Getting Rich Ch 01

Chapter 01 - A Whole Lotto Surprises

This story is, obviously, fantasy. It is based on what I would like to imagine I would do if I were in similar circumstances. It contains group sex, M/M and F/F sex and semi public sex. If that's not your bag, please stop here. And no, it is only a fantasy - I haven't won the lotto yet.

I never really expected to get rich - who does? It's not like I gamble - I find Vegas annoying, and don't follow sports at all - but every now and then I buy a lotto ticket. I think I won $200 about 30 years ago once, but the vast majority of the time ... zip. So when I bought that ticket, I got home and threw it on my desk with my other pocket stuff and promptly forgot about it. I was as surprised as anyone the next week when I stopped by the 7/11 in the morning for my muffin and OJ and the manager (a nice guy) stopped me and said "Was it you?"

Not having any idea what he might have been talking about I said "Probably? What am I supposed to have done this time?"

"Probably not, then. Somebody bought their winning lotto ticket here."

I had to laugh at that. Me win the lotto? A nice idea, but like I said, I don't win things. I could do a whole Rodney Dangerfield routine on all of the things I haven't won.

"I wish! I am more than ready to retire, but I doubt it was me. I'll have to check my ticket when I get home. Say - doesn't the store that sold the winning ticket get something?"

"Yeah" he grinned. "It's going to be a nice bonus for all of my people. But whoever sold the actual ticket will get a little bit more."

"Well, I hope it's me, then. You always sell me my tickets."

***

I didn't really think about it for the rest of the day. I was busy enough to let it fall from my consciousness, and I never win anything, right? But when I got home and fired up my computer I noticed the lotto ticket in the stack of stuff I keep on my desk, and thought *

What the hell?

* and opened another browser window and went to the lotto site.

*

Powerball .... match! Damn - I broke even! First number... match! Second number... holy crap... Third, fourth.... Oh my god, I'm gonna be rich! How many others won? Just me. Comes out to ... 95 Million. Definitely enough to retire on. Now let's see, 60% of that comes out to...52... OK, that's enough. I wonder what the tax load will be?*

Spend ten percent, gift ten percent, invest the rest. And the Lotto office isn't open at night, so... find out what time the lotto office was open, and where it was.

I put the ticket in an envelope and opened up a window to a real estate site. I knew what kind of house I wanted - now to see if it existed.

Thursday morning I got up, called into the office and told them I'd be late - I had a slight 'personal emergency' I had to take care of. Then I dressed very carefully, combed my hair and drove up to the lotto office

The lotto people had some questions to make sure I was on the level, but I had tried to plan ahead and brought my driver's license, my social security card and a certified copy of my birth certificate, plus a couple of electric bills and rent reciepts, so that once they wee sure it was me whod bought the ticket ("Where did you buy it? When? From who?), they got a signed statement, some publicity snaps an the like, and then wrote out a check and got it signed and co-signed in return for the ticket. Maybe twenty minutes work for almost forty million dollars. Not a bad hourly rate. There was also a tax guy there, and he gave me some forms to fill out and warned me they would be due pronto.

From there I drove to my credit union (after changing into a less horrible shirt and combing my hair the way I normally did. Any stalkers who used the publicity snaps would have to see past the surface) to deposit the check. The people there were friendly as always, but were nearly as shocked as I was when they saw the check. Fortunately (with planning) I'd asked to talk to one of the loan people instead of going directly to a teller, so few people knew what was happening. The loan officer called the lotto office, verified the check number and name and all that stuff, and then created a set of nested accounts - each one at or under the FDIC insurance limit - and I thanked him profusely, asked for a thousand dollars in cash (because ... come on - that's what you do, right?), and went to work.

When I got to the office I checked in with my boss, then went to the store room and grabbed an empty paper box, then went to my office and after logging into my computer, started sorting through all of the crap in my desk, putting personal stuff in the box while running the daily reports and doing the usual daily drudgery. Once I got things up and running and the immediate stuff taken care of, and the box filled and my desk emptied, I walked to my boss' door.

"You busy?" I asked. Her door was open, and she was working on ... something, as always. When she turned to face me I (as always) admired her beauty and her ready smile, and (as always) reminded myself that her husband was on the SWAT team.

"The usual" she said. "What's up?"

"I quit" I said, and watched her expression change... and then change again.

"You're serious?"

"Yep."

"So this is your two weeks notice?"

"Nope - this is my two minute warning."

"What?"

"You know me. Under normal conditions I'd have stayed on and trained my replacement, but ... things have changed here lately, and not for the better. So I got a better offer, and I'm taking it."

"I hope it's a really good offer!"

"Passable. Pays about 40 million." I teased, and then the lights went on in her head.

"You won the lotto!?"

"Yup. And all of those times when I said I'd leave a hole in the air if I won? They were true."

She'd finally realized I wasn't kidding. "Well I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too - and a few other people. But not enough people any more to tie me down. I just wanted you to know first. Now I'm gonna go talk to HR and the boss." I gavce a little wave, and turned and walked away. It's the best way, after all.

The Office Manager/HR person was not as understanding or forgiving. But she was also enough less of a people person that she got the paperwork rolling without too much complaining, and then I walked by the Boss' office and told her I was leaving and went back to my desk to finish packing.

I actually finished up the day's work, as it gave me a chance to find a touch of closure, and let the word spread and those who gave a damn to come by my office and say their farewells. Laughs were had, some tears were shed, and at five I walked out the door.

I took my time driving home. Went through the park, and detoured enough to be able to just look at things from a new perspective. Grabbed some food on the way there, and once I got home I didn't turn on the news. Just put on some music, went on-line and started serious house hunting. But unlike the night before, it was all real, and I picked a couple of houses and hit the 'contact realtor' button to get a tour.

The strangest part the next day was not getting up when the alarm clock went off, but instead turning it off. 35 years without a real vacation had left me unprepared for being at loose ends. But I do other things than work, so I got out one of my horns and spent an hour practicing/playing (never work the horn - play the music! As my brother used to say), and thought about maybe putting my band back together. We'd fallen apart when the place where we used to practice kicked us out, and my MD passed on a week later. Hosting a 17 piece big band, even a rehearsal band, takes time and space and money, and now I had those. Hmmmm...

Then I looked at the box of stuff from my office, and at the bulging shelves that lined the walls. I needed boxes. Lots of boxes. Google 'Shipping and moving". Find a local place and order, say, a hundred boxes. Don't worry about cost, having paid off the VISA yesterday and bumped the limit to $50K. Hell with it - order one of those "pods" and a hundred boxes to be dropped off in front of my apartment building.

At about noon the phone rang - it was one of the realtors I'd clicked on. Up on the hill, 4,000 square feet, high ceilings, five bedrooms, 2 million dollars. When did I want to see the property? Tomorrow would be good. We arranged a time to meet, and hung up. At least she had a nice voice.

The next day the Pod showed up bright and early, and I met with the movers and signed for it, took the boxes out and hauled them back into the apartment, piled them on the sofa and turned on the boob tube and began packing.

A movie or two later, and a few dozen boxes later I showered, dressed like In thought someone with money but relaxed about it (nice slacks and a polo shirt), grabbed a few items I thought might be handy and drove over to the first house. I was glad it was this one who had called first, as it was my favorite of the few I'd tagged. A good sign? I hoped so.

The house was only a mile or two from my apartment, and I was surprised to find parking right in front, so I snapped a few pictures from in front and tried to guess at the layout and other details that were hard to guess from the web site and just waited for the realtor to arrive.

She drove up about ten minutes before our scheduled time and parked in the house's driveway - something I wasn't ready to do yet - and walked up to the front door.

*

Nice ass

* I thought from my car across the street. Some people rock a suit better than others. I gave her a minute to unlock the front door and look inside before getting out of my dar and approaching.

"Hey, there" I said when I stepped off of the sidewalk. "I'm Tom - I believe we have an appointment?"

She turned and smiled *

Nice smile, too!

* and reached out to shake my hand while giving me a quick once-over and apparently not disapproving.

"Hello. I'm Trina. Ready for your tour?"

The house was very nice. Nicer than any place I have ever lived (mostly barracks and apartments). She showed me the features that sold well, and I looked at the structure andmeasured the spaces (have tape measure, will travel). Shed showed me the pool and I asked why there weren't any solar panels. She showed me the kitchen and I looked under the sink for signs of repair. She showed me the family room with its fifteen foot ceilings (one feature I definitely wanted) and I checked the acoustics. Not bad. She showed me the bedrooms and I looked at her ass (not bad at all!) And asked about cable connections.

When we finished her planned tour, she asked if there was anything else I'd like to see? I found it difficult not to be too obvious what I really wanted to see, and instead asked to see the water heater and electrical panel. She glanced down to see a fairly noticeable bulge in my slacks and said "I'll show you all you want."

Once the tour was done, we talked money. She told me the asking price, and I told her it'd cost at least $100K to put in double-paned windows, solar panels, proper computer wiring and to remodel the upstairs bathroom.. As she had basically shown me that bath and not commented on it or highlighted I could tell she also knew it needed to be re-done, so she said she'd ask. I told her to find out who did the pool while she was talking to the owners - it would be much easier to keep someone familiar on the job - and she went into another room to call while I prowled on my own.

She found me ten minutes later sketching the layout of the ground floor and noting where I'd put what and pointing to her phone asked me what kind of deal I'd like to make.

"Cash."

"Cash?"

"Sure - cash. Come with me to my credit union and bring the contracts and we can have this finished today."

"You're kidding."

"I never kid about money. I like the house - it's almost exactly what I wanted. Unless you have some objection?"

She shook her head no, and went out in the living room to talk to the clients, then came back a minute later and handed me her phone. "They want to talk to you."

"Hello?"

"Hi - this is the current owners. Are you sure you like the place?"

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't? Does the roof leak or something?"

"No - we just didn't expect a cash offer, much less this soon."

"Well, I like your house. Could I ask a question, though?"

"I guess."

"What's trash day?"

The woman on the other end of the line laughed long and hard at that, and I held out the phone so the realtor could hear it, and she giggled too (also very well), and gave her phone back when asked to.

"If you're sure" she started.

"I see no reason not to ... oh - I need to see the garage - but no, I see no reason not to be."

We looked at the garage, and I saw there was already a plug ready for the car (yes! I could upgrade to a plug-in electric - maybe even a Tesla!) And room for storage and tools and I suggested we take my car to the CU.

On the drive I asked her about herself and she about me and maybe we flirted, maybe not. I'd been single for long enough, after a horrific breakup, that I was not entirely certain. But she got form contracts from her bag and called her office on the way, and when we got there I asked for a mortage specialist. That got me a look from her, and when we went into the office it turned out to be the same person who'd deposited my check for me, so I told him I was ready to buy a house and the realtor had the contracts at hand.

"Put the price in a special account - assign a fifteen year mortgage to it, and include the interest to the gross price. Then do an automatic debit every month and that way they get their price, I get good credit status, and nobody has to worry about details like remembering to pay the mortgage... then put 10% of that amount into another account to cover the property taxes, and we're set. Does that work for you?"

They both assured me that it did, and she filled out the paperwork, I signed it, the banker signed it, and she signed it. And I owned a house!

Once the paperwork was done she got the banker to give us certified copies (nice and necessary to have a notary in house) and we walked back to the car. And drove to the house. My house.

She handed me the keys, and I guess something swelled besides my pride, because instead of getting in her car and driving away, she asked to come in and use the facilities.

I was in the kitchen when she came into the room stark naked (

extremely

not bad!!) and asked "don't you think you should bless the house?"

"Is this a standard service?"

"No - but for one thing, I don't get a $75,000 cash commission every day, and for another... you're kind of cute."

"Seventy five...? Wow. That's almost twice what I made last year!"

She stepped back, shocked. "But I thought..."

"Thought I was filthy rich? I am. Now. I won the lotto two days ago. So this will be the only house I buy. Still want to bless the house?"

"I think so... but first I need to know just how blessed you really are."

I tried not to rush, but I had my shirt off by the time she'd crossed to where I was standing, and kicked my shoes off as she was sinking to her knees.

Putting a hand on the front of my slacks, she smiled and said "I thought I'd seen a couple of hints of this earlier" and then undid my belt and my fly and let my slacks fall to the floor. By then I was almost fully hard, and my cock lifted the front of my boxers. She rubbed its length with the palm of her hand a few times, bringing it to full hardness and making my underwear more than a bit uncomfortable. Before I could do much of anything, though, she leaned in, grabbed the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down, letting my cock spring free and hit her in the face and spattering it with drops of pre-cum.

"Oh, you are excited, aren't you!" she exclaimed and, gripping the shaft lightly began to lick up an down its length, taking the time to squeeze out and lick up a few drops of pre-cum every few trips up to the head.

Gently cupping my balls with her other hand, she backed uff and looked over the whole length and then carefully wrapped her lips around the head and slowly, gradually, carefully began to inch her way along the length until she had more than half of it in her mouth and then backed away, letting her tongue linger along the underside, bringing forth a flood of sensation. She repeated this again and again, getting faster each time and going deeper each time until she had all but the last couple of inches in her mouth, but I could feel it bottoming out every time and I could smell her aroma getting stronger by the second.

She backed off after a few minutes and gasped "Oh, that's nice!"

"Thank you - but I think it's my turn now" I said and, thankful for carpeting and good pad, I sank to my knees next to her and kissed her deeply, tasting my pre-cum in her mouth and letting my free hand meander down to her moist mound.

We both eased our way down to the floor as I fingered and kissed her, and I did my level best to make it as good as I remembered it could be. She also used her free hand on me, and after a few minutes (I did not look at a clock) rolled onto her back and said "Fuck me!"

"Ummm... I didn't bring a condom. Hell, I never anticipated this!"

"Don't worry about it - I'm married and on the pill."

I though about it for a very long time (at least three or four seconds) and said "I'd love to, but first I have to get you ready."

"Ready? How much more ready can I get?"

I didn't answer in words, just pivoted around until I could plunge my face into her sodden pussy and see if I could remember how it was done.

Five minutes and two orgasms later I decided that maybe I hadn't forgotten everything I'd ever known about that particular art, and that just maybe I owed the Ex a tiny bit of thanks for letting me practice it so much when we were together. My ears were ringing a little bit from a combination of being squeezed between her lush but muscular thighs and her squeals when I found the right spot.

Then I kissed and licked my way up her body, enjoying the giggles elicited when I made side trips to her navel and small but perky tits, and the soulful hum when I licked and nibbled at the base of her neck and earlobes, but I was intrigued at how thoroughly she kissed me back when I got to her mouth, as I undoubtedly still tasted like her pussy. But she just moaned when I rubbed the head of my cock along her nether lips, and when I went to ease it into her she rocked her hips and took all eight thick inches at once.

I eased out a bit and then slammed home and she gasped and clenched her thighs again, which let me know this was how she liked it, so I kept going, hardly changing the rhythm at all until the front door slammed open and a man barged in, shouting "Just what do you think you are doing?"

I was, of course, a little bit discomfited by this, but Trina just looked over at him and said "We're fucking! Surely you remember how that works!" Then she looked up at me, and said "Tom - this is Dennis, my husband."

"Your husband."

"I texted him while we were signing the papers. I hope you don't mind?"

"I don't if he doesn't, I guess."

"Hi, I'm Dennis" he said.

"Could you close the door, Dennis?"

They both laughed at that (thank goodness!) And when he walked away to close the door, I resumed my rhythm, which was apparently good enough for Trina, who used arms and legs to pull me closer to her.

I got enough into it (as it were) enough that I didn't notice Dennis taking his clothes off, but after our introduction that didn't surprise me at all. It only became an issue when he leaned in to kiss his wife. Not wanting to interfere, I leaned back on my knees until I was perpendicular to her, pulled her hips up and toward me and, supporting her ass with both hands, continued fucking.