Life of the Super Wealthy

Introduction: A neglected young wife seeks sexual fulfillment in the decadent world of her wealthy father-in-law. Life of the Super Wealthy By Greg "A young wife's journey into the debauchery of very wealthy and powerful men's private lives" I first met Ryan during our junior year of college. We had been introduced by mutual friends. Ryan was a nice-looking guy and very well-mannered. I could tell right off that he had been raised with some class. Most of the guys I had dated up until then were immature; of course, they were interested in just one thing. Ryan was different; he was driven, and he had goals. He was a business major who was really into making good grades and developing the right connections. My name is Brooke. I was a fashion design student. From early on, I've always loved clothing and have been fascinated by the many different styles. Someday, I planned to run my own couture firm. I am tall, five-ten, and wear my auburn hair long; I think it looks more professional that way. All my friends think I should be a model, but that would be a short-lived career. Building my own company, influencing the styles, and producing them are where the long-term successes are at. Ryan and I hit it off right from the start. He was the perfect gentleman, and we dated regularly. Shortly after we met, we became intimate and started seeing each other almost every day. I loved to just sit and talk. We would share our daily struggles and our future dreams. Ryan seldom offered much information about his childhood or upbringing. I was originally from the Midwest. His East Coast style and culture were exactly why I had come to this area. I did find out that his parents were only a couple of hours' drive away. My parents were still back in my home state, where they would always stay. I learned that Ryan was an only child. At first, I thought it was sort of cute how he would refer to his parents. He never used warm references when talking about his mother and father, such as "pop," "dad," or anything personal. Eventually, I got it out of him that his father's name was Simon and his mother's name was Laura. I sort of got the impression that the father-son relationship might have some competitive issues. We had been exclusive for almost six months when my parents came to visit. They had come up east and spent a long weekend visiting. Both approved of Ryan. My dad was impressed with his drive to one day run his own business. My mom thought he was handsome and a good match for me. Shortly afterwards, I began pestering Ryan about meeting his parents. He seemed to keep avoiding the issue to the point where I began to think something was wrong. We were serious about each other at this point, and I really wanted to get to meet the people who could potentially be a part of my future. Almost a month had passed before Ryan finally agreed to drive up to see them. The weekend weather was supposed to be beautiful. Ryan was a very cautious driver, and it seemed like it took an eternity to get there. We drove through some of the most gorgeous countryside and soon entered what seemed like a very exclusive area. The driveways all had gated entrances, and most homes sat back some distance from the main road. We had just passed a cluster of stately-looking mansions when Ryan started slowing down. On the right was a small turnoff. He slowed, coming to a stop in front of a huge, black wrought-iron gate. Massive stone walls at least eight feet high adorned the edges. The walls trailed off into the woods along each side. Ryan honked twice, and instantly the gate jolted to life and began opening. I was searching for a first glimpse of the house but saw nothing. We started down a curving drive that wound through what looked like a golf course. The grass was perfectly manicured, and the vegetation was lush. We must have driven at least half a mile, crossed a small stream, and turned sharply to the right before entering a clearing. The view ahead stunned me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I remember a chill going through me and goosebumps popping up on my arms. My eyes locked in on a structure maybe another half mile ahead. It was nestled on the flattened crest of the next hill. It wasn't a house or a mansion; it was a full-on English-style castle. "Stop the car, Ryan!" I pleaded. "What's wrong?" Ryan asked, slowing the car to a crawl. "Wait, please stop!" I repeated. Okay, I must have stared at that view for a full minute. Ryan finally touched my arm and asked if I was alright. I turned to him in disbelief. Ryan: "You said they were well off, but you never said anything about this!" This was beyond my wildest imagination. "Are you telling me this is your home?" I asked, staring at him. Rather sheepishly, he admitted, "Yes." Ryan was acting almost embarrassed by the grandiose display in front of us. The car started moving again. I remember thinking over and over the phrase "the one percent." This was the super-wealthy, the one percent that everyone talks bad about at parties. I was petrified, and I wanted to just turn around and go back. "They live in a goddamn castle," I kept thinking to myself, over and over. Ryan just blew this all off and said, "You'll do just fine." As the car approached a stone courtyard out front, an "honest-to-god" butler appeared at the front door. He greeted us both and then led us through the most magnificent foyer to an adjoining room. Ryan's parents were there, awaiting our arrival. His mother put down a book and stood as we entered. She warmly received a hug from Ryan. I walked over nervously and received the same. To this day, I can vividly recall my first impression of Ryan's father. Simon seemed almost posed. He was standing in the column of a brilliant beam of sunlight pouring through a series of two-story glass windows. The stiff and proper posture he held reminded me of some ancient nobleman receiving visitors. He extended his right hand politely and greeted Ryan like a guest instead of his son. I stood there frozen in awe. Simon was wearing an impeccably tailored Armani suit, which probably cost at least twenty thousand dollars. His Forzieri Italian leather shoes were spot-on in the latest style. The cuff links, tie, and silk pocket square perfectly complemented his ensemble. His watch, of course, was a stunning Rolex. All told, he was probably wearing two hundred thousand dollars' worth of fashion, and yes, he was probably the most distinguished man I had ever laid eyes on. He was maybe fifty, with just a touch of gray at the temples. I felt like he was sizing me up. Was I pretty enough? Was I refined enough? Was I in love with his son because of all of "this"? I was a complete and total nervous wreck. Simon shattered all my expectations by walking right up to me. His steel-blue eyes locked on me like lasers. Suddenly, he disarmed all of my defenses by giving me the warmest embrace. His arms enveloped me like a warm blanket. I felt like a small child in their favorite safe place. Within two years, Ryan and I were married. Our wedding was the envy of all of our friends. "Father" spared no expense. His son's wedding was not to be outdone. We had a full orchestra and caterers jumping to everyone's slightest whim. Our honeymoon in San Tropez was the stuff of dreams. It was maybe a year into our new marriage when passions began to cool. What I thought was so important about Ryan at first now seems to be our biggest problem. His work occupied all his waking time. He was so driven to have his business succeed that he would come home exhausted. Our love life also suffered. What used to be romantic was now just a routine. He'd jump on me missionary style every time, ride me, grunt a little, roll off, and be snoring within a couple minutes. Hell, I was still in my twenties; I wanted more than that. I was still working out of our home, mostly refining my own designs. I seemed to run into closed doors or dismissive attitudes at each of my interviews. I was frustrated both professionally and at home, sexually. It was on one of our visits to his parents that I first began to seriously look at Simon. He was the absolute alpha male. His manners, his poise, his style-this man was able to amass great wealth, and yet he would spend extravagantly on his desires. Ryan's mother seemed to have few interests other than reading her books. I'm sure that she had her social circle, but otherwise, she had grown somewhat pudgy for lack of any real purpose. She was always warm and friendly to me, yet seemed generally disinterested in things. Maybe she had been born into all of this and just took it all for granted. Ryan and I got invited to go along with them on a trip to Italy. I had never planned on anything like this because we were still struggling to get our careers going. Ryan always poured all of our resources and all of his energy into his business. He had flatly refused Father's assistance, preferring to succeed on his own. I finally convinced Ryan that we needed a break from work and would do well to get away for a while. I was like a little kid on a Disney trip. We were flown by helicopter to meet up with a yacht already at sea. Yes, of course, they had a helicopter. For some reason, they always referred to it as the MD, for short. It was always parked in a little clearing just behind the main house. That is how Simon got to and from his offices. Simon didn't actually fly it, although I'll bet he probably could have. There was a man who was always around, Mr. Keeven. Along with being the pilot, I think he was some sort of bodyguard or personal assistant. He was a buff, former-military type who was always present when Simon went somewhere. We caught up with the yacht in the Atlantic somewhere off the coast of Rhode Island. Landing on a yacht-what a thrill! Talk about an entrance! The yacht was magnificent. It had to be at least a hundred feet long. Ryan never said it belonged directly to them. Things were always referred to as belonging to the firm. They just had exclusive access whenever they wished. It was a complete luxury experience. Everything was constantly attended to by the yacht's staff-meals, drinks, anything you could wish for. The attention to detail was incredible, right down to the fresh flowers placed in our stateroom each morning. Mr. Keeven and the helicopter stayed on board and made the trip with us. How cool was that? There were already two other couples on board who would be making the trip with us. One couple was a close friend of Ryan's mother and her husband. The other couple included a younger girl, nearer my age. Her name was Nicole. We hit it off right away. She, like me, seemed awestruck at all the trappings of wealth. She was with a somewhat older guy, whom she just referred to as "just a friend." Nicole and I would lie out for hours on the sun-drenched deck laughing and sharing stories, mostly of the "if our friends could only see us now" type. She and I would talk about our future aspirations and goals. That was kind of silly, seeing that we were lying on a yacht headed for Italy, so, like, how do you really top this? During the trip over, I was constantly dragging Ryan away from his phone. I was becoming seriously agitated at his inability to leave work behind. He took calls constantly and had reports faxed to him. I was becoming livid. We had just left the Azores Islands, and our next stop would be in Marbella, Spain, to refuel. I hoped the distance would force Ryan to forget about work. But the yacht had the latest in technology, unfortunately, and satellite transmissions were easily available. We spent a wonderful day in Marbella and were soon on our way to our final destination of Anzio, along the west coast of Italy. When we arrived, I thought it was simply the most beautiful place on earth. We anchored in a crystal blue harbor surrounded by similar yachts, most of them somewhat smaller. We were greeted as though we belonged. Friendly waves towards others within earshot were the customary response. There was a sense of wealth about the place, but it was understated. Everyone there was super-wealthy but dignified and reserved in how it was displayed. We were only there two days when Ryan got an urgent message that he was needed back in New York. I was ready to explode. We were to travel up to Rome for the day, and instead, he was making arrangements for an emergency flight back home. After Ryan left for the States, Nicole tried to cheer me up by arranging a shopping trip up to Rome anyway. I was shocked as we boarded a tender to ferry us to shore. Mr. Keeven was accompanying us. He never left Simon's side. I knew how important he was to Simon. I knew this had to be strictly on Simon's order. This gesture did not go unappreciated by me. There were other bodyguards and a driver waiting on shore, but that was just the way Simon was. I was still mad as hell at Ryan as we made our way to Rome, but soon Nicole's giddiness and all the attention got me out of my funk. We ate lunch within sight of the Colosseum. We shopped like celebrities, and with a wave of Mr. Keeven's hand, all was taken care of. Dresses, new swimsuits, fine shoes-you name it, we bought it. I continually looked to Mr. Keeven to try to get a sign that this was all okay. He simply gestured with a hand that all our wishes were to be taken care of. Sometime during the day, I found that I didn't miss Ryan at all. Nicole and I were like two schoolgirls on spring break. We shopped, toured, and just plain had fun until our feet hurt. On the way back to Anzio by car, we traveled through the rolling Italian countryside. I stared out the window, taking it all in. I couldn't shake the feelings I was starting to have for my father-in-law. Simon was the consummate gentleman, super wealthy and driven, and yet he would lavish favors on everyone around him. He was a man who knew how to enjoy his wealth. He had learned the fine art of delegation. Nothing happened that he didn't direct, but he allowed others to handle all the details. Ryan was driven to succeed too, but he always had to do everything himself. Where Ryan worried about everything, Simon focused on his guests and enjoying life. Watching my father-in-law over time, I was always impressed at how he thanked everyone for everything, from the staff member who topped off his morning coffee to a doorman who held a door open for him. He noticed everything, looked the person in the eye, and graciously acknowledged them. When he spoke with someone, you had his full attention. No cell phone interruptions, no distractions-he looked you right in the eyes, and for that moment, you felt like you were the most important person on earth. When Nicole and I returned to the yacht, I sought out Simon and gave him the biggest hug. I was kind of emotional and almost lost it. I was disappointed in Ryan, yet I was still having the time of my life. I kissed Simon on the cheek and held on to him longer than I should have. When we left Anzio and began the return trip, Nicole and I resumed our spots on the bow. The warm Mediterranean breezes cooled us as the sun put the finishing touch on our tans. Of course, we had to try out our new suits. One morning, while Nicole and I were up there, Simon came over to us. He was, as usual, very gracious and wanted to be assured of our complete comfort. We were both wearing our new, very revealing bikinis. The warm sun bouncing off the deck was glorious, and we both pleaded with him to join us. A smile came across his face. He laughed and graciously excused himself by making a joke about "spoiling the beautiful ornaments on his deck." Nicole and I had many conversations there. More than a couple times, we were more than a little drunk. The staff seemed to keep tabs on us, and as soon as we would start to run out, someone would be out to refill our glasses. During one such time, Nicole and I got very personal. I was probably bashing Ryan for being such a workaholic when the topic of Simon came up. I know I said a lot more than I should have. I do remember saying something like, "I thought him sexy, and father-in-law or not, I'd fuck him anytime, anywhere." We both laughed and continued on with our bawdy confessions. I don't remember it all, but I hoped it would never get repeated. Returning home to Ryan was just more of the same. With all of his energy poured into his business, I was becoming more and more frustrated. It was during a weekend trip up to the family's estate that things got really serious. Simon and I had gone for a horseback ride on the grounds. Of course, he was an excellent horseman. He stayed right alongside me the whole time. The horses were magnificent. I hadn't been riding since I was a little girl back on Grandpa's farm. Simon's property boasted some of the most beautiful scenery. We had been out maybe an hour, and I needed a break to stretch my legs, so we stopped alongside a small stream. The saddles Ryan's family used were those English-style ones, without the horn for grabbing onto for mounting and dismounting. Simon, being the perfect gentleman, dismounted first and secured his horse. He approached and held his hands outstretched to assist my dismount. It had been a long time since I had been on a horse, and I wasn't even thinking clearly. For some stupid reason, I tried to dismount facing away from the animal. I raised my right leg over his mane and then incorrectly pushed on the horse's rump, spooking him. This caused the startled animal to shuffle to his right, then back left again. I began a clumsy slide down the horse's flank, sending me squarely into a collision with Simon. I awkwardly grabbed for his shoulders. Simon, being the type not to back away from anyone or anything, stood his ground. I slid downward, pinned against his rigid pose and the horse's shifting position. I found myself pressed squarely against Simon; our faces were only inches apart. I could feel his manhood pressed squarely against me, but he made no effort to hide this fact or back away. I got to thinking about the motion of a woman riding a horse. I guess it is just about the same as a woman riding a man during sex. I guessed that Simon had been keeping a closer eye on me than I thought. So there we were, pressed up against each other. Everything just seemed to conspire to fling us together-his blue eyes, his arms, his cock. My pussy had been warmed by being repeatedly slapped against the saddle for the last hour. And of course, I must admit, I had been lusting for this man for quite a while. With my arms still locked around his neck, I pressed my lips against his. We stood frozen in a passionate embrace. When I realized what I was doing, I pulled away. He immediately returned my kiss, and we embraced once again. The next time our lips parted, I pleaded with him to fuck me right then, right there. I couldn't believe those words just came out of my mouth, but they did, and I would not take them back. He backed me up against a tree, and we made passionate love standing up. I loosened my blouse and bared my breasts. He tore at my belt and jeans like a man possessed. His cock felt so good, so right, and our passions were so strong that we didn't think twice about what we were doing. I orgasmed multiple times. He practically lifted me off the ground with each thrust. It seemed so raw, so necessary, to screw like this. Our pent-up desire drove both of us on without reason. When he finally blew his orgasm into me, I felt like all the power and purpose this man controlled was being pumped into me. So, that is how our affair started. We began to meet pretty regularly after that, and each time our passions seemed stronger than the time before. It was easy for him to get away to New York City. He was always being called somewhere to deal with some business issue. An overnight stay in town was a common thing for him. I had to wait until Ryan was occupied with his concerns, and then I'd make up some excuse about a fashion design appointment in the city. Simon was not a simple man, nor was he cheap. One of the first times we spent the night together was in the penthouse of one of the tallest hotels. This room must have cost thousands per night. We dined at one of the finest restaurants in town and wound up making passionate love in one of the grandest penthouse rooms available. This room was somewhere above the eightieth floor. We were completely naked, rolling around on a luxurious Persian rug in full view of a floor-to-ceiling window. The lights were dimmed, making the nighttime city view spectacular. Suddenly, he urged me to stand up. We locked in a passionate kiss. Then Simon started pushing me backward, closer to the window. I stiffened reflexively as my back touched the cool glass. He turned me around and pushed me face-first against the window. Now, I'm not afraid of heights necessarily, but being held naked right up to a clear panel of glass eight hundred feet above the ground will certainly perk up any girl's nipples. Every nerve in my body came alive. I was scared, breathless, and extremely turned on. Simon entered me gently from behind and started stroking. His cock remained rock-hard as his thrusts increased. His hips began bumping against my ass, and as his intensity increased, I started to feel the glass panel begin to flex. My stomach began to turn, and my head started spinning, probably from lack of oxygen. My short breaths weren't enough to sustain me. My fear of the glass panel breaking intensified with each thrust. Simon lifted my arms above my head and pressed my palms out flat against the bouncing glass. I could just see the newspaper headlines for the next day, describing how two randy lovers plunged to their deaths while still connected. Yeah, but they would die with a smile on their faces, I thought to myself. I had to simply trust that Simon knew just how much this widow would take, or maybe he didn't care either. My orgasms started one after another until I thought I might faint. Steam from my labored breaths had coated the glass near my head. My face was being mashed flat as Simon's own orgasm rocked me violently in waves. Finally, we dropped to the floor, completely spent. My heart continued pounding in my chest for several minutes afterward. We both smiled as we looked up and noticed the outline of my figure remained "etched" onto the glass in smears and moisture. Simon was an incredible lover. When we were apart, I was like a drug addict waiting for my next fix. Each new sexual encounter exceeded the previous one. How had this man's genes not passed anything on to his son? Men such as Simon were powerful and driven individuals. They controlled their environment and everyone around them. Their private passions were just as intense. I felt like he was awakening desires that I never knew were inside of me. During one of our subsequent evenings together, we noticed that our room also afforded us a panoramic view of the nearby buildings. With our room lights dimmed, we were able to see into many of the rooms facing our direction. One in particular had caught my attention. It was a loft-style apartment with large uncovered windows and a sparsely furnished interior, save for a bed that was clearly visible. As we were sipping a glass of wine, a couple entered the room and, to our delight, began a torrid session of lovemaking. They quickly undressed. The guy pulled the woman's head to his groin, and she proceeded to give him a vigorous blowjob. This turned me on to no end. Simon seemed delighted also, and that night, our new "hobby" was born. Who knew we were voyeurs? There was a couple more times when we spied on people, but our luck was "iffy." Mostly, people just sit and watch their TVs. At our next time together, Simon hinted that he had a little surprise in store, but I would have to wait through a wonderful dinner till we were alone at the hotel. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as we returned to our room. Simon had opened a bottle of Chardonnay and dimmed the lights. I casually stood near the window, scoping out any likely prospects. Suddenly, a soft knock at the door startled me. No one had ever knocked before. These rooms were above the normal elevators and reserved for only the VIP clientele. I moved away from the window and then backed into a darkened corner. We had not requested anything, so I was sort of shocked to see Simon starting for the door. After a quick check of the peephole, he began to unlock the door. I didn't have time to say anything and was starting to panic, looking for something to hide behind. Before I could move, the door opened and a young woman sort of stumbled into the room. I immediately noticed her eyes were covered with black tape. Before I could even react, a young man also followed her in. His eyes were covered in the same fashion. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Keeven just behind them. He must have guided them to the door. He only escorted them inside and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Simon locked the door, then gently caught the young girl by the lower arm and began to lead her. The young man had placed his hand on the girl's shoulder and followed just a step behind her. Simon led the pair to a spot just in front of the window. He was holding one finger to his lips, signaling to me that I should remain silent. The couple stopped, and Simon stepped back into the shadows near me. I was staring at him, and I know I had a "what the fuck" look on my face. Simon, in a very calm and subdued voice, asked the couple if they understood why they were here. They both nodded their heads in unison. Simon informed them that the area within ten feet around them was a clear area. He instructed them not to leave the area of the rug without his permission. They nodded again to show their understanding of his instructions. Simon informed them that the room was empty except for him and one other person. They remained standing, with the guy still touching the shoulder of the girl. Simon instructed them to listen and follow his directions. Again, they nodded. He then asked them to be seated on the floor, which they both did. I still wasn't sure exactly what Simon was up to, but before I could say anything, he asked if they would please begin to disrobe. Without any hesitation, the girl began to unbutton her shirt. The guy, seated right beside her, also followed, and the pair began to pile their clothes in a stack just within reach. Neither made any attempt to touch their eye coverings. The girl was probably a little older than I was. She was very pretty. The guy was a real "hunk" himself. As I watched him struggling out of his jeans, I was beginning to catch the drift of what Simon was presenting to me. The young man wasn't shy either, and as his boxers slid past his groin, I quietly gasped. The guy was an absolute monster. His cock was maybe as thick as my wrist, and he was still flaccid. The girl had her bra off and was fumbling with the catch on her pants. She tried to stand at first but decided to remain seated on the floor and just wiggled out of them. She rolled to her side and removed a sexy red G-string. I sensed her nervousness as she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest. Simon, always the gentleman, reassured her, and she seemed a little more at ease. The guy reached out to locate the girl, and having found her, he now kept his hand on her bare thigh. Simon whispered to me, "How would you like to start the evening with our puppets, dearest?" I was still sort of speechless and couldn't put together a phrase. Simon, seeing my hesitation, took the lead and asked them to begin to kiss. The pair sought out each other's mouths by feel and began an intimate exchange of soft kisses. This was followed by some gentle touching. I was finally catching on to this. Obviously, Simon had hired them to do anything we would ask. Simon asked if either of them would like some wine. Only the girl nodded yes. The kissing was interrupted as the girl took several sips from a glass Simon had given her. Satisfied, she held her glass out, and Simon retrieved it. At that point, I wanted in on this. I whispered to Simon to have the young man stand and stroke his cock. Simon relayed my request, and the guy stood and began manually stroking himself. The girl asked if she could have another bit of wine. Simon handed the girl the glass again. She seemed content and reassured enough to finish the entire glass. By now, the guy's cock was enormous. I was a little unsure as to the ground rules here, but I just had to ask. I whispered to Simon, "Would it be possible for me to touch the guy's cock?" "My dear," he said, "they are here for your complete pleasure." I warned the young man, and he stopped stroking long enough for me to grasp the shaft and give it a gentle squeeze. Its thickness and heft were simply amazing. I finished by sliding my fingers up to the glans. My fingers gingerly ringed the knob. I ran my thumb up just under his glans. I wasn't sure if it was spit or pre-cum, but the thrill of touching someone so completely under your control was awesome. Simon and I took turns placing the couple in a series of positions. I was becoming so hot that I needed to release my breasts. I couldn't help but tweak and pull at my nipples. As soon as I saw Simon getting undressed, I felt the need to do the same. As I lay down on the edge of the rug, I couldn't keep my hands off of my clit and began gently rubbing myself. Simon asked that the guy lie on his back and the girl mount him. They both fumbled a bit, but eventually the girl got astride the guy and guided his cock up inside her. She started a slow, methodical rocking motion. I wondered if they had already been a couple or at least done this together before, as the girl seemed completely prepared to accommodate his immense size. Simon came over to me. Of course, his cock was jutting out looking for a warm spot too. We quietly coupled in a spoon fashion and just lay on our sides, watching the pair just a few steps away from us. What a turn-on! I was randy as hell, and Simon pumped at me eagerly. I whispered to Simon that I wanted the girl to manually bring the guy off. Simon stopped pumping at me and asked if the guy would be ready to cum soon. The young man nodded and said he'd cum if that's what we wanted. Simon asked the girl to lift off, have him stand, and use her hands to finish him off. Simon and I scooted around to get a view as the girl settled in and began to slowly stroke at the engorged cock. Simon got back just behind me again and pushed himself inside of me. The girl was very skilled at what she was doing. Again, I wasn't quite sure how well these two knew each other, but the girl certainly seemed to know just how to maximize her partner's pleasure. Within just a couple minutes, the guy groaned, and a rope of jizz leapt out of the end of his dick. The girl continued jacking at it furiously; several more spurts of goo followed. The guy was moaning and twisting in beautiful agony. Some of the first few spurts had splattered the girl right in the face and on her shoulders. She seemed unfazed by this and continued her motions. Her one free hand was now cupping his balls and gently massaging them. She seemed to be trying to milk out every last bit of what he had left in him. The white slime now coated the girl's hand and dripped downward towards her thighs. About then, a gut-wrenching orgasm coursed through my body. Simon came shortly after I did. We flopped around like a teenaged couple possessed. Simon had outdone himself again, and I wasted no time telling him so. I kissed and licked about on him so much so that I was able to bring myself off one last time. Simon seemed to enjoy seeing me in such a raunchy state. I couldn't believe the way I was able to expose my rawest emotions around him. Later that week, Simon called just to see how I was doing. I told him I was still so totally turned on that I found it difficult to go about my daily activities. His reserved laugh reminded me that he was probably at his office. I was so flattered that he was thinking of me. During our next encounter, Simon repeated the same scenario, but this time he raised the stakes by having two powerfully built Black men engage a petite but athletic-looking Asian girl. This was erotic as hell, too. The dove-white skin of the girl contrasted so beautifully against the dark cocks. She took them on both individually and at the same time. Her flexibility and stamina were like that of a world-class gymnast. She took all the cock they could throw at her. At one point, she actually hung impaled from each end and was able to twist her body around. She simulated an animal being spit-roasted on an open fire. Then, when asked, she rode them hard and ended by jacking both cocks together. She was rewarded with such a cum spray that it splattered almost every inch of her upper body. She even finished without being asked by licking their cocks completely clean. Think about the power that unlimited wealth gives you. There is nothing one can think of that can't be had. Men like Simon have no restraint on their urges. Simon was away for a couple weeks on international business in Asia. I waited for a possible call. Days passed, and I was becoming horny and withdrawn. Ryan's feeble attempt at lovemaking was almost a joke. I kept up appearances and tried to refocus on my career. My mind constantly drifted back to the wild exploits Simon and I had enjoyed together. When I finally heard from Simon, he said he was still on the west coast and would be delayed several more days. He promised the wait would be worth it, and I never doubted his word. Days later, he called and asked if I was free on the next Friday. I told him it wouldn't be a problem for me to slip into Manhattan for the night. I even had an actual meeting with some potential buyers in the afternoon. He sort of hinted again that this might be another step up in our level of debauchery. I knew one thing about Simon: he had never disappointed me yet. Our conversation ended when he indicated that this might even be beyond my wildest expectations. I was randy as hell by Friday. My imagination was running wild trying to figure out just how he could top any of our previous encounters. That afternoon, I was scheduled to meet with some potential clients. I was still clinging to the hope of getting my own clothing line into the hands of the right people. Simon and I had planned to meet at a cozy restaurant. When I arrived, he had already ordered the wine. We shared a private little corner spot and had the most delightful dinner. Simon made a call just as we were leaving the restaurant. Instead of going downtown, we took a cab out to a rather desolate area. I was sort of surprised to see Mr. Keeven waiting there in an empty field with the helicopter. I didn't know you could just land your helicopter anywhere you chose to. You know, a girl could get used to this sort of lifestyle very easily. Mr. Keeven had us airborne and moving very quickly. We seemed to be heading away from the city, and we had only been in the air for maybe twenty minutes in a straight line. I really had no clue exactly where we were at this point, and then the chopper began to circle a parking lot. I could make out a black limousine sitting in a corner of the lighted parking lot. Mr. Keeven circled once and had us on the ground in less than a minute. Simon thanked him for the smooth flight and indicated we would catch up later. We were just leaving in the limo as the helicopter lifted off and disappeared into the night sky. Once we were moving, I began to grill Simon as to exactly what was up. "Patience, love," was all he would volunteer. Just a few minutes into the ride, Simon pressed a button near his armrest. Suddenly, shutters inside the passenger compartment slid up and blocked out all the windows. It was kind of strange moving like this, but the driver was a real pro. You could hardly feel the turns. After a little bit, the occasional feeling of acceleration was the only sign you had that you were still moving. I snuggled up next to Simon and tried to tease a clue out of him as to where we were headed and what was in store for tonight. "What's up with all the secrecy?" I asked. Simon just gave me a knowing nod and asked for my indulgence. "It is necessary, my love." "Please just trust me." Eventually, a signal tone from the driver alerted us. I assumed we were near or at our destination. Simon opened a compartment I had figured was used for storing liquor. He removed a black velvet bag that looked like something from a "dry cleaner." I gave him a look like, "Really?" He loosened a drawstring and opened the end. Inside were two black, full-length hooded robes, neatly folded and pressed. On top of these were two plastic masks nestled together. The masks were those half-faced ones that one might wear to a Mardi Gras-type ball. Simon again asked if I would trust him. He unfolded the one robe and began by slipping it over his head, then shoulders, and finally working it down to his waist. He separated the two masks and placed one on his face. He was now fidgeting with the adjusting strap. The look on my face must have had him wondering if this was going too far. He finished by drawing the hood of the robe over his head. It was impossible to read his expression at this point, but his silence was noticeable. With no other words coming from him, I began to get the most unsettling feeling that maybe I wasn't ready for all this either. Simon's continued silence was "creeping" me out. I became aware that we were no longer moving. Finally, Simon asked if I wanted to go back. I wasn't sure what going back meant. It dawned on me that this seemed to all be being done for a purpose. Obviously, he had gone to a great deal of trouble setting all this up. My hand was visibly shaking as I reached over his lap to accept the other robe meant for me. I followed his lead and slipped the robe over my head. I donned the mask just as he had and then pulled the hood up over my head. When I was finally ready, the limo seemed to move again. It was only maybe a minute before we stopped again. Simon unlocked the limo's doors. Someone from outside opened the door, and a black-gloved hand was extended to assist our exit. My creepy feeling only increased as a similarly dressed individual wearing a mask like ours escorted Simon and me up through a veiled entrance. There was a dark canopy, and the sides had been enclosed with dark curtains. A set of steps led us up to two heavy doors. As we approached, there was another person standing there dressed in a gray robe; he opened and then held the door for us. I was clinging desperately to Simon's hand at this point. My whole body shook with a full-on case of the "willies." We made our way up a couple more steps and entered a foyer. The main hallway in front of us was blocked by more black curtains. A robed individual who met us there was holding a dark plastic tub. We were directed to a side area and into an even smaller room. Inside this room was a small bench and a chair, and that was it. The individual handed Simon the tub and closed the door. Simon reached back to lock the door on the inside. Simon seemed to know the entire procedure; obviously this was not his first time here. "Simon, what the hell is all this?" I demanded. "Patience, dear; all will be understood shortly," was all he would volunteer. "If you please, now would be the time to remove all your clothing under your robe," he said in a calm voice. "Do what?" I said, disbelieving my ears. Simon lifted his mask and robe and then began fumbling to remove his clothing underneath. I stood by, not quite sure and not quite willing to proceed. Simon kept removing pieces of his clothing and placing them in the tub. You know, Simon had never put me in any danger or harm, so I finally accepted things, followed his lead, and disrobed. In the bottom of the tub there were two pairs of dark house slippers. Simon placed those on the floor, and we placed all of our belongings in the tub and closed the lid. A tag on the lid identified the tub by a number. Simon tore off the bottom half of this and pinned it to the inside of his robe. We put on the slippers and left the little room. As we exited the room, another masked couple was waiting outside with their escort, who was carrying another empty tub. That escort took the tub containing our belongings and disappeared, and the other couple entered the small room behind us. Simon led me a short distance through a series of smaller rooms and hallways. Along the way, I noticed that many objects and wall paintings had been covered in black fabric. The windows were shuttered from the inside. No light was filtering through anyway. The hallway led us to what looked like a large meeting room just ahead. A long curtain hid the view behind it, blocking the opening. As we approached the curtain, another robed individual standing guard drew the curtain aside for us. Beyond was a huge meeting hall. The center of the room caught my attention right away because it was lit up like a stage. Dozens of naked couples, all engaged with each other in different sexual combinations, seemed to be performing there. The perimeter of the room was darkened and lined with large leather chairs and couches. The area along the wall was filled with robed people, some alone and some with partners. Simon led the way by almost dragging me by the arm. I remembered holding tightly to his waistband. I, for sure, did not want to get separated here. My legs were sort of wobbly at this point, and I told him I needed to sit. Simon motioned to an open couch. We sat down, and I began to survey the area. Right alongside of us, couples were openly engaged in various sexual acts. Women with their robes opened and flung over their shoulders were atop the laps of their partners, grinding away. Others were kneeling on the floor and enthusiastically slurping away at their partner's cock, oblivious to anyone else in the room. All the members along the perimeter were still wearing masks, but most had their robes opened in front. I remember touching my own gown, feeling for the slit. It opened all the way down the front. Little spots of Velcro acted as catches to keep it closed. The people in the center of the room under the lights were, for the most part, completely naked and weren't wearing any masks. Just a few of the women had on some sort of lingerie or costume. I stared out at the orgy in front of us in utter amazement. Several years ago, there was a movie about a young professional man who somehow got into a rich man's club like this. There was a sex orgy similar to this going on. I don't remember the title or how it played out, but this was just that. "My god" was all I could think. I'm here to tell you that things like that do actually go on. These rich people have lusts and desires that they can't show in public, but they are wealthy and powerful enough to engage in this stuff privately. They have no limit on their whims. No one tells them, "No." They do as they wish and can afford anything they desire. I was thinking this all to myself. For sure, this was the ultimate man cave. The testosterone level in the assembled group was palpable. This was likely a group of men who, combined, had world-changing influence and power. They were most probably wealthy politicians, judges, and businessmen who, by day, would direct some of the top positions in both public and private society. Judging from the members' rampant desires, apparently many of them would, on occasion, participate in events like this. No sooner had we been seated than a staff member came up to take our drink order. I remember requesting some sort of wine. Simon ordered his usual brandy. I was mostly focused on the brightly lit stage area in front of us. All manner of sex was going on. Fabric-covered platforms of all different sizes and shapes were positioned in the center of the room. Combinations of people were on them and fucking away. A couple women were on their knees, servicing one or more partners. There were whites, blacks, Asians, and even gays going at it with each other. One dark-skinned girl near us was riding a guy and trading blow-jobs with two other men standing on either side of her. My own level of arousal was rising, and judging from what I could make out in the shadows along the room's edge, just about anything goes here. I looked at Simon, leaned in close, and whispered just how "hot" I thought this all was. As we kissed passionately, my hand wandered down to his crotch to locate his cock. He was already hard as steel. I found the slit in his robe and started stroking him slowly. We both watched the performances going on directly in front of us. In just a little while, the staff member who had taken our drink order returned, carrying our glasses. He quietly placed the beverages on the table beside us. He left behind a small, dark, tightly folded towel. I assumed he thought we might need it eventually. I was still somewhat self-conscious about all this and tried to keep Simon's cock hidden. But soon, I realized that no one else really cared. With all the activity going on around us, no one even paid any attention to us at all. I figured this show might go on for hours, so I didn't want Simon to cum right away. I just rested my hand inside his robe, and we just observed the scene. "Are they members also?" I whispered and nodded towards the center of the room. "No, no," was Simon's reply, "they are all paid entertainers." I was fascinated by the studs sporting cocks of all sizes. I didn't know just how long these people had been at it already, but the guys had to have "mega-dosed" on Viagra or something to stay erect for so long. The females would every so often change positions or partners. They would link up with whoever happened to be available at the time. There seemed to be no one directing things. The performers just seemed to move from partner to partner at will. All manner of combinations were featured. Blacks were fucking white women. There was a group of white men gang-fucking a skinny Black girl. The women and men also varied, from the most beautiful girls and solidly well-equipped men to what looked like street whores strung out on drugs. Speaking of drugs, I saw none being openly used, although I would bet some of the participants had to have been on something to continue to fuck for hours like they did. I took a sip from my glass. The liquor was top-shelf, and more was available just for the asking to the members and guests as they desired. I'm not sure how these orgies were arranged. I was never allowed to know. But each was always a thrilling evening of the unexpected. I always wondered if the performers were paid based on their looks or their performances. Obviously, the money was something none ever wanted to turn down. The members and their guests remained robed and disguised at all times. The only parts of their bodies visible were when some girl, or in some cases, a guy, would lift their robes to indulge in sex. I never did know where this place was, and I guessed that no one but the members had any idea either. The Black girl with the three men just in front of us had gotten up and found another cock waiting to be mounted. She walked a few feet over to a platform where a guy was sitting with his cock jutting upwards. She just turned around and sat back down on top of him. I was a little surprised because I was pretty sure she had just taken him anally. It wasn't long before another male approached the pair. She lay back, facing upwards, spread her legs, and welcomed a second vaginal penetration. The new guy now just lunged at her and began hammering away. She eventually began wiggling and moaning as if in a lust-induced trance. It wasn't much longer, and a third guy showed up, and it seemed he wanted to shove his cock in her mouth. Her wailing and moaning seemed real enough. I think that he might have been afraid that she might bite him. Her violent shuddering continued. I was very convinced that her orgasms were completely for real. The big guy standing over her had begun stroking his own cock, and he eventually sent a load of cum down across her face. I doubt she was even aware of him before this. As soon as the girl felt the load landing across her, she began scraping it up with her fingers. She held up her hand, inspected it, and then licked it clean right down to her fingertips. I was sort of curious now as to what would happen to that guy, now that he was spent. I kept a close eye on him as he eventually left the lit area and headed across the room. He walked to the opposite side of the room. There was a gray-robed staff member standing next to a slit in the black curtain. He parted it, and the guy disappeared behind it. Not a minute passed when another nude male entertainer came through it and entered the room. Other staff people and members were also coming and going through that same curtained opening. "Where does that lead?" I asked Simon, pointing to the spot. "The private rooms," Simon replied. "You mean there's more?" I stammered. "Would you like the entire tour?" Simon asked. Really, I thought. You have to ask something like that. Damn straight, I wanted to see it all. "I think I need another drink first," I said. Soon both of our glasses were full again, and Simon got up. We began one last walk around the room. The entertainers were converging on a small, white girl with rather large breasts. One after another, a guy would deposit a load of cum on her tits. She was able to draw her breasts up and lick each one completely clean. I had to watch this for a moment. In a very short time, I watched as three other men fed her their cum loads. Her tongue worked feverishly to capture every drop. Simon eventually tugged at my arm. We completed the loop around the stage and headed towards the curtain. The ever-attentive staff guy parted it for us, and I walked through first. Ahead was a long hallway, with rooms off to each side. Most had their doors wide open. Inside one, I could see a beautiful, naked girl with several robed members lined up in front of her. She was presently occupied with a cock buried in her mouth, and the others there were waiting their turns. I wasn't sure about the protocol, so I didn't enter, and we continued on. A room to our right had a pair of gay men performing a private show for several robed members seated in leather chairs. We passed several more private rooms where I could hear voices; I assumed they were all engaged in private sexual activities. The entire floor of the mansion seemed to be one continuous orgy of sex and depravity. I had seen enough. Simon had to take me somewhere and put an end to my misery. We left the hall and returned to the main orgy stage area. My own body was now screaming for relief. I was weak in the knees, and I knew a powerful orgasm was my only cure. My face was flushed with heat. I had to back up to lean on Simon for support. My hand searched for his hand. I brought it around and put it between my legs. Simon's hand massaged my clit as he nibbled at my ear. I honestly felt like I couldn't go on anymore. I was so damn horny that I didn't even care about the people around us anymore. My cunt was on fire. My focus was on Simon. He alone was capable of satisfying me. I think I literally grabbed him and pushed him against one of the walls. I mashed my lips to his and aggressively pressed my body against his. I placed both hands on his shoulders and actually forced him downward. I had him pinned to the wall, and finally he buckled his knees and disappeared into my robe. I heard the Velcro tear and felt his face in my crotch. I remember reaching down and pushing the mask away from his face. My robe covered his entire head anyway. I pushed my hips into his face and forced his head against the wall behind him. His nose rubbed against my clit once or twice, and then I felt his probing tongue. He lapped at my sex; his tongue darted in and around my clit. I grabbed ahold of a row of steel bars along the top of the gate and literally hung on. I know I was groaning and making noise. I remember just a few people alongside of us turning to look. I didn't care! Being sexed in public like this was the most liberating thing I have ever done. Not that they could see anything; it was just the fact that people were there and aware of what was going on. Simon hit my spot, and I felt the most earth-shattering orgasm taking control. I know I banged his head against the stall door several times as I groaned. Through squinted eyes I did recall a gentleman just next to us as he gave me an approving smile. Simon now pushed me back enough to stand. He fumbled with the stupid mask enough to get it back on. The area was very shadowy anyway. But I guess rules are rules. Once he was on his feet. He grabbed me at the waist and just lifted me off the ground. I settled down right on his waiting cock. He plunged into me with one quick push. I gasped a little, and he started pumping me right on that spot. He came in just a few moments. I muffled his groans by holding his head against my neck. The gentleman standing alongside of us and I locked eyes as Simon was filling me with cum. Simon and I would continue to attend these events as often as my schedule would allow. End Read 3960 times | Rated 95.5 % | (22 votes)