Bob had always been a "lady's man" as he liked to put it, or perhaps a womaniser as others would sometimes say. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the resultant wild sex that marked the conquest of his pursuit, but he soon became bored and sought the next woman to bed. In his prime, at just over 6 feet and in excellent condition Bob knew he turned heads every time he walked into a room. He had the chiselled jawline and swept-back blonde hair that almost screamed the word 'hero' and he had the silver tongue that would talk many a woman into bed. Once between the sheets then his substantial package coupled with his talented tongue soon had his partner moaning in ecstasy.
It had also served him well in sales becoming one of the top salesmen for high-end property developments in London's emerging docklands and then down the Thames as the demand for riverside properties grew. He had invested his money wisely so by the time he reached forty he had been able to semi-retire to the luxury multi-million-pound penthouse that commanded a stunning view down the Thames and boasted of famous names and celebrities as neighbours. He had bought it for a steal from the liquidators of a film company that had gone under when COVID really took hold although there was a rumour that it had been the scene of a deadly incident.
The decor of the apartment was not everyone's ideal choice with its vivid crimson and gold colours and a large mirror above the main bed giving the impression of a brothel or a drug lord's boudoir. In fact, more than one hardcore porn movie had been shot there in the past and the whisper was that a simulated snuff movie had gone wrong resulting in a death. Sure it was a gaudy bedroom, and yes there was history but all it did was drive the price down. Regardless it was still expensive but Bob felt he had earned it and it was always nice to look up and watch the reflection of some young beauty riding his meaty cock as her tits bounced up and down.
Bob was proud of his cock and would take great delight in parading himself in the locker room of the local sports club. He enjoyed showing himself off and making other men green with envy. He wasn't in any way gay or even inclined towards that way but did get a fair few offers. Most wanted to suck or be fucked by him and even on occasion enquired how he would feel about being on the receiving end. He laughed them off stating his ass had the words, "one way only," tattooed on it. The truth was he was scared to death at the thought of the tables being turned and being penetrated.
Bob loved nothing better than hearing a woman whimpering and gurgling loudly as they took him anally for the first time. In fact, it was almost an obsession for him to watch their faces screwed up with pain as he went balls deep. He knew that despite their protests at first, the pleading and sobbing to stop as he entered inch by inch, they all came like trains in the end.
When it came to clients or wives of clients, he was very careful to never make the first move, in fact, he would almost play coy just to make sure that he wasn't misreading any signs. Once it was established that they were up for some extramarital sex he would arrange to meet them discretely at his place where they would fuck. Some even saw him on a semi-regular basis knowing he was the height of discretion. Bob didn't mind if they were some young gold digger who wasn't getting it from her rich sugar daddy or an older wife whose husband could no longer perform, either way, they ended up in his bed getting royally fucked in every hole. The one thing he refused to do was become involved and if things ever moved even slightly in that direction he would make sure the relationship ended.
He now spent his days rising late and then lounging around, sometimes working out in the small private communal gym, sometimes doing the odd deal for a client wishing to buy or sell. In the evening he would prowl the bars and clubs of Chelsea and the West End looking for the right woman or women to take back to his penthouse. He had found that although he didn't always need any help to get an erection it was becoming easier to pop a little blue pill before he went out just to help his staying power. When he was younger he could fuck all night, but at 40, with a pair of eager young women who were as much into each other as they were to him, a little chemical assistance kept things moving.
When it came to chemicals Bob had also discovered the joys of the Columbian marching powder mixed with copious bottles of champagne was often a very effective way of getting a young twenty-year-old something to part with their clothes and their morals. To be honest it also worked with the older women as well but wasn't always as necessary as they were often more willing and normally had a lot fewer morals. One of his favourite perversions of late was to get a couple of women back to his flat and have them perform on his bed while he watched from his chair. Unbeknown to them their antics were also recorded, something that he would enjoy watching at a later stage, often critiquing his own performance when he joined them.
He had never told anyone else about his secret collection of recordings that could only be seen by accessing a hidden partitioned drive on his laptop. The great thing was that he could then cast this onto the 85" television that dominated the lounge and watch the action in high definition accompanied by the sounds of sex issuing from the multi-speaker system. The whole process was driven by voice recognition and password protection, with the recording starting automatically. Bob often laughed to himself that maybe he should start putting clips on the internet and wondered how some of his rich old clients would react seeing their wife taking it up the ass like a champ.
In fact, it was one of those clips he was watching as he sat naked on his couch watching Mrs Smythe-Kliene taking his ten-inch cock up her ass to the hilt as she dined on some young thing that he had fucked earlier in front of her. He was slowly pulling on his cock, caressing it to full hardness as Nancy Smythe-Kleine's words echoed around the room that he was sure the local tennis club would be shocked to hear her use when it happened.
"Hi Bob, nice cock. Will see you soon."
Bob swung his head around in alarm as he was certain the flat was empty. He was just in time to see a naked young woman walk towards his bedroom before she paused, half turning towards him as she gave him a broad smile. Her blue eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked at him and then she arched her back making her full breasts and nipples point invitingly towards him. He would have guessed she was young, perhaps no more than 20 with a look that screamed innocence yet fuck my brains out all at the same time. A quick glance down her body told him that she was a natural blonde and her pubic hair was trimmed into a small neat heart. She blew him a silent kiss before she turned away, her blonde hair halfway down her back, and as she walked her pert ass cheeks jiggled as the door closed behind her.
"What the fuck," Bob roared into the now empty room and leapt to his feet to pursue the blonde into his bedroom. Pushing open the door he was perplexed to see his bedroom was empty and the windows firmly shut and locked. He searched in the wardrobes pulling his expensive handmade suits aside as he searched to the very back of each of the cavernous wardrobes. He reached under the bed even though the was no room for someone to hide, he even pulled open the drawers in case she was a contortionist of some sort, but all to no avail. Then he sat on the bed shaking his head trying to work out what the hell just happened.
Stomping back into the main room he clicked a few buttons to replay the automatic recording of his bedroom. The screen showed him leaving the bedroom earlier that morning and then going into shut down until it was triggered by noise or movement. The next time it flickered into life was him striding into the room and searching for a hidden intruder. There was no sign of the naked girl and Bob replayed the section a couple of times to check.
Cutting a line of coke Bob snorted deeply feeling his heart race as the drugs took hold. Then shaking his head muttered to himself that he must be overworking and perhaps he needed a break.
*****
That evening Bob trawled the various swanky bars that he liked to frequent assessing the quality of the women there. He had gone out looking for a nice naive young woman who he could charm into bed and with a bit of luck corrupt her morally. The reality was he wanted to find the mystery woman from the bedroom and fuck her in the ass so hard she would scream and scream. He had to adjust his position as he felt his cock start to swell as he created a mental picture of his face as he took her.
He nodded discreetly to a mature German couple in their 60s to who he had sold a large multi-million-pound penthouse the previous year. The man barely acknowledged his existence whereas his wife smiled at him warmly before turning to her husband speaking close to his ear. Bob smiled inside though he doubted she was telling him about the time she had sucked Bob's cock so hard he swore she was going to suck it off. He remembered how good she had looked on the big screen gagging on his cock as she deep throated him, at her insistence of course. It was then that Bob noticed the woman next to them who was looking around shyly, averting her gaze when Bob smiled at her.
A waiter appeared at Bob's side and said quietly, "Mr Mayer wondered if you could join his party for a few minutes."
Bob sat down at the booth and was introduced to the shy woman who it turned out was a good friend of the Mayers and recently divorced. Bob would have guessed she was in her 50s and was tiny like a little bird, especially compared to Mrs Mayer's much more matronly frame. She spoke almost no English but through the Mayers, he established she was looking to buy an apartment near her good friend Helga Mayer so they would be company for each other when Mr Mayer was away. Bob wondered how good a company they would be for each other as he had witnessed old Mrs Mayer taking a large strap on with great enthusiasm as she choked on his cock.
The likely cost was mentioned discretely and the woman, who had been introduced as Steina von Clause, facial expression didn't change. Bob was already calculating what his commission would be on the multimillion sale when Helga spoke,
