By Jefferson James
When I was in college, the very thought of me marrying a beautiful woman was laughable. I was a geek. I spent my days in the computer lab and my nights playing “Dungeons and Dragons”. The only girl who even knew my name was Maddie Horowitz. Only once was I drunk enough to make a pass at her. I made it to second base, feeling her big, flabby tits under her T-shirt before I passed out. I don’t know if she found me as repulsive as I found her, but we never went down that road again.
After graduation, everything changed. Almost overnight I went from being a penniless nerd to being a “dot-com” multi-millionaire. The downside of all that sudden wealth was that it attracted a lot of leeches who wanted to be my friends. The upside was that it attracted a lot of babes who wanted to be my wife. I’m not kidding. At one time, there were a dozen women vying for my attention.
Now, I’m not talking about common, everyday women. These girls could have all been fashion models or actresses. In fact, a few of them were. And I got to third base with each and every one of them. Not a night went by that one of them wasn’t laid out beside me in front of the fireplace with my hand in her panties and my fingers in her pussy. I got a few handjobs, but it didn’t take long before I realized that was as far as I was going to get. They were all working from the same script. Not one of them was going to let me go further without me marrying her first.
For awhile, I was totally frustrated. A couple of times, I hired thousand-dollar-a-night call girls. But that was too much like making a reservation to have sex. I wanted a woman 24/7…something fine to look at whenever I wanted and a full-time sex partner.
I invited each of those twelve lovely ladies over for one more round of “Tonguing the Titties” and “Finger Food for the Furry Funhouse”. While I had each of them laid out, naked and spread, their tits shining with saliva in the firelight and my slippery fingers sliding in and out of their tight, wet pussies, I told them they were going to suck my cock or they were history.
What a week that was. Every night, and sometimes twice a night, I climbed on top of a different incredibly sexy woman so she and I could sixty-nine. None of them liked the idea and let me know it in their own way by making faces, gently trying to push me away, or whining. But, when it came right down to tip to lips, not one of them refused to wrap her warm, soft mouth around my stiff dick and suck me while I humped her pretty face.
One after another I let them demonstrate their oral technique in an attempt to get me to marry them. Then, as a parting shot, even though I had promised not to, I gave each and every one of them a cream-coated throat. I got called a lot of names that week. Their reactions varied from being extremely angry and disgusted to abject hatred. I really didn’t care. While they lay there sputtering, cussing and gagging, I wiped my dick on their hair and told them to get out. A couple of them I actually shoved out the door half-naked.
I only ever saw one of them again. Her name was Valerie. The first of the following week I called her. She was still pissed, but she forgave me when I proposed. There was never any doubt that she was marrying me for my money. But, some how, she seemed less conniving than the others did. She never pretended to love me. It was clear from the start; our marriage contract would be just that – a contract. I would get companionship and she would be able to live in the lifestyle to which she had grown accustomed and which she felt was her birthright.
Her great-grandfather had been a movie pioneer. Her grandfather had been a powerful studio boss in Hollywood’s heyday. Her father, however, was an alcoholic and a gambler. He had all but lost the family fortune. She still knew all the right people and went to the right parties, but she was barely able to keep up appearances. I knew all this because having been financially challenged earlier in my life I saw things her society girlfriends missed. Things like the retread tires on her Lexus SUV. But, to be fair, most of my knowledge of her money problems came from the private investigator I had hired.
Val and I were married less than a month after I proposed to her. It was a massive affair. Everything from the napkins to the caterer was imported. She wanted everything to be the best and, more importantly, the most expensive available. I felt most of it was unnecessarily extravagant and a waste of money, but she whined until she got her way. It was my first indication that she was your typical Jewish-American Princess…from the tip of her nose job to the bottom of her flat little butt.
She was a beautiful bride. Her gown hugged her trim, hard body like a glove. The slit up the side was just high enough to show off her long shapely legs without being too sexy. A large heart-shaped opening in the front perfectly displayed her large breasts, which I was pleasantly surprised to find were real. The wedding cost me a small fortune, but the smile I saw on her full, luscious lips and in her large, brown eyes told me the honeymoon would be worth it. And it was.
For two weeks we fucked like bunnies. We did it in the bed, in the shower, on the floor, on tables… There wasn’t an inch of that penthouse suite where we didn’t fuck at least once. What can I say? She was grateful and I was a horndog. I had saved her from becoming a wageslave and, more importantly, ensured her place in high society. And she had saved me from being a geeky bachelor who had to pay for sex. It was a match made in contractual heaven.
Things were fine the first year of our lives together. A few months into the second year, however, our relationship cooled dramatically. Val was no longer responsive in bed and my dick was in danger of becoming severely frostbitten. Even getting her to have sex was becoming a challenge. She began to be plagued with headaches and, by my count, two or three periods a month. Finally, I had had enough. Things were going to have to change. And they did.
I was sitting at my desk in the den looking over the credit card records I had asked my accountant to fax over when Valerie popped in to say she was going shopping. Pointing to the stack of bills, I told her, “We need to talk.”
“Misha and C.C. are waiting. We’ll have to talk later,” she said, spinning on her heel.
Her long, straight, black hair swished behind her, making her look like the horse’s ass she thought I was.
“If Misha and C.C. are the sniping little bitches I think they are, they are just going to love to tell everyone about how your credit card was declined,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
I don’t think anything else could have gotten Valerie’s attention quite like the thought of being monetarily embarrassed in front of those two so-called friends. Her high-heels skidded on the marble floor and she practically fell down.
“Declined? Why would it be declined?” she asked with obvious terror in her eyes.
A lot of my fellow “dot-com” millionaires had gone bankrupt recently, and she was afraid we might be suffering the same fate.
“Don’t worry,” I said, smiling at her. “I’m worth millions and always will be.”
She got this suspicious look on her face and asked, “Then why would my credit card be denied?”
“That’s what we need to talk about,” I said. “But it can wait until later.”
Her hands went to her narrow hips and she began tapping her foot. She was ready for battle, or at least she thought she was. With a slight sneer she said, “I’m listening.”
“Well, it’s like this,” I said, pointing to the credit card statements. “You are reaping the benefits of our matrimonial arrangement, but I’m not.”
“I told you I had a headache,” she interrupted.
I had to laugh.
“This isn’t about last night,” I continued. “This is about the last six months.”
The look on her face softened a bit and she nodded. With sincerity in her eyes she said, “I’ll try to be more in the mood from now on.”
I thought this over for a second. I had expected more of a fight and her sudden surrender in the battle almost made me reconsider what I had planned on saying and thus forfeit the war. She really knew how to play me. My acquired immunity to her whining had spawned a new tactic. By offering to cooperate in a vague sort of way, she hoped to evade any definitive demands I might have. If I hadn’t perfected the very same technique in dealing with my parents, it might have worked.
“We’re renegotiating our marriage contract,” I said, flatly. “Because of the pre-nuptial agreement you signed, I assume you want to remain married.”
“Yes, of course I do,” she said, acting as if the subject didn’t worry her as much as it truly did. “Look, I said I was sorry. I’m your wife and I know I haven’t been behaving that way. Things will get better, I promise.”
“Things are going to change entirely,” I told her, in the same flat tone. “It goes without saying that room and board will be covered by our new agreement. I like you to look your best so your spa membership and personal trainer will also be covered. You’ll also be given a small clothing allowance. Anything else you want will be handled on a quid pro quo basis.”
Valerie’s jaw dropped. When she finally recovered her composure she asked, “You expect me to behave like a whore, trading sex for money?”
Again I had to laugh.
“That’s all you have ever done, and we both know it.”
She didn’t disagree. I put the bills away and explained, “The only real change in our little arrangement is that in order to keep things fair, we’re making it more specific and therefore more evenhanded. You tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you what I want in trade.”
For a full minute she stood there in silence just looking at me. Then, slowly and softly she said, “I want $1000.00 so I can go shopping with Misha and C.C.”
Rolling my chair back from the desk I asked, “Are you willing to swallow a load of cum in exchange?”
She made a face.
“You know how I feel about that. It’s disgusting,” she said, placing her hands back on her hips and taking a defiant stance.
“And you know how much I like it,” I said, being just as defiant. “A high-priced call girl would do it for $500.00. Because you’re my wife and I get to see you naked from time to time and are allowed the occasional casual feel, I’m offering you twice that. Do we have a deal?”
Valerie stalled for a bit. She would have probably stood there glaring all day if Misha hadn’t impatiently called her from the next room.
“Okay, as soon as I get home,” Val said, folding her arms over her chest.
I pointed to the floor in front of me and said, “Right here, right now.”
“What about Misha and C.C.?” she asked.
I grinned and said, “I’d probably give C.C. a hundred bucks to swallow a load, but Misha doesn’t appeal to me at all.”
“You know what I mean,” Val said, scowling at me. “They’re waiting.”
“Then you better get on your knees and get started,” I said, taking my dick out of my pants. “If you want to go shopping, and actually spend some money, you’re doing it with some cum in your tummy.”
Valerie knelt down in front of me and began jacking me off. She looked up at me with those big, brown eyes of hers and began her whining routine.
“Can I just catch it in my mouth and spit it out?” she asked.
I pretended to think it over and then asked her, “Can I just loan you the money?”
This time it was C.C. who called from the next room. Hurriedly, Val gripped my dick and guided it into her mouth. Her hand started massaging my shaft and she sucked, bobbing her head up and down for all she was worth. I have to give her credit. What she lacked in experience she made up for with enthusiasm. She was determined to get me off as soon as she could. On each outward stroke her tongue swirled around the tip of my dick like some sort of fleshy Cuisinart
It had been weeks since I had had sex. It was all I could do to keep from popping off right away. I wanted to flood her mouth, but I wanted the blowjob to last too. A couple of times she looked up at me. There was a strange mixture of dread and urgency in her eyes. She didn’t want to swallow my cum, but she wanted to finish her task as soon as possible. I tried my damnedest to distract myself, thinking about work, the stock market, about anything but Valerie’s moist, warm, sucking mouth. I wanted to hold off as long as I could, knowing the anticipation was killing her.
Faster and faster she went at me. Her head was moving so fast that her face was a blur. Slick with her own saliva, her hand was sliding up and down my cock in rhythm with her mouth. It made it feel like she was taking me twice as deep as she really was. Reaching down, I squeezed her big tits. Their firm softness almost sent me over the edge. I wanted to last longer, but I wasn’t going to. My dick was going to explode any second. Valerie knew it too. She made a small pathetic moaning sound in protest, and that was all it took. I erupted, spewing my thick, hot lava into her mouth.
Valerie went rigid in response. Her face was contorted with disgust. She gave me a pitiful look, made a little whimpering sound, winced, and then her eyes clamped shut and felt her throat contract as she swallowed. As glob after glob shot into her mouth she repeated the sequence over and over…eyes open, pitiful look, whimper, wince, eyes close and swallow. I’ll give her credit, though. She didn’t take her lips off me until the last drop of semen had dribbled into her mouth and went down her throat. Even then, she waited for a satisfied smile from me before tucking my dick into my pants and standing back up.
As she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief, checked and adjusted her makeup and hair, I took a credit card out of my desk drawer and offered it to her, saying, “This card is attached to a special checking account I have setup for you. There is fifty thousand dollars in the account. If you spend more than the one thousand you just earned, you’ll have to work off the rest in whatever way I choose.
In our wedding vows, you promised to love, honor and obey. We both know that love had little to do with our marriage. Honor is just another word for respect, and I think we have enough mutual respect to be honest with each other. And then there is obey. Let me just say that if you intend on remaining my wife and enjoying the things it makes possible, you will obey.”
The End of Chapter One
(c) Copyright April 2001 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, by and for the person reading this notice, for private reading.