I mount my princess and thrust my shaft once. The tip touches her pussy hole and I breath in deep. I prepare for the next thrust. I grunt and growl as the limousine moves uptown to the French restaurant I’m taking Lacy to for lunch. She doesn’t even know. She won’t have to worry about the high prices, or about money for as long as she lives. She’s mine now. Unnh, she’s tight. I go in a little deeper. Not all the way. Just one-third of my giant shaft. Now halfway because that’s the size of an average dick. My cock is so gut wrenchingly huge that the girls from the past could hardly handle it. Some even denied me.
“It won’t fit,” they mewled desperately, faces stretched in rictuses of pain as they tried to accommodate my donkey dong. Screw that. I block the memories of those women out of my head. I never loved them. I was incapable of love, only lust. That is, until I met Lacy.
I look down into her eyes. We make deep eye contact as I growl and hold her hips high. This is it. I’m going in deep. Lacy doesn’t even know how big my cock is in comparison to other people’s. My cock is all she’s ever known and all she ever will know.
I growl at my princess. She moans and looks deep into my eyes. Her eyes are warm and limpid, filled with desire for me. I am relaxed and so hungry for her cunt all at once.
“Please Howie, please shove that cock in, please put it back where it belongs! I beg you Howie! Please!”
It’s a good thing that we’re driving down Broadway in the middle of the biggest city in America because Lacy starts screaming bloody murder when I enter her again. Thrust, thrust, thrust! Scream, moan, scream! She writhes under me like a little kitten, taking in each of my long deep pulls. If we were within earshot of the police, they’d be taking someone in for murder. That’s how serious Lacy’s screams sound.
And I’m right there with her. I growl and grunt and pull her deeper onto me. I flip her little body up so she’s sitting on my lap and I’m virtually launching her up and down my massive pole with my bare hands. I flip her around so her back is toward me and we’re sitting down. She’s gushing onto my cock as I dick her deep.
“Howie, Howie,” she moans breathlessly, boobs bobbling up and down. “I’m going to explode!”
“That’s right sweetheart. You come on my dick. It’s the only way to do it.”
I lick the inside of her ear as she lets out a shoot of come onto my stiff cock, her pussy convulsing. I jerk her up and down my length. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, but unfortunately, we’re arriving at the restaurant. I want my hot seed deep in Lacy before we stop.
“Ride me baby,” I growl, helping her turn back around so we’re facing each other. She jams her little body deep onto my cock as I squish and squeeze her sumptuous ass in my hands. I pull apart her ass cheeks and even go so far as to stick my finger into the tight brown opening of her asshole. She melts completely onto my shoulder as I pump her, and finally with a roar, I come deep inside her wet, pulsing hole. An animalist growl escapes as she fully relaxes on me, falling toward my chest as I pump my hips and thighs reflexively, experiencing the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
“That was incredible, sweetheart,” is my compliment. “You’re amazing.”
She collapses into my chest and I hold her for what seems like too short a time. We’re parked now, the car still. But Humbert knows better than to interrupt, staying in the front seat as I clean us up.
“How would you like a fancy French lunch?” I growl against her ear. “Are you hungry?”
“Lunch?” she rouses herself, eyes dazed. “But it’s almost dinner time!”
Suddenly, I realize she’s right. It’s not Lacy who’s gone crazy. It’s me. I’ve lost track of time because the sex was so good. The chauffeur must have guessed at what we were doing in the backseat, and drove us around for hours so that we could have an all-out sex session without a break.
Holy shit. This has never happened before. In fact, I pride myself on always keeping my wits about me. It’s important when you’re on a battlefield with mortar raining down from the heavens and land mines under every foot.
But Lacy did this to me. With the beautiful girl, I’m transported out of my body, losing track of everything but us. Outside the limo, New York was dark and silent, testament to the onset of night.
“Well,” I say jovially. “It’s dinnertime then. Come on sweetheart.”
I jump out of the Limo and grab Lacy and an outfit from the trunk. It’s a beautiful satin gown in black. Simple and elegant. Just like the kind I’d want her to wear at my Italian villa. I pull out a box with red velvet shoes. She’s gonna look dazzling in this get-up.
“But Howie! My hair,” she protests. The blonde strands are slightly mussed from our horizontal activity, flowing about her shoulders in a marvelous carpet.
“You look gorgeous babe. You look incredible. You don’t need to do anything to those beautiful blonde locks. You have it all. Natural beauty.”
She smiles and applies red lipstick to her plump lips in the mirror of the limo. She’s totally glimmering. I put her on my arm and we walk inside the restaurant. Never have I felt so complete … and Lacy was the missing puzzle piece.
CHAPTER 7
LACY
I’ve never been in a place like this. Never in my entire life. The restaurant Howie brings me to is beautiful, full of ornate scrolled furniture and high ceilings with plaster molding. All the customers look sophisticated and elegant in their fancy outfits.
Suddenly, my cheeks color. I’m totally out of place! I’m a small-town girl with a working class background. What am I doing here?
Doubt surges through my chest until I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the foyer mirror. I gasp because I look like one of them. The gown fits my body perfectly. My hair is tousled but looks effortlessly glamorous, like a bohemian movie star. My eyes widen.
Howie appears above my shoulder.
“Cinderella,” he whispers into my ear.
All the people at the restaurant know Howie already. The maître d’ bows courteously, and instructs the hostess to bring us to a private room in the back. There are lavish curtains on the walls and candles glowing on white tabletops. I have a knot in my stomach. If I’m Cinderella, when does the clock strike midnight? What happens then? Will I turn into a pumpkin? Will all of this disappear?
As if reading my mind, Howie leans in.
“You know what happens right? At the end of the fairy tale?”
I try to remember.
“Sort of,” I stammer. “Why?”
He grins like a wolf.
“Because the prince comes. He has the glass slipper in his hand and the only one who fits it is you. Believe me, Lacy, I will always find you. I will always be there when you need me.”
I smile. But deep inside, I remember the way Charlie used to say things like that to me. He’d state, “We’re going to get married as soon as I find a good job,” or “I’ll take care of you and Aunt Margaret always.” The difference was, he didn’t look at me when it said those things. He was always watching baseball on TV or drinking a beer with his friends. I feel my eyes welling with tears.
“Lacy,” says Howie. “What is it?”
“It’s just- how do I know- how do I know I can really trust you? If you wanted to, you could throw all of this away! How do I know you haven’t bought all your maids fancy dresses? How do I know Mr. Bates?” comes my plaintive wail.
I can’t believe I’m saying these words. I don’t want to hurt him. But I have to know because it’s all happened so fast. He looks me deep in the eyes. I can see something there. It’s truth.
“Lacy, my darling. My girl. Look, I know how I must come off,” he sighs. The billionaire leans back in his chair and I take him in. His beautiful shoulders, the muscles under his sports coat, his chiseled jaw and bronzed skin. Mr. Bates is any girl’s dream man. I berate myself then. Why did I have to ask him? Why oh why did I blurt out those words.
But Howie’s not mad. He crosses
his arms and speaks patiently.
“I know I must come off as some big billionaire playboy. But do you know why I was so moved by your Aunt Margaret today? Why I was so moved by your brown eyes, Lacy? Because I know them. Both of you, you remind me of my mother. Of her beauty and her kindness. She died in my arms while I was at home, age seventeen. I thought she’d just passed out but it turned out to be something more sinister. But I didn’t know it at the time, so I carried her in my arms all the way to the hospital. I carried my dying mother from our beat-up split level house all the way to the emergency room in the rain.” Tears well behind Howie’s eyes. I reach out my hand and take his in mine. We place our twined fingers on the silken table cloth.
“All of this Lacy, all of this fancy bullshit? I know it’s not real. It’s not what really matters. What really matters to me is you. Not just pleasing your pussy, but keeping you safe and happy. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or the people you love. You are my princess, Lacy. You’re my second chance. I couldn’t save my mother. But I can protect you.”
“Oh, Howie.”
I am shaking. This man before me is so deep. So magnetic. I can tell he’s been through so much.
“Howie that’s so terrible about your mother. I’m so sorry.”
“Well sweetheart, the world is a hard place. I learned the hard way because I almost lost my leg too.”
“Leg?” I ask, astonished. “What? How?”
“Car bomb. Afghanistan. 2007.”
My face goes white as a ghost. I’ve heard those words before. But it can’t be. It just can’t be.
“You’ve served in the military?”
“Yes, honey. I’m sorry to say that my mother isn’t the only dead body I’ve had to carry in my arms.”
“Oh Howie! Oh my god.”
“I’m not telling you this for kicks, sweetheart. I’m telling you this so you know I’m not kidding. I haven’t felt this way for a woman since I was discharged. There has been nobody else who could melt the ice off my heart. Not until I saw you there, on my marble floor, wiping away at the stains, did I know my soul could love again.”
He looks deep in my eyes, but suddenly we’re interrupted from our conversation.
“Bordeaux?” We both look up and see the waiter, dressed in a smart black tux. He probably thinks we’re crazy seeing the two of us with our linked hands, both people on the brink of crying. But I can’t help it. I smile and laugh out loud.
“A little wine, Lacy?” says Howie.
I make a face. I haven’t really had wine before. Just cheap stuff that came in forties.
“Are you old enough, Miss?” frowns the waiter, “I’m sorry I have to ask.”
Mr. Bates snorts.
“Of course she’s twenty-one!” he says drolly. “Give us your nicest bottle.”
With that, the waiter scurries away to retrieve the wine.
“You are twenty-one, right?” asks my date.
I blush.
“Don’t tell but I’m actually only nineteen.”
Howie looks totally taken aback.
“Nineteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Christ. No wonder your pussy’s so tight!”
“Howie!”
“What, you’re suddenly so bashful? Aren’t you the girl that lost her virginity on the kitchen floor of her bosses’ penthouse- to her boss?” He winks.
“Well, he did fire me after,” I retort smartly.
We laugh and drink the fine wine together. Howie tells me stories from his wild life. It’s insane. There are tales of battles with gunshots ringing around his head, not to mention the multiple firefights he’s been in. But deep down, I’m just happy to know he is a good man. He is a sexy man, but also good. His intentions are pure. I feel so soft toward him. At dinner’s end, I simply melt onto his arm as we drive back to his penthouse in the limo. I think I could get used to this life.
CHAPTER 8
HOWIE
It took a little getting used to, but now Lacy and Margaret are comfortable in their new lives. I’ve purchased Margaret a brand spanking-new apartment, while Lacy’s practically moved in with me. Margaret calls me one morning out of the blue while Lacy’s in the shower.
“Howie darling, can you tell Lacy that I wish her the most incredible trip! How I wish I could come with you, but my art show is just taking off. Now that I don’t need to worry about rent, I’ve had so much time to let my creativity flower. Thank you honey, I know I owe it to you.”
I nod graciously.
“Did Mrs. Jones call you yet? She wants to commission a necklace and earring set.”
“Yes, she called my publicist! Oh, I just can’t believe it. Fame and fortune have knocked upon my door, and I feel so lucky. Thank you, you kind man.”
I grin although she can’t see it.
“Aunt Margaret, nothing gives me greater pleasure than giving you and Lacy the lives you deserve. Nothing. And guess what I have in store for my little princess?”
“Oh? What?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to get Lacy’s portrait done. Not just one portrait, but at least a dozen of them. So she can be everywhere in the penthouse. I may have a few done in Florence for the Italian property. But we need some real New York style paintings of her for my penthouse in the meantime.”
“Wow,” marvels Margaret. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. I’ve got the artist coming over today to do preliminary sketches before we hop on a private jet. Lacy did tell you we’re going to Italy right?”
I can almost hear Margaret’s head bobble up and down happily.
“Oh she’ll just be so delighted. She’s always wanted to hit up Rome and Milan.”
I laugh.
“Well we’ll be going to my estate in the Tuscan countryside, but I’ll make sure we do some side trips too.”
Margaret chortles.
“My beautiful niece. I love her so much. She only deserves the best.”
That makes me stop as my heart pounds. Because I have to tell someone this incredible revelation.
“I-” my breath falls short. “Margaret. I- I love her too.”
I hear Margaret take in a short gulp of breath. She can feel my emotions even through the phone.
“Well you tell her that Howie. You tell her that during sunset at your villa over some beautiful red wine and ripe tomatoes. You tell her that because my beautiful girl deserves to know.”
“Will do,” I promise. “Absolutely.”
Margaret beams again.
“Bless you darling. Now have a good time. Toodle-oo!”
I hang up with a smile on my face, the phone dropping from my still fingers. Because this is it. I’ve said it aloud. I really do love Lacy, and the realization is mindblowing, yet also freeing. Before, I always thought love was about cages and being locked down. But now I know that truly loving someone is like soaring into the heavens with a bursting heart.
I walk down the hall, my mind filled with my beautiful girl. The walls are full of portraits of strangers but soon, they will be replaced with portraits of Lacy. There will be regal portraits, and there will be a couple of sexy ones for my private collection, on display only in our love room.
Because I had one of the extra bedrooms converted into, well, something special just for Lacy and me. It’s going to have every toy imaginable, plus a walk in shower and sauna for when we want water games. Like I said, every accommodation will be at our fingertips.
But when I don’t find Lacy in the bedroom or the bathroom, my brows draw into a frown. I see that the woman’s luggage set is neatly packed, except for one small bag. A small leather suitcase is flipped open, and I catch a glimpse of a new set of bright red lingerie. Garters and crotchless panties. Perfect. We’ll be having a good time in Italy.
Next, I look in the bathroom but she’s nowhere to be found. This leaves only one place. She’s in our special room. I just know it. Slowly, I walk down the hall and unlock the metal door. Pushing the
heavy slab open, I enter into the darkened space. The couches inside are made of leopard print. There are silky black marble floors as Indian music plays over the speakers. On the ceiling is a mirror with purple flowing fabric coming down in sheets from a splendid chandelier. On the pink circular bed in the middle of the room is my princess.
I should have known. I got her a virtual truckload of sex toys the other day, and she hasn’t gotten a chance to try them yet. She’s wearing a little black teddy and her blond hair falls over her shoulders in rapture. She can hardly tell I’ve entered the room because my princess is in the middle of shoving a big glass dildo in and out of her hot slit. In her other hand, she holds a bulbous vibrator to her clit. Her back is propped up with pillows.
She’s in such a deep state of ecstasy that it’s a pity to disturb her. I walk closer and closer. I can smell her now. She’s leaking all over the pink satin. My little waterfall. She’s so hot and wet, my cock rises and threatens to pop the seam of my trousers. Oh, my little princess. Look at her writhing!
I’m standing over her now. She still doesn’t know. Her eyes are closed and she’s moaning. I see the glass dildo going in and out, fucking those hot pink folds. Oh no. Don’t come like this, not when I’m here. My dong is bigger than that dildo anyways. I unzip my pants and let my erection bulge outwards. The tip of my cock hits her knee and finally, she notices. She opens her eyes and smiles.
Claiming His Virgin In the Pool Page 13
