tagLoving WivesBillie Jean

Billie Jean

byStangStar06©

Author's note: This is a long and crazy one so be warned. I wanted to kick off the summer with something fun and hopefully this is it. There are a few people I wanted to thank because without them you wouldn't be reading this story. First the real life Helena Martinez, who claims to have read every one of my stories and dared me to write a story about this song. I'd also like to thank the two best writers I know DQS1 and Rehnquist for letting me borrow their toys, and I hope they aren't upset with what I've done to them because just using them was a dream come true for me. Lastly I'd like to welcome my new editor MikotheBaby to the party. She did a great job of prying my fingers loose from the comma key. Anything you don't like about it was my fault, she just made my gibberish legible. Okay Harry in Va here it is rip me a new one.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My name is Alexander Blake. As I wind my Cobalt blue Shelby GT 500 KR Mustang through the crowded streets of L.A. I can't help but feel a sense of Déjà Vu. You know that eerie feeling that you've been here before.

I guess it only makes sense seeing as how almost exactly one year ago I was doing the exact same thing. I was on my way to a charity dinner honoring me as the top man in the advertising industry. It was one of those stupid honors that were designed to let the other ad men know who had brought in the most money over the past 12 months.

Advertising is a truly weird business. We don't make anything or own anything, but without us the general public has no idea of who does do those things. Take my hopped up Mustang here. Do you think it would matter how great this car is if no one knew they made them or had heard of it? I think not.

No matter how many pencil protector wearing engineering geeks it took to design and build this beast, it would all be for nothing if some smart marketing wiz hadn't come up with a way to sell it. It also takes a genius to decide which market to sell the product to and how to approach it.

Any way, this year just like last year, I brought in more advertising dollars for my company than any other ad man in the world or at least in the industrialized nations. I guess that's where my sense of Déjà Vu came from.

The funny thing about it though is that even though I feel like I've done this before and I have, nothing is the same this year as it was a year ago. The Shelby I was driving last year is at home in the garage. Last year I worked for a different company or at least a company with a different name and I was married to...Shit, I may as well tell you the whole story and let you see why I feel so weird. Sherman, crank up the way back machine. Set it for one year ago today....

Okay, last year my name was still Alexander Blake and as mentioned I was on my way to a charity event to honor me as the top man in advertising and make an absolute shit load of money for some charity that I had no interest in.

I'm sure the charity did great work for the homeless whales environmental disease cure or whatever it was. In my mind the big thing was that I was on top of my game. I had the world on a string and didn't give a shit who knew it. In fact I wanted everyone to know it.

I was again guiding a ridiculously powerful Shelby Mustang through the crowded streets near the convention center, with my lovely wife at my side.

Mary Beth, my wife of 6 years was 28, like me. Where I was California born and bred, she was New England royalty. It wouldn't have surprised me if she turned out to be related by marriage to the Kennedys. She had that Bostonian accent with its odd sounding vowels and clipped delivery. If someone had modernized Kathryn Hepburn, they'd have Mary Beth, at least on the surface.

I can't say that Mary Beth was ravishingly beautiful, but she was pretty and healthy and she had that All-American girl glow. Kind of like the Governator's wife Maria Shriver. She was the perfect wife for a top ad exec, attractive, but not overly so. Classy, sophisticated, well read, she was all of those things. But none of those are the reason I married her. I married her because I loved her like there was no tomorrow and I thought she felt the same about me.

Of course the fact that she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose and loved doing it didn't hurt. In public or around people, Mary Beth gave the impression that she was some kind of perfectly poised Ice Queen. Alone or out of the public's eye she was probably the biggest sex fiend I knew.

It was normal for me to come home to find her naked and bent over the back of my sofa as the first sight that greeted me when I walked in the door. There was nothing off the table for Mary Beth when it came to sex. I remember times when she'd come into my office in the middle of a meeting and tell the clients and my colleagues that she needed to borrow me for a few minutes. I'd be worried thinking that some dire emergency had arisen, only to have her pull me into my secretary's office for a quickie. "I just wanted you to understand what's really important," she'd said to me as she scooped up a finger's worth of my sperm that had leaked from her vagina and licked it off of her fingers. Then she kissed me goodbye and told me to come home straight after work.

Needless to say, I loved her back and our life together was never boring.

Besides being way under forty, my personal style also separated me from a lot of the top guys in the industry. I didn't wear suits unless I was going to an occasion that required it. I had never owned a black foreign sedan and never intended to do so. And I simply hated fucking golf with a passion. I preferred casual more modern clothing, Muscle cars and extreme sports.

I was the bad boy of the ad world. Of course having the might of one of the world's biggest ad agencies behind me hadn't hurt me, but I had worked my way up through the trenches on my own.

When I started at McMillan Worth, it was as an unpaid (yep I worked for fucking free) intern during my college days. I started out running down to the corner store as a gopher to some of the ad execs. And now I dictated policy to the ad execs from a corner office.

Mary Beth was particularly stunning that night in a long tight black Vera Wang dress with a diamond choker as her only adornment. It was a simple, but classic look that she managed to make effortless. Of course I knew that she'd been in make up for three hours to look like she was barely wearing any make-up. And having her hair styled to appear she'd just thrown it up and pinned it, cost us more than some people made in a month. But it was all worth it, this was my night.

Hundreds of flashbulbs went off as we surrendered my Stang to the valet. Mary Beth and I exchanged a chaste kiss for the reporters. I smiled as I remembered why the front of my raw silk pants was ever so slightly stained. She'd just had me pull over less than two blocks from here to give me a sloppy blow job, only moments before we got here.

As we stepped into the cavernous room, another round of flashbulbs exploded in our eyes. This time we were greeted by cheers and applause as we were introduced to the waiting crowd. The ceremony hadn't started yet but the party was in full swing. There were throngs of rich and or famous people there. Politicians, athletes, actors, musicians, the entire human zoo was represented and they were all here to honor me.

A bit later the ceremony began and they started out by acknowledging the works of some lesser honorees. There were awards for commercials, ad campaigns, product placement and other things. When my award was announced and the truly staggering amount of dinero I had procured for McMillan Worth, there was near stunned silence in the room. Even one of my ex college buddies and greatest competitors, Caesar Anthony's jaw dropped as he heard the amount of money I'd raised for the firm.

After that, the night moved onwards. They announced how much money the dinner had raised for the charity and then people returned to eating, drinking, dancing, socializing and networking. I'm sure that my earning power was a topic of discussion. I was also sure that taking me down was being discussed with equal fervor.

I was, to quote a line from a movie about a sinking ship, "The king of the world." But little did I realize, my ship was about to sink as well.

As I looked over the crowd of well heeled men and women, they all seemed to blend into startling similarity. The men all wore tuxes, and except for cufflinks or some other minor personalizing trim all looked the same. The majority of the women all wore some version of the famous little black dress. Only the name of the designer differentiated them. Maybe their hairstyles were different too, but I couldn't tell. I was dutifully dancing with several of the assembled ladies in an effort to be polite, when I saw her.

She had long unbound blonde hair that cascaded down around her shoulders as opposed to an up-do. Her hair covered one side of her face completely, so that only one eye was visible. The style was reminiscent of Veronica Lake and was extremely arousing. Among all of those rich and beautiful women there, she stood out. She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene. As she slowly made her way across the floor towards me, I noticed the way her red dress cut through the crowd that was dressed mostly in black.

Watching her as she approached me was like seeing a fireball cut through the darkness of space.

She actually bowed in front of me as the music started. I looked at Mary Beth and she just shrugged her shoulders and nodded. Of course at least fifty photographers took pictures of us as we started to dance. She danced extremely well and I suppose we looked good together. We didn't actually talk, until just before the dance ended.

Then with at least ten microphones near us she said the one fucking line that started all of that hell for me. She said that I was the one. Her voice was so soft at first that I didn't hear her. But apparently all of the microphones picked it up well.

She said I was the one, who would dance on the floor in the round. When she said that, my heart clutched. I hadn't heard that term in over six years. It was before I'd met Mary Beth, back in my days as a carefree single guy. It referred to a practice of mate swapping that we did back then. A bunch of couples would all form a circle, hence the term, "the round." Anyway, we'd dance for one hour, in a very dimly lit room, changing partners constantly. Whoever you were dancing with when the lights came on, you went home and had sex with. Most of the couples involved didn't survive.

It was a great thing for a young single guy like me. I'd meet some girl that I didn't really care that much about, take her to the party and let the chips fall where they may. Most of the time, I went home with someone completely different than I'd gone with.

Naturally I'd given things like that up long before I met Mary Beth. Dancing in the round was not conducive to stable relationships. Anyway back to the party.

The reporters, sensing a story were swarming around us like stink on shit. They were there as the whole thing collapsed. She told me her name was Billie Jean and she caused a scene.

Then every head turned to see what was going on. Mary Beth came over to stand beside me like a good wife. She knew the drill. Some gold digger looking for money or publicity showed up at a big event to cause a scandal. Half of the guys there took one look at her and dreamed of being the one themselves. Billie Jean was really fucking hot.

The problem was that try as I might, I simply couldn't remember her. Not only did I not remember fucking her, which I have to admit, was a crime. I couldn't remember ever meeting her or ever hearing of a Billie Jean.

Before I knew what was going on, before I could even hear the rest of her bullshit. My people whisked me and Mary Beth out of there. I really have to give Mary Beth credit. She was cool and professional. She smiled and posed for the cameras, even as they tried to turn my life to shit. If pride goeth before a fall, I was headed for a hell of a tumble.

As we left the hall I could see two things and neither of them boded well for me. The first was that Billie Jean was literally surrounded by reporters and microphones. For an evening that had started out all about me, it had ended up being all about some woman I was sure I'd never met before now.

The second thing was that Mary Beth was studying me intensely as if she'd never seen me before either. I could tell that my fit and status as her spouse was being carefully weighed and measured on a number of levels. Before that, I'd have told anyone who asked that Mary Beth and I were eternal. Or that we'd spend the rest of our lives together regardless of any circumstance.

We managed to slip out the back door and into my Mustang without being seen. As we roared off into the night only the deep throaty growl of my Magnaflow exhaust system gave evidence of our passing.

Inside the car Mary Beth was excited as usual. She quickly reached for my pants and for the first time ever, I pushed her hands away.

"Ooh teasing me huh?" she said. "I swear, even after all of this time. You can still surprise me. So what was all of that shit back at the party about?"

I really wasn't in the mood to talk right now, but I loved MB with all my heart, so I answered her questions.

"You were there MB, you saw her," I said. "She's some chick from my past that crawled out of the woodwork and claimed we had sex. Honestly, I don't get her point. If every person I had sex with came out and admitted it. There would probably be a long ass list. And we wouldn't get to you until the end. You'd be the last one in line, but definitely the best."

"You flatterer " she smiled. "You don't have to try to charm me to get some pussy. It's all yours, whenever you want it. I think you should just chalk this one up though as a publicity stunt that didn't quite go the way you wanted it to."

"MB, this wasn't one of mine," I said. "This was real."

"Well then it makes perfect sense all of a sudden," she said. "She's some unemployed actress who remembered that you once fucked her. When she found out that you were being honored at a big charity event, she decided to crash it and steal your limelight to generate some publicity of her own. It'll probably do wonders for her career."

She was silent for a few moments and then continued. "Realistically I thought that you'd planned it. It is after all brilliant. I don't know why we never thought of it ourselves," she said.

I looked at her skeptically. "Why would I want this?" I asked.

"Think about it Blake," she said. "Our next logical step is to separate you from the firm. Instead of people hearing about you as McMillan Worth's Blake Alexander, we want them to simply think Blake Alexander. It's the first step in you becoming famous on your own instead of as just an employee of some giant ad company."

"That way if it takes them too long to offer you a partnership and try to avoid giving you a titled partnership, we'll just walk and start up on our own." She seemed awfully confident.

When we got home it was business as usual. The necklace that I'd paid a ridiculous amount of money for was dropped casually on a table. The dress was on the floor at the bottom of the staircase, and Mary Beth was walking slowly up the stairs with only her thigh high stockings and panties on. She hadn't even worn a bra that night, not that she really needed one. The closing of our door was the signal for the previously perfectly coiffed paragon of class and dignity to resume her chosen role as my personal slut.

She settled down on our massive bed and spread her legs. "You didn't eat much at the party," she smirked. "I don't think you should go to bed hungry. So come on over here and eat some of this." Her hips lifted off of the bed in anticipation. I knelt before my carnal goddess and did what she hated most. A lot of women want their men to be gentle and careful, when they eat them. Not Mary Beth, "RRRR...quit fucking teasing me and get to it," she snapped. I blew a gentle gust of air at her shaved bare vagina and was met with an icy glare. Just as she got ready to chastise me again, I caught her off guard and roughly swiped at her sensitive area from anus to clit as hard as I could in one swift stroke.

"EEEEEEE," she screamed. Her head jerked backwards and her legs flew even further apart. "Ohhh! fuck that was good." I swabbed her deck with my tongue as if I was trying to rub the skin off of it. She jerked and grimaced as if she was being tortured and screamed like a dying cat. Within seconds her eyes were rolling back in her head and she was gushing her juices all over me.

"Get your fucking clothes off, already," she snapped. "No that's okay; I can't wait that long, just do me."

I shook my head, in disbelief. Even after being together for six years, I was still shocked by exactly how slutty Mary Beth could be. Less than twenty minutes ago she'd appeared to be a woman who wouldn't say shit if she had a mouth full of it. Now in the privacy of our home, she could teach drunken sailors how to swear. I pulled my pants down around my ankles and grabbed her off the bed. I turned her around and slammed myself home in her tight hairless pussy. None of that romantic rubbing and easing my way in for her, she was already sopping wet and she liked it rough so that's what I gave her.

The first brutal stroke found me bottomed out inside her and her trying to get her legs even further apart, so I could get deeper. "Harder, baby. Slam me," she said. I was already fucking her so hard that if she got pregnant our kid would be born with a black eye, but she wanted it harder so I obliged her.

I grabbed her by her slim waist and pulled her onto me harder with each stroke. She pushed her ass against me increasingly harder also. It was more like we were fighting than fucking. I was getting closer with each stroke and Mary Beth knew it. "Don't you dare fucking cum," she said. She pulled herself off of me and turned to look at me. "Do my ass," she said. She was out of her mind. She was slurring her words together, and she had the biggest smile.

"Who was I to turn down the love of my life? I pulled her cheeks apart and started to lick her anus for lubrication. "Just put it in me," she screamed. "Force your dick into my shitter, now!" So again I complied. She pushed against me as I pushed into her. It was so tight I thought my dick was going to break. Finally I got the head in and she started oohing and screaming, "yes."

After a while we got the whole thing in and she started sawing against me again. It was so tight and I was already close." It didn't matter. I reached under her and rubbed her clit. Mary Beth started slamming her ass into me again.

Mary Beth doesn't have a large fleshy ass so her pelvic bones slamming against me were not the most comfortable thing, but it was brief thankfully. She started jerking involuntarily, and I grabbed her around her waist and drive myself home one more time. I came like a fire hose. Semen erupted from the end of my dick and blasted her insides. She reacted from the warmth of the fluid more than the volume. She ripped herself free of me and turned around quickly taking my shrinking member into her mouth and slurping greedily. Her tongue circled the head of my shaft and even probed the hole in the end of it for the last few drops. A few errant drops had escaped and landed on the bed. She scooped them up and swallowed them as well.

"Oh baby, that was so good," she crooned. "Just the way, I like it."

We fell back on the bed wrapped around each other and slept the sleep of the damned, while the world around us started to fall apart.

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