Behind the Masks Ch. 03

Lucas Somerville grew up always knowing what was expected of him. His father made that clear from the start. He was to have the best of everything- school, clothes, friends, all in preparation of taking over the family manufacturing business and continuing to hold up the torch of the Somerville family. There was one wrinkle in the elder Somerville's plans that like a speck of dust in a hard drive caused an inevitable crash...Lucas's mother.

Claudette D'Ange was a beautiful Parisian. Like his son, John Somerville had his pick of the wealthiest girls, but after meeting Claudette during an overseas trip he decided she would be his colorful trophy wife. For a while things seemed to work out well. Claudette was a magnificent hostess and a siren in bed. When she did occasionally get off track, John corrected her with sharp words and a slap or two if necessary.

Then Lucas came along and everything changed. His dutiful wife became more and more obstinate. She didn't want Lucas to be sent to boarding school. She cradled and coddled him like a little girl until John Somerville was entirely fed up with her, her smart mouth, and her snobby French attitude. She refused to fuck him claiming some fictitious malady.

Getting rid of her was not easy. She wanted to take Lucas with her, but the pictures of her and her lover set her straight. His lawyers decimated and humiliated Claudette in court. She went back to France childless with her tail tucked between her legs.

John went to work on Lucas right away, teaching him what life was really about. He rode him hard, but he sincerely believed it was for Lucas's benefit. He didn't want Luc to be one of those spoiled, aimless dilettantes embarrassing their families in trashy magazines. He wanted Lucas to be a real man.

When Lucas was old enough, his father gave him the ultimate birthday present. He hired one of Linda's classiest girls who didn't look a day over 18.

A young virgin at the time, Lucas was scared shitless when he walked into his bedroom and there was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen naked in his bed. She was all peaches and cream with freckles scattered here and there.

"Dad, I don't know what to do. I mean I know, but ..."

John interrupted him.

"You're missing the point, son. She's a whore. You can do whatever you want to her."

She told him he was tall for his age and so cute; she beckoned him closer. He came in her hand as soon as she touched him the first time. She gently licked him clean, and he was hard again in an instant. The second time inside her was a dream. He could barely wrap his mind around the awesome sensations of being trapped in her little pink cell so warm and wet. She rode him gently. Her pretty breasts bounced in his face and teased him the whole time. The third time was a revelation. She was underneath of him, arms and legs wrapped tight around him, and he felt the power of dealing pleasure as his body found a rhythm that was undeniable to her.

"Women can't be trusted, son. They spread their legs and lie like the devil. "

His father's words haunted him, but this didn't feel like a lie. He saw the look of surprise on her face and heard the way her breathing changed as he stroked. He followed her instructions and subtle clues. His flexible back created wave after wave of sensation.

"You're going to make me come aren't you, baby?"

She was in awe of his control, and the way he made her well initiated pussy do cartwheels. Faking it was par for the course, especially with the rich arrogant fucks she had to service, but actually climaxing with a trick was anathema to her.

"That's what you need, right? Need me to make you come...you need me." he whispered.

He pushed faster and deeper until she was begging for him to give it to her. He soon felt the fascinating, tell tale tightening of her pussy. Afterwards, she stroked his hair and told him how good he was. The best she'd had in a long time. He indulged in her embrace, loving the feel of being cloistered in softness and her breasts beneath his cheek. A part of him wanted to cry. He didn't understand that at all, so he shoved it away as he'd been made to do so many times.

"My dad said you're a whore, and I can do anything I want to you. Is that true?" he asked nuzzling her pink nipple with his lips.

Her hands immediately stopped their gentle stroking.

"It's true."

"Good...because I want to do everything."

Lucas paid her with his own sizeable allowance until he didn't need her anymore. Girls were attracted to him like bees to sunflowers. His eyes, his hair, his body, his daddy's money- all were things he heard them giggle and blush over every time he walked by. Soon he was a bona fide slut and arrogant about it in true Somerville fashion. Girls were toys to be thoroughly enjoyed, but never to be trusted as far as one could throw a diamond tennis bracelet.

He found himself uncharacteristically distracted by the memory of hot, anonymous sex with one little miss nobody. The memory of it had him beating off constantly when he was alone. When he was enjoying one of his many friends with benefits on campus, he imagined coily dark hair instead of silky blonde in his hands as the girl went down on him. The sight and taste of her chocolate and cherries pussy haunted him.

Lucas shook his head to clear it and shelved the equipment in his hand.

He was the captain of the crew team at Hill. Water was the only thing he loved more than getting laid. The exertion of his body, the clean air, and the slice of water over paddle and flesh put him in a place he felt weightless and invincible.

His encounter with the lovely dark dancer nudged at his mind even at practice.

He'd never been with a black girl before, but that night she was undeniably the hottest girl on the floor. When she danced,nobody even came close. He tried to write the night off as curiosity, but couldn't. He found himself scanning crowds for brown limbs and twisted hair. He noted that there were many attractive black girls and other women of color, but he didn't feel necessarily more attracted to them simply because they were different. No, clearly it was just something about her. The very idea frustrated him to no end.

No way was a girl, any girl, going to have him all tied up in knots. Especially not that one! She was all kinds of wrong, and obviously despite her protests and innocent eyes she was a total slut to fuck him and suck him off like that.

"Shit" he cursed pulling at the edge of his sweatshirt as he pitched another woodie remembering how she ate his come like ice cream.

He knew what he had to do.

Find her.

Fuck her again.

Forget her.

He assumed finding her would not be a challenge. A girl crazy for dancing and cock probably hit the clubs every weekend, right? He hung regularly at the clubs for almost a month- nothing.His frustration became an obsession.

*She's out there. The city's not that big. How many clubs can one little girl visit in a weekend? Where are you kitty cat?*

He couldn't believe it when he finally saw her again.