ALPHANSO and SUBASTIAN, part 2
I had to get out of the house, away from the computer. Working from home was driving me nuts. Don't get me wrong -- I was grateful to be able to work through this pandemic from the relative safety of my home office and keep the money coming in, but I was really, really bored and frustrated as hell. I missed my office and my team and all the social interaction. I guess I'm a lot more of a social butterfly than I realized.
I'm known as a good listener, receptive to others' ideas and opinions, and willing to subordinate my own goals in order to help others stand out and shine. I guess you could say I lead by serving others who are more driven than me to become all that they can be. It gives me tremendous satisfaction and I don't mind not climbing that ladder with them or instead of them. I much prefer to give them a big boost up whenever I can. It's just the way I'm wired. I kind of like to look up from below and know that I played a key role in their ascent.
Come to think of it, that's how it turned out with my (almost) ex, too. I was first drawn to her because I saw so much potential in her. She couldn't see it then, but I could. Her family background (Catholic, Latina) had constrained that potential. It was there underneath the surface, but she had to break out of and away from all of that -- transcend it, and venture into the forbidden parts of her psyche that were desperate for freedom. I nurtured her talent until she became an unstoppable force in the fashion world. When she walked into any board room or show room, all eyes turned. She became
sizzling hot,
and as her devoted spouse I became the envy of nearly every man - and some women too.
Behind closed doors she made me play the romantic loving husband and not stray from missionary position -- at first. It was good for a while, but I got bored fast and I think she did too though she couldn't admit it. It didn't take long before I could no longer get it up for her that way, and that stirred up her anger, which was fierce.
To appease her and avoid her wrath I would go down on her. It took a while for me to get the hang of it and for her to relax and get into the pleasure of becoming the entire focus of attention (she never went down on me or even offered a hand job), but when she began to let go and loosen up, she started grabbing my head and forcing my mouth and tongue down harder onto her clit. At one point I realized that my cock got hard when she did that. She'd wrap her legs around my head, lock me in place, then ride my face masturbating herself on my mouth and tongue. The more aggressive she became, the more she just used me to pleasure herself, the harder I got for some reason.
Although this turned her on it also seemed to disgust her -- like somehow I was less of a man, and as her star rose, the more she couldn't stand it. Jimena needed a powerhouse of a man to subdue her, a real man who
craved
her, who could fuck her brains out on pure animal lust alone.
Over time she became more brazen with other men right in front of me. Not just any men -- the hottest Puerto Rican physique models in the business. I could feel my face blush deep red every time she would flaunt herself like the highest pedigreed cat in
heat
, which she really was. Her body, her face, her skin -- all sublime. Like I said, every man envied me being with her, but increasingly their eyes burned into hers, and then checked mine, for an opening -- to see if they could get a taste of her, if she was open to it even though married to such a decent guy who had helped make her famous.
No one wanted to jeopardize their careers -- this was a professional setting. But they took increasingly bold risks -- she loved wetting her finger in her mouth and putting it on a rock hard pec and going "szzzzzzzzzzzz", then teasingly tasting her finger again while giving her best "naughty girl" look, and holding eye contact for way too long, then sauntering away.
She especially liked doing this when a guy was modeling briefs, or form fitting shorts or jeans shirtless, and I could easily see the effect she had on these guys -- who couldn't? Their rock-hard young cocks threatened to escape and explode from the thin fabric prisons that constrained them. Wardrobe more than once had to replace garments that were soiled by their copious precum. They often had to take a quick break and grab something cold to hang on to.
Every one of them wanted to take her right there in front of the camera crew and even in front of me, her husband, yet they knew that to fall for her bait might mean killing their careers forever, and no one wanted to risk that. The impotence of their restraint infused her with an addictive power that fueled her rise as the true fashion DIVA she was born to be -- Jimena Dicker.
Her demands became increasingly outrageous -- yes I caved to her demand for a custom Porsche, as but one example, even though I couldn't really afford that level of extravagance - but no one would challenge her, no one could challenge her -- until Brazilian physique model super star Eduardo Sargento invited us (no her really, but of course I was included as a courtesy) to an intimate cocktail party at his stunning view home off Mulholland Drive high in the Hollywood Hills.
Jimena demanded that she drive her lemon convertible Porsche with me as her lap dog passenger -- she wanted to make a grand entrance from the circular drive (I researched the home online for her, as always, so that she could be prepared). When we arrived, there were a half dozen luxury vehicles parked along the ample driveway under the Magnolia trees in full bloom, and everyone appeared to be inside except for the handsome young valet who opened the door for her then escorted her to the long stairway that led up to the entry, with me trailing behind.
As always, Jimena's outfit revealed more than it concealed, and amplified her perfect, ample breasts, bare shoulders and diamond studded navel. Her Christian Louboutin 8" platform dress sandals made her voluptuous ass compete for attention with her sleek legs. They also made climbing the long stairway that much more precarious, so much so that at the top she stumbled right into the solid wall of Eduardo's ripped muscle body.
Even when she was standing tall in 8" heels, Jimena's eyes would only meet the level of Eduardo's nipples that crowned his smooth rock-hard pecs. But as she fell forward her face fell lower as she hit the wall of his abs. At 6'3" 205 pounds Eduardo dwarfed her -- and me. His exquisitely tanned caramel skin radiated through the translucent white, ultra- short-sleeve evening shirt that caressed every inch of his beautifully and famously chiseled physique. He let it hang open casually across his pecs and down his abs, so Jimena's face literally kissed his abs!
I raced forward to try to catch her and keep her from embarrassing herself -- she hated nothing more than to be embarrassed, but Eduardo caught her and helped her onto her feet like a delicate bird, then lifted her right hand to his mouth and kissed it as his eyes captured hers. Her body responded involuntarily -- she lost a bit of her DIVA edge, but I could not tell if it was due to her fall, her skin-to-skin encounter with his exquisite abs, or his disarmingly charming kiss of her hand. Whatever the cause may have been, it made my face blush deep red as Eduardo looked down at me, literally, then turned to escort Jimena under his arm into his home, as if she were his.
I wanted to escape, to hide somewhere, but she had the keys to the lemon Porsche (though it was out of my league financially -- I could barely keep up with the lease payments and insurance -- it was worth it if it made her happy and sold her brand) and I did have a responsibility to make sure nothing happened to her and that the evening furthered her career in as many ways as possible.
Paparazzi greeted us by the fountain just inside the entryway, with hot flashes all around as their lenses devoured Jimena with Eduardo for the first time, and with her doting husband on the periphery, in the background, and easily cropped from wherever I appeared, which was completely fine with me. I never sought the spotlight. I could see and
feel in my groin
-- as could everyone else -- the intense sexual chemistry that this gorgeous power couple radiated. Way beyond hot -- they were
incendiary!
In a truly masterful stroke of genius, Eduardo (or his managers) had tall cocktail glasses hand crafted in the form of his body and hers, so that each guest could envelop them in their hands and fantasize about holding the real thing. The servers floated through the space with a tray of his-and-her frothy glass bodies with Eduardo's personal mixologist's custom tequila creation for this occasion,
Una Union Perfecta.
By the time they got around to me the only remaining option was
his
body. The server stood impatiently in front of me until I took the final glass -- HIS final glass, because I was holding up the toast. As I lifted his glass torso from the tray, I could not help to notice that the tip of my index finger landed on and traced the ridges of his ripped abs, just as my wife's lips had inadvertently done just moments earlier.
My face flushed hot, and I diverted my attention to the buzz around me as Eduardo welcomed "DIVA Jimena" who "graced us all with her divine presence". I was keenly aware of his suave subtlety -- although he threw all of the attention toward her, at least verbally, HE was in control of their attention, and as a result HE wound up at the center of it, and HE graciously and strategically shared that center
with her.
But there was never a moment when his inescapable sexual magnetism did not permeate everything, including her.
Jimena was visibly flustered. She was so used to being the center of the universe and in total control, but her mouth was dry, so she downed her
Union Perfecta
and held it out to be replaced with another, then another. Her throat and breasts felt impossibly tight as her sex juice dampened her panties and the tops of her inner thighs.
She looked
amazing
in the lush soft glow of the landscape and pool lighting as she relaxed into the rhythm of the sensuous Brazilian music, the warm, subtle breeze, and
Eduardo
. I have no idea what was in those drinks -- I knew I'd most likely have to drive us home, and so was still on my first drink but even with just a few sips I was feeling no pain. She was already on her fourth, and there was no way she could still be standing in those 8" heels if she didn't have Eduardo's rock-hard abs and pecs to steady her hands on. She would hand him her drink to hold it for her as she pushed her short pencil skirt down to hide her moistness, then he'd help her tip it up to her lips as his deep brown eyes burned their way through all of her "good girl" pretenses and defenses.
As she finished her fourth
Union Perfecta,
