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The Billionaire

By: perv7234



When mom and dad were first married he was assigned to our embassy in Argentina as a military aid. They both could read and write and speak Spanish fluently. So I grew up speaking English and Spanish fluently; reading and writing both just as fluently. Dad was assigned there for three years, but was only there two, because he volunteered to go to Afghanistan, he felt that was the quickest way to get promoted. He was killed during the last days of his second tour. 

  When I was seven I knew that I could hear other people's thoughts. I really didn't know what to do with this information; but it was neat being able to know what people were thinking about. By the time I was twelve I knew that I could influence the way people felt or thought about things. I was entering the eighth grade in a new school in a new city. 

  Mom had been transferred to a new city because she had received a promotion and a raise. She had been working since she was 15. She told everyone she was 25, and looked it, she was an absolute stunner. She was also a pretty smart cookie. She taught herself short hand and typing, she was going to become a secretary. Her boss saw her as very smart and when he found out that dad was his son's commanding officer and that he had saved his son's life, he helped her move quickly up the corporate ladder. 

  Dad was killed saving most of his company from annihilation by the enemy or so it said on the paper that came with the posthumous MoH (Medal of Honor). Mom always put that on her applications. Widow, husband died a Medal of Honor recipient. Anyway, when I entered my eighth grade classroom, the teacher stopped me and told me to report to the school office. 

  When I got there the secretary told me Mrs. Lopez wanted to see me. It seems there is some kind of mix up in your class assignment. A few moments later Mrs. Lopez spoke to the secretary and asked for me to be sent in. When I entered her office Mrs. Lopez looked at me strangely and asked if I was Tom Peterson? When I told her yes, she asked my age. I said I was twelve. She excused herself and said she would be right back. When she returned she had Mrs. Abbott (the principal) with her. It seems, said Mrs. Abbott that Mrs. Lopez feels your test scores is incorrect and we need to test you again. 

  I, of course, knew what they were thinking. They were sure that I had in some way cheated or whoever graded the test made a silly error. Mrs. Lopez told me to follow her down the hall to an empty classroom. She handed me a new test and said you have one hour and a half to finish the test. About twenty minutes later I was at her desk. She was asking if there was anything I didn't understand. I said no, I'm finished. I knew she thought that I had only answered part of the test. 

  She asked for my blue book and the answer page. She was stunned to see that I had marked all one hundred and seventy five answers off on the test. She placed my test answer page on her desk and covered it with the Key. Every one of my answers was correct. She really couldn't believe what was happening. I don't suppose you can type too, or can you? She asked. Yes, I answered, I taught myself to type some years ago. I didn't feel my handwriting was very legible so I learned to type. 

  I knew she thought that I was just bragging. She was going to try to show me up as a braggart. She told me to follow her to the computer room so that I could finish the second half of my test. I knew that she was lying; there was no second part to my test. She just wanted to see what I would do when I was faced with trying to answer a question in a teacher's evaluation test. 

  As we walked into the computer room I saw that the school was using Apple Computers. I had never used an Apple before. Pick any one you want, they are all the same. There was a smirk on Mrs. Lopez's face; she had guessed correctly that I had never used an Apple before. I looked at the keyboard turned on the power and hit F1. The help menu popped up, I turn the scroll wheel and the help menu quickly scrolled down across the screen. 

  Five seconds later, I asked, when should I start the test? With a shaking hand she gave me the question booklet. The first question asked for a typed answer in five hundred words or less. My fingers started to fly across the keyboard at 128 words per minute. Mrs. Lopez sat there with her mouth open. 

  She didn't know that I had an eidetic memory. Everything I saw, read, or heard, I remembered forever and could recall at my leisure. I had read and understood all twenty five thousand seven hundred and eighty six books in the local library. Of course that also included the twelve thousand six hundred books in the reference section. 

  In less than four minutes I had completed the first question, and I was several sentences into the second question. Suddenly Mrs. Lopez called time. I stopped the test so that you could print out your answer to the first question. She asked me to do that now please. Printer number one suddenly came to life and in less than a minute my answer was typed out. 

  Mrs. Lopez told me to continue with my test while she and Mrs. Abbot discussed my answer. Twenty minutes later she returned and asked what question I was up to? Anyway, that's how it was decided I was way beyond High School. I was accepted into Harvard University at twelve years old. Two years later I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BA degree in Economics. I was fourteen. I wanted to be sure that I could earn enough to support my mother and myself without her working if she wished. 

  Two years later I had earned a Masters and a Doctorate in Economics. The Wharton school of business (in Philadelphia) offered me full scholarship. I zipped through their school in nine months. I had already published two books on economics both of which had sold two million copies so far. 

  Girls and women were throwing themselves at me. I hired a team of body guards to keep them away. I had written several articles for magazines such as Smart Money, Economics Today, Kiplinger's and one or two more. I was hired by Citi Bank as a consultant at a salary of $325,000.00. Warren Buffet hired me to consult with his company for $500.000.00 a year. 

  My articles and books had already earned me several million dollars. I formed an investment company. The Wall Street Journal ran a two page story about the new genius investor, who was earning millions of dollars for his clients. Inside of a year I was investing almost one billion dollars. I was seventeen years old. I bought a Penthouse condo overlooking Central park. 

  I asked mom to quit her job to stay home and run my house. Now I was eighteen years old. I don't think I mentioned it but mom was drop dead gorgeous. She had dark red wavy hair and emerald green eyes. I had once asked her how she and dad met. I got the whole story of how they met and everything that transpired until I was born. 

  She was twelve when dad married her but looked about twenty five. Hugh Hefner would have paid any amount if he could have gotten her to pose for a centerfold. When she and dad arrived in Argentina to take his post at the embassy they were assigned a two bedroom house very near the embassy. 

  The American Embassy had a pool on its grounds; dad got her a pass so that she could use it. Now at this time mom was 12 years old (but looked and acted older) she thought nothing of showing up in a tiny yellow bikini. 

  When dad had first seen her he was so smitten he couldn't get her out of his mind. When he found out her age he tried to stay away. It almost drove him crazy. He went to her parents and begged them to let him marry her. In West Virginia (that's where dad was stationed at the time) the law said a girl could marry at twelve years of age but only with her parent's written consent. Dad begged and was so persistent that they finally gave in. 

  Argentina has nude beaches and is the plastic surgery capital of the world. Most of the women there are beautiful and had "D" cup boobs. Mom's beauty was all God given. Almost every military man at the embassy masturbated over her as their fantasy fuck. Dad's boss (the officer above him in rank) called him into his office to tell him that the wives put up such a stink about her appearance she was not allowed to wear bikinis at the embassy pool. 

  So on the way home Dan (my dad) stopped at a department store and bought her a one piece black bathing suit. He checked that the size was correct and bought it. "Sorry honey, but you can't wear bikinis at the embassy pool." So the next day she put on the one piece. 

  The only parts that were not see thru were the cups covering her boobs and a tiny triangle covering her pussy. Because it was French cut it fit high on her hips leaving both buttocks completely bare. "When she saw how it fit she thought I can't believe Dan wants me to wear this. She called the embassy and spoke to her husband.

  "Dan I can't wear this suit, it's......."

  "What do you mean you can't wear this suit? It's a one piece. I picked it out especially for you. Wear it. Gotta go."         When she got to the embassy she went into the ladies dressing room and put on the suit. She heard someone say, oh my God, she turned around and saw two women walking towards her.

  "You're Mrs. Peterson aren't you? Captain Peterson's wife."

  "That's right."

  "I'm Doris and my friend here is Peggy. Our husband's are with the Marine security detachment."

  "How do you do? I'm Maggie"

  "Listen hon, you really can't wear that suit here at the embassy pool. The ambassador's wife is here today and she will go ape if she sees you dressed in that."

  "I tried to tell my husband that but he insisted that I wear it"

Maggie's eyes immediately started to tear up.

  "Well no harm no foul, what do you say to the three of us going to the beach?"

 Somehow, later, they got on the subject of birthdays and mom told them that                                                  today was her birthday.

Peggy quickly piped up and asked "How old are you today"?

  "I'm 13 years old today" mom said in her naivety.

Both Peggy and Doris looked at her, their mouths agape.

  "You're kidding right?"

Mom was suddenly frightened that something was wrong. 

  "God, I thought you were at least my age around 25 or so."

  "It's because of these, right?" Two tears started to roll down her cheeks. She stood there cupping her breasts. Doris quickly said......

  "You can be our younger sister." Doris was only four years older than mom. 

Mom made two good friends that day. When dad came home that day, mom was still wearing that bathing suit. Except she had on wrap around skirt.

  "Let me show you what you wanted me to wear to the embassy pool"

She took off the skirt and spun around for dad.

  "Holy shit."

I was born nine months later. 

  When I was thirteen I found that I could move things with my mind. As I practiced, this gift got stronger and stronger. Eventually I could lift a 42 ft. tractor trailer, fully loaded. That's about fifteen to eighteen tons or so. As I got older my ability got stronger still. 

  When I was fourteen or fifteen years old I began thinking about girls. The problem now was every girl around my age bored me. I was almost 18 when I decided that mom was the one for me. Older women were not interested in me romantically or they were only interested in my money. 

  The only older woman, who loved me unconditionally, was my mother. I decided to change her into my girlfriend. I raced thru her mind and found her love for me, but it was a mother's love for her son. It was simple for me to change that. My mother did date, although it was infrequently and after several gentle nudges even that stopped. When I mentioned that she stopped dating she told me that no man was as interesting to talk to as I was. 

  When we watched TV, whenever she didn't understand something I was always able to explain either the meaning of the word or the history of the time that led up to what was going on. She was always amazed at my fund of knowledge. I was now nineteen.         Every night before bedtime I gave mom a kiss goodnight on her cheek. I began to slowly change my target. I started kissing her on her lips. After a few nudges mentally and a few weeks time, mom accepted my kisses on her lips as natural and that I was just showing her I was growing up. 

  I began very slowly to raise her libido. I scanned her mind and found that Maggie (my mom's name was Margaret) was starting to have sexual fantasies. It was time to ramp up her emotions again. Every time she dreamed about having sex with some guy. He was always shadowy and unclear, yet just when she was about to have her orgasm, his face became clear and he morphed into me. 

  I started to come up behind her and put my arms around her cupping her breasts and kissed her neck or ear. When she tried to complain I would kiss her deeply and hold her till she put her arms around my neck and returned my ardor. This went on for weeks. I was still very slowly raising her libido. I began to come on to her whenever I caught her sitting on the sofa watching TV. I would take her into my arms and we would neck until she became limp in my arms. 

 Maggie began masturbating every night. It was about this time that Maggie decided to have a talk with me. 

 "Tommy this has to stop. Mother's don't do these things with their sons. It...It...is not right. Y...Y...You can't keep k...k...kissing me the way you have been."                "But Maggie, I thought you liked our necking sessions."

 "I do honey, but mothers and sons don't do these things. It's just not right."

 "Mom how could it be not right? I know you like it and I like it so how could it be not right? Who is it hurting?"

"I don't know baby. Do you really think it's all OK?"

"Sure we aren't hurting anyone, and we both enjoy ourselves. It has to be okay."

"Maybe you're right, We sure aren't hurting anyone. Why don't you wash up while I put dinner on the table?"

 I loved this feeling of absolute power. I could do anything I wanted to this woman and she would always love it. She got up, the worried look she had on her face was gone and she was smiling again. After dinner I was sitting on the sofa watching TV. When Maggie entered the room I grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto my lap. There was no reticence, no hesitation, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. 

 With a little nudge to her mind mom had accepted what we were doing completely. Even when I (accidently) brushed my hand across her breast she didn't react. I could feel her love for me changing, it was growing deeper. She began treating me as her lover not as her son. 

 By the time I was twenty I could strip mom completely nude while I played with and sucked on her nipples. I loved to suck on her tits; I guess that was my fetish. My constant suckling on her breasts caused mom to lactate. She was one of those women who could have massive orgasms just from having her breasts suckled. Her milk was delicious. To help me, I raised Maggie's libido to such a degree she was practically begging me to fuck her all the time. 

 To help her along I increased the sensitivity of her nipples and her clit so that she was always horny and ready to fuck. I trained her to beg for my cock. She had to say, Please Master, my pussy is so empty, and I need your cock. I used her ass every night. It got so that I could fuck her in the ass almost as easily as her pussy. I regret some of the things I did to her. I was a stupid kid. It was the feeling of power that I was hooked on. I was now almost twenty one years old. I was a multi millionaire rapidly approaching billionaire status. 

 I had trained my mom to be my sex slave. I even called her my fuck toy. She always blushed when I called her that, but she smiled and giggled. I decided that I wanted to mark her as mine. I wanted to take her to a tattoo parlor. Mom balked at that. I took her nipples in both oh my hands and started to squeeze and roll her nipples between my fingers. I knew I could drive her into a sexual frenzy by doing this. 

 Mom's eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Her eyelids began to flutter. She almost collapsed. As soon as she got control of herself; she gasped, "Whatever you want baby, I'll do anything to make you happy." I had the tattoo artist there; tattoo a red heart at the top of her left buttock with the letters MP loves TP, in black. When she was dressed no one could see the tattoo, but she would know for as long as she lived that she was my property. 

 The man also did piercing so I had both of her nipples pierced with those miniature bar bells in gold. The piercings also had another effect, her nipples remained permanently erect. After that I was able to make her address me as Master at all times in private. To her it was like a game. We fucked like rabbits every chance we got. She cooked and cleaned my house and serviced me whenever I wanted.

 She slept in my bed in the master bedroom. I had her undergo electrolysis and had all her body hair permanently removed. Last night I fucked her to so many orgasms she passed out. She was my property and I treated her as such. This gradually became her norm. Her orgasms were massive and so intense that after six or seven she would pass out and sleep like a babe till morning, cuddled in my arms. 

 I taught her to suck my cock all the way into her throat. She really didn't like the taste of semen but again with a little adjustment from me, she found she loved it. I must have gone a bit too far because she began to beg to suck on my cock, every day. Every morning as soon as she awoke she would crawl between my legs and give me one of her fabulous blow jobs. I really didn't mind. 

 After a while I began to feel that I wanted more. I realized that none of my business associates or acquaintances had ever met my mother so I arranged to take her on a month's vacation in Asia. I had many holdings there. So ostensibly I was just going to see what was going on there. I began taking mom out on dates to all of the 'in' places. I began introducing her as my fiancé. 

 Two weeks later I married her in Singapore. I bought her a 2½ karat diamond engagement ring. When we were married I gave her the matching wedding band. We moved into the bridal suite at the Singapore Hyatt. Two weeks after that we went back to New York. I took her out to all the best restaurants and clubs I introduced her to my friends and business acquaintances. As far as anyone knew mom was now my wife. 

 Maggie was now 34 years old. She was still drop dead gorgeous. I was 21. To make everything look more 'kosher', I grew a beard along with my mustache. She told me I looked very dashing; 10 months after we were married, Maggie gave birth to my daughter. When I saw her in pain from the labor of childbirth I suddenly realized that she wasn't a toy. What the hell was I doing? She was a living breathing person. 

 This was my mother and I truly loved her. I vowed I would make it up to her. It was then that I changed. I manipulated Maggie's memory. She could not remember anything of her past. This was attributed to a fabricated auto accident in Arkansas leaving her with a hairline scar and no memory of her past. She knew she worked for one of the fortune five hundred companies but could not remember the name or what she did there. 

 She remembered that two years earlier a friend Andrea invited her for dinner. Unbeknownst to her, her friend's husband also had invited a young man from work to dinner also. Somehow during dinner the conversation got around to the breakup of the Soviet Union. Andrea's husband Paul claimed that the downfall of the Soviet Union was caused by Poland becoming independent. The young man Tom Peterson (that was me) said that's not really correct. 


The Billionaire



So for the next three hours I spoke in detail giving names and dates of different happenings. Several times Paul said that's not right. So I said look it up on the internet and in every case I was correct. As the evening drew to a close I asked to use the restroom and when I left the living room where they all were seated his wife asked Paul who I was and how did Paul know me? Paul said we work together at the bank, he's the new genius at the bank. The talk is that he is going to be the next Warren Buffet. Andrea and Maggie both said who's he? Paul looked at them amazed, but finally said, "only one of the five richest men in the world."

 When Tom came back into the living room he told Paul it's getting late I better get going. He again thanked Andrea for dinner. Maggie said I better get going too. Outside Tom asked her?

 "Where do you live?"

 "I live in Queens."

 "That's my Cadillac SUV over there if you hop in I'll take you home."

That's how Maggie remembered meeting Tom. They had a whirlwind romance and courtship. Her trip with him to the Orient. Their marriage in Singapore. Their wild love making. How crazy in love she was with Tom. Then, on their first night in the Honeymoon suite at the Singapore Hyatt she striped herself naked. The only hair left on her body was her eyebrows, her eyelashes and her scalp. Tom said... 

 "Wow did you just have that shaved?"  

 "No, my body has always been hairless."

 "Boy how lucky can a guy get. I love a hairless pussy." 

That night, after they returned from a night of dining and dancing; Tom was seated on the sofa. Maggie knelt before her husband she bent and kissed his foot.

 "You, are my Master now; I am your obedient slave for the rest of my life. I will do whatever you command My Master." 

 That was six years ago. We now had six children, four girls and two boys. Maggie still considered herself her husband's slave yet she was deliriously happy. She had a husband she was crazy about and a houseful of kids that she always wanted. Tom bought the apartment building across the street from central park. In fact he bought the entire block of buildings 6 in all. 

 The building we lived in was very close to where the pavilion was; where, from the third week of June till Labor Day, every Friday night at 7:30 the city had a concert. There were benches for 500 people. The orchestra played pop music like the Boston pops. But usually many people took blankets, spread them on the grass and the whole family ate a picnic dinner while the orchestra played. 

 We just opened our living room windows and we could hear the music clearly. I would sit in my favorite chair, pull mom onto my lap, and hug and kiss and just snuggle with her for the one and a half hours concert. I really loved her. Tom had hired a cook, Mildred and a maid, Sarah. 

 Although she didn't know about the body guards. Tom had hired three, one to act as her chauffer of a stretch limo the other two to keep an eye on her and the children when they went about town. The limo was bulletproof in case someone tried a kidnapping. Maggie had no idea how rich they were although she had unlimited credit at all the stores she frequented. She was used to saying charge it to my account. Tom was actually a multi billionaire several times over. 

 Tom had told her that he had set up accounts at every store she used. She was his 'Princess' he just wanted to give her anything she wanted.

 "Just sign for anything you buy and have them send the bill to my office. She never gave that a second thought. Tom always took care of their finances. It was about this time she ran into Doris, one of women who befriended her in Argentina.

 "Maggie, Maggie Peterson, don't you remember me? I'm Doris Cortez, my husband was with the Marine Security detail at the embassy in Argentina.

 "I'm sorry, I really don't remember you." They were speaking in Spanish and suddenly Maggie had a puzzled look on her. I didn't even know I spoke Spanish.

 "What happened to you?"

 "I had an auto accident, hurt my head, and lost my memory. I have no memory of anything before the accident."

 "Are you alright? Well, obviously you are. How about we grab a cup of coffee? We can catch up on old times."

 "Oh I can't. I have my three littlest with me."

 "Three littlest?"

 "I have six kids now."

 "Oh my goodness you have been busy."

 "These are...Phillip, where are you?"

 "Right here Madam."

She was looking to her left and he was standing in the aisle to her right. He was pushing a tandem, in line baby carriage. In it, was, a sleeping infant in front and maybe a two year old, playing with a toy attached to the carriage, right behind. He was a tall man, stern looking. But his eyes seemed to be everywhere.

 "This is Phillip our chauffer and my friend. Listen Doris I have an idea, I don't live far from here. Why don't you come home with us? We can have our coffee there and catch up." You can tell me all about my days at the embassy."

 "I didn't come into Manhattan by car I can't follow you."

 "Perfect, you'll come home with us in the limo." 

 "I don't want to put you out."

 "Are you kidding, there's plenty of room in the limo. Besides, it's not every day I meet someone who can fill me in on some of my past."

 Outside, Doris took one look at the limo..... 

 "Wow, you weren't kidding about the limo, this is some car."

 Maggie and Doris were sitting along the side, inside, while the three kids were sitting in their strapped down 'kiddy' seats along the back seat. Phillip had helped them get settled in the limo. Then on the ride home he spoke very quietly into a lapel mike announcing their ETA. The ride from the department store didn't take much more than 15 minutes. 

 When they got to the apartment building on Central Park West, the doorman and two other men who came out of the building helped them get the kids, the carriage and their packages out of the limo and into the elevator inside the building. When they got to the Penthouse, Sarah the maid came out and along with Phillip got them into the apartment with practiced efficiency. 

 Doris' eyes were wide with wonder. She had never seen such luxury.

 "Wow, this is some apartment. What does Dan do for a living?"

 "You mean Tom."

 "I thought your husband's name was Dan?"

 Just then they heard the front door close, and a voice call out "I'm home honey."

 The moment Tom saw Doris he knew that his story was in trouble. He scanned through Doris' mind and went through Doris' version of their meeting at the department store. He did the same with Maggie. As soon as he learned about their ability to speak Spanish he knew he had to come up with new version of how they met. All of this went through his four digit IQ mind in milliseconds. 

 He froze both women in place, and for them it was as if time stopped. In Doris' mind he discovered that her husband was killed in Iraq almost three years ago. She had no family and now that her mother died eight months earlier, from cancer, she was all alone. Her husband had the mumps two months after they were married and it left him sterile. That was why she had no children. Doris was of Mexican extraction. Her grandparents and her parents were all born in the USA, in Texas. 

 She met Maggie, at Texas University. Her husband never was stationed in Argentina. He was in the ROTC at Texas U. She and Maggie were sorority sisters and both were Journalism majors. Maggie had taken Spanish as her second language. Three years of it in high school and three more years of it in college. Now she could read, write, and speak it as fluently as a native. Although she did speak Spanish with a Castilian accent. 

 When Doris and her husband graduated he was stationed in camp Pendleton in California. When President Bush knowingly lied to the country and started his war against Saddam Hussein just to get control of the oil there, he was called up. Her husband, Charlie, served two tours there. He was killed near the end of his second tour. 

 Tom only had to do some minor changes with Maggie. Now she remembered that she was a journalist major. She worked for the Rupert Murdock news corporation and when they discovered that she was fluent in Spanish they sent her to Argentina to check on a recent acquisition there. It was when she came back to New York that she met Tom. She had stopped keeping in touch with Doris after the accident because she didn't remember her but now bits and pieces were coming back.

 From the time he came into the room only eighteen seconds had gone by, and now he started time for them again. Maggie said......

 "I want you to meet a college friend of mine."

 "My God, you got your memory back, boy, that's great."

 "Not all, just bits and pieces. I remember Doris and Charlie. How is Charlie by the way?"

 A sadness came over Doris.

 "He died three years ago in Iraq. I begged him not to volunteer but he was convinced he would be alright. He told me that this was his ticket to promotion. He was desperate to become a Major, perhaps even a Lt. Colonel."

 Maggie walked over to her friend and embraced her saying...

 "I'm sorry about Charlie, I liked him."

 "Yeah, me too."

 "What are you doing in New York?" said Tom

 "I always wanted to see New York, and so on a whim, I came here."

 "How long are you staying," asked Maggie.

 "I'm going to have to leave tomorrow; it's much too expensive for me here."

 Tom walked over to the phone.

 "Where are you staying Doris?"

 "I'm at the YWCA on twenty second street in Manhattan."

 Tom picked up the phone and dialed information.

 "Can you give me the number to the YWCA in Manhattan on twenty second street, and then connect me....May I speak to the daytime Manager please. Ah, Mr. Cassidy, I was hoping you could do me a small favor. You have a guest staying with you her name is Doris.....What's your last name Doris?"

 "Cortez, but what are you doing?"

 "Shush, the name of your guest is Doris Cortez. What I would like you to do is check her out and have someone go to her room and pack up her things. Then if you would, call this number 555-4000, ask for Maureen Baker. Please tell Mrs. Baker how much Mrs. Cortez owes. Within one and one half hours I'll have someone there with three checks, one for whatever the amount is that Mrs. Cortez owes, one for, what is your first name Mr. Cassidy? Alfred, good, one check for Mr. A Cassidy for $100.00 and a last check for, what is the name of the person who will pack up Mrs. Cortez things? Would you spell that for me please? T..w..a..n..d..a, ok, got it, her last name now, Jefferson. Okay! Her check will be for $50.00. Mr. Cassidy when you do this for me I will be in your debt. There will come a time when you need a favor, please feel free to call me, Just say this call is about Mrs. Cortez. Before you do anything wait five minutes while I call and alert Mrs. Baker that you will be calling. Thank you. He hung up and dialed his private secretary. Maureen this is Mr. Peterson.....

 He proceeded to tell her what was about to happen. Then he told her to call Mr. Giuliani about the checks. Then to get one of the interns to take the checks to the YWCA and pick up her suitcase and bring it to, he gave her an address. After you get the call from Mr. Cassidy call me at home and let me know if everything is going ok.

 Doris was astounded, "Why did you do that?"

 "You're Maggie's friend so that makes you my friend too. Besides, Margaret can always use another friend, and we have plenty of room here. We have three empty guest rooms. Oh, I almost forgot, Honey, that nursemaid we talked about Monday, I hired her today. Her name is Mavis, she is 57 years old and was a pediatric nurse at Bellevue Hospital. So she's a RN too. She'll be here tomorrow at 7:00 AM. If you like her and want her to move in, she can have the room next to Sarah. I'm going to take a shower."

 "That's my Tom, isn't he wonderful?"

 "He sure is a take charge guy."

 "Tomorrow. After I get Mavis settled, you and I are going to see all the sights that a tourist has to see. Did you ever see the Statue of Liberty?"

 "Do you mean the real one?"

 "Ofcourse, the real one. But first let me show you to your room. The nursery and the older kid's rooms are on the other side of the apartment. It's right down this hallway. This is mine and Tom's bedroom, your bedroom is this one opposite ours."

 Maggie opened the bedroom door and led Doris inside. Doris stood there, eyes wide and mouth open. 

 "This isn't a bedroom it's a ballroom. How big is this apartment?"

 "I'm not sure I remember, I think its 9600 sq. ft."

 "My God, how did you ever find this place?"

 "Oh it wasn't always like this Tom had it remodeled when he bought the building."

 "You guys own this building?"

 "Not just this one Tom bought all six buildings on the block and remodeled them all. This block is now more famous than Sutton Place. Each building has its own Olympic size pool, a sauna, a steam room, a day care center a central exercise room and twelve private exercise rooms. We even have our own Movie Theater and electric arcade for the kids. 

 From one to four P.M. the theater shows only 'G' rated films. Then from six to eleven P.M., 'R' and 'PG13' films and from midnight till three A.M. only 'X' rated films. You would be amazed at how crowded the 'X' rated showings are. Tom even built a parking structure on the next block. There is a waiting list to get an apartment in any of the buildings. Tom's a genius when it comes to business."

 "How much does an apartment like yours go for?" 

 "I really don't remember, Tom told me once. I think it was 4200 or 5200 or was it thousand a month. I think it must have been thousands per month because Tom once told me all the tenants were multi millionaires. Tom has the head for business not me. At least not anymore."

 "Would you mind if I laid down for a little while Maggie? I have a splitting headache."

 "Absolutely not. Make yourself at home. I want to talk to Tom anyway about this gal Mavis." 

 When Maggie left the room, Doris laid down on the bed. All the luxury and wealth that was surrounding her was leaving her dazed. She knew that people were wealthy, but to see it, touch it, and be surrounded by it was overwhelming.

 When Maggie came into her bedroom she saw Tom standing in the bathroom through the open bathroom door. He had showered and was preparing to shave. He was wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. He dropped the towel and said.....

 "Isn't it time for your afternoon feeding?"

 "I thought you would never ask Master."

 "She dropped to her knees before him, his cock was rock hard and pointing directly at her mouth."

 She bobbed her head forward and in one smooth motion took his cock completely into her mouth and down her throat."

 After sucking on it for a minute or so she pulled her head back and said...

 "I'll never get used to how much I love sucking on your dick it's absolutely delicious, Master."

 With a quick bob forward she had the full length back down her throat as she continued sucking.

 Tom was leaning back against the vanity, he looked down at Maggie and watched her sucking on his cock. After years of performing oral sex and him teaching her what he liked, she had become a fabulous cocksucker. He reached down and stroked her head.

 " I love you so much my dearest I don't think I'll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me."

 "And I, you, my darling."

 He pulled back till she let him slide out of her mouth.

 "You really like Doris don't you?"

 "Yes, Master she's the only friend I have from before we were married. She was my sorority sister and I feel very close to her. I'm pretty sure she is like me, very submissive. She truly needs a man to dominate her. Someone to treat her, ... well like you do to me. I'm really afraid that if she goes back to Kansas or wherever she's from, someone is going to take advantage of her."

 "Why do you say that? What makes you think she's a submissive?"

 "When you were handling her checking out of the YWCA her eyes were wide, not with fear....but with pride. Someone was taking care of her. She really needs that."

 "Yes, I think you're right. When you introduced her to me, she couldn't seem to look me in the eye. She kept looking down at the floor. The same way you do sometimes, unless I tell you to look at me."

 He took her hand and led her out of the bathroom back into the bedroom and over to the sitting area. He sat down in his favorite chair and pulled her into his lap. He began unbuttoning her blouse. Then with a serious look on his face.

 "What do you think about me taking her as my concubine, you know, a sort of second wife. I couldn't marry her legally but in all other respects she would be my wife. I would even give her children, and they would be my children."

 "You would do that Master, for me, for Doris?"

 "Yes, I would. It also fixes a problem I have been worried about. I don't want to make you pregnant again. I'm afraid it's not healthy for you. I don't know how I could keep on living if something happened to you. I really do love you, and I will do so for as long as I live."

 "As I will for you."

 "Go in and take a shower, my love. Then get dressed, I am going to take you and your sister, my new wife, out for dinner."

 "Yes Master, your wish is my command"

 "While you're doing as I command, I'll get dressed and then go in and speak to my new wife."

 Margaret continued to strip, then naked she walked into the bathroom smiling her hips swaying from side to side, she loved to do whatever her Master commanded. Tom knocked on Doris' bedroom door.

 "Yes, come in please."

 "I have spoken to Maggie and I decided to make you my new wife. You will be my second wife."

 "What...What did you just say?"

 "You will be to me, what you were to Charlie. You will be my slave just as you were to Charlie, except I will not beat you. As long as you obey my commands I will treat you with love and kindness."

 "Wha..wha...What's going on? What's happening? What are you talking about, slave to Charlie. I wasn't any ones slave. What are you talking about?"

 "It's too late Doris, already you can feel your love for me growing, and this love grows stronger and stronger with every passing second. You need to be my slave. You need me to be your Master. This need to be owned, this need gets stronger and stronger." You can feel it can't you."

 "Yes, yes, it's true. Oh god, I do love you. My heart is bursting with love for you. I will love you forever. I will be your slave forever. You own my body and my soul. I am, and always will be your slave for as long as I live. Only death will part us."

 Tom smiled, normals, he thought, they are so easy to manipulate.

 "Good, now show me your obeisance."

 "Instantly Doris dropped to her knees. Then she bent forward and kissed the top on his shoe."

 "Excellent, from this moment on you are my slave and my wife. You will address me as Master only when we are alone or with your sister slave Maggie. In public or before all others you will address me as Tom or some other term of affection. Also my pet name for you will be 'Dory'

 "Yes Master, I understand."

 "Good, now give you Master a kiss. I want to celebrate our marriage. I want to take you and your sister out to dinner. Do you have a cocktail dress?"

 "No Master."

 "You and Maggie seem to be about the same size. Go and ask her if you can borrow a cocktail dress. I want the three of us to go out to dinner. You may also tell her you are now my wife."

 "Yes... yes, my love."

 Doris almost flew out of the room. He heard her knock loudly on his bedroom door because she never closed her bedroom door. Now he was standing in the doorway. Then he heard them screaming (squealing actually) giggling, laughing, then thumping as they jumped up and down. Suddenly Sarah was standing at the end of the hallway.




The Billionaire



"Is everything alright, I heard screaming?"

 "Yes everything is fine, it's just that Doris has decided to stay and live here permanently. I'm sorry they scared you."

 Standing right behind Sarah was Phillip one of my security guards he had his gun out and in his hand. But when he heard what I said to Sarah he quickly stuck it inside his jacket. They both turned away to continue their duties. But he could hear them grumbling in their minds. 

 Tom stood in front of his full length mirror and examined himself carefully. He stood about 6'2" and weighed 190 lbs. His suit, shirt, and tie fit him perfectly as a tailor made suit and shirt should. He considered himself a good looking man. He thought to himself, I deserve two wives. If this second wife works out I'll probably collect more. 

 He left the room and walked across the hall to his other bedroom. As he entered his bedroom, Maggie was just putting the finishing touches to Doris' hair. It was upswept with a mass of shiny black curls on top; there were two wisps of hair on either side of her face curving forward following her chin line. Maggie had dressed her in her white cocktail dress with spaghetti straps holding it up. On her legs, was ultra shear, nude shaded stockings, accenting her darker complexion? On her feet were white pumps with 3 inch heels. Her lips were colored a deep red, her eyes outlined in black, shaded in a light greenish brown giving her an oriental look. Tom's eyes were wide with surprise.

 "Wow, you were beautiful before, now you are ravishing."

 Maggie as usual was gorgeous, she was dressed in a black spaghetti strapped cocktail dress her stockings too were thigh high and ultra shear except they were black with 3 inch high black pumps.

 "Come ladies lets go to Devlin"s, I want to show off my ladies."

 During dinner Tom kept Doris' wine glass filled. Maggie of course knew what he was doing. He wanted to get Doris a little drunk. Tonight he was going to fuck her in every way possible. He smiled and wondered if she would be able to get out of bed in the morning, much less walk. As Doris stood up she staggered slightly, Tom grabbed her elbow to help her gain her balance. 

 "I'm shorry. I must have drunked,... dranked,..... drinked,.... whatever, a little too much. I was shertain I only had one glass."

 He helped her across the lobby of their apartment building to their private elevator. She must have been having difficulty focusing her eyes because she was making the most hilarious expressions. Maggie was having a terrible time trying to squelch her laughter.

 "You know Ma...Ma...Tom, you should have this floor fixed, and it's shooo uneven, you could get sued."

 Meanwhile Tom was thinking I hope I didn't get her too drunk to screw. God, but she is a funny drunk. He quickly stripped her naked and while he was removing her shoes and stockings she leaned forward and fell asleep on his back. Now he was sure his prank had backfired. 

 He finished stripping her naked and half carried, half dragged her into the bathroom. Holding Doris erect in one arm he reached into the shower stall and turned the shower on to a cool temperature. Then he got into the shower taking Doris with him. 

 As soon as the water struck her she started struggling. Her arms were flailing, her body twisting, she was trying everything to get out of, what was to her the cold water spray. 

 "What the hell is going on? Why are we in the shower?"

 Doris seemed wide awake now.

 "I'm trying to save what's left of our wedding night. I think I gave you a little too much to drink" 

 "Oh, OH! I'm so sorry Master. I almost never drink. Perhaps one glass of wine on rare occasions."

 "It's not your fault darling, it's mine. I was pulling a little prank and I guess I got carried away."

 "But I don't understand, one glass of wine never affected me like this."

 "Maybe that's because your one glass never emptied. You must have had the equivalent of three full glass of wine."

 "Oh my"

 "You know, you're a very funny drunk. Maggie almost busted a gut trying not to laugh out loud at you."

 "Really, what did I do?"

 "It was the way you spoke. Also the faces you made trying to act straight. I'm only sorry I didn't make a video of you on my phone."

 "That wasn't a very nice thing to do to your wife," she pouted.

 She was trying to act indignant. But in her mind she was imagining how funny it must have been. Years ago, Charlie had done the same thing to her, and that time someone did make a video of her. When they showed her the video, she and everyone else ended up rolling on the floor laughing.

 "I'll never do that to you again .... but you really are a funny drunk."

 Tom turned off the water, opened the shower door and helped her out, then stepped out after her. He handed her the thick Egyptian cotton bath sheet from the shelf, and wrapped her in it. Then took one for himself, and quickly dried himself off. He took Doris in his arms, towel and all. 

 His kiss was deep and sensual his tongue pressed against her lips demanding entrance. His tongue slid along hers, it rubbed against the roof of her mouth. She could feel a tingling begin in her belly as her arousal heightened. She could feel his hands moving all over her body as he dried her off.

 She couldn't believe how strong Tom was. He was handling her as if she had no weight at all. With one hand he moved her from his left side to his right side and he did it so easily she was amazed. She had no idea he was using TK to add to his strength. 

 Doris looked deep into his eyes and thought, (my god, I really do love this man.) He picked her up and carried her into their bedroom and laid her down in the center of their king size bed. His hands cupped and caressed her tits. His fingers pulling on her nipples, her areolas were puffed out like mushroom caps her nipples standing out in their center like miniature posts, stiff and hard as pebbles. 

 His mouth closed over one and he sucked hard, his tongue flicked back and forth over it. Then he did the same to the other. He watched her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted. She felt his hand slide down across her abdomen and felt his fingers comb through her pubic hair searching for and finding her clitoris. 

 It was awake, swollen, hard and stiff. Peeking out from under its hood. He brushed his finger up and down its short length and she murmured, please, please. All the while he continued sucking on her tits. Her whole body trembled as he gently stroked her clit. Her murmuring continued, only now she was saying, oh god, oh god. Tom knew she was very aroused her pussy was dripping with her lubricating juices. 

 She flinched and cried out AAAHHHH as his fingers continued stroking her clit, as his mouth released the nipple he was sucking on. Her trembling increased and her hips began a gentle thrusting.

 "I think you like this."

 Doris tried to speak but all that came out was I...Ye...Yo... her eyes were glazed and unfocused, and her trembling increased. She bit down on her lower lip to try to get some control of her body. Her hands opened, fingers spread and at the same time her legs spread wide apart giving him better access. Her hips continued their gentle thrusting as well as her murmuring, please, please, please. 

 Her pussy was so wet now her juices were dripping down along her crack and covering her asshole. Her arms reached up and encircled his neck pulling his lips down to hers. His fingers dug deeper into her pussy. When he broke the kiss she moaned and said.... 

 "I need you inside me, NOW.

 She was sure that Tom could sense that she was close to her orgasm. There was no doubt at all in her mind, she was his creature. She belonged to him. He could do whatever he wanted to do to her, she was totally his. She reached with her hand pushing between them, for his cock. She could feel it lying against her abdomen. She wanted him inside her, but Tom rolled onto his back. 

 "Not yet. I want you to earn it."

 She thought he wanted her on top. But when she straddled him he was pushing on her shoulders. Pushing her lower down his body. Her nipples scraped through the hair on his chest reminding her how sensitive they had become. Now she facing his cock, she knew what he wanted, Doris never really liked oral, yet she showed no hesitation.  She took his stiff cock and guided it into her mouth. She never expected it to taste so good. Doris wondered, did he put something on his cock, it's delicious. She pushed her head down harder and before she knew it her nose and chin were buried in his pubic hair. 

 His cock was deep in her throat and she was sucking on it as hard as she could. Suddenly she felt it throb and the first spurt felt hot in her throat, so did the second. She felt his hand in her hair as he pulled her head back so she could breath. She gasped as she drew a deep breath. Tom let her take his cock back into her mouth as she continued sucking.

 "Don't swallow. I want your mouth full of semen."

 The small interval didn't seem to bother Tom because as soon as his cock was back in her sucking mouth she felt his cock throb again and again and again. She was surprised she didn't know a man could produce so much cum, also it tasted so good. Why did it taste so good? I thought it would be salty? This wasn't salty this was delicious. He kept pulling her head back till she was looking at the ceiling.

 "I want to see it."

 Doris open her mouth slowly showing him her mouth filled with the pearly white goo. 

 "That's my good girl. Now swallow."

 Doris swallowed once and he could see part of his gift disappear. She swallowed twice more. The only thing left was a coating of cum on her tongue. He released her hair and she lowered her head. He watched as she ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Then immediately she put his cock back into her mouth and she was sucking hard again trying to get every drop of cum he had left. Doris looked at him and smiled. 

 "Now fuck me stud. HARD."

 "Tom pulled Doris up to where her head was resting on the pillow. Then rolled over on top of her . His knees were between her legs. He guided his stiff cock into her pussy. He used telekinesis to form a large smooth bubble about the head of his penis. To Doris it was as if he was nine or more inches long. 

 He was slamming into her as fast as he could. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her legs encircled his hips, and her heels were digging into his buttocks, trying to add more force to his thrusts. When she suddenly screamed out I'm going to cum.

 The orgasm hit her with the force of a speeding freight train. Evert muscle in her body went rigid suspending her in a state of pure ecstasy. When she finally started to relax another orgasm hit her just as hard. Her whole body was shuddering as she relaxed again, only to have it happen again. Tom continued to pound his total dominance into her.

 "Please Master, no more. Please, I'm too sensitive down there, I never knew I was multi orgasmic. This was my first time I ever came like that. Please, I just want to go to sleep Master "

 Her whole body was trembling like a leaf in a strong wind. She sounded like a little girl. He rubbed her back gently as she curled into a fetal position. Her breathing slowed then deepened. Doris was out like a light. Tom smiled, he had a new slave. Not only that, Doris knew it too. 

 Tom adjusted the servants and his security guards into accepting as normal for a man like Tom to have two wives. He could easily afford it, in fact he should have as many wives as he wants. Tom was in the dining room having his coffee when Maggie came in.

 "Good morning Master, how was your honeymoon night?"

 "Not bad after I gave Doris a cold shower."

 "That was mean."

 "I don't think so. When we were finished Doris slept like a baby."

 "Did someone mention my name. Good morning Master, good morning Maggie."

 "How are you feeling this morning sis"?

 "Like I was hit by a speeding bus. Some maniac came into my room last night and ravished me."

 "Maniac eh, get over here you need a loving treatment."

 "Oh god no more. As it is I'll probably be bowlegged for a month."

 "Well you had better get over it because Maggie is going to take you to her beauty salon for a full body waxing, Maggie make sure you get enough depilatory cream for the full ten days. That way her pussy will remain bald permanently and you know how much I love bald pussy. Then take her shopping for a complete new wardrobe. Buy her lingerie only from Victoria's Secret and Fredrick's of Hollywood I have to go into the office so I'll see you both about six tonight."

 "Holy smoke, is he always like this?"

 "Like you said Doris, he's a very take charge kind of guy. You better get dressed Doris we have a very full day ahead of us."

 Tom was riding into town to go to his office in the Lincoln Town car. Phillip was driving while he was giving orders to Sam, the supervisor of his security team. Sam had called into the office for additional security men for the women. 

 "Sam, I would like you to call your boss, Henry Stapleton and ask him if he got the report on that property I like in Oyster Bay. Has he had a chance to devise a plan for security. Find out if he is free for lunch at my club downtown at twelve thirty. Also is he bringing anyone with him, and if he is, how many. 

 Then call Fredrick the Maitre Di' at my club and reserve the private dining room. It's a Monday so I'm sure it will be available. Then alert Phillip we need the car at twelve o'clock. He's in his civvies so he's coming with us. Meet me in my office at 11:45. We'll leave at noon.

 The limo pulled smoothly to the curb in front of his office building. Tom and Sam got out and walked inside. Phillip pulled the limo around the corner and into the underground garage. He checked in the rear view mirror to make sure no one slipped in behind him. He parked in his designated spot and took out his 'iPod'. It was a new one with a slide out keyboard. He punched in a code and the screen divided into six views of the garage. 

 A couple of minutes later the TV cameras showed he was alone. Then he punched in another number and a heat sensing laser scanned in a random pattern 2 inches above the ground. It would pick up anyone trying to hide under a car. Once or twice it did find a cat. At the time the alert light scared the hell out of him until he realized that it was a cat. 

 However he always checked, for all he knew it could have been the company doing a spot check they had done it before to others. At exactly 11:45 Sam knocked and was admitted to Tom's office.

 "We're all set boss. We have a secure reservation in the private dining room. It's for six, Harry said he was bringing two others with him, and he's bringing a copy of the report with him. He said he'd explain it all at lunch.

 " Good. Did you get anything else on that Chloe thing I asked you to check into."

 "No, I didn't and it's bugging me. I checked her birth certificate and it's legit. I checked her school records they're legit too. Funny thing though nobody could tell me what she looked like, only two guys out of 172 students from all her classes could remember her and all they could remember was that they think she was a blonde. Should I keep digging?"

 "No, Let it go. I know someone who specializes in this type of problem."

 "Okay, you're the boss."

 As they walked into the building he got a picture of Chloe in the copier room. She was collating a report for the afternoon meeting. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing her mind was no longer shielded. Tom was able, for the first time, to scan her completely. It lasted only milliseconds but she felt something. Fortunately it happened so quickly she just chalked it up to paranoia. But she did put up her shield.

Tom smiled as he walked towards the elevators. He had had just enough time to tag her. She would never be able to hide from him again. As he sat in his office talking on the phone to a perspective client he was peaking into her mind and recording all her memories with his eidetic mind. It was good to be able to do two things at once. 

 Chloe was the first true telepath he had met in his twenty odd years. She had no ability to move things with her mind. In fact she had no idea that anyone could do so. When she was fourteen her father began to lust after her. She had developed a woman's body while being a child. Like his mother, men began lusting after her. 

 Being a child still, Chloe didn't know how to handle the problem. One night her father brought her a glass of warm milk. It was heavily drugged. She became dazed and unable to control her arms or legs. He told her she had a fever and that he needed to take her temperature rectally. He opened a jar of Vaseline, stuck his middle finger in it and shoved it up her rectum. 

 He stirred his finger around inside her like a spoon in a coffee cup, hoping it would arouse her. Instead when he asked how it felt she said it hurt her, and to please take it out daddy. He told her he had to bring her temperature down. He stripped her naked. The only thing he accomplished was to get himself so aroused that he gagged her with duct tape, tied her hands together and fastened them to the headboard. He forced her legs apart and raped her. 

 When he was done he drugged her again. Cleaned up her pussy of the blood he caused when her broke her hymen. Stripped off and replaced the bloody sheet with a clean new one. Redressed her, put her sleeping drugged body back into the remade bed, then slipped out of the apartment and threw the bloody sheet down the incinerator chute. 

 It could be Mono, their doctor said, it's going around a lot. For the next five weeks the father raped Chloe two or three times a week. Always making sure she was well drugged. Her mother, in her worry over her ill daughter, started waking up to check on her daughter. When she walked into her daughter's bedroom she found her daughter gagged and bound to her bed with her father raping her. 

 Without a word her mother raced back into her bedroom. Went to the night table where she knew her husband kept his gun. Went back into her daughter's bedroom, put the gun to his temple and screamed die you dirty bastard, then pulled the trigger. Their next door neighbors called the police because they heard her gunshot. When the police arrived almost twenty minutes later. 

 They found the father dead and still lying on top of his daughter's body. The daughter was gagged and bound to the headboard of her bed, she was unconscious but in the Hospital it was determined she was heavily drugged. The mother was slumped in the corner completely catatonic. Because they had no money the mother was given a public defender. He was a recent graduate from law school with a case load of twenty two clients. But he still managed to save her from the penitenury. 

 She was sent to an institution for the criminally insane until cured. Three months later she committed suicide because she suffered from intense guilt. Chloe was hospitalized for a year and seven months. When she was released the doctor's called it a miracle. It wasn't the doctors or the drugs that saved her it was her gift. She had no idea that she could hear the thoughts of the people around her. She truly thought that she was going insane hearing voices. 

 In the hospital she heard the thoughts of patients who were insane; she thought she was just like them. Then one day, as she was in her doctor's office, she heard the doctor's thoughts. He was sympathizing with her, this poor kid having a father as terrible as he was. How could he have done the things he did to her? 

 It suddenly dawned on her that the voices she heard in her head weren't voices at all. She could hear what others were thinking. When she was back in room she sat and went over what had happened. What if her father was like her. What if he also thought he was going mad? What if the voices finally drove him insane? Then it was possible that the voices he heard were his own insane thoughts. Then it was possible that he was following his own insane lusts and not some voice telling to do the terrible things he did. 




The Billionaire's Bet



Conventional rules probably would have suggested that Mojo stand on seventeen. But Mojo was a man who had always gone against conventional rules. Yes, gambling was serious business, but the last hand of Blackjack Mojo would ever play was a win-win, because win or lose, he and Scarlett were going to be half a million dollars richer. The only thing he stood to lose was the ability to keep a billionaire from between his wife's legs. And even the thought of that wasn't necessarily a loss in Mojo's mind.

Las Vegas was the place Mojo and Scarlett decided to spend their five-year anniversary. Technically, there were two dates to celebrate, as the last weekend of August would also mark the three-year anniversary of their decision to upload their first sex tape to the Internet. It was an impulsive decision that would change their lives forever. 

Uploading their sexual escapades was a brave move, a move not without risks, as they took no care to conceal their identities—that was part of the appeal. It was uncharted territory and it was thrilling, and that taste of taboo would pave the way for many more videos to follow, would plant the seed for something larger, something very profitable. Sending their sex videos into the maw of the web became as common as stopping for fast food. 

It was Scarlett who suggested the website—it was she who suggested recording themselves for the very first time, because she thought it would be hot. Mojo had agreed (he wondered if there ever existed a man who has actually scoffed at such a suggestion?), and because he knew that camera was watching them fuck, he was able to stay hard and come twice, something that had only happened once before in his life. The video was originally intended for personal use, but one day Mojo asked Scarlett what she would do if their video accidently wound up online. She considered this for a moment, then said, "Probably freak out, then fuck your brains out." 

And the rest, as they say, was history. And so was their financial turmoil.

Scarlett told Mojo that there was a fortune to be made with adult websites—whether she really knew that or not at the time she suggested it, Mojo didn't know, but it turned out she was correct. When searching for online porn, one might expect to find women overdramatizing to big cocks, or distracting circus music in the background, or ridiculous amounts of semen covering overeager faces, or the excessive use of the word "daddy". But Mojo and Scarlett always enjoyed their porn served basic, grounded in at least semi-reality. Real people and real reactions was what got them really hot—in the world of online adult entertainment, this would label the two of them as fans of "amateur" material. They hoped there were others out there who wanted to watch reality, who understood that sometimes you don't always scream when you fuck.

Lucky for the adult website entrepreneur that when it came to sex, there was a demand for literally everything—every sexual act has its audience, no matter how bland or how extreme. And Mojo and Scarlett discovered that in short order, you could manage a successful website just with a few unorthodox positions, some provocative ensembles, and a pair of 34 F breasts. 

Pay-per-click advertising, a strong fan base and Scarlett's breasts ignited the site OurMojo.com within a month. Scarlett was far more computer literate than Mojo, so she took on the role of webmaster. She was also the obvious hook for visitors, plastered on the preview page in provocative positions above Click here with your free hand to have all of our mojo that you can handle! Curious potential dollar signs could gawk at her topless for free, but they would have to contribute to lining her pockets if they wanted to jerk off to the rest of her. And it turned out that many people wanted to jerk off to the rest of her. Memberships mounted and comments flooded the site in response to each video, ranging from complimentary to perverse to unspeakable. $16.95 for a month, $50 for three months, or $130 for a whole year meant that the electric bill (and every other debt owed) would be paid in full and on time, and it wasn't long before Scarlett had quit her day job so that she could manage the site—had to, really; upkeep was crucial to the cash flow, and the volume of members demanded frequent updates. After all, it was an ultra-competitive market, and people could find many other options with their free hands, just a click away. 

Mojo had the easy part. His main role was to get hard, stay hard, and eventually come in or sometimes on his wife. 

Though his features might not have been chiseled out of stone, Mojo regarded himself as a fairly handsome man. He wasn't exactly in contention to grace the cover of any men's fitness magazines, but he did work out regularly (even before he had to consider his appearance more with the creation of the website), and he did have a relatively impressive physic, at least compared to most of the men in the majority of the homemade adult videos he had seen—the hairy slobs with beer guts who won't shut up and who elicit nothing from the viewer except sympathy for the poor woman on the receiving end.

At the age of 39, Mojo had managed to hold love handles at bay and still had a full head of hair, and that was doing just fine by his account. He had never received any complaints about the size of his manhood from the any of the thirty-three women he had fucked over the course of his life, including his wife, but this was something that he also gave more thought to when they embarked on their new business venture. Mojo had seen bigger cocks on the Internet—some of them not rubber props— but Scarlett had assured him that he was above average in size. And Mojo knew that his wife knew from experience, because she had never been withholding about her younger years, about her promiscuity of which he had been a part of. But then again, Mojo wondered if there was a woman out there who was really into a guy and who would actually admit it to him if he didn't measure up to expectations? 

At 37, Scarlett had more sexual experience under her belt than many women achieve throughout their entire lives, and she still had plenty of sexual zest, felt she was just now tapping into a whole new sexual level. Before Mojo, she had done all kinds of things in all kinds of places. She blossomed early, embraced her sexuality early. She learned how to influence behavior with her body as early as the 8th grade. When she was a freshman in high school, she made a boy cream his jeans behind the baseball diamond. Scarlett worked him through his jeans, felt him rigid underneath, rubbed until he made a strange, guttural sound, and then she felt the warm wet denim. Then she asked him if he wanted to feel her tits, and he did, but without much fervor. It was then that Scarlett learned girls should ask boys to do something to them before making them come. 

With the exception of her first time, with the boy who lost it in his jeans earlier on, Scarlett was usually in the driver's seat when it came to sex. It wasn't so much the pain of losing her virginity—which was made out by her friends to be the equivalent of giving birth (as if they would have known)—but the awkward and out of control feeling as she lay under him, feeling his frantic and hasty thrusts, as if he would lose his cock if he kept it in too long. The second time they fucked, Scarlett rode him. Again, the greedy boy was too focused on his own pleasure, so she grabbed his hands and moved them where she wanted them. She wanted to know what it felt like to have her hair tugged while she was fucking, so she told him to do it. He pulled too hard; she clawed his chest hard enough to draw blood.

Scarlett fucked three boys in high school. It was nothing extraordinary, except the size of the cock on one of those boys. Maybe she hadn't had been around the block enough to really make an accurate comparison, but she didn't need experience to know how huge it was. It was the first cock she took in her mouth, not because she really wanted to taste it, but because she wondered how much of it she could take. She took most of it. Then, after he struggled with the condom for a couple minutes, she took all of it while he fucked her from behind, struggling and grimacing all the way, the first time she was grateful that boys came fast.

During the summer of graduation, Scarlett began dating a guy who she had met at the grocery store where she worked. Mike Bigger was buying a pack of smokes and a Mountain Dew, left with those items and the cashier's phone number. Mike was twelve years older than Scarlett, and that intrigued her. She was out of his league, but he was handsome enough, and he had a genuine presence about him that Scarlett attributed to either a man who was raised how to properly treat a woman, or a man who has been alive long enough to really hone his bullshitting skills. But it was his age that really compelled Scarlett to pursue him—his age, and the fact that he had looked her in the eyes before looking at her breasts, something that rarely happened and something only those belonging to the Large Affections Club could understand.

Mike wasn't exactly bad in bed—he didn't come nearly as fast as the other guys she had been with— but he was too hesitant, too unsure, too safe. It was as if he knew he was out of her league, this much younger, voluptuous redhead who most men his age would kill for just to have her for five minutes. It was as if one false move in the bedroom on his part would send her back into reality, a reality that surely her equally young friends had begged her to return to. And though he did teach Scarlett some things about sex, the thrill of being with an older man grew stale, largely due to the overly cautious behavior. And besides that, there was an entire field that needed playing. 

And Scarlett was working her way around every position on the field, right up until she met Mojo during her third threesome. There was something different about him, a feeling she didn't get with any of her other partners. She knew it as soon as she saw him, knew it by the instant attraction and the easy vibe between them. By the time she had his cock in her mouth while simultaneously riding his buddy, Scarlett knew that there would be no more one-night stands with strangers met at the bar, no more impromptu sex acts with hotel attendants, no more eating pussy without a heads-up. 

She didn't fuck Mojo the night they met—he came in her mouth, and though she didn't prefer the taste, she swallowed every drop just to impress him—and almost an entire month passed before they had intercourse. Of course, they wanted to fuck after their first official date, but the decided tease each other, to see how long they could take the Tantric approach, just for fun. It was a maddening game, but when they finally had sex, they both came so hard that it almost hurt. 

Mojo had once told Scarlett that he loved her because with her, it wasn't all about sex. He said it with a straight face, but they both knew it was a lie. They were both well aware that everything was based on sex, that if you took the sex away, you were left with roommates. And even if it hadn't been about sex at first, it would be in the future.

For Mojo's last birthday, Scarlett brought a friend home as a present. Molly wasn't for him, but the show the two women put on was. He was told to sit and watch, was not even allowed to pull out of his pants, but just to watch. So Mojo did as he was instructed, his cock surging before the show got on the road. He watched them kiss, their sly, conspiring smiles fading quickly as they began to get lost in each other—becoming not so much about the birthday boy, but about what they were doing to each other. They pulled their shirts off, and a moment later tossed their bras—a 34 F and a 34 C respectively— into Mojo's lap, four laced cups over his aching muscle. The girls went over the arm of the couch in a burst of laughter and a tangle of red and blonde hair, pale skin on golden skin. Molly was gripping Scarlett's ass in two fleshy handfuls, keeping their close-trimmed pubic hair meshed together, when she turned her head towards Mojo and said, "Who do you think will come first? Wanna place your bet?" Then she slid a hand down and between their bodies and began working Scarlett's clit, eliciting a soft moan. Mojo didn't place a bet; he just stared stupidly at the two of them, like a teenager that has just discovered his dad's Victoria's Secret catalogue under the bed—a new world unfolding before his very eyes. In the end, Molly came first, and if there had been a wager on who would ejaculate first, Mojo would have bet the house on Molly.

The City of Sin was the clear (if not cliché) choice for a couple who made a living the way Mojo and Scarlett did. They knew the destination, but not what would happen there, at least not beyond the things that are mandatory when you visit Vegas—drinking, gambling, fucking. As always, they were willing to let the city take them by the hand, to take the initiative. Planning was for vacations, spur of the moment was for adventures. They hoped for the unexpected, especially in a place like Sin City. After all, if you didn't leave that city with something to hide, you visited that city wrong. 

They left early Friday morning, making the trip from Salt Lake City in less than eight hours. By 1:30 pm, they had checked in at the Palazzo. The plan was to hit the first casino after lunch, but they delayed lunch and Circus Circus in favor of making a video on the king size bed. Mojo fucked his wife from behind, zooming in on his glistening shaft as it disappeared into her and reappeared, disappeared again. Scarlett tossed her fire-red hair and went down on her elbows. Mojo's stomach was growling, so he quickened his pace, deciding at the last second to pull out and shoot on the small of her back, zooming out while he glazed her small sunflower tattoo. 

After they finished, Mojo retreated into the bathroom and returned with a cream-colored hand towel to clean his wife with, but she had rolled over onto her back, arms spread across the comforter, wearing a slight smile that for some reason made Mojo feel slightly unsettled. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he thought it might have been sadness.

It was always hard for Mojo and Scarlett to tell when they had been made by someone who had visited their website. They had been in a few cities outside of Utah, including several trips to Seattle—the one and only place where Scarlett was not only recognized, but actually asked for her autograph by some awestruck teenager— and there were always people who stared a little longer than what would be considered normal, maybe trying to place one or both of them, maybe knowing instantly, maybe just caught off guard by a pair of huge tits. If people did recognize them, it would stand to reason that they would be hesitant to approach someone they knew from a porn site. 

Of course, Scarlett was the face of OurMojo.com. It would be understandable if someone spotted the hot redhead with the huge tits, but it would likely only be assumed that the guy with her to be the lucky asshole who got to fuck her in the videos. Scarlett had a unique beauty, a face you could remember and place fairly easily, while people were more likely to recognize Mojo's cock (pending an erection) before they would his face. Still, it was conceivable that there were a few hubby fans out there.

Mojo and Scarlett collectively lost $1,900 their first night on The Strip. They didn't exactly regard their loss with despair; they reacted the way you might when you realize you left your car window down during a rain shower. It was damn shitty luck, you might smack your forehead or cuss at best, but you'll throw something down on the seat and drive on. It was a far cry from the time when the two of them didn't have $1,900 to their names combined, let alone have it to lose so nonchalantly. 

They cut their losses and went back to the hotel, ordered champagne and uploaded their latest video to their website, added a caption they thought summed it up best: What happens in Vegas, can be seen on our website! 

Yes indeed, a couple grand lost on a few bad hands could be recouped with an erection, a handheld video recorder, a webcam, and a hot wife with 34 F breasts. 

On Saturday, Mojo and Scarlett tried their luck at The Palms. The plan was to try to see some good hands and hit a nightclub or two, maybe find a female friend for Scarlett to bring back to the hotel. But their luck had not checked in yet—the slots were not kind, likewise the roulette wheel, and Scarlett suggested they resign to the fact that winning just wasn't in the cards on this adventure, and make for the nightclub. But Mojo wanted another shot at Blackjack before they waved the white flag. 

They had a played several hands with no more luck, when a man wearing a retro Minnesota North Stars ball cap approached the table and took a seat to the left of Mojo, making it a foursome. The newcomer tossed some cash to the dealer and received his stack of black chips. Mojo was talking to the dealer, but he was aware of Scarlett leaning forward slightly to have a look at the new player—an older man, maybe mid-forties. He was wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt that was supposed to look old and worn, and a pair of Converse shoes that would have looked great with the soles on top of a skateboard. The man was either trying to look younger or trying too hard to be just another person.

The man seemed disinterested, in the game at least. He kept his eyes down and his fingertips on the table, as if he were about to play the felt like a piano. "My name is Zeek," he said. He might have been introducing himself to the dealer, Mojo, or the table itself.

Mojo wanted to laugh at the man's alleged name, but he quelled the urge because he had not yet consumed enough alcohol to be rude. Instead, he exchanged pleasantries. "Mojo," he said, offering his hand. "How's your luck running today? We aren't doing so hot this weekend."

"I see we both go by nicknames," Zeek said, ignoring the question. "But believe me, Zeek is much less absurd than my birth name. He met Mojo's eyes when they shook hands, but only for all of a second before his eyes shifted to Scarlett. 

Zeek had the chiseled features that Mojo lacked. His strong face and blue eyes looked like they belonged on a face in a hard-on commercial, the ones where the man and woman dance in the middle of a plowed cornfield around a claw-foot bathtub just the way absolutely no couple ever has in real life. A tuft of black hair stuck out under the front of his cap. Mojo thought that Zeek couldn't hide his age, but that he didn't need to. 

After the salutation between the two men who both went by nicknames, there were no more words spoken, all attention on the game. The arrival of Zeek seemed to change Mojo's luck, because he started winning. His stack of chips grew, while Zeek's stack shrunk. 

Take that and fuck you, Mr. Chiseled Features, Mojo thought. 

The three crossed paths again in the Rain nightclub, where Mojo was well on his way to a proper drunk. Scarlett had been nursing her second Long Island Iced Tea, but had left it on the bar so she could squeeze into the packed dance floor. Recognized from the website or just noticed for her looks and rack, Scarlett now had that attention of practically every swinging cock in the club. That's why she went to the dance floor—because she knew a woman like her alone on a dance floor would be hit on every six seconds, and that turned Mojo on, almost as much as it turned her on.

The air around the dance floor was stifling from the combination of close bodies and fire effects shooting out over the writhing crowd. In the sweating, gyrating mass, Scarlett could feel the constant eyes on her, belonging to both men and women. People bumped into her on purpose, some trying to get close enough to smell her scent. She felt like a piece of raw meat waiting to be devoured by this pack of alcohol and rhythm-fueled wolves. And she liked it. She wanted them to devour her, the men and the women. She wanted the men to fight for her, each one eventually able to find purchase in her and stake their claim to her. 




The Billionaire's Bet



It was times like these that Scarlett realized she was a whore. True, she loved Mojo, and had been faithful since the two had met— or if you wanted to get technical, the day after they had met. There had only been her friend, Molly, and two other women since, but those exceptions were consensual—and anyway, Mojo never considered them exceptions at all. But Scarlett wanted to be fucked by other men. She missed the feeling of a new cock inside of her, the different expressions and different sounds men made while they fucked her, when she made them come. She got tired of knowing how much semen to expect when jerking Mojo off, or how far up her chest his cock would spurt while sandwiched between her breasts. 

She was a whore, deep down, and she was growing tired of suppressing it.

Someone bumped into Scarlett, and a hand groped her ass. She whirled around, but the hand and the body it belonged to had slipped into the sea of bodies. She laughed, flattered and getting wetter with every beat on the dance floor, every pulse from the speakers sending bass throbbing up her feet, up between her legs. She would need to be fucked very soon, even if it meant not being able to finish her second drink. 

Scarlett looked in Mojo's direction. She meant to point a finger at him while giving him "the look". But he wasn't looking her way; he was talking to a dressed-down man in a green cap. 

Zeek had no choice but to raise his voice so Mojo could hear it over the rising and falling tide of voices. Parts of the conversation may or may not have been overheard by nearby patrons. "I'm not going to lie right now, I don't even like cards," he said, leaning in close to Mojo but with his eyes on the dance floor. "And I'm not going to beat around the bush, either. I joined your table because your...wife?..."

It took Mojo a moment to realize that Zeek was waiting for confirmation. "Yes," he said, standing up straight—a man's natural reaction when a he senses that another man comes sniffing. He had a feeling the conversation he was about to engage in was going to bring his pleasant buzz down a couple notches. He thought then that he was talking to an OurMojo fan, probably by now all liquored up and removed of any inhibitions of admitting he watched porn like everyone else on the planet. "What about her?"

"She caught my attention, and I wanted to check her out. I wasn't sure if she was with you or by herself. I wanted to find out. When I did, I just went about losing my chips and kept my mouth shut. But now I've had time to think."

Mojo considered that Zeek was not aware of the website. But that would mean that his judgment was either impaired, or he had a major set of balls to walk up to a man and start a conversation this way. Any man whose wife didn't star on a pornographic website would have probably already taken a swing.

"This isn't liquid courage talking," Zeek continued. "Isn't just liquid courage, anyway. I'm an asshole, Mojo. I'm a rich asshole who gets what he wants. If I want something, I ask for it and I expect it, simple as that. If someone tells me "no", I just offer more until I get what I want. Being filthy rich will do that, condition you to expect everything. But I've had time to think, and I realize I am talking about a man's wife—your wife. Even a billionaire like me can't expect to have your wife. Just the chance to have her."

Mojo would have told this fan/stalker to quite simply fuck off if he didn't want his ass beat from the bar to the exit, if he hadn't heard the word "billionaire" (plus, to be honest, Mojo wasn't sure if he could take Zeek). Did this unbelievable prick just claim to be a billionaire? Wouldn't a millionaire sound just as good, and be slightly more believable to the person you're trying to bullshit? 

In the end, curiosity got the better of him. "Billionaire, huh?" he said, trying hard to look nothing but amused. 

Zeek nodded, still refusing to look at him. Yup, but you don't believe me. Yet."

"Okay, Zeek. This could have gone down two different ways. One scenario would have seen me get all territorial and macho and tell you to piss off; the other scenario has me telling you that I'm sure my wife would be flattered to know a billionaire took such a liking to her, and that it does kind of make me feel good to know that I have something that other people want, or in your case, expect. But she's used to being flattered, and I'm used to having what other people covet. So you'll just have to make do with the website like everyone else." 

Zeek finally looked at Mojo, a look of puzzlement on his face. "Website?" He looked back to the dance floor, where Scarlett was moving in and out of sight, her pale skin a beacon signaling. "I don't know about a website, but I know your first scenario didn't happen, and that means you aren't against hearing me out. You know why?" He didn't wait for a response. "Because you're an asshole, too. It takes one to know one, and I can tell you're a man who is used to getting what he wants, too. Am I wrong?"

Mojo wanted his nice buzz back. "No, you aren't. I am an asshole, now fuck off and leave me alone so I can get loaded and take my hot wife who you can't have back to my room and fuck her half-heartedly because I get to bang her so much it's almost boring." 

Zeek wasn't wavered, and he didn't miss a beat. It was as if he completely missed the dig at him, and the two were merely exchanging friendly banter. "Imagine," he said, in true wonder, "getting tired of a woman like that!" 

Although Mojo had just told him to fuck off seconds prior, he continued conversing, because now there were things he had to know. A part of him wanted to get to the bottom of this bullshit and confirm it was all a ruse. And another part of him wanted this man to really be a billionaire as he claimed, and he wanted to hear just how much he would offer to get what he wanted. He didn't have to wait long for the latter. 

"I'm just gonna lay it out, because I'm starting to lose my voice," Zeek said, with a tone of unmistakable impatience. "After I explain my offer, I'm going back to my room, and it's up to the two of you if you ever see me again. One hand of Blackjack, you and I. No time to play through a whole deck—it's already late—but just the one hand. I deal, because I stand to lose more on this bet. I lose, I pay you half a million dollars. I win, I still pay you half a million dollars, but I get your wife for the rest of the night to do with whatever I please. You can leave or stay, that's up to you, so long as you don't object to anything that happens—so long as nobody objects to anything that happens."

Mojo stared. Of all the offers he might have imagined, half a million dollars would never have been one of them, even if it was coming from a true billionaire. And the money, win or lose? If it were legitimate, all he had to give up was the one fantasy he and Scarlett had never acted upon, and not because he wasn't up for it, but because it was kind of nice to have one thing left to fantasize about. Sure, he had seen his friend fuck her when they first met, but that was another time, when she wasn't his. When you staked your claim to someone, you hit the reset button on all that shit.

Zeek looked at his watch, tipped the last of his Michelob and set the bottle on the bar. "I'm in the Hugh Hefner Suite, 52nd floor. I'm sure you can find it, since it is the 52nd floor. There's a poker table there we can use." And with that, he pulled a clip out of his front pocket and tugged a bill out, placed it under the bottle, and headed for the exit. 

Mojo glanced down and saw the corner of the $100 bill under the bottle. As he watched Scarlett returning to him, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty, freckled chest, with "the look" in her eyes, it wasn't lost on him how lucky he was to be married to one of the select women who not only wouldn't react to what he was about to propose with homicide, but would probably be all in. 

Scarlett saw Mojo talking with Zeek, and thought about seeing what was up, but she decided she wanted to see if they would both watch her. As far as she could tell, though, only Zeek was watching her. His age was a mystery—as was his real name, and anything else about him—but he looked like he was the sort of man who could hold his own if he were to go up against her, a strong man that could maybe even give her a run for her money. If only she could find out.

It was all about the money, of course. OurMojo.com had made them rich, but they had yet to obtain obscene wealth. The sex wager weighed heavily in their minds—Scarlett might have wanted to be fucked by another man more than she would lead on, and Mojo might have secretly hoped to lose the hand so he could watch his wife fuck another man, but this was (potentially) a fucking half a million dollars. The verdict was still out on just how rich Zeek was, but if he could afford to throw down 40K per night for a suite, that was a good sign. The possibility of that much money, as well as the possible added bonus that came with losing, made their decision pretty much a no-brainer. It was a true win-win situation. 

Fifty minutes later, on the 52nd floor, Mojo busted on an eight of hearts. "Fuck," he said. It was impossible to sound dejected when you just won a half a million dollars by losing.

Zeek didn't react with any noticeable excitement. He only stood and reached into his pocket, produced the money clip again, this time pulling away a blue piece of paper. He walked to the bar and reached over it. He turned back to Mojo, pen in hand. "I filled in everything but the name. Who do I make this out to?"

"Umm..." Mojo was suddenly having trouble finding his words. "Jay...Jay Thompson." His name came out sounding like a question. He looked at Scarlett, who was sitting across the huge room in the middle of an overstuffed couch that stretched out either side for an eternity. She would have to do the talking from this point on, would have to take over from here on in. She had to, really. That was the bet.

Zeek scribbled. He walked over to Mojo and handed him the check. It looked legitimate, certainly looked and felt like a real check. And on it was the exact figure Zeek had claimed he would pay up, win or lose. Mojo counted the zeros, more than he had ever seen on a check before. He was accepting that Zeek was true to his word, that he had been serious about everything, and he had paid up. And now it was time for Mojo to pay up. 

Zeek took his hat off, revealing a thick mop of black hair. "There's about nine thousand square feet in this suite," he said, regarding Scarlett, who was sitting up straight, watching Mojo make visual love to the check in his hands. "Where should we start?"

Scarlett pulled of one of her boots and dropped it on the hardwood floor.

When they started taking clothes off, Mojo felt like the third wheel; once they were naked, he felt like he was invisible. He turned in his chair to watch the two of them meet in the middle of the room. Zeek took his shirt off, and Scarlett ran a hand from his neck to the button of his jeans, no apprehension in her motion, no falseness in her smile.

His stomach feels like fucking stone! Scarlett thought. She wanted to pull him out and start sucking him. She cupped a hand over the bulge in his pants, gave it a slight squeeze. Zeek took a handful of her low-cut top, pulled her to him. Their lips met and they kissed, tongues probing and exploring. Zeek was tall, and Scarlett had to almost stand on her tiptoes to reach his mouth with hers. 

Zeek reached around Scarlett and brought his hands up her shirt, up her smooth back, then dipped his fingers under the fabric of her skirt. She pushed back from him and pulled her shirt off, tossed it over her shoulder. The color of her bra matched her scorched hair, both in sharp contrast to her milky skin. Zeek thought there were as many freckles on her body as there were stars in the sky. He closed in again, doing the honors and unfastening the clasp of her bra—the taut straps snapping around to the front. Scarlett let the bra slide off her arms. She swept her hair back so he could see her. Her breasts were amazingly firm—firm, and real. Her areolas were large and a pale pink, her nipples protruding and inviting. 

Zeek led Scarlett to the bar, where he hoisted her up and sat her on the top, his back muscles flexing in response. He marveled at the size of her affections, kneading them under his hands. He took her left nipple in her mouth, sucking vigorously. He felt under her skirt, sliding a hand along her thigh. Her panties were soaked, and he rubbed his fingertips over the wet fabric, finding her clit and making her body go rigid. Scarlett's eyes widened and her lips parted, but she made no noise. She smiled and kept her eyes on her husband, who was enjoying the show.

Zeek's mouth felt so very good enclosed over her nipple. Scarlett wanted to feel it move over the rest of her body, between her legs. She visualized a pool of her own fluid forming around where she sat, felt that it was a real possibility. For half a million dollars, she thought Zeek would want to take his time, savor her and work up to the ultimate prize. But he acted with some haste, eagerness, greed. He had waited long enough, she supposed, and you probably didn't keep a guy like him waiting for long. Scarlett was admittedly disappointed though—she had hoped to get fucked in every magnificent room on the floor, especially the sauna and the pool. 

"Raise up," Zeek instructed. Scarlett pushed herself up, and he reached up her skirt and yanked her panties down. He stepped back from the bar, pulling them slowly along her legs as she straightened them out in front of her. He tossed the panties, she dropped her legs, and he helped her off of the bar. Zeek led her to the bedroom where he motioned to the round bed with a hand, as if he were ushering her to her seat in a restaurant. Scarlett slid her skirt down and stepped over it, walked past Zeek to the bed. She slid over the red satin to the middle of the bed and rolled onto her back, where she pretended to make snow angels. 

Zeek unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. His massive erection sprang out of its confines. Scarlett was first amazed, then a little worried; it was the biggest cock she had ever seen, and it gave her flashbacks to the well-hung boy in high school. Only this particular member was longer, thicker. It looked like a fucking prop, and Scarlett wasn't sure she could take it without a considerable level of discomfort. 

Zeek joined her on the bed, parting her legs and admiring her creamy thighs for a moment before kissing his way up them, alternating as he went. He slid his arms under her thighs just below her buttocks and wrapped his hands around her thighs, holding them tightly in place as he tasted her, circling his tongue around her throbbing clit. Scarlett tasted exquisite. Zeek had not smelled or tasted pussy of that caliber since high school. She smelled a young, clean sort of cleanliness, a scent you hoped would never want to wear off of your fingers, ever. It made him feel young again. She was turning out to be every bit as magnificent as Zeek had imagined, and he hadn't even put his cock in her yet. 

Scarlett grabbed a handful of black hair with one hand, her right breast with the other. She was making sounds now, loud moans and gasps as Zeek's tongue worked over her clit, her thighs quivering in his grip. Nobody had ever gone down on her like this—nobody had that kind of pussy-eating skills. Scarlett was close to exploding, and she never came first. She tried to move her legs, but Zeek had them firm. She was helpless. She arched her back and cried out, surprising herself with the volume she reached. She was going to come just then, but—

—Zeek stopped, and on the last possible second to abort her impending orgasm. He released Scarlett's legs and pushed himself up, wiping his face, smearing her juices over his facial stubble. He moved up her body, that huge cock swinging almost menacingly. Scarlett spread her legs wide, put her hands on his waist, and looked down with nervous anticipation. He guided it with a hand, and the head of his cock sank into her effortlessly. Zeek teased her for a moment, sliding the tip in and out. It was maddening, and Scarlett almost pleaded for the rest when he pushed. The shaft of his cock made a sound as it went, just ever so slight, moving through constriction and secretion. Scarlett watched, her face clenched in a grimace, her breath caught, as Zeek sank into her. 

Zeek was afraid he would come before he got all the way inside of her. But when he had achieved full purchase, he stayed still for a moment, regaining some measure of control. Scarlett's pubic hair was trimmed in a fashionable landing strip, and it felt good against his shaved skin. He was somewhat surprised; most women couldn't take the full length of his cock. Zeek wished he could stop time and feel her forever. This amazing woman who had probably rejected a thousand men in her life, at that very moment, was his. She was his captive, acknowledging nothing else in the world but the sensation of him inside of her, and she was sharing with him something of a most personal nature that nobody could ever take away from him. No matter where she went from this point on, no matter what man would have her for the rest of her life, or even if she died tonight and was no more on this planet, it was already done.

Yes, if only he could freeze time. But there was work to be done, and Zeek wouldn't be able to hold his orgasm at bay forever, even if he remained still. 

He withdrew his cock halfway, and then began to thrust. Scarlett clapped her hands to Zeek's ass, her nails digging into his buttocks—Jesus, his girth took the wind out of her aggressive sails! Zeek took a risk, started to withdrawal a little more before each plunge, knowing it would spur on the already speeding climax. Scarlett squeezed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth against every push, the force of which was slowly scooting her up the bed. She wanted to cry out, but she bit the bullet and held on, drawing her nails up Zeek's back. He was tearing her up, and she loved it. The pain was pleasure, and Scarlett realized that her husband would never be able to match what this man was doing to her. Emotional investment was all well and good, but it didn't equal an amazing lay.

Zeek crossed the point of no return, that grey area of limbo where you know nothing, can focus on nothing except the fact that you are about to ejaculate. He felt the twinge, and suddenly pulled out, leaving Scarlett somewhat disappointed, sensing how close he was. He took her by the hand and pulled her up into a sitting position. On his knees, he held his cock to her face. She closed her eyes and waited, chest heaving, trying to catch her breath. She felt the initial spurt, just a few warm drops on her cheek. Zeek groaned, almost as if in pain, the first audible sound he had made since they began. Another streak of semen landed across the bridge of her nose, followed by another with more force, hitting her upper lip. Though she would have preferred he come inside of her, Scarlett opened her mouth and welcomed what seemed to be an endless series of spurts. She thought that he must have been building up his supply for days. When the flood gates finally closed, she took hold of his cock and sucked greedily, and then his load was gone in one swallow.

Mojo had followed the two into the bedroom, keeping his distance, as if he were watching two wild animals that might attack if they sensed his presence. He was so hard that he was close to losing his load in his pants. He had had to adjust himself numerous times, and each time he wanted to keep his hand there and just keep adjusting until he came. It was an amazing erotic high that he was on. While he may have been slightly concerned that Zeek might be stretching out the goods, causing his wife to conform to a size that he clearly didn't measure up to, that concern paled in comparison to feeling he got while watching the expression of pleasure on her face. His heart hammered and his cock surged when he saw her struggling to take Zeek's cock. He wished he had been recording the whole event. Of all the video's he had made with Scarlett, the most cherished would have been this one—the one he did not star in. 




The Billionaire's Bet



After Zeek came on Scarlett's face, Mojo retreated into the next room and waited, remaining within eyesight at all times. A part of him wanted to hurry back to their own room in their own hotel so he could drop the overbearing pressure of the load in his balls, but another part of him wanted the show to continue, wanted them to recharge and go for round two. When Zeek returned to the bed after pulling on his jeans, hovering on all fours over Scarlett, now sprawled and recouping on the bed, Mojo thought he really would get another show. 

And he did. 

Scarlett offered a worn smile and a weak laugh. "Guessing you've already heard, but it bears repeating that you have a huge fucking dick." She laughed again as Zeek reached into his front pocket, opposite the one with the money clip. "I'm not a shallow girl, but there has to be a Mrs. Zeek in your life, if only because of what's between your legs." 

Zeek's face went vacant, and Scarlett was afraid she had offended him with the "Mrs." comment. But it wasn't that. There was a dreadful look of determination in the piercing blue of his eyes, which now looked as cold and unfriendly as steel. It was as if someone had flipped a switch at the base of his brain. Scarlett heard a soft click as Zeek unfolded the blade of the pocketknife with his thumb. She thought he was reaching to touch her face when he drew the blade across her throat. The skin separated first, then blood surfaced and began to spurt. 

Scarlett's expanded eyes went glossy, her gaze drifted down until they were fixed on Zeek's chest. Her world went black before she even knew what happened, her last feeling not of pleasure, but a mixture of shock and terror. 

Mojo saw Zeek reach into his pocket. Was he going to give her more money? Except wasn't the clip in the other pocket? And then Scarlett's legs started moving in a jerky fashion, kicking, like someone was running an electric current through her body. Jesus, was he choking her? Mojo hurried for the bedroom. He almost called out, but because he couldn't yet see from his vantage point, he did not. But when he made the bedroom in a few long strides and approached the side of the bed, he saw the blood, and then he did call out. He screamed. 

Mojo had wondered if he could take Zeek in a physical altercation. He now knew he couldn't—couldn't even come close. Prone on the floor next to the bed, feeling his warm blood flowing from gashes on his face and several puncture wounds indiscriminately inflicted over his body, he knew Scarlett was dead, and that he would soon be dead, too. 

"Part of the bet was that you don't object to anything that happens tonight, asshole," Zeek said. He was moving around the bedroom, but Mojo couldn't even lift his head to see. "I could have killed you both back in Salt Lake, you know. But I hadn't been to Vegas in a couple years. I could have killed you both when I got you up here, could have bet just the money to begin with. Just the money would have been enough to bring you both, but I wanted to fuck your wife. She really was something. She looks even better in person." 

Mojo was slipping into darkness. He doubted he would last long enough to hear Zeek's explanation. Even the words he heard now sounded thick and distorted, as if he were slipping underwater. 

"I like younger women. I was very close to a younger woman not long ago. Her name was Molly. She disappeared though, close to a year now—disappeared, or so everyone else thinks. Thing is, she called me on the night she vanished and told me she was leaving her car at a tavern and crashing at your place because she was too drunk to drive. She mentioned your wife many times. I guess they were good friends. Molly never talked about me to her friends, though, because I was married at the time. I know how that sounds, but I loved her, more than anything. It's just that I stood to lose so much from my marriage...but when Molly was gone, everything turned to shit anyway." 

He turned his head and spit forcefully at the bed. "Anyway I was out of town on business that night, so I was grateful Molly wasn't drinking and driving. I was actually grateful of your slut wife for looking after her." Zeek kicked Mojo as hard as he could in the ribs, but Mojo was dead.

Zeek continued to pace through Mojo's blood and talk. "I guess nobody saw her leave the bar with your whore, though I find that hard to believe, a piece of ass like that going out any door unnoticed. And I could have told the police, but I trust my money to buy the truth before I trust an inept police department. So I took it upon myself to hire a private investigator. I wanted him to go through your house, find out what you did to her no matter how many trips it took. He didn't feel comfortable breaking and entering at first mention, so I offered him more and got what I wanted. But really, all he had to do was look at your computer. I guess that's really the only place you need to look for anyone's secrets."

Zeek bent down and pulled Mojo's head up by the hair and cut his throat, just for good measure. 

If it had been recorded, Mojo's favorite video would have been the one capturing Zeek fucking his wife. Since that video was never filmed, the distinction belonged to the video with Scarlett's friend, Molly. There was hopeful excitement in Scarlett's voice on the night she called Mojo and told him they were on their way to the house, and that Molly had agreed to put on a show with her for the soon to be birthday boy. He knew he would want to relive whatever was in store for that night, so Mojo strategically placed a camera in the entertainment center in the living room. He just needed to make sure all the action stayed in that room. 

Scarlett lapped at Molly's clit. She tasted sweet enough, even after a full day—only a hint of the hours passed. Molly bucked and squirmed as she cried out, tugging at her friend's wavy red hair. As Scarlett licked and sucked, she wondered if this would change how she and Molly interacted from this point forward. They had never gone at each other, though it was always obvious to the trained ear that they were both game. Many women make allusions during conversation with other women, but the subtle hints go unnoticed because they are followed up with laughter—because laughter proves that it's all harmless, all in good fun. Innocent. 

Mojo got up and moved behind the couch. He stared down at Molly, watching her chest heave, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, and it somehow reminded him of gills on a fish. 

Scarlett looked up at Mojo, her chin wet and shiny with secretion. She rubbed Molly's clit frantically with her thumb. "There she goes!" And Molly squirted then, her orgasm rendering her motionless, breathless, frozen in her euphoria. And then she was breathless because Mojo inexplicably had both hands tight around her neck. The pressure made Molly's eyes feel like they were going to pop out of her skull. She thrashed about and managed a few grunts, but she couldn't struggle away from the strong hands crushing her throat, or the hands that were pinning her arms down. 

Mojo looked to the hidden camera as he squeezed the last bit of life out of his wife's friend. Scarlett regarded him with some distain afterwards, but she had jumped in to assist him when Molly began flailing. Mojo assured her that it wasn't planned, that it had been just a weird spur of the moment thing.

In his suite, Zeek sat in a room with his laptop open and glowing in front of him. In another room, there were two bodies in the very early stages of decomposition. He signed in to his account on OurMojo.com. The latest video was of the couple fucking in a hotel room. Zeek watched it, going hard only a few seconds in. He waved his right index finger under his nose, savoring Scarlett's scent. He wished that scent would never wear off. He got up and headed for the bedroom. Conventional rules probably would have suggested against his intentions. 

But Zeek was a man who had always gone against conventional rules.



The Billionaire's Maid



"Sell."

That was Phillip's last comment for the phone conversion.

"Can't get a moment to myself," he mumbles. 

And although at this moment he lay sunning himself on a lounge next to the pool, the statement was mostly true. Weeks of work turned into months, and months turned into years. He was physically and emotionally drained. 

Today was the first chance he had to rest but still they hounded. He had told the office that he wasn't going to take any calls today but this was urgent. 

It's always urgent. 

But this was his life. And it was full of mayhem -- meetings, decisions and travel. 

He had to be hard to be a great business man. He had to make big decisions that changed people's lives. He had to be soulless when she sacked 200 people last year for the sake of profitability. He had to sacrifice the emotional side of his personality. 

It was those sacrifices that made him a billionaire.

But the same sacrifices also meant that he no longer had a wedding ring on his finger. He could still see the tan line of wearing a ring for many years but the ring itself was gone. And he sat by the pool alone only because he had no-one else to sit there with.

It was lonely being at the top.

Not that he had a lot of time to worry about that...

As he starts to relax next to the pool, the silhouette of the house maid catches his eye. Her tight little skirt is highlighted by the afternoon sun. 

"Hello," she greets him.

"Hi."

An awkward silence drifts over them.

"The garden looks good," she compliments him.

"Does it?" he questions.

"Um... yes. You don't think so?"

Phillip looks around the garden - the beautiful hedges, the beautiful rows of flowers and the stunningly perfect green grass. 

"I suppose it does."

"You suppose?"

"Yes. I haven't really had much time to look at it."

"You should always make time to smell the roses," she smiles.

"That's quite sage advice," Phillip is drawn in by her eyes.

"Opportunities don't come around very often, you have to take every opportunity available," she continues.

Phillip acknowledges her advice with a smirk and a shrug of the shoulders. 

"I just need to clean under this chair," she continues. 

The maid bends from the hips in-front of Phillip, pointing her pert bottom to his view. 

Phillip can't help but watch. His eyes are drawn to her behind and the maid catches Phillip staring,

"Do you like what you see?"

Phillip nods, "I just couldn't see a knickers line in your skirt."

"That's because I'm not wearing any," she smiles. 

"Well...." Phillip is lost for words.

The maid bends down again and runs her hand up her left leg until it reaches the top of her thigh. Phillip sits up, paying full attention. 

She can tell he wants her.

She moves towards Phillip and rests her hand on his strong chest. Her gentle push forces him to lie down on the pool chair. 

His eyes are attached to her movements. She lifts one leg over his crotch and straddles him, running her hands over her white blouse. Phillip reaches up and begins to unbutton her shirt, exposing a perky pair of breasts. She throws her blouse to the side of the pool chair and quickly undoes her bra. Phillip's hands clutch at her perkiness, his hands rubbing all over breasts. His eyes do not move from her breasts.

She begins to feel the pulsating manhood between her legs. She can feel it become harder and harder the longer he plays with her breasts.

Biting her bottom lip, she reaches down and undoes his belt, running her hand down his pants. Phillip is lost for words.

She pulls out his member and moves down to his legs, holding his hard member in her right hand. She gently runs her hand up and down the member, looking up as Phillip moans in pleasure. She moves back up and places her tongue around the tip of his manliness. Running her tongue around his hardness, he groans in pleasure. 

She suddenly swallows him whole and he groans in his deep voice. The maid continues to rub his hard, big cock as she holds him in her mouth. 

He is so big. So manly.

Her hand stretches around his shaft, gripping it tightly.

She stands up, hitches her skirt and straddles her pussy over his hard cock. Her wetness touches his cock, tempting him. He wants her. He wants to be inside her.

She sits on him whole. Phillip groans loudly in pleasure. 

The maid rests her hands on his strong chest, rotating her hips on his manhood. His hands play with her perky breasts again as she moves her hips in a circle motion. The maid runs her fingers into his mouth and he bites on them with pleasure. She thrusts her hips back and forth on his cock as he begins to push upwards into her.

But she stops.

She stands, and bends over the pool chair next to them, pointing her pussy to him, "Fuck me hard, big boy."

He obliges, standing and entering his large cock into her wet pussy, pushing himself deep inside her. She yelps, as he is touching her in all the right places. 

His large hands hold her behind and he begins to slowly enter in and out of her. He continues slowly.

"Harder!" she demands.

He obeys, slamming his cock aggressively into and out of her wetness. His cock is wide, stretching her, bringing her to orgasm quickly. He continues to pump her, ramming himself deep inside.

In the blistering sunshine, in the middle of the open air, she orgasms. 

She screams to the gardens. 

"Yes!"

He groans.

He pumps.

He holds her hips tightly, in full control of her movements. She tries to move back on him but he forces her forward. Phillip reaches forward and grabs her ponytail, pulling at it hard.

"Yes!" she screams louder.

He pulls her hair tighter as he pumps her with his cock.

She feels him come. 

He unleashes a last burst of energy into her, then pulls out and lies on the pool chair, his face looking up towards the sky, a smile drifting across his face. 

"Wow," he pants.

The maid winks at him, "Excuse me sir, I have some cleaning to do."