Greed. Everything that drove Martin Simpson was based on greed. I should have realized that from the very beginning of our relationship but was so in awe of his power and success at the time that I was blind to what he was about. By the time I saw through the bullshit that surrounded him I was married to him and totally under his domination.
Greed. Even sex with Martin Simpson was based on greed. He sought me out for attention at a time when I was working for his company. Not that I needed to work, I had enough money from an inheritance that would have allowed me to laze around, visiting the trendiest boutiques in New York and Paris for my wardrobe, winter in the Swiss Alps and summer in the Bahamas, but no, I wanted to put my College degree in Business Management to good use. So there I was, Helena Manning, a junior executive in the brokerage company Bonner Simpson and Associates and, like all of the other young women working there, totally in awe of our charismatic boss in the corner office on the top floor.
Martin Simpson graduated from Harvard Business School at the same time as his wife Therese Bonner. They married soon after in what was written up in those publications that write about these things, as the 'society wedding of the year.' Over the next twelve years Roger Bonner retired and appointed Martin Simpson to succeed him as the company CEO, Therese Bonner Simpson stayed at home and cared for their three children leaving the running of the business totally in her husband's control.
The business thrived, due in no small part to Martin's greed. Every decision that he made was about making more money for the company, and of course, himself. This greed flowed into all parts of his life; everything that he bought had to be negotiated down to the point where the vendor was lucky to recoup expenses. Every time that he flew he was able to get upgraded to the best seats. He was only seen at the most important events and made sure that his presence was duly noted in the gossip columns. Sometimes Therese accompanied him while on other occasions, when it suited his purpose, he either went alone or with business associates. The bottom line was that he always made more from these appearances than he had outlaid to be there. If there was no profit in it he just didn't bother going.
I had been there for six months when Martin began to pay attention to me. At first it was little things, just a nod in passing, a quick smile in the elevator, then the attention began to become more obvious, but never that obvious that it attracted attention. Then, very subtly the attention became more open and this started a whispering campaign behind my back. I couldn't understand why women that I had regarded as friends now began to avoid me and then one day I confronted Margie Jensen in the ladies room. "Why are you girls avoiding me? What have I done, tell me, please."
"Helena, I can't believe that you are so naïve that you can't see that Martin is hitting on you."
"What? He is so not hitting on me, and even if he was I'm not interested. He's married for God's sake!"
"And that will stop him how?"
"Give me credit for having some scruples, there is no way that I am ever going to get involved in a relationship with him." As it turned out these were famous last words. A month later I was invited, no scratch that, ordered, by my immediate boss to accompany Martin on a business trip to London and Paris. There were probably a dozen women in the company who would have killed me for the opportunity, and I was on the point of handing in my resignation when I was called into the corner office.
"Helena, I understand your reluctance to come with me, after all there are probably any number of people in this company who will tell you that I cannot be trusted alone with a woman, but let me assure you that you will be perfectly safe, this is a business trip only, there will be no shenanigans. I just need your expertise for some of the negotiations that will happen over there."
Martin was good to his word for the first two days and I was beginning to feel a little more comfortable with him until we arrived in Paris and there everything changed. The first evening it was dinner at Maxims that included the finest wines. Every time I looked at my glass it was full and over the course of dinner I had drunk more than I was used to, to the point that I was drunker than I had ever been. He walked me back to our hotel, to sober up he said, but I was feeling even more inebriated when we got to my room. He took my key card from me and opened the door, his arm was around me as he ushered me inside. Once there he leant towards me and kissed me. I tried to turn my head away but resistance seemed to desert me.
By the time we reached my bedroom I was vaguely aware of his hand squeezing my butt.
He turned me towards him and drew me into his arms, kissing me on the lips, at first softly and later with more passion, his tongue pushing against my lips. My mind kept yelling at me to break free and tell him to leave, but my body was just as insistent, telling me to 'go for it girl, how many months has it been since you had sex, take the chance when it presents itself. Who's to know.' The body won.
"Please, you promised that nothing would happen." Even I wasn't convinced.
His hand took mine and guided it to the front of his trousers where it encountered his rampant cock. Instinctively I stroked it, feeling it throb under my touch. His other hand had drawn the zipper at the back of my dress down to the base of my spine and them moved up to unclasp my bra. I was powerless now to stop what was happening. My dress was pulled down over my shoulders and his lips had sucked my nipple into his mouth. He released my hand and opened his flies, releasing his cock into my hand.
He pushed my dress to the floor and I stepped out of it, now naked except for my panties and somehow the shame that I had anticipated didn't eventuate. Martin dropped to his knees in front of me and began to kiss me through the thin material and I could feel myself getting wet. His hand drew the material aside and his tongue licked at me. My knees gave way and I collapsed onto the bed, his head between my legs, his tongue probing inside my wet pussy.
I lost all track of time, I don't know how long he was down there, all that I could remember was the two, or was it three, orgasms that shook my body before I felt his cock push into my now willing pussy.
Let me tell you that my experiences with sex up to this point were not very memorable, just a couple of semi-long term relationships at college with boys who seemed to be intent on breaking the speed sex world record. There was none of what Martin had just done, more often just a quick grope followed by a cock shoved into my unprepared (read dry) pussy, a couple of quick strokes followed by the sound of the condom being removed.
Martin's cock was causing all sorts of sensations to take over my body, his slow movement heightened all of these and I was soon experiencing the 'most amazing orgasm ever' followed some time later by the new 'most amazing orgasm ever'. It was just as the fourth 'most amazing orgasm ever' wracked my body that I felt the flood of sperm enter me. I held him to me, not wanting to let go of this new experience, of him. I drifted off to sleep with him still on me, my arms still around him and his, by now limp cock, still inside me.
Consciousness came with daylight through the curtains and I rolled over in bed only to encounter a body, a naked body, here in my bed. Then it hit me, Martin, sex, great sex, shit, no birth control, what am I going to do? I can't get pregnant, not now, not to him. Damn it girl, how could you be so stupid? I scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I don't know how long I sat on that bidet washing myself, trying to rid myself of all traces of him, the warm water soothing my sore, and when I looked at it red, pussy. God, how long did the sex last? Memories flooded back, his cock felt huge, but he was gentle with it so my memory of it was that it felt great. I couldn't remember how many times he came inside me but was sure that it was more than once, and I had let him, I couldn't stop him invading me, my body.
The bathroom door opened and Martin walked in, his cock swinging from side to side, shit I looked at it before I looked at his face, what does that mean? He sat on the toilet and looked at me, "How are you this morning?"
"How am I supposed to be? We had sex last night after you promised me that nothing was going to happen, I'm not on any birth control and I seem to recall that you came inside me at least once so what am I going to do about that little problem, huh?"
"Funny, I don't seem to recall you putting up much resistance to me making love to you."
"I was drunk damn it! You got me drunk and seduced me."
"As for birth control, I have a pill that you can take that will solve that problem, it's called the 'morning after pill'."
"Okay, that's fine for now, but I don't think that I'll be able to face the whole working for you scenario when we gat back to the States."
"No one needs to know about this."
"Especially not your wife."
"My wife doesn't care any more."
"And now I suppose that you're going to spin that line about her not understanding you and your needs and that what sex you've had lately has been most unsatisfactory for both of you and that you've discussed divorce and even as we speak your lawyer and her lawyer are locked in negotiations as to how the divorce will pan out."
"It's not a line, in fact it's true."
"And I've been chosen to succeed her, is that it?"
