My father is a very wealthy man. He's worth millions, but he's always said he's never felt richer than the day I was born. Well past fifty and on his third wife, he had begun to suspect that he would never have a child and he was so pleased that it was a son. His wives have come and gone, but he and I have always had a happy life together.
During my second year of college, he turned 75 and had a huge party. I came down from Harvard to spend the weekend at his Connecticut estate. He suggested I bring some friends my own age, but truth be told, a shy biochemistry major has few friends. This is what left me in his study at the height of the party, just tired of mingling with people more than twice my age. I plopped down in Dad's plush leather chair and undid my bow tie.
I was contemplating spending the rest of the party hiding in here when Olivia walked in. Dad's sixth or seventh wife, she was possibly his most attractive. At 27, she still managed to convey an experienced air, lithe, cat-like. Her eyes were so heavily lidded, she seemed almost sleepy in her confidence. However, her smile shot out at the most inopportune times, disarming you mid-sentence and reducing you to a babbling freak. She took great delight in teasing men, though my father insisted she was totally loyal to him. As she was nearly six feet tall, with a perfect figure and long curly brown hair, I never minded her teasing me.
"Hiding out, Rick?" She strutted over toward me, looking incredibly slinky in her sparkling blue gown.
I laughed nervously. "Just trying to find a comfortable place to sit."
She laughed knowingly. My father's chair was notoriously the most comfortable in the house. She hopped onto the desk and leaned back luxuriously. I couldn't help staring as her back arched slightly, pushing her C cup breasts out. The open sides easily revealed she wasn't wearing a bra. As she crossed her legs, the sit in her skirt opened, giving me an eyeful of her gorgeous taut legs. Dad really knew how to pick them.
I looked up to catch her watching me over the rim of her champagne glass. "See anything you like?" I stammered for a second and she just laughed again, her breathy, throaty laugh that sent chills up my spine. "Relax." She gently pushed me so I leaned back in the chair. Then she opened the box of Romeo y Julietas on my father's desk and offered me a cigar. She lit the cigar for me and I relaxed a little bit, enjoying the quiet moment.
"You know, Rick. It's unfortunate to say, but it's not long until you'll be the man of the house." I nodded, puffing on the cigar, wondering where she was going. "Your father and I have an arrangement." Here it comes. It had happened before: Dad's wife trying to tell me exactly how they were supposed to be provided for. I knew it was bullshit. Dad had shown me his will. Other than a life insurance policy benefiting his current wife, the whole fortune was left to me.
Olivia paused before launching into her speech. She bit her lip slightly and I could see it trembling between her teeth. "You see Rick, I fuck your father and he keeps me looking the way I deserve to." This was different. "The clothes, the jewelry, the personal trainer. All of it. I live the good life by keeping him happy."
She was trying something and for once, I felt like I had the upper hand. "What exactly are you saying here, Olivia?"
She raked her manicured fingernails across the exposed part of her chest. "It's an arrangement I hope to maintain after he's gone."
I coughed. "What?"
Her tongue ran across her lips, painting to a high glossed red that reflected the lights from outside. "If you keep me here, I'll start fucking you."
I was in shock. I simply did not know how to react. Somehow, with living in this big empty house and being so involved in my studies, I was still a virgin. And now a gorgeous woman was trying to sell herself to me.
Before I could say anything, Olivia slid off the desk. She kneeled on the floor in front of me and reached up between my legs. "I could make you so happy, Rick," she purred, squeezing my cock where it was growing inside my tuxedo. "Please. Don't you want me to make you happy?" Her hands quickly opened my pants and my cock quickly rose out into the dark study. She grabbed it in both hands and kissed the tip gently, taking away a bit of pre-cum. "Don't you want me to?"
Before I could answer, she engulfed my cock with her mouth. Her wet mouth quickly took me in up the hilt. I could feel her tongue lightly tracing the underside as she dragged her lips back up to kiss the tip again. I squirmed in my chair, finding this sort of teasing maddening. She looked at me, her eyes all conspiracy, secret pacts and most of all, pleasing me in every way.
And suddenly I felt like the million bucks I was worth. I leaned back and closed my eyes and her head started bobbing. Her breathy sighs were music to my ears even as they blew across my swollen member. I puffed on the cigar and picked up her champagne, feeling as though I was king of the world. As her bobbing increased, my balls started to tighten and I grunted.
