by Romi Hart
Or worse yet…could it be that she’s just spouting off nonsense…but by coincidence she’s hitting a major nerve?
Maybe there’s something in what she said that’s really picking at my ego. Am I a good person? Am I a scoundrel hiding behind charity balls and big donations? Is my soul empty just because I have sex with a few women? Or a few hundred?
What does she want from me? What does a good man do, anyway? Is he celibate until he meets the special girl that moves his heart? I just don’t follow all that.
I know Maya’s whole thing is an act. Catholic school-girl, gimme a break. I don’t buy that and I sell horseshit-speak for a living.
I mean…she looks innocent. But there’s no such thing as an innocent person, not anymore. I remember when I was “innocent”…even back when I was innocent, I wasn’t innocent!
Even as a young man I knew what sex was and I knew I wanted it. Lots of it. I was a virgin technically, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t masturbating three times a day and thinking of fucking every teacher I met.
Dad never really talked about sex to me. Mother was absent from my life. Growing up, you’d think I would have had a complex. And hell, since my dad was Catholic I could well have been a choir boy in real life! But well…Dad had a very odd perspective of love. Yeah, that’s safe to say.
He didn’t talk much about it. But he sure as hell made it clear what a man is supposed to act like.
“Sit down, Zander,” my father said. He had a lot to drink that night and was smoking a cigar. I had been ordered by the maid to attend dinner and wear a suit. My little teenage suit could barely fit my tall, lanky figure. But it hardly mattered…because as soon as I walked in the room, I noticed something in the air changed.
There were two beautiful women sitting at the table, near my father. But they were smiling in what I thought was a very “weird” way, or at least that’s what I thought at the time. These two women were gorgeous, like the Playboy models I saw in the magazines. They were smiling at me in a weird way, not like Mom ever did, not like the maid or the cook ever did.
Like they were my “special friends”. A unique relationship that only I was allowed to have. I was entitled to it, because dad thought I was ready to handle such mature things. Little did I know at the time they were paid for…
“Hi Zander,” one of the girls said. Her name was Kika, she was buxom, golden-haired and had oceanic blue eyes. I could barely tear myself away to look at Marie, another blond with slightly smaller breasts, but still tall, sexy and very attentive to me.
I looked at my father in smiling confusion. I wondered if this was a test…or a business meeting, or even a practical joke? But he didn’t smile back. He just continued making small talk with the girls and making sure I remained the center of attention.
“Zander here is destined for greatness,” he said with a firm nod. “The prince. The heir to the throne. He has a great mind too. That’s what your teacher told me, Zander.”
“Oh…”
“For inventions. Gadgets.” Father nodded proudly. “You actually got that from your grandfather. I was never the outside-the-box thinker. That was his forte. I was always a by-the-book sort of man.”
Kika leaned in and flirted with Dad. “I respect a man of authority.”
I hadn’t really flirted with any girl at that age. But I did know what it was…mainly from late night cable channels that Dad always ensured I had in my room.
But that night, dad wasn’t interested in fulfilling his own needs. As if he had any. By God, the man could order people around left and right. He didn’t need to harass anyone, women threw themselves at him. He had sugar babies everywhere he went. A CEO at one of the Troy consulting firms once told me that my father never once paid for sex…but he paid women to leave.
“Well if there’s one thing my boy needs, it’s a sense of authority,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t want Zander becoming a wimp. Isn’t that right, boy? What do we always talk about? Discipline. That’s what makes business thrive. And coincidentally that’s what a man needs in relationships. A dominant man will never be alone. That’s for damn sure.”
The girls were tickled at the thought and continued staring at me. To the point where it was creepy…then a little nice. Then just kind of insane, like my dick was growing so fast…at a pace I couldn’t even control.
I knew at that moment I was going to lose my virginity that night. Not to one cute virgin girl like I probably deserved…but to two high-priced whores.
“Are you a big boy, Zander?” Kika asked me, curling her long, golden hair, which I stared at in fascination, like I was eying a lava lamp for the first time. “Or do you need some discipline?”
“He’s a boy,” father said. “He needs to be taught discipline. In a way that only women understand.”
Marie stared me down from across the table. She smiled, probably knowing this confused young man’s boner was out of control. She began sucking on a cherry, still eyeing me mercilessly. I had never had a blowjob before or even thought of a girl sucking my penis. Girls actually sucked dicks?!
What can I say…I only had softcore Cinemax back then, not hardcore Internet porn!
But I instantly knew what she was telling me. That she was going to pleasure me. Teach me. Teach me how to handle the intensity of touch, how to control myself. Then, how to let go. But always, ALWAYS, in control.
“Well then,” father said, standing up and taking another puff of a cigar. “Looks like I ought to be getting to bed. But Zander here is going to sleep in tomorrow. Zander, you don’t mind if these two lovely ladies spend the night, do you?”
“We’ll be quiet,” Kika teased.
“We’ll TRY to be quiet,” Marie said.
I nervously shook my head no. Then clarified. “Sure, uh…they can, uh…stay in my room. And I can sleep on the couch or whatever, you know, whatever!”
The girls laughed.
Dad only smirked and then left the room.
I can hardly describe what happened that night, let alone remember in great detail. When you’re that young, you don’t recall thoughts and sensations of that moment. But the images and the sounds stay with you, even years later.
I still remember some of the awkward beginnings. That it took me hours to learn that a man ought to seduce a woman. The girls were obviously given very clear instructions. Don’t give me anything unless I ask for it.
So we sat around my bedroom for what seemed like hours, chatting about nothing, and in pained silence as the girls continued to suck on fruit and kiss each other in boredom.
They had to coax me a little bit, to get me to claim my dominant sexuality. At first my voice was hesitant. Scratchy. Stuttering. They were very clear about what I was doing wrong.
“I’m just here to talk,” Kika teased. “Unless you can think of something else you want to do, Zander.”
“Well, yeah, maybe!” I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she said, losing her smile.
“Maybe you could…uh…kiss me. Instead of each other.”
“Which one of us are you talking to?” Marie asked with feigned confusion.
“I want…you both to kiss me. I want to make love to you.”
“Which—?”
“BOTH,” I corrected, blinking my way through my first Dom talk. “I want you both. I want a threesome with both of you.”
“What a dirty boy!” Kika said. “Just for that, we’re going to have to discipline you.”
“Yes!” Marie said. “Dirty boys get what’s coming to them.”
I was confused…was I doing the “sexy talk” wrong? I thought. I hadn’t any experience in this sort of thing. I thought I was mimicking the soft core porn stars fairly well. But it turns out when the girls said “discipline”, they were serious about training me in matters of love.
When we started fooling around each of them took turns spanking my bare bottom. When they went down on me they made sure to linger around my shaft and gently kiss m
y erection for what seemed like an eternity. They wouldn’t let me cum.
They wanted to make sure I asked for such a privilege in the right way. They ignored me when I begged. They cock-tortured me with gentle sucks when I joked around. They slapped my shaft around and spit on it when I asked questions.
Finally, I figured it out. I told them I wanted to cum. I told them exactly what I wanted—NO, what I demanded they give me.
“Swallow that dick, you whore!” I belted out. My eyes bulged as tight as my balls.
I was shocked I said that…but they were turned on. They obeyed when I talked down to them. They sucked harder when I commanded them, forcing their delicate lips to take my full erection into their mouths.
I came three times that night. I sort of remember what it was like to release…but more than anything, I just remember the pretty image of me, being surrounded by breasts, by beautiful uncovered breasts all over my bed. The same bed that I grew up in, that I played video games in…now a place of filth, body fluids and juicy tongues.
I can’t even say that my father took any creepy perverted pleasure from the experience. He actually never said a word about it.
The next morning, the girls were gone before I woke up. I never saw them again.
I saw my father eating breakfast in the dining room. I smiled at him…but he didn’t mirror the feeling back. He merely looked at me and sort of raised his brow, suggesting that no words could aptly describe what just happened so why the hell even bother?
“Sit down, boy,” he said, welcoming me to breakfast. “You know, a long time ago, I had an interesting chat with your uncle Walter.”
“Oh…” Now that was a strange shift in conversation.
“Turns out Walter had overheard me and another schoolboy talking about something obscene. You see, my friend and I had been out collecting change and we happened to mention something very distasteful about one of my teacher’s genitalia.”
“Oh…” Talk about not knowing what to say! I stared at him stupidly and nodded in terror.
“It was an absurd comment, not just obscene in nature but insulting to the poor woman of whom we were speaking of. Anyway, Walter overheard that comment and he told my buddy to get a move on already, that it was suppertime. Well, when Walter spoke to me alone, he made it known that he heard the comment.”
“Uh huh?”
“I was nervous and ashamed. So I blamed it all on my buddy. Said it wasn’t my idea to say it.
“Walter didn’t respond in anger. He simply nodded and gave me an even-tempered warning. ‘Boy, the intimacies of a man and a woman is sacred talk. Not the sacred talk of god, you see, but the sacred talk of womankind. No one’s ever going to tell you to be classy, to be discreet. But women ASSUME you will. Because real men don’t tell stories. Juvenile men, boys, and jackasses tell stories.’”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
And we literally never spoke about sex ever again. He knew I was getting lucky. He always had that proud look on his face, as if I was keeping the Troy Stag Reputation alive and well.
But we were men and we never spoke of such things. Maybe that’s why I’ve always LIKED talking about sex. Because even now, just as it was back then, it was a dopamine rush to talk about such juvenile things as tits and asses. The real forbidden fruit was not what I did in those early days, but in admitting to other people what I did. Always in fear, always in red-faced shame. But the jubilance of telling someone, and that man giggling in jealousy, was the real RUSH.
But, by God, I can’t remember a time I was ever innocent.
Speaking of innocent, I feel compelled to stalk Maya on this lovely evening, wondering if I can find her and ask her out for a drink. Not for sexual conquest, of course, since I’m such a pig. But rather, to just clear the air and hopefully show her that I’m not the terrible person she seems to think I am.
I asked around for Maya earlier but it turns out she went home early.
Just as I was ready to give up, I heard a familiar voice…with that same identifiable choler.
“YOU!” Renee says. “You have some nerve coming back here.”
“Pardon?” I say, turning my head and recognizing the blond sidekick of Maya. She’s wearing a green sheath Jersey dress, probably just getting off work.
“It’s me. Renee, remember? Maya has gone home. So stop trying to harass her!”
“My dear, I’m not here to harass her. I came, once again, to apologize for what I said.”
“Yeah right!”
“I just don’t understand why you have such hatred in your heart for a man you hardly know. Am I not a victim like you? If I prick do I not bleed?”
“You are a prick!”
I laugh…and watch in amusement as she puts her hands on her hips and raises her head in warning.
“What’s so funny?”
“You know, I admire your convictions. You really are a fighter. I respect your…”
She raises her brow.
“Your SASS.”
Finally she smiles back. “Well, a girl has to have sass nowadays to put up with some of you men!”
“No argument there.”
“You’re smiling though!” she says, still disciplining me as all feminists seem to want to do. “But I totally meant what I said. It’s not funny.”
“I know. Tell you what, let me take you out for a drink.”
I point to my limo across the street and grin.
“Well…” She flinches, definitely aware of my power. Not just the money, of course, but the presence, the confidence of what money buys.
“Come on, just a drink. Not even fifteen minutes. Free limo ride, free coffee. A chat with Zander Troy that you can tell to your grandchildren someday.”
She smiles slightly. “Okay…but I can’t stay long. I have to get home.”
“Of course,” I say with a smirk.
No, Renee, my dear. What’s FUNNY is that I’m going to be fucking your brains out all night. And you don’t know it right now…but you can’t resist me. And you’re going to be rolling over in bed, covered in sweat, wondering what’s wrong with you.
“My God…” she says, eyeing my mansion and at a complete loss. My chauffeur took us home and we had a decent, kind chat about ethics, women’s rights, and tact. All of which I admit, I DO need to work on.
And now, all Renee can do is look on in awe at my toys, the wonderful things I own, my paradise that protects me from the judgments of decent people. At this point, the only believable thing she has left to say is I hate you because you’re a rich bastard!
And I sure can’t argue with that sentiment. Who doesn’t want to be rich?
I look at her…the same way I’ve been looking at her ever since she first stepped into my car. I let her FEEL my attraction. I meet her eyes viciously, dominantly. I have no patience for these games. I’m calling her bluff. I’m pointing to the elephant-in-the-room feeling we both have right now…
Namely that I want to fuck her. And I’ve wanted to fuck her all night. And she was too weak to resist that ride, that innocent little drink.
“Well…I guess I should get home now.” She stares at me in weakness. Her flesh tingling, a wonderfully cute pink hue. She’s breathless in my presence. After realizing that I don’t actually hate women, but just LOVE pleasing women, she’s completely lost her motivation. She doesn’t know what she fights for. She doesn’t remember why she hates me.
“No,” I say with strong focus. “You owe me something.”
“What?!” she bellows, her heart rate increasing and her eyes going feral. “I don’t owe you anything!”
“You owe me honesty,” I reply, moving closer to her and letting her feel my magnetism. “Tell me what you feel right now.”
“I-”
“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
She shakes her head…but can’t get the words out.
I kiss her passionately, our lips wrestling in the cool night’s breeze.
She lets me kiss her…and kisses me back. She inhales my scent and my taste, not fighting…putting her hand on my face.
Finally she sighs and breaks the embrace apart.
“You want to slap me?” I say in an edgy voice.
She squints and slaps me hard across the face.
We lunge into each other’s arms and kiss again, this time with more fervor, more venom. Her lips are not enough. I crave her neck…I sink my lips down and tickle her ears, her face and chin, all the way to her shoulders.
I love the sound of her throaty voice. She’s in shock that she’s this turned on. By such a repulsive man! I caress her upper chest with my lips, tasting her succulence, drunk off her fumes of passion.
She can’t even form a sentence. She sighs and moans. The most she gets out is an “Uhhhh!” as if she’s offended that I’m such a horny son of a bitch. But she won’t stop me. She won’t stop me from taking what I want. She won’t stop her own body from craving it either.
“Ohh, God,” she sighs as I began rubbing my face between her taut breasts. “What are we doing?”
“Is this what you were thinking about?” I whisper in her ear, lifting her white blouse. “Zander Troy taking you home and fucking you?”
“Uhhhh…” she sighs, turned on at the mention of my name, letting me touch her warm breasts while sucking on her neck.
“You have a type? Rich, hot, famous assholes? Huh?”
“I like nice men!” she corrects me, as I make her go glassy-eyed with a sudden jerk. I force her hands to my hard cock, my raging ten-inch cock which just seems to keep growing. “Ohhhh…you’re really big…”
“Really big for you, Renee.”
“Don’t use my name,” she sighs. “I don’t matter to you.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because!” she says, cooing softly as I fondle her hard nipples under her shirt. “Aahhh…this is so out of character for me. You are so not my type. And this is not happening…”
I pull her blouse down and find her sexy red bra.
“Aahhhh…” she bites her lip. “And I will never admit this to anybody. Don’t use my name…”
