8 comments/ 58823 views/ 22 favorites Negotiating My Prenuptial Agreement By: msgrant67 Part 1 Although I didn't really want a prenuptial agreement, I had painted myself into a corner on that issue by using the agreement as a wedge between James and his previous fiancee. To try not to sign one myself could expose my carefully planned seduction. When I brought up the prenuptial agreement with James, now my fiance, he asked if I minded letting his attorney handle it. I replied, "Whatever you think is best, of course," playing my role as gracious fiancee perfectly. I decided to pop by the office of Mr. Harrison, James' attorney, unannounced. As he came to the lobby to greet me, I told him that I was downtown anyway and asked if he had a prenuptial agreement that I could sign. Mr. Harrison laughed and asked if I knew what one was. Despite not really believing that there was anyone in the state who didn't know what a prenup was, I slipped into my dumb blonde act and replied that I just thought that it was a form I needed to sign before I got married. He asked me back to his office and then after we sat down proceeded to go into the most boring explanation of the prenuptial agreement. Though I was bored out of my mind, I acted interested while noticing a few things. One, Mr. Harrison appeared to be a 40-50 year old man, no wedding ring, and, judging from the pictures on his wall, very lonely. He struck me as the stereotypical accounting dude who I'm sure is great with numbers but unfortunately terrible in social settings. I'd be surprised if he had ever had a serious relationship with a woman. All of the pictures were him with other lawyers; no family pictures or girlfriend pictures were anywhere to be seen. The closest thing to any personality was that he had some old Superman comic books framed on one wall. Some looked autographed by someone; they were probably collectables. Anyway, Mr. Harrison finished by saying that he would prepare the agreement, but that he was James' lawyer, and that I would need my own, independent lawyer so that there could be no confusion down the road that I had not understood what I had signed. He offered the names of some other lawyers that he said could help me. I politely declined and told him that I had a sorority sister who practiced law and that I wanted to throw her some business. I could tell that he liked that; knowing that I was only 26, I'm sure he knew that my friend, Samantha, would be young and inexperienced. He probably thought that this would be easy. I set up a meeting at Samantha's law firm for a few days out and called Mr. Harrison with the information. At home, James thought that it was wonderful that I was so happily setting all of this up. I was working hard on being the perfect fiancee. He had to believe that he was hitting the jackpot with me. My looks probably would have been enough. I'm 26, blonde, still in awesome shape and a former Florida State cheerleader. He's 42 and while fit and good-looking, it's kind of in a geeky way. He studied his ass off all through high school, college and medical school, and girls either ignored him or didn't even notice him. And this all took place in the South, where the cheerleaders are like goddesses and woefully out of reach to the guys who spend all of their time in the library. Hell, I'll bet he spent a great deal of his youth jacking off while fantasizing about girls just like me. I wanted to be the perfect match in addition to the looks though, so I agreed with all of his suggestions for the wedding and reception. I certainly wasn't going to risk looking bitchy about anything like that. This wedding was my means to being married to this doctor; I couldn't care less about the specific ceremony details. When I got to Samantha's office, an older partner came out to greet me, and I was informed that, as a junior associate, Samantha wasn't really qualified to handle my situation. I stuck to my guns that I wanted her because I knew her and trusted her. I even explained that her paralegal, Chelsea, had gone to school with us and that I wanted her as well. Eventually, he gave up trying to change my mind, and when I mentioned Mr. Harrison, he actually seemed relieved and took me to Samantha. (Samantha later told me that he must have figured it would be a no-win situation anyway) I hadn't seen Samantha or Chelsea in a while, but both looked great. They said that they still worked out together, a remnant of our cheerleading days, and though we seldom discussed it, our stripping days. During a couple of summers in college, the three of us had worked as strippers throughout Florida and Georgia. We did it purely for financial reasons. Where else could 20-22 year olds make $500 to $1000 per night? We did a lot of flirting, rubbing and lap dances but nothing more. We had no desire to get trapped in that industry so we never went back to it after earning our degrees. Chelsea still occasionally modeled, but it was tasteful these days, local Macy's ads, those types of things. "One day I guess I'll have to grow up," Chelsea confirmed, "I'm just not ready yet." Our meeting continued to a nearby happy hour and with some wine and brainstorming we formulated our plan. Samantha had reviewed Mr. Harrison's proposal, and, not surprisingly, found that it was very one-sided. The medical practice was his; the house was his; the cars were his; the bank accounts were his; Hell, I could end up divorced and not have anything. I wasn't planning for a divorce, but I damn sure was going to protect myself in case it happened. It may take all of my feminine wiles, but I could do it. Samantha called Mr. Harrison's office to set up a meeting to go over and sign the documents. I could tell that Mr. Harrison's secretary was getting flustered as Samantha said over and over that none of the suggested times would work. Finally, Sam explained that she was a junior associate and had a very tight schedule. It was about 30 minutes each way to their office, and, allowing an hour for the actual meeting, she just didn't have a two hour block for weeks. To avoid this going on for weeks, the secretary suggested that Mr. Harrison and James come to her office. "Oh could you? That would be so great. How about Thursday at 10:00?" The secretary tersely responded, "Fine," and we were all set. This was a Friday afternoon so I had six days to get myself, and James, ready for the meeting. James had always had girlfriends who were studious and proper. Though he wasn't a virgin, he wasn't used to frequent sex, or even really anything other than standard sex. I had given him some during our six months of dating, but nothing that wasn't pretty vanilla. It was kind of cute really; he went on and on about me being his best sex ever, and I hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. No lingerie, role playing, dirty talk, or anything. I don't think I had ever even been on top. I did know, however, that some of these things interested him. I had found some harmless Playboy magazines around the house, usually highlighting girls in lingerie, but he had never brought up that I should wear anything like that. He was too shy to bring it up I guess. The girls with whom he was experienced clearly weren't the slightest bit wild. Once, he had even confessed to me that he had never received a blow job. He clearly was hinting at me to give him one, but I just laughed it off as if he was joking. I knew I needed to cut him off from sex until next Thursday morning, but in a subtle, almost accidental way, certainly not a flat-out denial. My hope was that he not even realize that he had been intentionally cut off for a week. I needed him desperate and attentive to me at the meeting, not suspicious. That weekend went surprisingly easily. I got up early to go shopping and stayed up late working each night until he had fallen asleep. I think it worked as the whole weekend slipped by without him realizing that we hadn't had sex. On Monday I worked late, but on Tuesday he started getting a tad frisky. I allowed him to get himself a little hot and bothered by trying on some clothes in front of him. I noticed that he paid a lot of attention to my legs and pantyhose. I thought that maybe I went a little overboard, as I could tell he needed it badly that night. When he began to initiate sex that night I faked crying. I almost felt bad as he immediately went into a caring, protective stance, trying to learn what was wrong. I explained that I was upset because I had found the Playboys. I went on and on that I had been shocked. He apologized and begged for forgiveness. I, of course, agreed after he threw them all out. He even agreed to cancel his bachelor party; I hadn't even asked for that, but I'll take it as a bonus. By then, the mood was killed, and we went to sleep. The next day I left him sexy notes and voice mails, telling him that I couldn't wait until that night to make up. That night, however, I called him every hour on the hour, profusely apologizing each time because I was stuck at my sister's apartment helping her with a crisis. In reality, I was at the Hyatt with Chelsea and Samantha preparing for the next day's meeting. Finally, at 1:00 a.m., I told him that I would have to stay the night, that I would just see him tomorrow at the law office, and that we would do something fun together following the meeting. I made him promise to take one of my sleeping pills on the dresser so that he would get good rest. (I had replaced the sleeping pills in the bottle with some Cialis tablets after carefully rubbing the logo off; he was in for a rough night) The next morning the three of us got dressed. I wore a black corset, garter belt and some very fine, silk stockings from Victoria's Secret. This was all underneath a crisp, black suit, also from Victoria's Secret, that was much slinkier and sexier than my normal suits. It looked professional, but the skirt was awfully short, and the neckline plunged quite a ways down. Of course, that was the point. Samantha's outfit was even sexier. Her suit was a blue jacket that was form fitting over a spandex-type dress in the same color. I thought I had done well at Victoria's Secret, but Samantha had stopped by Frederick's of Hollywood, gone with a slightly sluttier look, and she pulled it off incredibly. Under her dress, she was wearing a white satin merry widow, complete with a garter belt and sheer white stockings. Chelsea did our hair, makeup, and provided just a bit of perfume. She then got dressed herself. She looked slightly more reserved than we did, in a black medium length skirt, light blue silk shirt, a standard black jacket, buttoned most of the way up and some red boots that came up to just below her knees, but she was a model so she always knew how to make herself look hot. The three of us then headed to the office. Samantha had reserved her firm's second floor conference room and lounge for our meeting. This was essential, as the rest of the firm would be on the first floor, and we would be getting way too much attention dressed like we were in the office with everyone else around. While two clueless guys sitting across a table from us wouldn't notice how over the top we were dressed (at least not until it was too late,) anyone else who just happened to see us would. We looked like sexy costume versions of a lawyer and a business woman, not the real deals. We knew, though, that no one else would be on the second floor. There was nothing else up there besides the two rooms that we had reserved. We arrived early and Samantha placed me on the far side of the conference room table, facing the door. She then sat to my left, at the end of the table. At 10:00 sharp James and Mr. Harrison arrived. As they entered, I noticed James' eyes widen a bit as he saw me (and he only was seeing me from the waist up behind the table.) As he was taking in everything about me, he finally noticed Samantha. He couldn't really help it, as her arm "accidentally" brushed across his crotch as she leaned by him to close the door. Being a gentleman, he said nothing, but I noticed his face turning a pale shade of red. Samantha acted as though she didn't even notice. As he and his lawyer took their seats, James directly across from me and Mr. Harrison to his left, Samantha walked behind them to her seat and discretely slid the a/c temperature control down to 60. Samantha started passing out copies of the agreement that Mr. Harrison had sent over, appropriately leaning over the table to hand each guy his copy. How those tits didn't just spill out, I'll never know! Her spandex dress was straining hard to keep those contained. The guys just sat there and had no idea what to do. They probably thought that it would be unprofessional to say anything, but they certainly could not focus on anything else right now. I pretended to be studying the copies as, out of the corner of my eye, I caught James looking at me. My mouth was slightly open and, without looking at him, I gently and slowly traced my lips with my tongue. His jaw almost fell to the table! I had noticed that he enjoyed watching my mouth over the previous few months, but I had never directly teased him with it. He didn't even realize that I was doing that now. By this time Samantha was done with the passing out of the copies and was asking Mr. Harrison questions about parts of the agreement. She had moved over sort of next to him, ostensibly to look on his copy with him, but in reality, she was simply distracting him with those boobs. He kept losing his place in the agreement and having to go back. I should point out that he didn't seem to mind even though Sam's questions were very elementary. Mr. Harrison probably was used to more difficult questions from the law students who worked as clerks in his firm. While this was going on I had started gently stroking James' leg with by foot under the table; he looked up, surprised, but made no effort to move his leg, especially as I blew him a kiss. The poor guy had to be going crazy- no sex for a week, unknowingly swallowing a Cialis, having a beautiful woman stroke his crotch with her arm and now being teased by the girl who wanted to be his wife. I kept it up by casually tracing my pen around my cleavage as I went back to pretending to read the copies. Just then, Chelsea opened the door and announced that there was a phone call for Mr. Harrison that he could take in the lounge. James acted put out by this; I'm sure he just wanted this meeting to end. I stated very quickly that I thought it would be fine for the lawyer to go take his call. James looked at me, and as I almost imperceptibly nodded my head, he immediately agreed. I could tell that he was already in no condition to argue with me. I took a sip from my water bottle and James' eyes never left my mouth. There is an art to drinking out of a bottle seductively, but I had mastered that a long time ago. I'm sure that I had sent many a high school boy straight to the restroom to relieve himself during our lunch period with this skill. As Mr. Harrison left with Chelsea, Samantha suggested that I join James on the other side of the table so she could easily present her summary to both of us together. I fluidly moved around the table and sat next to James placing my hand on his thigh as Samantha droned on in her legalese. Part 2 One room over in the lounge, Chelsea had led Mr. Harrison to a seat on one end of a sofa next to a table with a telephone on it. He picked it up but couldn't find the call. Chelsea knew this would happen since there was no call, so she leaned over him from her seat next to him and began checking the various lines herself. After a few seconds of rubbing against him (disguised as quickly trying to recover the call), Chelsea suggested that they wait a few minutes to see if the caller telephoned again. Mr. Harrison somehow was still in professional mode and stated that he would wait one minute but that he really must get back to his client. Chelsea knew that she couldn't let him leave yet; she had to keep him occupied for about 45 minutes, not just one lousy minute. Luckily, she was a very smart girl and had taken her part in this meeting very seriously. She realized that she had been given the toughest assignment. She had to tease and distract a professional from doing his job, while Samantha merely had to be eye candy, and I just had to tease my fiance who, after the week that he had just had, would be extremely receptive. Chelsea went ahead and agreed with Mr. Harrison that they would just wait a minute, and she stood and crossed the room to pick up a cup of water. "I'm awfully warm," she said, "Are you okay? Would you like something?" As Mr. Harrison declined the offer, Chelsea began unbuttoning her black jacket, slowly fingering each button as she gently let the jacket fall open. The lawyer was watching, getting more interested as each button unhooked, and he seemed disappointed when the jacket was finally open. Chelsea was pretending to be focused on her water, but she knew that he was paying attention. She set her water down and took off her jacket; she was now in a mid-length black skirt and pale blue silk top- very tasteful, elegant even though some traces of red and yellow could be seen beneath her shirt. Mr. Harrison began to stare. "Thank God," she thought to herself, "If this hadn't worked I would have looked ridiculous." "Am I alright, Mr. Harrison? You seem to be staring; is something on my shirt?" "Oh, no. Everything is fine. I'm sorry," he replied. Chelsea thought to herself, "Damn, he's still in professional mode," but she kept at it. She spoke again, "Are you sure? I'm feeling kind of paranoid now." Harrison was now speaking more softly and more measured, trying to find just the right words. "Everything's fine I assure you; I just happened to notice that I think you might can see through your top." "Well, aren't you the bad boy?" she coyly teased, "trying to look at me through my shirt." "No, no," he stammered, "It's not like that; I mean, I thought I saw something; not you, something else." "I really don't know what you're talking about Mr. Harrison; let me get you some water," she said as she turned away. Mr. Harrison was afraid that he was now looking and sounding perverted, or worse in his mind, unprofessional, so he tried to clear it up. "What I'm trying to say is that it looked like you had something else on under your top. I don't know where my mind was, but I thought I saw a Superman logo; it was something red and yellow, at least." "Oh God!" Chelsea exclaimed, "You can see that through my shirt? I'm so sorry; let me put my jacket back on." "No, no, please. I barely noticed it. You may want the jacket when we go back into the conference room though. It does show; is it a Superman logo?" He was anxious to know. Chelsea was relieved and thought, "Good, he's talking to me, not thinking about the time." The words that she spoke were, "You must think I'm such a geek, Mr, Harrison; I'm really sorry. I just have this costume party coming up and I wanted to find someone in the office who could tell me if it looks okay or not. I just haven't found anyone who knows much about Supergirl yet. I need to find someone who remembers the Supergirl movie and can tell me if I look like Helen Slater did in the film." Mr. Harrison's Superman hobby, or obsession, was now taking over. "Chelsea, I'm surprised you know that film. It came out in 1984 and didn't do too well, critically or commercially." "Oh yes," Chelsea replied, "my mom had an old VHS copy of it when I was growing up; I so wanted to be Helen Slater. Do you know the film well?" As Mr. Harrison responded that he did, that he had a DVD of it and an original movie poster, Chelsea smiled and nodded him along. He continued on that he had once met Helen Slater at a convention and then moved into listing more Supergirl trivia points. As he was talking, Chelsea quickly pulled her blue silk top over her head revealing a form-fitting Supergirl top that looked closer to perfection than anything that this lawyer could have imagined. Negotiating My Prenuptial Agreement "Do you think this looks alright?" Chelsea purred. Mr. Harrison just went silent and nodded. "Do you mind looking at my whole costume? You'd be doing me a huge favor," she asked. As he simply nodded again, Chelsea began undoing the buttons which went the full length of the right side of her skirt. Mr. Harrison might as well have been hypnotized. As the last button unhooked, Chelsea let the black skirt fall to the floor, revealing a much shorter red one. She was now standing before the guy in a complete Supergirl costume, and her red boots now popped with the costume. This was Mr. Harrison's ultimate fantasy, and she was standing right in front of him. "Do you still think it's alright? I really don't want people to make fun of it at the party." Chelsea was fishing for compliments, trying to get him talking again; she needed his attention for a few more minutes, even though she was fairly certain that he had no thoughts regarding the time or even the meeting across the hall right now. Part 3 I was still sitting next to James, gently stroking his thigh while Samantha had moved to his other side and began to finally discuss the actual agreement. "Dr. Shepherd," she began. He interrupted and asked to be called James. "James," she continued, "These things tend to be very boring, essentially boiled down to the numbers of what everything is worth in your marriage. Some things though are very hard to assign a specific dollar amount to. Do you understand?" James replied that he did. Samantha's soothing, rhythmatic voice continued as she leaned over to get some papers. James was so entranced that he didn't notice that I had slowed my stroking of his leg and even stopped; I had quietly stood up while he was looking to his right at Samantha, her papers, her boobs, and her lips. She had a way of flicking her tongue while talking that would distract any man. She explained that Mr. Harrison was a great lawyer who had prepared an excellent defensive prenuptial agreement, this was a great starting point, but she would like to make some suggestions that would help him make sure that I was protected. She needed to know if James was okay just hearing some ideas right now. James readily agreed to hear the suggestions. I quietly slipped out of my suit while Samantha held James' gaze and told him that she thought it would be a good idea if she reminded him of some of the unquantifiable items that he would be getting in the marriage. Some of those things that we had previously discussed as "hard to put a specific dollar value to." As James agreed, I reached down and gently turned his head toward me. As his eyes absorbed my flowing blonde hair, black corset and garter belt and stockings, I was afraid that he might cum on the spot. Luckily, he didn't. "You'll be enjoying her for the rest of your life James," Samantha had now leaned in and was whispering in his ear. I sat down beside him and began gently nibbling on his neck. Samantha continued her whisper, "James, at this point, I should confess that I've been a bad girl. I prepared another agreement, and I forgot to fax it to you and Mr. Harrison before today like I should have. It has all of my ideas in it; can I get it and show it to you, James?" She continued, "Or, we could just stop the meeting, and reschedule after everyone has read it; if you're comfortable, though, I'm sure I can explain it to you easily." "I just need to know if you want this meeting to keep going or do you want to stop and break for a while. Your choices are that Brittany can put her dress back on, and we can wait for your lawyer to return, or you can keep enjoying the view, and we can continue." Not surprisingly, James mumbled that he was okay continuing the meeting. Samantha stood up and gathered up all of Mr. Harrison's agreements, even the copy in Mr. Harrison's folder which he had left on the table. She then lightly dropped them into the basket labeled, "Shred" as she crossed the room. She picked up a new set of agreements that she had previously placed in the corner. She then left the room, crossed the hall and slid one copy under the door to the lounge. She returned to the conference room, quietly entered and shut the door behind her. James and I were still facing the wall opposite the door, and I was fondling his dick and telling him that I couldn't wait to get this meeting over with; he hadn't noticed that Samantha had left, returned, closed the door or anything. I told James that I was really sorry about the other night's argument and that I felt like I was kind of being a prude about the bachelor party, but I just didn't like the thought of some of the women in those trashy clubs rubbing on him. (I really didn't care; he had brought up the bachelor party, not me, but I use what tools I'm given.) As one may expect, while James was having his dick massaged by his fiancee while she's dressed in lingerie, he stated that he didn't care about the party. I insisted, though, I told him that I knew that I would pleasure him any way he wanted for many years, but that I wanted him to have his bachelor party, that way he could get the viewing and thinking about other girls out of his system. Additionally, there would be no risk of his resenting me for not allowing him to have one. I did, however, want to make sure that there were no skanks, "Would that be okay?" I asked. He agreed, and I gave him the first wet, full kiss that he had received in about a week. When the kiss broke, Samantha was back, but without her dress, which she had slipped out of while James was kissing me. As James looked at her he was seeing soft brunette hair flowing down to a white merry widow and of course, her white garters and stockings. Samantha's dark hair and white lingerie was the perfect complement to my blonde hair and black outfit. "James," I purred in his ear, "This is my first surprise for you, baby. Samantha is not just my lawyer; she's my roomie from college; she was a stripper back then, putting herself through school, and, as you can see, she's certainly no skank. Since you agreed that you should have a bachelor party and that I could make sure there were no skanks, she and I will handle your bachelor party, right now, as soon as we're done with this agreement, okay, baby?" I thought something was wrong as he didn't respond, but I did notice that his eyes were following Samantha; he was nearing pure ecstasy. James sat there stoically trying to remain calm as I was nuzzled up on his left and Samantha on his right. My right hand was stroking his left thigh and Samantha's left hand his right thigh. "Before we can get officially started," Samantha told him, "I just need your signature on one short form. It just states that you, James, on your own, have decided to continue this briefing without Mr. Harrison being here." Samantha ran through this as though it was a formality, seemingly paying more attention to a loose strap from her garter belt that was not quite attached to her stockings. Legally though, we could go no further if he didn't sign that simple form. James appeared to be following her fingers and the stockings much more than he was following her words. Then he glanced my way. I rolled my eyes as if to say, "Can you believe all this?" I leaned over, started lightly brushing my fingers through his hair, and quietly breathed into his ear while whispering, "We don't have to this the boring way with Mr. Harrison, do we? I'd rather do it in a fun way with me and Samantha in lingerie for you? I feel I owe it to you, baby, after not making it home last night. You can handle us, I mean this, on your own, can't you, baby?" With that phrasing, James leaned up and signed the form. As soon as he finished I pulled his head gently to me and kissed him for a good twenty seconds. Samantha had now placed the new prenuptial agreement on the table in front of him. She whispered to him that she would explain the clauses, one by one, and that, only if each specific one was agreeable, should he initial that clause. I was feeling confident in our plan that he was now likely to be extremely agreeable at this point, but it had to play out. Legally I had to initial them also, but I would do so after the meeting, following Mr. Harrison and James' departure. I currently needed to be 100% focused on James, not pausing every few seconds to initial or sign something. Samantha started with the easy clauses, that James couldn't possibly have a problem with. "Now, James, of course your home is your home already; Brittany makes no claim towards any part of that; that's what you want, right?" James nodded and replied, actually defending his very reasonable position, "I'm not asking for that out of spite or anything," he said, "It's just been in my family for years." "Shhhh, baby," I whispered as I kept nuzzling his ear and neck. Samantha added, "That's okay James; this isn't adversarial or anything. Brittany's right; You don't need to speak at all unless you have a problem with something that you see or hear in the clause. You just relax and initial here, and that clause stays in effect." We wanted James relaxed and initialing, not feeling that he should actually discuss each point. James lifted his arm and initialed. As soon as he did, I gently turned his head to me and gave him another kiss. "Your medical practice is 100% yours, too, right? I mean, the name of the practice, the building, all that. Everything that your practice is right now. This clause even seems kind of silly, It's not like Brittany can start practicing medicine and take over your practice. You've built it and you'll always have it." Samantha giggled at James; he immediately initialed and received another deep kiss from me. This pattern had actually been Chelsea's idea. Samantha would present the clauses, in the order of the least objectionable to the most objectionable. Ideally James would be so excited and distracted that he would fall into a routine of turning to Samantha to watch this beautiful woman in lingerie present a clause, usually through a seductive whisper or while smoothing her stockings or corset, all the while teasing him, her lips inches from his lips or against his ear or neck. Samantha had also directly taken James' right hand and had placed it on her thigh, slowly guiding it up and down her silk stockings. When she finished speaking regarding each clause, she would guide his hand to the spot where he should initial. James had quickly, maybe even subconsciously, learned that, as soon as he initialed, his hand was guided back to Samantha's warm, soft thigh and that I would come around from his left side as he turned that way with a passionate, wet kiss. The truth is that I was planning on marrying James, even if I had to sign Mr. Harrison's agreement. We assumed that, even if we got him this far, that at some point we would get to a clause that James objected to. The plan was that when that happened, Samantha would just stop, wrap it up, and we'd have our agreement. There is only one chance though to sign a prenup, so if I had to do it, why not go all out and see what all I could get. We went through a few more easy ones. James initialed one clause that stated that Mr. Harrison was his lawyer and that Samantha was mine. He initialed another that said that he was satisfied with his legal counsel. Another clause simply verified his name, address, birthdate, and social security number. There was a clause that he was initialing these clauses of his own free will without being forced. We followed our set routine each time perfectly. James was breathing steadily, simply turning to his right to watch and listen to Samantha each time, then allowing her to guide his hand from her thighs to the agreement and back again as she smiled at him and stroked his arm. By now, I believe all comprehension was gone; although he was intently listening to Samantha's voice, her actual words were completely irrelevant to him. Next came the tough ones; let's see how far we could get. "Although we have agreed that you get your home, James, if something happens, Brittany will need a place to live, right?" James nodded, eager to please. "Well, it looks like Mr. Harrison forgot that, oops!" As Samantha said "oops," she managed to have her nipple pop out of the top of her bustier. I'm sure that she had practiced that move. This wonderful sight rendered James' short-term memory useless. She slowly corrected her corset while soothingly continuing, "I've added a clause that states that you'll provide her a home worth just half of the appraisal of yours. That's fair for everyone right?" James' home was appraised at about $700,000 but he wasn't thinking that at this time. He leaned back and allowed his hand to be carried to the agreement; he initialed instantly. As he did, I leaned around and gave another kiss with more passion than he had ever felt. Samantha continued, "James, all of your bank accounts are yours, of course, but Brittany needs something too." James looked at her, not quite understanding. "James," I said, "I'd really like my own account, that way I can pay for surprises for you and things. I'd like to be able to buy lingerie, and plan trips for us, stuff like that." "You can do that for me, can't you baby?" Samantha and I were now practically in his lap. "I probably shouldn't tell you this in front of anyone," I continued whispering, "But I saved those Playboys that you thought you through out." "With an allowance of only about $2500 per month, I'm planning on looking through those Playboys, letting you show me your favorite pictures, and purchasing the items that I need to become each of those fantasy girls. Would you like that James?" To nobody's surprise James agreed that he could, in fact that he should provide that allowance. He initialed the line and received his kiss from me as Samantha, in a little girl voice, told him what a good boy he was and what a great husband he would be. He was so turned on that he even agreed to the next clause, that the same amount should be given to me each month if we divorced. This was something that most of the more secure husbands, the ones who really wanted love, wanted in the agreement, she explained. By having this spelled out in the agreement he'd know that I wasn't just staying with him for the money. "If Brittany can leave anytime and have the same amount in alimony that you're giving her in a contracted allowance, you'll know that every day she wakes up with you, she wants to be there; won't that feel good, James?" Samantha made the offer sound wonderful, even though it obviously only benefitted me. During that last sentence, my hand finally slipped inside his pants and onto his dick. When James heard, "Won't that feel good?" He couldn't possibly have been thinking about the agreement. He turned to me and mumbled, "What do you think?" Moving my mouth to his ear I replied, "I'm fine with it honey, anything to make you feel more secure." Without further comment, he allowed his hand to go back to the paper, and he initialed again. The guy actually seemed to think that I was conceding something by agreeing to this since Samantha had explained that the purpose was to reassure him; oh well, let him think that. To be the perfect fiancee I'll agree to let him add a clause that he'll continue my allowance as alimony for life. Anything to reassure him. More kisses for him. "We're almost done James," Samantha said softly, as I began to untie and remove his tie. "Just a few more clauses. The first simply says that Brittany gets to keep all money that she earns in her career. I know; it's silly. We all know you're not after her money." He was back in his groove; without comment, he allowed Sam to guide his hand to the paper; he initialed and watched his hand go back to her thigh. Sam was now bringing his hand, not back to the stockings but to the exposed skin between the top of her stockings and her panties. My kisses after each initial were also getting longer, and my tongue was getting more active. This time I traced his lips all the way around with my tongue as the kiss began. She kept her hand on his thigh but backed up slightly, adding, "It really isn't fair to tell her that she should use some of her money to care for your home, though, and like you said, it is yours since it has been in your family a while, right?" Samantha showed a mock pout with her full lips as she said this one. James appeared to shake his head, "No," he mumbled his agreement, "that didn't sound fair at all." Samantha now swiveled James' chair so that it was facing her directly. She moved closer to his face and began, "Well, this clause gives you two options, either of which will make it fair." She had traced her boobs through her white satin corset while saying "Two options." She started stroking her left boob, "The first simply says that you'll provide her an account large enough to handle all household expenses so that the money she earns doesn't have to go to that stuff. I've listed specifically: groceries, utilities, transportation, clothing, home repairs, decorating, and all household bills." The second option, she stated, while now tracing and lightly squeezing her right boob, was that he, on his own, could decide to just add me to his primary checking account so that I could take care of those expenses for him. "You don't have to pick one now, you can choose either one later," she stood, pushed down her corset, revealing a magnificent set of bare tits and presented them within an inch of James' face as she concluded, "Do you think that you would be happy with either of these two options?" Clearly, the two options that he was considering weren't the ones listed in the agreement. The placement of her boobs was such so that if James nodded, even slightly, his mouth would find itself on her nipple. Not surprisingly, James nodded and began to suck tentatively on the nipple. Samantha allowed it to go on for a few seconds, long enough for him to get more excited and for me to reach over and begin to unbutton his shirt. She then pulled away and playfully scolded him, "James, no, no, not yet, you bad boy. You forgot to initial." Instantly he grabbed the pen and initialed the clause. I now had his shirt completely undone, even pushed about a third of the way off, and I was playfully licking his nipples. Samantha had come back beside him and was allowing his hand to graze her lace panties and feel their moistness. I had put his left hand inside my top directly on my one of my boobs as well. "James," Samantha began as my tongue started moving down his chest and stomach, "The last clause states that Brittany will be your full, equal partner in any equity that your medical practice adds following the marriage." She encouraged him further. "Can you even imagine how wonderful you'll feel all of the time knowing that Brittany is 100% committed to being your full partner in every way?" I had now unzipped his pants, pulled his dick out and was giving it light licks and kisses. "This is it big guy," Samantha purred. "You can initial this final line, sign the bottom of the agreement, and we are done and can get on with your personal bachelor party, or we can stop, get dressed, and do it some other time." As she guided his hand back to the contract, I took his dick in my mouth and slowly slipped all the way down his shaft. This time as she put his hand near the paper, she backed away and completely stopped touching him. I did as well; I pulled my mouth all the way off and sat up straight in my chair next to him. Though we had both had our bodies pressed against him, our legs wrapped around his, and our arms and hands everywhere, we were now both still sitting next to him but not touching him at all. Negotiating My Prenuptial Agreement The room had now cooled to a chilly 60 degrees. James' mind probably wasn't exactly sure what he had just heard, but his body was quivering, desperate for more contact. He was practically naked from the waist up; his penis was exposed, throbbing and wet, and he obviously needed sexual relief. In his hierarchy of needs, the number one priority was getting our warm, comfortable bodies back up against him. "Are we done James? or are we just getting started?" Samantha whispered. We had conditioned him well. James didn't even answer; he quickly initialed the last line and signed the agreement. He turned to me and opened his mouth for my kiss, during which Samantha and I snuggled back in; Samantha then straddled his chair and began showing him what a lap dance was, talking to him like he was a little boy. The bachelor party was now in effect. Samantha and I took turns rubbing, teasing, licking and kissing James until he finally exploded into the greatest orgasm of his life. Part 4 As Chelsea was modeling her Supergirl costume and listening to Mr. Harrison go on and on about some vague differences in the costumes through the years, she noticed the new contract had been slipped under the lounge door. She and Mr. Harrison were starting a discussion of super hero movies. Unknown to him, a week ago, Chelsea had known nothing about Superman, Supergirl or Super anybody else, but when she had learned of his comic collection, she had guessed that this would be his thing, and her guess had hit the bulls eye. She had spent hours over the past week watching every film she could find and had gone to several comic book shops and asked the guys there to teach her a brief history of Superman. She suspected that girls rarely enter those types of stores, certainly not girls that look like her, and the guys in those stores had bent over backwards teaching her the basics. She now had a solid background in those stories and could discuss them with Mr. Harrison. She did notice him glance at the clock and start to stand and knew she needed to do something. The plan was for everyone to be done at 11:00, and Chelsea needed a few more minutes. She certainly wasn't going to fuck this guy, but she thought that maybe she could kiss him for a little while. "Thanks for looking at my costume; I feel much better about it now," she lied. As she thanked him, she leaned over and gave him a slight peck. He literally froze, half standing up. Sensing his confusion, Chelsea slowly kissed him again; this time letting her lips gently move toward his mouth. She lightly feathered his lips with her tongue as she nudged him back onto the sofa. She took up a position in his lap, similar to how a little girl might sit on Santa's lap. She began moving her hands around his body and talking to him between kisses, "It is so nice of you to help me; I never meet guys like you, smart and successful." She continued, "All the guys I meet are dumb jocks; why can't I ever meet a guy like you?" Now, his fantasy was real; he was kissing Supergirl who was telling him that she wasn't interested in the very guys who tormented him while he was growing up. He was kissing back now, and he had never experienced feelings like this. "Can I ask you something?" he said. "Anything," Chelsea replied as she batted her eyes. Mr. Harrison continued, "Well, this is awkward, but my law firm is having a cookout Sunday, and I'd love to have a date, would you come with me?" "Oh dear God," she thought. Talk about overplaying your hand. Still, she needed about 10 more minutes, and a cookout wouldn't be the worst thing. Shoot, if he really was the best divorce attorney around, she could look at this event as job networking. She might also get herself out of this situation in an easier manner than expected if she agreed to go. "Absolutely," she replied, "If you'll do me a little favor." As he agreed to any favor, Chelsea moved his hands on to her 34 C size tits (over the costume of course) and kept kissing him. He may have been too much of a gentleman to initiate the groping, but once there, his hands were busy. He had nice hands, Chelsea thought, though it was obvious that he had little experience with this. Chelsea moved her hand to his pants and began tracing and stroking his dick through his pants. Almost immediately, he exploded inside his pants. "Damn, that may have been too fast," she thought. Thank goodness she didn't laugh out loud at Mr. Quick Draw. In high school or college, she would have been merciless to a poor guy who had done that. She kept rubbing the front of his pants until she was sure that he was completely done and asked him to, as her favor, please wait there for one more minute while she checked on something in the hall. He smiled and agreed, and she got dressed and left the room. She peered into our room, saw that we were finished and getting dressed and went back. Upon arriving back, she turned to Mr. Harrison and said, "They are almost finished; I didn't want us to get in trouble so I grabbed this contract." Mr. Harrison was amused at the 26 year old paralegal thinking that he could "get in trouble" and almost chuckled. He didn't seem to notice that Chelsea had picked the agreement up off of the floor not brought it back with her; I guess his mind was on other things. Chelsea continued, "They made a couple of changes, so if we can just sign the witness lines, I'll go slip it into the stack. That way nobody will ever have reason to ask where we were or what we were doing during all that time." Chelsea quickly signed he line and handed the form to Mr. Harrison. Her suggestion actually sounded pretty good to Mr. Harrison who really wanted to just get to a rest room and clean himself up. He signed the forms, handed them back to Chelsea, excused himself and left the room. He didn't even look at the agreement; he couldn't have had any idea what he had just signed. He probably thought that we had made some small changes, not replaced the entire agreement. Conclusion Chelsea went back to the conference room and announced that she and Mr. Harrison had reviewed the new agreement and signed it. We were very impressed; we believed that she could distract Mr. Harrison long enough, but we had been worried that she may not have been able to get him to sign it. We may have had to encourage James to order him to sign it, which could have led to more discussion about our changes. Mr. Harrison then came into the room, packed up his briefcase, and thanked us all and shook our hands. James thanked us all profusely. I told him that I would see him at home and that we would have a wonderful weekend. Now it was my turn to feel the ecstasy! I was going to marry a man whom I loved, who was loaded financially, and who had just thanked me repeatedly for, in essence, totally fucking him over on the prenup. I was going to live completely on his money. I would either have an account that covered all of the household expenses, including my personal expenses, such as cars and clothes, or he would choose to add me to his primary checking account, thus legally making that entire account half mine. Further, I would receive $2500 per month for life, either as an allowance or as alimony. This money was for, well, nothing. I only had to buy about a dozen new lingerie outfits to look like his favorite Playboy models. What would that take? Maybe half of my first allowance? Additionally, I would get to keep 100% of all the money I made as a Pfizer rep. My entire salary would go straight to savings, in my name, only, and it would add up very quickly like that. I could have my own million in 10-12 years. Then, if we divorced, I get all of my money, $2500 per month for life, about a $350,000 home completely paid for, and he would have to buy me out of the equity in his own medical practice. I almost felt bad about that last one. We knew that James had incorrectly understood the early clause regarding his business as meaning to keep it all his forever, but Samantha had clearly stated that what was his permanently was what the practice was now. She had brilliantly decided to bring up the future equity issue by lightly whispering it in his ear as he was practically receiving a blow job from me, his first one nonetheless. Still, I guess he could have told us to stop and not initialed or signed. WOW! Maybe this prenup thing wasn't such a bad idea after all. Samantha's career took off; when the partners in her firm saw the agreement that she had supposedly negotiated with Mr. Harrison, they immediately promoted her. The partners saw that her client had a prenuptial agreement that gave her more than she would have gotten even if she had divorced with no prenup. This whole thing was supposed to protect James, but in fact, had been totally one-sided in my favor. They had never even heard of a prenuptial agreement in which the stronger financial client had given up so much to the other party. Within a year she became a partner herself and is now the firm's top negotiator.