YOUNG BRIDE,
HOTWIFE
By
Laran Mithras
Cover Photo by www.Shutterstock.com
Young Bride, Hotwife is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 - All Rights Reserved
A good wife pleases her husband. A great wife enjoys indulging his fantasies.
~ Unknown
CHAPTER 1
Cesar drove his cock deep into B.B. Silverstein’s young daughter. He groaned above her lithe form, pistoning his penis in and out of her almost adolescent pussy.
She was eighteen and they were married the previous Saturday, but he had been fucking her for two years. The age of consent in Nevada was sixteen.
He had been contracted by Benjamin Baruch Silverstein, big network muckety-muck executive out of Los Angeles, to teach his daughter piano. Her father had wanted her to be an expert pianist and secure a spot with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. As long as she could play, his friend in the organization would make sure she acquired the position B.B. desired.
B.B. Silverstein lived most of the year in Southern California; his wife and daughter lived in Las Vegas. When not philandering around Hollywood with young girls and boys, or bimbos with outrageously enormous fake tits, B.B. would visit his wife and daughter once a year, planning her rise amongst the talented.
Cesar listened to her gasps as he enjoyed the feel of her fantastic pussy – strains of Mozart swirling through his head. He had been a good piano teacher. The problem was, Samuela Silverstein had no talent for the piano. She had learned, but would never make it in such a high-profile orchestra. She had wanted to learn to please her father, but the talent just wasn’t there. He had tried to tell B.B., but it hadn’t worked.
Samuela, or Sammie as he had come to know her, had looked to Cesar with desperation, wanting to be educated, to learn, and to please. At forty-two, Cesar Terence Salvatore had seen vulnerability in the girl. Under threat from B.B. to produce a master or be ruined, he discovered too late that her ability at the piano had hit a wall. She could not coordinate both hands together in independent notes while keeping tempo.
Some people had the talent; Sammie did not. But she was a beautiful girl inside, wanting so desperately to be someone who would make her father proud. Cesar, known by most as CT, learned too late. He had wanted to produce a pianist for B.B., he really had. His name had been recommended by a friend in the movie industry where CT was known to have the talent to teach.
B.B. refused to hear of the failure, but eventually understood his daughter was not going to be a pianist. Not only that, but in some explosive confrontation with Sammie, had learned that CT had been fucking his daughter. B.B. had kept his word; he had ruined CT. A simple series of phone calls had resulted in the termination of his music store lease. A fire had gutted the building one night and an anonymous tip had indicated CT had done it for the insurance money.
While he had an alibi, his business was gone and the insurance company fighting any payout due to the anonymous call.
B.B. promised more was to come by email.
CT fled with Sammie, taking her away from Nevada and marrying her the day they left.
She was a beautiful girl, twenty-six years younger and so naïve about life. All she had was what little social interaction she got from her small prep school. She could talk like a hip young person, but was extremely shy and submissive. She had more of her mother’s Germanic features than those of her father’s.
Sammie had willingly gone with him; her mother Frida was an alcoholic and neglectful. Her mother despaired of being married to a man who was hardly ever home, and the woman had taken to the bottle. Her relationship to Sammie had been close, then grew apart. All that mattered now was the drink.
CT had married Sammie more out of the satisfying sex she had offered rather than any real love. Their relationship was definitely more teacher-student, even as husband and wife.
Sammie moaned contentedly under him, trying to be quiet in the guest bedroom at his friend’s house. She looked up at him with her gray eyes that were touched with a hint of blue. Her mouth was open, panting quietly, and looking up at him with that bond of adoration.
CT smiled down at her. In his mind, however, was the text of B.B.'s email.
You sick fuck, I will see your life destroyed. Everything about you. You fucking prick, do you think my daughter will want your aging baldness forever? She’s going to dump you like the dogshit you are for a much younger man. Mark my words. I’ll find you. And I will laugh as your life withers around you. Fuck you.
CT knew there was no overt threat there that could be used against B.B., but he also recognized the implied threat for what it was: B.B. was not going to give up until he stood laughing and pissing on CT’s grave. For that, the anger in CT rose and he drove into B.B.'s daughter with relish. Yeah, I’m fucking your young daughter and she loves it. Fuck you, too.
He had not told Sammie of the threatening emails; there was no reason to subject the girl to her father’s hatred. He thrust harder, overcome by the unfairness of the position in which he had been placed. If you’re going to ruin my life, I’m going to fuck your daughter every day. An idea rose in his head – a little dig at the powerful man that was busy destroying his life.
He reached over and grabbed his cell phone. He aimed it down between them and clicked a pic. We’ll see how you like that, Hollywood kiddie-fucker. Call me a sick fuck? We’ll see how you feel when it’s your own daughter.
Sammie’s small voice intruded on his vengeful thoughts. "Are we going to be okay?"
He slowed his thrusting, studying her fear. "I’ll handle things; don’t worry. Just need to set up shop again and begin lessons."
"It’s that easy?" Her question was innocent and ignorant.
He shook his head. "No, it isn’t. Losing a reputation and clientele will take years to recover. But we must start somewhere."
She looked furtively towards the door. "Are we going to live here the rest of our lives?"
He laughed quietly. "No, but it’s been nice to have Davis put us up. Be thankful."
She looked abashed. "I will." Her eyes were wide and moved left and right. "How long will we be here?"
He frowned at her discomfort, though he appreciated her desire for privacy. "Shh, enough questions for now." He began thrusting harder again.
She dutifully obeyed, clutching at his shoulders as if to hang on to her world around her.
CHAPTER 2
Sammie moaned, barely audible underneath her husband.
My husband!
She had been overwhelmed with happiness when he had proposed to her, though it wasn’t like the fairy tales where the man got down on his knees. No man did that now anyways. Before she had graduated, marriage talk was all about what pair of girls might link up and form a lesbian marriage. The boys mostly talked about playing the field and never marrying while some talked openly about testing out the new gay marriage laws.
Sammie had always liked boys better than girls – most of her female friends had been phony and superficial. They changed their hair color faster than they changed moods and moaned about how they needed to save money as soon as they got a job at whatever pizza place so as to buy breast implants. Some girls, anyway. But Sammie had always liked boys better.
That her husband was bald didn’t bother her. He was so serious and mysterious – his gaze could wither her in a heartbeat. But he was a real man, dedicated to being one and guiding her where she so needed some kind of clue as to how life worked. True, she liked the Bieber-mop better than bald: it was so cute when boys peeked out from under a full head of unruly hair
. So very cute. Especially if they dyed it purple and red.
Cesar had taught her things, though, and she had been opened to things of which she was unaware: how to shave; how to keep things trimmed; and how to wash correctly. She had been mortified that she had been so ignorant of simple things before and hoped he didn’t think she was disgusting for previously not knowing. I hope he didn’t think I was like gross or something.
She felt his deep thrusting and felt his excitement filling her. She knew without a doubt that she had finally become a woman. Boys had tried to have sex with her over the years and she had put most of them off. The only real sex she had experienced was when Daxon Grover, freshman at Coolidge Heights Prep School, had been rolling a condom down on his little thing and he had cum in it. He had ripped it off and threw it at her, blaming her. She hadn’t thought the boy was little at the time until she had seen CT’s amazing man-thing. Daxon had sported a skinny three-incher – CT packed a wollop with six very satisfying inches.
He pushed it into her now, neatly filling her with his thickness: it was perfect. So very perfect…
She felt the tingles twist and turn into more substantial waves of tension. Her gasping came faster and her legs began trembling. She had never had an orgasm until CT had shown her how. After her first, she thought she might never have one again, but they came so easily now that she wondered how she had missed ever having one before.
Tighter those turns and twists became until they snapped with release – causing her to grunt at the great tickling ripples that burst through her body. She tried to keep quiet and was mostly successful.
CT moved faster in her, panting with excitement. His cock caressed her lips as it moved more forcefully in her.
Oh this feels too good to ever give up…
She felt him tense and smiled happily. She wanted all his love – all his care and tenderness. She felt the hot splashes flooding her and fulfilling her feminine need to feel like a real woman. She would do anything for him – he had so much to teach her.
She lay against him a little later, listening to his deep breathing. She hoped she had been quiet enough; she didn’t want to disturb his friend Davis. He was a nice man, old like CT, but always smiling at her as if he thought she was too young for his friend. She felt insecure over that and wondered if she should bring it up to CT. Maybe he could straighten things out.
I don’t need some old man being judgmental towards me; I’m a real woman now.
She resolved to ask the next day.
It was with satisfaction and certainty that she drifted into a sleep of dreams about running from her father while at the same time seeking his whereabouts. It was a brutal and tiring recurring dream that tormented her nights.
CHAPTER 3
CT was scanning the newspaper want ads for piano instructors. Davis, known affectionately as Dave, had brought him three newspapers. Unfortunately, there weren’t any ads for his work. He didn’t think there would be, but checking was always the first step. His next step would be to hand out his business cards to music stores around town. Houston was big enough that he was certain to find some traction.
Davis was relaxing on the couch. "Anything?"
He shook his head.
His friend smirked. "That’s a buck-fifty you owe me."
"I’ll pay you back."
Davis groaned. "It was a joke, you nerd."
Sammie came out from her shower, dressed in white short-shorts and a lavender tanktop.
CT knew he would have to get her some real clothes: what she had was all school-kid stuff.
She frowned. "He’s no nerd; I know nerds."
Davis slapped his face. "That was a joke, too."
She sat on the arm of the recliner next to CT. "Oh."
Her husband said, "Dave and I go way back. High school buddies."
She nodded. "I know…"
CT frowned. "What’s the matter?"
She coughed. "What makes you think anything’s the matter?"
He gave her his Spock eyebrow. "Because I saw you swallow. You do that when you’re nervous."
She swallowed. "I do?"
He lifted the eyebrow a little more.
"Umm…"
CT put the papers down. If something was bugging her, he wanted to know. "Tell me."
She glanced at Dave.
He shook his head. "It’s all right. You can say what’s on your mind in front of him."
"But—"
His words were gentle and commanding. "Say it."
She fiddled with the hem of her shorts. "Well, I…"
CT kept his voice soft and encouraging. His deep tones were always soothing to women. "Go on."
She spread her hands palms-up and bounced them as if pleading. "He makes me feel like I'm so young… Like a little kid or something." She glanced at Dave and blushed with embarrassment.
Dave looked comically shocked and placed his hand on his chest under wide-open eyes. "Me?"
CT gave him a twisted mouth. "Please…"
His friend rolled his eyes with a lopsided smile.
He turned his gaze back up to Sammie. "Because you are young, but you're not a kid anymore."
Her mouth went tight.
He raised his hand. "There's nothing wrong with being young. You should celebrate your youth while you have it."
She coughed. "Celebrate? It's not like I want to be back in school or anything."
He shook his head. "It's not like that."
"Then why does he look at me like I'm stupid?"
Dave feigned outrage, but his tone had that gravity that meant he was serious. "I do not."
CT pointed. "See? Tell you what, I'm going to put Dave on the spot here to prove to you that you're taking him wrong."
His friend said, "Oh boy."
Sammie said, "Like, what?"
CT gave his friend a very serious look. "Tell her exactly what you think of her. Hold nothing back." He could feel her thigh tense against his arm. He patted her leg. "It'll be all right."
Dave tossed up his hands. "Way to put me on the spot, there, pal."
"Do it."
His friend sighed. "Fine. I think she's young, yes. She's also beautiful and…"
CT nudged her thigh. "See?" He pursed his lips. "And what?"
"Are you sure you really want—"
"All of it, Dave. The truth. This is for her. How else will she overcome misconceptions?"
He nodded. "Yeah, okay. No offense, but she's super sexy."
Sammie coughed in annoyance. "I am not—"
CT squeezed her leg. "Let's not play word games. A huge step in maturity is accepting what is and taking praise where it's due. Rejecting praise just embarrasses those who give it."
She looked uncomfortable to him.
I really need to work on her social skills.
Still tense, she said, "Well, thank you, I guess."
He squeezed her leg again. "Always be sure of yourself. No guessing."
She laughed bitterly. "Can't I do anything right?"
He rubbed where he had squeezed. "Relax. Life is a learning process – all of it. Even at my age."
"If you say so…" She didn't sound very sure.
"I do."
~ ~ ~
CT drove his restored Plymouth Valiant back to Dave's. The day had been promising, but promises didn't pay bills. He had money stashed, but without an income he wouldn't have it for long.
He pulled to the curb and went inside, thoughts of fourteen business cards given to music stores and another dozen tacked to bulletin boards in grocery stores. He would begin placing ads in music magazines, too, though he had long before given up on them. His reputation had been good enough that he hadn't needed to advertise. That was all gone now.
Sammie bounced up to him and gave him a quick kiss – the kind you'd expect from someone young. "How'd it go?"
He shrugged. "Cards are out. Cell phone is on. Now we wait."
"Are you sure you don't want me to get a job?"
"But—" Her light eyes were worried.
His smile was warm and genuine. "Don't worry so much. The angst will give you wrinkles."
She crinkled up her nose.
He said, "Dave in his shop?"
She nodded. "Building some computer. I don't know how he does it – all those parts scattered everywhere."
"He does what he's good at and makes a living doing it. I don't understand computers much, but I know music and make a living out of it."
She rolled her eyes innocently. "What am I good at? Or will I ever be good at anything?"
He gripped her shoulders and smiled at her. "You're good at being a sexy young woman."
She frowned. "Is that all—"
He shook her a little. "Never question what you're good at. Maybe you'll find new vistas to explore that open up other areas in you of skill and art. Patience."
She sucked in her lower lip at him.
He laughed, fast and clean.
"What?" Her suspicion singed her word.
"Nothing. You're adorable."
She pouted.
He sighed and gave her his Spock eyebrow. "Now what?"
"I'm still bothered by Dave."
"Bothered?"
She shrugged. "Creeped out, maybe. Him telling me I was sexy."
He chuckled. "Well…you are."
"But he's so old—"
"He's my age."
"But you're my husband. He's just some old guy—"
"I found you beautiful and sexy at the same age—"
"But—"
He put a finger to her lips. "No buts." He tapped lightly against her upper lip. "His admission was honesty. Accept it."
She sighed. "It feels weird."
He scowled in concentration.
She pouted again. "Uh oh, what did I do now?"
CT chuckled and shook his head. "Let's take you to buy some clothes. We can talk on the way."
"Can we afford it?"
"Of course." He opened the door and let her out. "We have several months of cushion."
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