As I looked down at my engorged dick thrusting in and out of my girlfriend's younger sister's mouth, while her soft little hands caressed my balls in a desperate effort to get me to cum in her mouth and have the whole ordeal over with, I realised there was going to come a time when I wouldn't enjoy this feeling any more. But right now it was a thrill, watching her wretchedly swallowing my whole shaft kneeling in front of me by the bed in which her own boyfriend slept just feet away blissfully unaware that his girlfriend was giving me the best head of my life and would be doing so for several weeks into the future because she was completely in my power.
As I recall, that night I was in two minds how to play it. On the one hand it was a thrill seeing her wretchedness and the hatred in her eyes as she sucked my cock in and out of her cute twenty-year-old mouth. On the other hand I knew as soon as I shot my load and she'd swallowed it (that was my rule - she had to swallow) she'd be free to push me away and tell me to go to hell.
Until the next time.
So at one and the same time there was a huge incentive both to keep it going and to bring it all to a satisfying conclusion. On the whole I can last pretty well, but there were a few times during that incredible three months when I was struggling to hold out more than about ten minutes.
You'd probably despise me if you met me socially. I'm a hedge fund manager, and short of being a mass murderer there are few jobs held in more contempt by the ignorant public. It probably doesn't help that I did fantastically well over the whole crash scenario in 2008. I could have retired at 28, but it was so much fun that I kept in the game. Some weeks I'd earn a million or two betting on Indian healthcare shorts or Palm Oil exports from Borneo. Other weeks I'd lose a couple million on Brent Crude or Pemex mid-terms. I was so loaded it didn't matter. It was just a game. I used to get the sob stories about what my company and I were the cause of in Third World communities, but frankly I didn't (and don't) give a fuck. People die. Big deal. We'll all die one day. The game is to have fun before that happens. And I certainly do that. Chicks love an alpha male and we get to fuck all the bitches we want.
Which brings me to Cathy.
I'd been with Jo for a couple of years before I even gave Cathy a second glance. It was on a stay in her dad's villa in Provence that I first woke up to the fact that gawky little sister was actually turning into quite a stunner. I can pinpoint the exact day. It was July 22nd 2009. Cathy was just turning nineteen (she's five and a half years younger than Jo) and we were alone in the huge kitchen while I was getting some wine from the cooler and she was checking on the soup. She bent over the range and I caught a glimpse of nipple down her T-shirt. I wasn't looking - and I'm pretty sure she didn't intend to flash me as she had always made it clear she detested me, but there it was. Suddenly Cathy was in the frame. I'd find myself fantasising about fucking her while I was fucking Jo. Not fair, but we're all human - and the groin doesn't lie.
It was a year on from that before an unbelievable opportunity presented itself. I caught Cathy in an illegal act and had plenty of time to think about what to do about it.
Basically, she was stealing money out of her father's account. It wasn't difficult for her as he was pretty stupid about passwords, but there it was - irrefutable evidence on his laptop screen that she had been stupid enough (or distracted enough) to leave open at the same browser she'd been suing to get into his online BRED account and make a transfer to what I guessed was her boyfriend's and her joint account at the same branch.
I was stunned. Sweet little Cathy - the darling of the family; the concert cellist; the pure as the driven snow little sis' was a thief!
I scrolled up. There was an option to see all the transactons for the past year. She and Mick, her boyfriend, had been making regular transfers of 4,999 Euros every month for at least the past year. This was clever. The sum was the maximum allowed before this account triggered a screen alert - but not so much that a guy as well off as her dad would necessarily notice - or that his bank manager might think out of the ordinary. All the transactions had the same reference and were to the same bank account. It looked like a regular direct debit on the screen, but Cathy had left the other window open and I could see the transfers had been made to an account in her own name. Amateur! I could see in a flash that this was theft. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to open up a business account in some anonymised account name.
As I was sitting there staring at the screen in shock Cathy came running in. She must have remembered having left the laptop open at this incriminating page and was rushing back to get rid of the evidence before anyone saw it. But obviously she was too late. She caught my eye and knew immediately that I'd seen the screen and had worked it all out. She may have muttered "Oh shit" under her breath. I'm not sure about that, but she didn't need to say a word. We both knew what I'd seen.
Now don't get me wrong. I've done my fair share of helping myself to other people's money. Most of you are too stupid to read the Ts and Cs of the shit you sign, and when you get stressed or are distracted by, say, the death of a loved one (especially a rich loved one) it's like taking candy from a particularly dim witted baby. But Cathy didn't know that. As far as she could see I was an honest man who had seen what she was up to and had her bang to rights. I looked at her and muttered
"Well, well, Cathy. I wasn't expecting that"
"It's not what you think"
"Oh, really? So what is it you think I'm thinking? Seems to me there are quite a lot of transfers here that need some explaining"
"It's none of your business you prick."
"Such language, Cathy! Well, why don't I just take this laptop to your dad and talk him through what I think I'm seeing here and then you can explain to both of us why I'm wrong."
I got to my feet with the laptop under my arm. She moved to stop me.
"No! There's no need for that."
"Oh, but I think there IS, Cathy. You see, I'm not sure your dad understands all the tax liability associated with these gifts of money he seems to have been making. There are strict limits on how much you can gift each year, and by the look of this open window, the amount that he's so generously given you would easily put him over the threshold as a non-domiciled property owner."
Actually, this was bullshit. I was making it all up. But it was convincing enough to her - and already a plan was forming in my wicked little mind for nubile little Cathy.
