He was the sweetest man, my first husband. George Rhys Iain Mountbaterze, nineteenth Duke of Aarnaarn, was sixty-eight years old when he discovered my eighteen year old body sunbathing topless for the very fist time on the Costa del Sol. I’m six feet and three inches in height with breasts that must be fitted in the specialty shops. My toes and fingers were painted the palest pink. According to Georgie, they perfectly matched my nipples. My body is slender. My hips do not bring to mind child bearing, which is why it is incredibly odd Georgie chose me.
You see, only two weeks previously, Georgie’s nephew, Phillip, had hired some thugs to kill Georgie. Well, the plot was foiled, and dearest Georgie decided he needed to marry and reproduce in a hurry. His lawyer, Armand, suggested Georgie try the Costa del Sol, it being all the rage that summer with the rich Americans. Can I tell you, I am ever so glad I didn’t go to Thailand as I had planned!
***
I am enslaved by the sun. If I don’t roll over in the next few minutes, my tits are going to have a horrendous burn and I am going to repent my laziness. As the stern thought strolled across my mind, something thumped me three times, pleasantly, between the legs. Pushing my sunglasses upon my bleached white hair, I looked up at the plump little man before me. Wingtips, herringbone slacks, white shirt, tie, and one crazy azure and coral vest covering a very Father Christmas type fellow, sans the beard, who once again tapped my pussy three times with his cane. Lazily, I sat up, reached up for the old man’s zipper, and gave the head of his cock a friendly squeeze, before zipping him back up and reaching for a sip of my San Miguel. The old man threw back his head and laughed and said he had a proposal for me. Six hours later, we exchange vows in a small church outside Ciudad Real, before we continue our journey to Madrid were we are going to catch an evening flight back to Gatwick.
I am in the most enormous bed I have ever seen. I’m wearing the sheer, pink peignoir my husband as left for me. My white-blonde hair is freshly washed and hanging straight to my waist, my skin has a rosy glow after being sun-kissed, and my pussy has drenched the matching, sheer, pink panties while my mind thinks of all the perverted pleasures a man old enough to be my grandfather is going to make upon my virgin body. Nothing prepares me for the sight behold when the door opens.
Georgie walked into my bedroom, leading the blackest woman, who walked in on all fours, her decorative dog collar attached to the leash in Georgie’s hand. She had pendulous breasts. However, she had heavy thighs and calves and a big, fat, juicy ass that seemed to roll of its own accord. She was naked save for the throbbing, pink vibrator held into place by a harness around her waist.