drive her in to college in the mornings before going to work. The night I pulled up in the new Jag XK she didn't even realise it was me. I had to get out of the car before she realised.

"Well?" I said. "Does this tell you that I can afford to support you?"

"You silly man, you didn't buy this just to impress me?"

"No, it's a company car, my boss made me have it."

Jane looked around the interior of the car. "Your boss must think a hell of a lot of you."

"You know, I think he does. Now, where would you like to go tonight?"

"I don't care where we go, as long as I'm with you. Can't we just go to your place and sit and watch TV or something?"

That was when I really started to feel comfortable with the relationship. We didn't have to go out—she was content just to be with me. My own double bed hadn't seen so much action in years, and for the first time in ages I felt happy. Of course it couldn't last, and one evening I pulled up at the university in the usual place, but she wasn't there. I went to her room, but there was no answer. I tried the theatre bar to no avail. I didn't think I could feel any worse, and when I got back to my car and found Abby sitting on the front wing, my mood lifted a little.

"Abby, where is she? Has something happened? Is she alright?"

For such a slight girl she packed a hell of a slap. My cheek stung as she laid into me verbally. "Why couldn't you be straight with us? If you'd told us who you were in the first place she wouldn't be breaking her heart right now."

"I have been straight with you, I am Kevin Bryant. Look, it's on my driving licence."

"I know you're Kevin Bryant. You're THE Kevin Bryant—the man who got away with murder. Just where is your wife, Kevin?"

"I don't know. She left me—I told you that."

"Then how come nobody can find her. The reporter was right—if she was still alive someone would know where she is."

"Reporter? What reporter?"

"The man from The Post. He said he wanted to interview her, and then told her he was doing a piece on why some women were attracted to murderers. Jane defended you and told him that it couldn't be true, but then he showed her all the newspaper stories."

"I'll bet he did, stories he's written. I've had enough of this. Just because Lisa disappeared doesn't mean I'm not entitled to a life of my own, and I want Jane to be a part of that life." I got back in the car and started her up.

"Don't hold your breath," Abby called after me as I roared out of the car park.

When I got home I made several attempts to call Jane. Every time I was told that her phone was switched off. In the end I sent a text. It's not true. Lisa did leave me. Nobody killed her. Please talk to me.

I didn't sleep well that night and I was still angry when I got into work the next day. I barely said good morning to Sally.

"Sally, get me Guy Pearson, from the company lawyers, on the phone."

"Certainly, Kevin. Would you like your coffee now?"

"Not now, thanks. Maybe later."

A few minutes later my phone rang.

"I've got Guy Pearson for you."

"Guy Pearson. How can I help you?"

"It's Kevin Bryant, Mr Pearson, from Danvers Electronics. I'm still having problems with the police and the press, regarding my wife's disappearance." I told him what had happened and how things had affected my life since the story broke.

"What would you like me to do, Mr Bryant?"

"Take the bastards to the cleaners—the police, the press, and most especially The Post."

"It will be my pleasure, Mr Bryant. I have all the evidence—I've just been waiting for your instructions."

"Guy, if you can make sure it gets maximum news coverage I would be much obliged."

"Will do, Mr Bryant. Leave it with me."

The next day I knew that Pearson had made a start. As I opened my front door I had TV cameras thrust in my face and the questions started.

"Mr Bryant, is it true that you're suing the police, sir?"

"Yes, it's true."

"Don't you think they have a responsibility to investigate your wife's disappearance, sir?"

"Yes, they do, but they also have a responsibility to get their facts right. They had no right to label my house as a crime scene when no crime had been committed."

"What about The Post, sir? Is it true that you're claiming a million pounds?"

"I don't know—I left that in the hands of my solicitor."

"What have they done that could possibly be worth that much money, sir?"

"The press—and The Post in particular—have, without a shred of evidence, labelled me a murderer. If The Post has any evidence to suggest that my wife is dead, then I and the police would like to see it. Despite this lack of evidence, staff writers from the post have deliberately interfered in my private life, wrecking new relationships I might have formed. What price do you put on that, gentlemen? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work."

I got into the Jag and made my exit. At work things were normal. Just after lunch I got a call from Guy Pearson congratulating me on my doorstep interview. It wasn't really Guy I was trying to impress but he was the only person to call me about it. That night I saw the TV coverage, and generally it seemed quite positive. My interview was followed by an article about press intrusion and featured other people whose lives had been ruined. Within three days I got the offer of an out-of-court settlement, no apology and no admission of liability. No deal. The offer was encouraging, but what I found when I got home was the best thing.

It was a cold, dark evening, and she was huddled up against the cold. I left the car on the drive and walked over to her. As she got up I threw my arms around her to warm her. Without a word I opened the front door and ushered her in. I sat her down and went to the kitchen to make the coffee. When I returned with the tray, she looked warmer but very nervous. I poured the coffee and passed her a cup. She wrapped her hands around the cup. I just looked at her.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I don't know what to say."

"How about I start at the beginning and tell you everything."

I did just that, from the beginning, and left nothing out. By the time I finished, my coffee was cold and Jane had tears in her eyes. I sat next to her and put my arm around her. She put her head on my chest and cried.

"I'm really sorry, Kevin. I should have talked to you about it but that horrible man frightened me so much."

"I've a feeling he's going to regret that."

"So he should—he said horrible things about you, and when he showed me all those stories in the papers, I couldn't believe they could write those things without any proof. When I saw you on the television, challenging them to provide the evidence, I knew I'd been a fool."

"Abby said you were broken-hearted."

"I was. You see, I really like you. The sex is great but it's more than that. I wanted to be with you but he frightened me so much."

I hugged her while she cried, and when she stopped crying I made us some dinner. She seemed to brighten up after dinner and we just sat together. Then, just before we went to bed, she spoke.

"Kevin, I know I've no right to ask, but would you come home with me for Christmas? I want you to meet my dad—and my mum, of course—but mainly my dad."

"I'd really like that," I said.

We went to bed and just held each other. We made love slowly and tenderly that night.

*****

"Well, I have to say the last six years have been kind to you, Kevin."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said you're looking well. In fact, I think you look younger and fitter than you were when I left."

"Well, I decided I needed to get into better shape. Add to that the dancing and cycling I've been doing."

"You? Dancing and cycling? What brought that on?"

"I can't help being an old dad to any more children I have, but I don't have to be a fat old dad."

"You plan on having more children? At your age?"

"I'm forty-eight, Lisa, not eighty-four. Charlie Chaplin was still siring children at eighty-two."

"Yes, but he had a young wife."

"And what makes you think I couldn't get a young wife?"

"Oh my god, Kevin, you haven't bought yourself a Russian bride, have you?"

She still hadn't learned her lesson, it seemed. I'd have put her straight but at that moment the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, knowing it was likely to be my son, Elliott. I opened the door.

"Hi, Dad. Is she still here?" I showed him in.

"Elliott, how are you, darling?"

"Fat lot you care. You piss off for six years, then come back and think everything's going to be the same as it was. It doesn't work like that, Mum. People move on."

"But I always loved you. You're my darling boy. You know that."

"Just not enough to let me know you were still alive, though."

"I didn't want your father to find me."

"What makes you think I wanted to?" I added.

"So where have you been these last six years, Mother, dear?" There was more than a hint of irony in his voice—he must have inherited something from me.

"She's been running a Spanish bordello," I told him. "Madam Lisa." I really wasn't helping matters, so I left them to it.

******

We didn't go up to Doncaster straight away when term ended. Jane and I quickly got over our little upset, and she spent some time moving into the house. It had been her suggestion. Rather than me paying for her student accommodation, I could just provide the accommodation. It made sense to me—she was spending as many nights in my house as she was in her room. I insisted that she used Elliott's old room—after all, there would be nights when she'd need to work, and she might just need to get away from me. There was the small worry about transport, but Lisa's Mini was still in the garage so I let her use that.

The journey up to Doncaster was uneventful. The Jag just ate up the miles. We stopped a couple of times at the motorway services for overpriced, bad food and arrived in the centre of Doncaster in the early evening. The sat-nav took me straight to my hotel. When I pulled into the car park Jane's face had a curious expression.

"What are we doing here? We can't stay here, my parents will be very upset if we don't stay with them."

"I've taken a room here as insurance. I'm sure your mum and dad will be thrilled to see you, but maybe less thrilled to see me."

"I'm sure they'll love you, but I suppose some insurance isn't a bad idea."

We checked in and I took some luggage up to my room. Jane came up with me to help unpack and to see what the room was like.

"Hmm, so this is what an executive double room looks like. I love the bed. We'll have to make an excuse to come back and try it out."

We made our way to a nice little semi-detached on the outskirts of town. I parked the car in the drive, and as we reached the front door it was opened by a man in his sixties. His grey hair was thinning, he was a little overweight and had the look of a man who was once a lady killer. Jane threw her arms around him.

"Dad, how are you?"

"I'm fine, darling. How are you? You're certainly looking well. This must be Kevin—come into the light, my boy, let me get a look at you."

I stepped forward and took his hand to shake it. He brought his other hand round and placed it on top of mine as we shook hands.

"You're very welcome, my boy. Our Jane's told me a lot about you. Now come in and meet the wife."

I followed him in, with Jane's suitcase and my overnight bag. I put the bags down in the hall and followed Jane and her dad into the kitchen. The greeting between Jane and her mum was somewhat cooler. Her mother was about the same age as me. She was about five foot four inches, slim build with shoulder length blonde hair. In her day she would have been quite a looker—still could be if she tried a bit harder. As they hugged, Jane's mother looked straight past her to me.

"And who's this?" she asked.

"Mum, this is Kevin. He's a friend, and we're going to be sharing a house."

"Sharing a house or sharing a bed?"

"Jane has her own room, Mrs Draper," I said and offered her my hand.

My offer was ignored. Jane gripped my arm and put her head on my shoulder.

"Can we offer you two a drink, and maybe some food?" asked Jane's father.

"I'd love a coffee please, Mr Draper," I said.

"Oh, please, call me Derek, and this is Linda."

"I'll have a coffee as well, please, Dad, especially if it's the good stuff."

Derek Draper laughed. "She takes after her father, Kevin. She appreciates a good cup of coffee."

"Oh, I know that, Derek, that's how we met. There's only one place on campus that serves good coffee, so we both ended up there, sat at the same table."

I really liked Derek, and he obviously had a good relationship with Jane. Linda was a different matter. I'm not without a certain amount of charm, but it didn't seem to work on Jane's mother. She was always cool towards me, and I frequently found her staring at me. Christmas passed very amiably, but the day before New Year's Eve the TV showed a review of the year. When it got to November everything changed.

"This was the month when businessman Kevin Bryant took his fight for justice to the courts, having, he claimed, been persecuted by the police and the press," the reporter said.

Linda Draper brought her hand up to her mouth. "Oh my god, you're him aren't you?" she said, looking at me. "You're Kevin Bryant, the man who got away with murder."

"No, Linda, I'm Kevin Bryant, the man whose wife left him."

"The Post says you murdered her. There's no smoke without fire. Oh my god, my daughter's going out with a murderer."

"Linda, Kevin's our guest, and I'm proud to live in a country where a man is innocent until proven guilty. Now, he asked them to provide evidence that his wife's dead but they can't."

"You knew. You knew and you didn't tell me. I've had a murderer under my roof and you knew."

"Technically, Linda, it's my roof, and I'm happy to have Kevin here."

I stood up and looked at them both. "Derek, I'm sorry, but my presence here's causing you a problem. I think the best thing I can do is leave. I'll go up and get my stuff."

Jane had a pained look on her face as I left the room. Derek and Linda were still arguing. When I came down with my bag I popped in to say my goodbyes, just in time to hear Jane.

"I'm sorry, Mum, but if Kevin isn't welcome here, then neither am I. Wait there, Kevin—I'm coming with you."

Derek came out and apologised for his wife. I told him where we'd be and to give us a call if he managed to talk her round. I saw Jane at the top of the stairs and dashed up to bring down her case. She followed me down and, as I went out with the bags, she gave her dad a kiss.




Sugar Daddy



Back at the hotel we did try out that bed. We had some of the best sex we'd ever had. The next day I called Derek and invited them both to come to dinner with us at the hotel. He turned up without Linda, and that set the pattern for the rest our relationship. Derek was a good bloke who was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, but his wife was convinced that I was some evil beast. We never went back to stay in Doncaster, but I did fix things up for Jane to see her dad. They obviously had a very special relationship, while he and I became great friends. When I suggested that she accompany me on my annual skiing holiday, he actively encouraged her to go.

Two weeks in Klosters staying in a client's ski lodge was heavenly. Jane was keen to learn to ski and took to it like a duck to water. There was no shortage of ski instructors keen to help her develop her technique. She simply told them that she already had a personal instructor. By the end of the first week she'd progressed from the nursery slopes to some of the more exciting runs. I offered nights out in Davos, where the apres ski scene was much more active, but she was happy to stay in quieter Klosters and curl up in front of the fire with me. While we were there we had a press invasion—Charlie and the young princes had apparently joined us. Jane couldn't understand why I found it so funny, but I was thinking of Lisa and her wanting to mix with the jet set, yet here I was holidaying with royalty.

While Bob and Wendy were away on their cruise, it fell to me to handle the entertaining of clients and, of course, Jane always came with me and played hostess. I was conscious that there was some talk about my young partner. The talk didn't worry me, and the clients were always charmed by her. It wasn't just her youthful good looks—she really did charm them. It seemed effortless to her. She had some understanding of business—after all, she was studying business and corporate law. She was keen to learn what she could, and the way she listened so intently to the points put forward endeared her to the clients we entertained. When Bob returned, he seemed to be very happy with the way things had gone. He invited Jane and I to dinner so that he could outline his plans for himself and the company. He was impressed with Jane and couldn't resist asking me about her.

"I must say, young Jane is quite something. How did you meet her?"

"On a scouting trip at the university." It was the first time I'd lied to Bob. I hoped he'd forgive me if he found out the truth.

"She acts like a mature young lady for her age. How old is she?"

"Twenty."

"And you're, what, forty-two? The age gap doesn't throw up any problems?"

"No, Bob, not really. There was no age gap with Lisa but I seem to have more in common with Jane than I ended up having with Lisa."

"Well, you seem happy enough, and you're certainly looking well."

"I am, Bob. I know it may not last, but I'm happy now, and I'm willing to take it while I can."

As dinner progressed, Bob got around to his plans which were actually a lot more far reaching than I'd expected.

"Our production side doesn't make a whole lot of money. It's your division, Design and Development, that makes the cash, as you well know. The last item you developed is making us more in a week than production makes in a year."

"So what are you saying, Bob? Do you want to close the production side?"

"Oh no, we still make money on it, but I'm saying that expansion of manufacturing doesn't make a lot of sense. Investing in Design and Development does. What would you say is the biggest growth area?"

"Digital signal processing, without a doubt."

"And you've been working on designing chips for that purpose."

"Yes, we're very close to a marketable floor plan."

"What I want is for you to expand that division and especially in the development of DSP chips. I want you to run that side of the business and I'll concentrate on manufacturing. I'm going to cut my time down to three days a week. Of course, it will mean an increase in salary."

As we made our way back home in the back of a taxi, Jane cuddled up to me, her head on my shoulder and both her hands holding on to my arm.

"Did I hear things right back there? Was my man just asked to take over the running of most of the business?" Her words took me a bit by surprise.

"If by your man you mean me, then yes, I have."

"Oh, that's so cool. You must be really good at what you do if he trusts you enough to put you in charge."

"I'm good at some things. There are some things I'm really good at," and I took her in my arms and kissed her.

As we broke the kiss she smiled at me. "There are some things that go without saying."

Sex was always outstanding on nights we'd been entertaining. I wasn't sure whether it was seeing me in action with the clients or dancing with the clients who were sometimes younger than me. However, this night she made it perfectly clear. After the most amazing blowjob, she straddled me and milked my cock with her pussy. She looked down at me with a look in her eyes I didn't recognise. "I am so proud of you." I felt my chest puff up and I swear my cock grew another inch as her hips continued their rise and fall.

The police compensated me in full for all the damage to my property and for my accommodation while the house was being repaired. They also paid for damage to my reputation. The Post was the one I relished the most. Half a million pounds and a grudging apology. Of course, they never accepted that I was innocent, just that, so far, no evidence had been found. The money was tainted as far as I was concerned. Having won it, I had no idea what to do with it. It was Jane who came up with the best solution. The Kevin Bryant bursary for promising engineering students.

Now that she was living with me, there was no need to pay for her accommodation, and since the object of our arrangement was to avoid her being burdened with debt, I started paying her tuition fees. At first she objected, but I made it clear the matter wasn't up for discussion. What she didn't realise was that, for me, paying the bills was a constant reminder of our arrangement. A reminder I needed if I was going to be able to deal with the aftermath when it came to an end.

By the spring of that year I was feeling the best I ever had. Thanks to my exercise regime I'd lost a bit of weight and developed a physique younger men would be envious of. My face, too, was thinner. The change was enough to make Sally, my PA, pass comment.

"I'll say one thing for that young lady of yours, she's certainly good for you."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Look at you—you look ten years younger. If that's the effect of having a younger partner then I'm getting myself a toy boy."

"I think the exercise and eating well had something to do with it. However, you're right about one thing—Jane was the inspiration."

"Well, whatever she's doing she should keep on doing it. You know, a lot of people were worried about you the last couple of years."

"Don't worry, Sally, she's probably going home for the holidays, so I'll be back to my old morose self."

"If the girl's got any sense she won't leave you on your own for long."

That night over dinner I asked Jane about her plans for the holidays.

"Well, I was going to talk to you about that. Danvers hires students for holiday work, don't they?"

"Yeah, we do, but they're normally engineering students for my department. Are you telling me you're looking for a holiday job here? I thought you'd be going home."

"Well, I don't think I could take more than a week with my mother especially after Christmas. So, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to hang out here. That's why I wanted a job."

"Okay. I'll talk to the office manager tomorrow to see if there are any vacancies for temporary work."

I was struck by the difference between Jane and Elliott. Both of them had no need to work through the holidays, but whereas Elliott took every opportunity to avoid working, Jane was keen to get whatever experience she could.

The following morning I ran the idea past Bob Danvers. To my surprise Bob was really keen on the idea.

"We depend almost as much on the office staff as we do on the engineers. It's about time we started training them. Do you have someone in mind, Kevin?"

"Well, Jane asked me if we took on business trainees and it seemed like a good idea. I think she has it in mind to apply."

"Apply nothing, Kevin. See Mrs Pritchard, the office manager, and tell her to draw up a training scheme for young Jane."

That summer was absolute bliss. We saw each other during the day as well as at home. I bought a couple of bicycles, and we would ride out to the country parks and take a picnic. I made a point of riding behind her so I could gaze upon her divine arse. When she wore a crop top I would move out so I could glimpse her hanging breasts. I know I could look at them every night but there was something more exciting about stolen glimpses. Right through to October we enjoyed each and every day, so when term started it was a bit of a wrench letting her return to university.

By that July, Danvers launched our first DSP chip, and it was an immediate success. With no facilities for chip production, we farmed it out to specialist companies. However, once the telecoms companies found out what it could do they were beating a path to our door with requests for further integration plans. With Danvers being paid to integrate our own design into customer's current technology, and being paid a small percentage of the price of every chip produced using our design, we gained a large increase in income with virtually no increase in costs. We had become part of the knowledge economy, selling our know-how. We employed a few more graduates and started work on our next project.

With my personal life on a roll and the company doing so well, the only cloud on my horizon was Elliott. He seemed to believe I had something to do with his mothers disappearance. He barely spoke to me other than to give me grief. Sometimes I started to believe that he thought I'd murdered her. I knew he was serious about a girl he was seeing and the rumour was he was planning to marry her. However, I never even got to meet her and I had my doubts about getting an invitation to the wedding.

*****

"Do you have any idea of the damage you did, Mum?" Elliott was beginning to lose his temper with Lisa.

"I know about the police investigation, but none of that was my fault."

"Of course it was your fault. Without so much as a by-your-leave, you just disappear. You can't blame the police—and me, come to that—for being suspicious. How could you do that without even contacting me to say you were alright?"

"What are you talking about? You didn't need me. You'd moved out and gone to London. Your father didn't need me—we hadn't had a proper relationship for years. That's why he never tried to find me."

"Of course I needed you. I only went into the financial sector because of you. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to be able to talk to you, to show you how well I'd done, but you weren't here."

"You had your father—you could have talked to him."

"No, I couldn't. You destroyed that, as well. I couldn't believe you'd just leave, and I'm sorry to say I blamed him for that. I even wondered whether the police might be right. I've hardly spoken to Dad since you left."

"Oh darling, you can't really have believed your father killed me." Lisa started to cry.

"I didn't know what to believe, and I had no one to help make sense of it all. I even tried to stop him divorcing you."

"Stop saying that. How could he divorce me without my knowing about it?"

*****

The divorce came at a most inconvenient time for me, coming as it did around the same time as Jane's graduation. It seemed like the end of two relationships were coming together. Thankfully my lawyer, Guy Pearson, was more than capable of tying up one loose end for me. The relationship with Jane was another matter. With her graduation came the end of our arrangement. I had tried to prepare myself for the day, but I hadn't been able to stop myself—I was totally in love with the girl. The age difference meant nothing to me. I only knew my life had never been better, and now part of that was coming to an end. Jane had noticed how preoccupied I'd become, but I just told her it was due to the divorce. I tried very hard to encourage her when it came to finding a job. I was keen for her to get a position that would benefit her most. Matters came to a head when she was offered what many would say was a plum job.

She came to me with the letter in her hand. "Kevin, I've been offered a job by KPMG, in their accountancy division."

I tried unsuccessfully to read the expression on her face. "That's great news. A couple of years on their graduate training scheme and you'll be able to go where you like. You'll be in demand."

"But it's in London."

"Well, it may not be my cup of tea, but you're a young girl—you'll enjoy the fast pace and the night life."

"So you want me to take it?"

"I want you to do whatever's best for you."

"Oh, for gods sake, Kevin, why can't you just tell me what you think? Do you want me to go to London?"

"I have no say in the matter. Our arrangement's coming to an end—now you should start doing what's best for you."

"Our arrangement? Is that all I mean to you? Perhaps I should go to London," she started to sob uncontrollably. I put my arm around her and we sat together on the sofa.

"Of course you mean more to me than that, but I thought you'd want to get out in the world, find a man your own age and live life to the full. Isn't that what you want?" The tears welled up in my eyes.

"Kevin Bryant, for such a clever man you can be really stupid at times. I don't want a man my own age. Yes, I want to get out in the world, but I want to do that with you. I don't want to leave you, but if you want me to go to London I will."

"You mean you'd give up this chance, to stay here with this old man?"

"You're forty-five, that's not old, and in case you hadn't noticed I'm in love with you. I want to move my stuff out of that spare room. Now are you going to take me to bed and show me how much you love me?"

I got up, picked her up and carried her up to the bedroom. We lay on the bed, just holding each other, undressing each other and running our hands over each other. I pulled her naked body into mine, my manhood pressing between her legs. I ran my finger over her beautiful round arse and into the crack. As I touched her tight little anus she pushed her pussy hard against me.

"Fuck me there," she whispered. "Fuck my arse, Kevin. Abby says it feels amazing. Please, Kevin, I've got the lube and everything. You'd be the first, the only one. I really want to try it."

"Well, if it's what you want how can I refuse?"

She jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. She came back with a small plastic bottle. She knelt on the bed and smeared the slippery liquid all over my cock, and then my fingers. She got onto all fours.

"Just your fingers first. Stretch me out before we try with little Kevin."

I did as she suggested, first running my slippery fingertip around her little rosebud before working my finger in past her sphincter and into her rectal passage. All the time she pushed back onto my hand issuing small moans. She brought one hand back to her pussy and started to finger her clitoris. As the second finger went in she dropped her head down onto the bed and started to gasp. I started to finger fuck her, trying to force my fingers apart to stretch her.

"I think I'm ready now," she gasped.

I took my fingers out, knelt between her legs and lined my cock up with her anus. I edged forward, pushing my cock into her. She pushed back onto me until the head of my cock popped into her rectum.

"Wait, Kevin. Let me get used to it first ... Okay ... I think that's it."

I started to push slowly into her, her rectum squeezing my cock as it went in. I pulled back, and then started to go forward again. Soon my hips were slapping against her arse. Her first orgasm came shortly after I entered her, as she gripped the sheets and screamed into the pillow. As I continued to plunge into her, her gasps started again, and I could tell she was getting ready to come again.

"Oh, yes, Kevin. Come in me. Come in me now."

As I shot spurt after spurt of sticky sperm into her, the second orgasm swept through her, this one more powerful than the first. Her whole body shook as I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her. I rolled us onto our sides, spooning her with my cock still buried in her arse. Her body slowly returned to normal as my cock softened and gradually shrank inside her.

"Well, did you enjoy it?"

"Oh yes, it was unbelievable. How about you?"

"It felt amazing on my dick, but I don't think I want to do it all the time. I miss the holding and hugging. I like to look at you and feel you while we're making love."

She reached back to me. "How do you always know the nicest things to say?" She eased herself off the bed and turned around to look at me. She put one knee on the bed and leaned forward to kiss me.

"I can feel you running down my leg," she said. She went into the bathroom, then came back to bed. "I forgot to tell you, I've had another job offer. The place where I've been working in the holidays have made me an offer. The money's not so good, but I really like some of the staff there."

"Bob Danvers has offered you a job? He didn't tell me."

"Well, he has, and I think I might take it. The guy who runs the design and development side is a real hunk, I could really go for him."

"You're really going to work at Danvers? And you really want to stay with me?"

"I've wanted to stay with you since our first Christmas, you wonderful man. I can't wait for you to be my boss. You could punish me on the desk if I did anything wrong," she giggled.

I couldn't believe all my fears had been groundless, and the wonderful girl I loved so much was deeply in love with me. For the first time there was a need for some urgency in the matter of my divorce. I'd put a lot of faith in Guy being able to pull it off for me and was somewhat surprised when he told me I'd have to go to court to explain the efforts we'd made to find Lisa. Guy told me we'd have no problems if I was to set aside half of my current worth for Lisa to claim when she eventually turned up.

"No way, Guy. She abandoned me and left her bank cards. If that isn't saying she doesn't want anything from me, what does? It's been three years now."

"Sorry, Kevin, but if that's what you want, you're going to have to go before the judge."

So it was that I ended up in county court, explaining what we'd done to find Lisa. It would seem three years of advertising wasn't enough. We made an arrangement for one further year, in which I would have to advertise in other countries. The court accepted that if Lisa had left the country she'd most likely be in Europe, so it was the European press I had to concentrate on. I was already pretty unhappy, but when I met Detective Inspector Maynard on the way out of court the day just got worse.

"Good morning, Mr Bryant, and thank you. You've finally given me something."

"What the hell are you talking about, Inspector? What have I given you?"

"Motive, Mr Bryant. Half your net worth must amount to a couple of hundred thousand pounds. People have been murdered for a lot less."

"Inspector, there is only one reason why I'd like my wife to return. To see the look on your face while you apologise for harassing me."

"The file is still open, Mr Bryant, and I'm a patient man."

"You will wait a long time for any evidence of my wife's murder, because she isn't dead." I walked off and left him to his own devices.




Sugar Daddy



Wanted—a live-in housekeeper to provide cooking and maid services for a somewhat demanding older gentleman. No health-care activities involved. Free room and board, a generous salary, and one day off a week. Applicants must be youthful and attractive. Call the number below and leave a voicemail describing appearance and qualifications. 

"In here my dear. Celeste is such a lovely name. Please call me James." 

"Thank you, sir." 

He ushers her into the formal drawing room of the mansion. The furnishings are heavy Victorian, but masculine in style, with multiple leather sofas and chairs in various sizes. Two large portraits fill one wall. One is of distinguished-looking older gentlemen in Victorian attire. The other is of a severely dressed woman of middle age. Her stern expression detracts from the classic beauty of her face. 

James is a handsome older man who somewhat resembles the gentleman in the picture. Celeste notes that James's formal suit is fashionable, expensive. She thinks his age could be anywhere from sixty to eighty, the ideal range for a Sugar Daddy. 

He points to the portraits. "My illustrious ancestors. Don't let them scare you. Have a seat, please." 

Celeste sits in a leather-padded, straight backed wooden chair. James takes a larger, more comfortable chair at an angle to hers. He is more than pleased with her appearance. A creamy-skinned blonde in her thirties, she is neatly dressed in a tight medium-length skirt and an even tighter, buttoned up blouse. Her pert breasts are molded by the fabric like shrink-wrapped fruit. 

His mouth suddenly feels dry. "Did you have to come a long way?" he manages. 

"Not far, but it took several bus changes." 

Her voice is soft, the accent sexy. She, too, is pleased by what she sees. A large house, really a mansion, worth at least several million. An attractive man, more than twice her age, but healthy, and thankfully not fat. She knows she could not to follow through on her plan if the man were obese. The newspaper ad seemed promising. So far so good. 

"Yes, public transit is not good in this part of town", he says. "That's why having a live-in housekeeper makes sense. Thank you for coming." 

"My pleasure." She raises her eyebrows. "I was intrigued by your ad." 

"Yes, well... Are your working now?" 

She shakes her head. "No sir. I arrived in town only a few days ago." 

James has lived alone in the big house for a year since his wife died. He is in his seventies, in good health, and ready to have a new female companion, one in which he can maintain his independence but still enjoy sex of the kind he likes. The woman will have to be attractive, and sexy, with the right attitude. She will probably be between twenty and forty, and badly in need of money. He knows that to get what he wants will be expensive. 

Money, however, is no problem. His inheritance, plus fortuitous investments in the stock market have made him a multi-millionaire. Even after making substantial gifts to a number of charities, the balance in his portfolio continues to increase. He has no children or close relatives in need of an inheritance. He will use his wealth to get what he wants. 

"You have a charming accent," he says to Celeste. "Where are you from? 

"Finland," she says proudly, her radiant blue eyes sparkling. 

He is enchanted. "My, what a long way. Do you have family here?" 

"No sir. I don't know anyone." It's not quite true, but she wants him to see her as needy. 

Perfect, James thinks. He likes the way she keeps saying "sir". But will such a pretty woman allow herself to be dominated the way he intends? He will see. 

"Why did you leave Finland, if you don't mind my asking?" 

"I had to get away from a bad situation. I thought I could find work here and start a new life. But it is not so easy, and my money is almost gone." 

"I won't ask whether you are here legally," he laughs. "Have you had many interviews so far? 

"Only one other. There are not many ads for live-in help, and that's the kind of job I need right now." 

James sits back in his chair, studying her, wondering why such a lovely creature wants to work as a housekeeper. In his wildest fantasy he had not conjured up a woman like this. He decides to be straight forward. 

"Celeste, I'm sure you are aware of your beauty. You surely have lots of choices. Why on earth would you want to work as a housekeeper?" 

She crosses her legs, letting her skirt ride up to mid-thigh. "Oh sir, you are too kind. Many women in this city are far prettier than I. It will take months for me to learn my way around, meet people, and find a good job. In the meantime, I am broke and need a place to live. Housekeeping is one of the things I know I can do well." 

"I am sure there are many things you can do well," James says coyly. 

Celeste returns his smile. "Yes, there are other things..." 

By god, I can think of a few, James says to himself. I'd hire her just to have her around to look at, but that would be too frustrating. I've got to be frank with her. 

"So you saw my ad. How do you understand the position?" 

"The ad said you were seeking a live-in housekeeper and maid. It spoke of free room and board, and a generous salary, with one day a week off." 

"True. But I believe it also mentioned working for a somewhat demanding older gentleman." 

"Yes. I did wonder about that emphasis." She has a good idea of what he will be demanding, but she wants to make him come out with it. Then she can play hard to get and negotiate a better deal. A friend back home has coached her on how to line up a Sugar Daddy. 

'I have interviewed a number of women," he lies, "but have yet to find one that I find suitable. 

"If it's lack of experience, or cooking skills, I think I have... 

"That's not it." 

"Oh?" 

"My first requirement is that the woman be attractive. I have been without female companionship for several years now, and I miss it. On that score, you certainly qualify." 

"Thank you, sir." 

'The second requirement is more difficult. I am looking for a woman who is willing to take direction and conform to my wishes without question... all my wishes. 

He lets his eyes rove over her body, leaving no doubt about his meaning. She sits very still, meeting his gaze. He waits, expectant and curious, ready to show her to the door, and wish her well. After all, he can't expect to hit a home run with the first pretty girl who shows up for an interview. 

"I am not naïve, sir," she says finally. "Or inexperienced in the ways of men and women. In fact, I quite like the game. But I am not a prostitute, sir." 

"I have no interest in prostitutes." he replies firmly. "I merely want a housekeeper with an attitude and interests compatible with my own." 

"If I may be so bold, sir, why are you living alone? You are an attractive, well to do gentleman. I am sure there are many women who would be happy to meet your requirements." 

He smiles, liking her more by the minute. "Maybe. But I don't want a wife or live-in girlfriend. I value my independence too much." 

She decides to lay it on the line. "So you want a submissive servant, whom you can have your way with whenever you want." 

Her frankness surprises and delights him. He can stop beating around the bush. "Precisely. I want to be honest with you upfront." 

"And how is that different from a prostitute?" 

"Ah, you have spunk and are not afraid to ask probing questions. I like that. My definition of a prostitute is a woman who provides sexual pleasure in return for money on an case by case basis. I am seeking a semi-permanent relationship with a servant who enjoys her work, a woman I can relate to and satisfy in many ways. I am prepared to be generous." 

Celeste place her thumb under her chin in a thinking pose. "Um... more like a mistress who also cleans and cooks," she teases. 

He grins. "You could put it that way." 

"I have a friend who has what she calls a "Sugar Daddy". It has worked out very well for her. She never has to worry about money." 

"Good for her," he chuckles. "The 'Sugar Daddy' description is a better one than "mistress". But I don't like the "daddy" part. I would not think of my housekeeper as a daughter." 

"Well, that's a good thing," she laughs. "Do you have a daughter my age, or older?" 

"Thankfully, no," he says. 

"Any other women hanging around? Girl friends? Ex-wives? 

He feels like she is starting to interview him. That will never do. "My other relationships are no concern of yours, just as yours will be of no concern to me." 

"Sorry," Celeste says quickly. "I didn't mean to pry." She likes his no nonsense, authoritative manner. And she has gotten confirmation that she can have her own private life. If there is enough "sugar" in this job, she wants it. 

But in spite of her beauty James has reservations. Celeste seems very self-confident, and he wants a woman he can dominate, mentally and physically. He sits forward. "I haven't told you about the final requirement of the job." 

"My goodness," she exclaims. "There's more?" 

He adopts a serious expression. "I have said that my housekeeper must submit to my will. If she disappoints me, she must accept physical punishment." 

Celeste shifts in her seat like she has just been shown a pornographic picture. "You mean... spanking?" 

"Sometimes in may be necessary." 

"Oh my..." 

He presses ahead. "Have you ever been spanked as an adult woman?" 

"Yes," she purrs. She feels her nipples harden. 

"Did it excite you?" 

"No... yes. Oh God, I can't believe I am talking to you this way." 

"I'm not so sure," she mumbles. Should she take a chance with this man? Intuitively she feels he is a gentleman and can be trusted. And there's no denying that thoughts of sexual submission are turning her on. 

"I'll tell you what," he says. "Let's try it for a week. I'll pay you five hundred in advance, and another five hundred at the end of the week if you are still here. You'll have your own apartment on the third floor. I have an extra car you can use whenever you want." 

It sounds too good to pass up. She relaxes and responds light heartedly. "And all I have to do is let you have your way with me?" 

He waves his arm and laughs. "No, you also have to clean and prepare dinner." 

"It's crazy," she says with a broad smile. "But I like you. What do I have to lose?" 

"Nothing you haven't already lost. If you are unhappy you can leave anytime. What do you say?" 

He'll pay me more, she thinks. If I'm taking this risk, I should get more. "I say I'm a lucky girl," she responds. "But I think two thousand a week would be more appropriate for a generous Sugar Daddy." 

Wow, he says to himself. She's no push-over. But what should I expect from such a dish. She knows how good she looks. The more I pay her, the more demanding I can be. It's well worth it. He smiles and nods. 

"You drive a hard bargain, but I agree, provided you start right now." 

She is more than ready to start. "I am at your command, sir." 

James reaches into his pants pocket for his wallet. He counts out ten one hundred dollar bills and places them on the table beside his chair. Desire his boiling in his gut. He is harder than he has been in years. 

"You are a very pretty woman," he says sincerely. 

"Thank you, kind sir." 

"Even though I am an older man, I still like pretty girls." 

"You are not old, sir." 

"I don't feel old. I want beauty around me. You have a very nice figure." 

Celeste grins and straightens her back. Her manner becomes flirtatious. "I'm glad you like it. Has it helped me get this job?" 

He pats the arm of his big chair, indicating she is to come sit. "It was essential, does that bother you?" 

She takes three steps and perches on the arm, putting a hand on his shoulder. "No it doesn't bother me. I'm not one of those women who think men should like them only for their brains." 

"Smart girl," he chuckles. "In fact part of your job will be to flaunt your beauty. If you accept my offer, I will be buying clothes and costumes for you." 

"Yum. I thought I had already accepted," she says, touching his cheek. 

"Say it," he orders. 

Her finger traces a pattern down his neck and up to his ear. "I accept your offer to be your live-in housekeeper on a one week trial basis." 

James is conscious of the pressure in his groin. He wonders if she sees the growing bulge. "Tell me how you are going to approach the job," he says, encouraging her to excite him more. 

She knows what he wants to hear. "I was taught to obey my employer. You are now my employer and I will follow your instructions...to the letter." 

"Good. Let's go sit on the couch." 

Celeste moves to the couch and sits, pulling her feet up under her so that she can face him as he sits beside her. He traces a finger lightly down her face. 

"Such nice skin you have...so smooth on your cheek and neck." 

"Umm..." 

"And down your throat." 

"Ummmm..." 

"Put your hands behind your head so that your figure will be displayed properly." 

"Like this?" 

"That's right. See how it makes your breasts thrust forward. You're going to burst that button on your shirt." 

"Maybe you should loosen it." 

"My pleasure. I think I will do the second one too." 

"You're the boss..." 

Celeste takes a deep breath, putting more pressure on the little buttons. Reaching out with the fingers of his right hand, James works to maneuver the first pearl disc through its hole. On the backs of his fingers he can feel the taught flesh beneath, and his stomach clenches with desire. Finally the clasp lets go. Then the second one. The sides of her blouse spring open. 

He catches his breath. Smooth skin slopes into a deep valley that seems to go on forever. It has been a lifetime since he has been this close to the firm flesh of a young woman. No bra is yet visible, but he knows something must be molding her so perfectly. He places a fingertip at her throat and draws slowly down. 

"I'm an explorer who has stumbled on a hidden valley," he breaths. 

"So I see. Or I should say, so I feel..." 

"I'm afraid all these other buttons are going to have to go." 

"If you say so." 

"You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" 

She looks into his hot eyes and smiles, happy to be giving him pleasure, and aware that her own arousal is building. His fingers go to work on the other buttons. 

"Yes," she replies. "You made it very clear that submitting to you was part of the job. But if I didn't like you I would not have accepted." 

"You don't really know me, and the job may be more than you bargained for." 

"I'm not worried. I'm a quick judge of men." 

"With this body I'll bet you've had lots of experience". 

"A little. Oh my, you have my front totally exposed!" 

"Indeed," he sighs. "Now let's see how big and firm you really are. 

"Ah... That feels nice." 

"Do you really need this skimpy bra?" 

"It does seem restrictive." 

He reaches behind and undoes the clasp. Slowly he slides her blouse and bra straps down her shoulders, letting both fall away. 

"Well, well. Look at these." 

"Umm..." 

"So, now that you know more about this housekeeping job, do you still want it?" 

"So far so good." 

Lightly he slaps her tits, watching the way the flesh jiggles and sways. She arches her back and moans. "Oh my. I feel so vulnerable." 

"You are going to feel a lot of things." 

"So are you. Oh..., that's nice.." 

"You are the answer to an old man's prayers." 

"I told you that I don't see you as old". 

He continues to fondle her breasts, lightly pinching and tweaking the erect nipples. "How do you see me? 

She puts her head back and closes her eyes. "You are touching me like a mature man, not an old one. You have nice hands, strong but gentle. I am hoping that you will be good to me, that you will give me a measure of security as I get started in this country. I am prepared to be good to you." 

"I can do that for you. But you must obey my commands, no matter how strange they may seem. Do you think you can do that?" 

"Yes," she groans. "I want you to give me orders." 

"Put your hands behind your head again. That's it. Whose tits are these? 

"Ahhh...They are yours sir, to do with as you wish." 

"Um... Nice long, stiff nipples. How does this feel? 

"OOHHH..." 

"How about this?" 

"Ouch!.. But it hurts nice." 

"And this?" 

"OH GOD.." 

"Tell me, Celeste, what do you think should happen to a maid when she disobeys?" 

"But I have not disobeyed." 

"Not yet. But what if you should?" 

"Then I would expect to be punished." 

"How so?" 

"However my employer wished." 

"Umm... You are becoming more interesting and attractive by the minute. Lean forward. Give me your lips." 

She kisses him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulls her half onto his lap. Her skirt comes up in the process, and he slides his hand down her back, inside her panties, and over her ass. She squirms and kisses him harder. Finally he seizes her hair and pulls her head back. 

"You are a hot little thing, aren't you?" 

"It turns me on to please you." 

"Nice, tight little ass. I like that. Stand up and drop your skirt so I can see that part of you." 

"Panties too?" 

"Not yet. And put your blouse back on, without the bra and without buttoning it. Having some covering is sexier than having none. Together we will browse the internet to find scanty attire for my new housekeeper." 

"Oh goodie. How's this?" 

She poses in front of him, showing off her trim hips and slender legs. Her skirt is on the floor, and her blouse hangs open, barely concealing her nipples. He sees the dampness on her black panties. 

"Very nice. But in the future you must always wear high heels." 

He grabs her ass and pulls her into him, burying his face in her stomach. She moans and comes up on her toes, encouraging his mouth lower. He kisses and inhales her. 

"Ahhh, it's been so long," he mouths against her. "You are a flower. I am going to so enjoy having you as my housekeeper." 

"If I am a flower, you should pluck me." 

"By God!" 

He gets to his feet, still holding her ass. She wraps her legs around him as he carries her through the door toward the bedroom. 

End of Chapter 1. Good comments and votes will inspire another chapter.



Sugar Daddy Buys Black Lover



For a while in college I dated an older man who was quite successful as a businessman of some sort (never did find out what exactly he did...). Remembering my time with him made me start to think about what it is to be a whore. We think that only women who take money for sex are whores, but don't most women trade favors for sex in some way? Maybe its not as clear when its sex for love, or sex for security, or sex for a home, or just sex for sex, but why is the exchange of money rather than the exchange for other rewards so categorically different? 

As I am now, how should I feel being married to a man who makes the money in the household--despite the fact that we don't measure our love in terms of financial contributions, it of course is always something that women find themselves having to consider. I think it one of the constants of gender that men can get women by having enough money and power to be attractive, whatever their looks, and women can be attractive in their need to be protected and cared for--there are white knights all around who just love to rescue women in need, and women play them for all they are worth. What is being exchanged there?

Back in college this older man I dated (no, I don't think the word "dated" is right--in the context of thinking about sex and exchange, to use the word "date" for what I did for him is too reminiscent of the euphemism that prostitutes use when they ask potential johns if they want a "date"...)... I regularly "met for sex" with an older man. I guess you could call him my "lover," although I definitely did not feel any form of "love" for him. I was a poor college student and having a sugar daddy take me out and give me expensive gifts seemed like winning the lottery.

This man would take me to posh restaurants and then to a very nice downtown Boston hotel, where he would proceed to use me in every which way, albeit quite conventionally. At first he was very gentlemanly, both in public and in the hotel room, but then he became increasingly perverse in private. Some of what he introduced me to was quite tame--he liked rimming a great deal and we would usually begin with me licking his asshole until he was erect enough for me to give him a blowjob--but some of the kinkier things he did were surprising, at least to me at the time. 

He liked that I was young and innocent and in need of corruption, and sometimes when he wasn't up for sex (this was before Viagra...), he would have me "perform" for him by masturbating with various objects--wine bottles, umbrellas, a post on one of the beds! He ordered room service and would eat desserts and sushi off my breasts and out of my pussy. He loved to see just about anything inserted in my pussy and, eventually as time went by, up my ass too--the remote control for the TV, his cigars, the blow dryer from the bathroom, and he would even bring along objects that he had seen in the weeks between our meetings that he thought I should use to fuck myself. 

I must have made myself come with more of a variety of objects in the months I saw him than the rest of my life combined! Once, he had me fuck myself with two huge flashlights, one in each hand as I shoved one in my ass and another in my cunt, and he turned out the lights and watched the bright circles dance crazily around the room like searchlights as I rammed the flashlights in and out. I have to admit that it was fascinating to lie in the dark and see the spotlights swirl and tremble as I came!

About four or five months after we had started "seeing" each other--I was going out with a number of guys my own age at the time, of course--I had told him over dinner about one of the college students I was dating. I didn't realize it then, but somehow this angered him (looking back I think he must have felt suddenly inadequate...). 

When we were in the hotel room later, he couldn't get an erection, even after half an hour of my trying every trick I had learned so far in terms of fellatio technique. Instead of having me perform a masturbation show for him as we normally did, he called for a bellhop. I crawled under the sheets because I was in my stockings and bra, but he told me not to get dressed. 

When the bellhop came, a very polite young black man who sounded from his accent like he was from the French Caribbean, he asked the bellhop if he thought I was sexy. I couldn't tell if the bellhop was blushing because his skin was a very dark brown, but he looked uncomfortable as he answered yes. 

My lover then asked him if he would like to have sex with me, and that he would be paid $200 if he did. The bellhop immediately agreed--I'm sure he just thought of this as an unusual way to earn a tip! I was shocked, and was not really sure I wanted to do this. I somehow thought that my older lover would have been too possessive to have thought of doing this--he had shown some flashes of jealousy at times, but it was only later that I connected what he was doing now to my descriptions earlier at dinner of dating younger men. 

The bellhop quickly undressed (except for leaving his socks on, which I thought was ludicrous--why do men leave their socks on when they have sex--do they think it's equivalent in sexiness to women wearing their stockings or high heels?). I suppose you are expecting me to say that he had a monstrously large black cock, but in fact it was normal sized, although very dark. He didn't know whether to kiss me, so he didn't, and stood awkwardly by the side of the bed. 

My older lover told me to begin sucking the bellhop's cock, and so I did. After a while of this, he told me to get on my hands and knees on the bed and for the bellhop to fuck me but to stop before he came. The bellhop was tentative, and so I never got to the point of being horny enough to really enjoy it. Still, the rhythm of being fucked doggy style eventually lulled me into familiar feelings, especially since his large hanging testicles would slap my clitoris each time he thrust inside me, and I began sensing the tension in my thighs and stomach that signaled an oncoming orgasm. 

Before I could come, my lover told the bellhop to pull out and put himself in my ass. He hesitated at first, not sure if he should, but with a firm "Do it!" from my older lover, he began pushing his cock into my ass. I wasn't lubricated at all, and my pussy had not really gotten so wet that his cock was slick enough to slide in, so it burned. 

I slipped off the quiet climb towards an orgasm that I had been on, and uttered a few "ows" to indicate that it hurt. This seemed to please my lover, who began taunting me, asking me "if I liked the young man fucking my ass?" I didn't answer, and so he went on, asking if I liked black cock (he didn't use the word "black" however, and instead used the "n-word," which for some strange reason shocked me, even given the oddity of the whole situation of an older white man paying a young black man to ass fuck the young half-white college student that was his "kept woman").

Hearing the insulting "n-word" made the bellhop angry, and he began fucking me more aggressively, perhaps no longer feeling as passive about the situation he was in, now that my lover had used a racial epithet, or perhaps he was just getting close to coming and hearing that word actually hadn't bothered him. 

Before he could come in my ass, however, my lover told me to turn around and suck the "n----r" cock off. I did as I was told, my ass continuing to burn even after his cock pulled out, and I was shocked that I was tasting the slightly sweet taste of my own asshole as I sucked his black cock. He was extraordinarily hard, and must have been very close to coming. As I bobbed my head up and down, cleaning my own filth off him with my tongue, my older lover asked me "if I liked tasting my own shit on his n----r cock." 

Somehow, this jolted me into realizing how hurt and angry he must have felt to be so mean to me, and I could hear a hint of pain and insecurity in his voice even as it was mocking me for being so dirty that I would lick my own shit off this young black bellhop's cock. I have to admit that I did feel truly like a slut at that moment, and all the times that he had given me a handful of fifty and hundred dollar bills as I was leaving the hotel room to catch a taxi, telling me to "buy myself something nice," suddenly felt to me exactly what they were--payments for sex, and not the kindness of an older man for a young woman without means. 

"Drink up his sperm, whore, lick his n----r come." 

The edge in his voice had begun to sound sinister, and I was not enjoying any of this at all. The bellhop had just begun to shoot at that moment, thrusting his hips forward and forcing the tip of his cock awkwardly into my throat, so that the jets of his come triggered my gag reflex. I coughed and his cock slipped out of my mouth and as he continued to spurt, grunting loudly as he did, his sperm shot all over my face. 

His cock might have been normal sized, but he shot more sperm than any man I had ever known up to then, and, now that I think about it, ever since. I coughed uncontrollably a few more times as his come continued to spray into my hair, and then it was over. 

He paid the bellhop his $200, but as I started to reach for the box of kleenex next to the bed he told me to stop, that he wanted me to keep the sperm on my face. I was puzzled, not knowing why he wanted this. The thought occurred to me that he wanted to clean it off me himself, or perhaps he was going to lick it off my face, but I was wrong.

As the pungent sperm began to cool and dry, becoming more liquid and running and dripping down my face even as it crusted, he told me that he wanted me to leave the room with the "n----r sperm" all over my face and to show the world what a "little n----r loving slut" I was. I was shocked and hurt at the meanness of his words. I did indeed feel exactly that way at that moment, and was incredulous that he had so deliberately made me feel so awful. 

I began to cry quietly, staring at him in disbelief, the tears mingling with the gooey sperm as it liquefied. Seeing my tears seemed to soften him, and I could see the shift in his face as he looked at me with sympathy. He began apologizing profusely, saying that he was just a stupid old man, and asking if I could ever forgive him. He held me as I continued to cry, trying to sooth me like a father would a daughter, and for the first time I understood just how fucked up my relationship (if you could even call it that...) with him was. 

I eventually stopped crying, and he kept telling me to forgive a stupid old man, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a whore. He emptied his wallet and put all of the bills directly into my purse, not even bothering to try to give it to me directly (I would have refused it). I didn't want any of his money, that night or any other, and never saw him again after that, even though he kept calling me for several weeks. 

I eventually pulled the wad of bills out of my purse (this was months later--I had just left the purse in my closet as it was...), and counted almost a thousand dollars. I gave it to a local women's shelter and donated the purse and the expensive clothes he had bought for me to wear that night to a charity.

This happened so many years ago, but even as I try to understand that night, and my relationship to this older man, as well as to my burgeoning fetish for black men, I cannot help thinking that it exposed something deeply disturbing in my own psyche...