I'm Brian Banks; I'm kind of a weird dude. I have borderline social anxiety, I am about as athletic as a potato, and I have no interest in drinking, sports or any other "male bonding" type of activities. I'm decent looking and thin, despite the fact that I never actually "work out," but my major attribute is that I'm smart. Actually, I'm really smart and unlike many smart people I'm also perceptive.
Despite my borderline social anxiety disorder, and the fact that I skipped a grade in elementary school, because of the neighborhood I lived in and the schools I went to I was not behind when it came to sex education.
I lived in a neighborhood that was lower middle class; I don't know if it was because of that, but there were lots of sexually active females around my age. I lived at home during college because one of what is considered to be one of the top five engineering universities in the world was just a ten minute commute from my house.
In exchange for helping the sexually active females in my neighborhood with their homework, taking take-home tests for them, or tutoring them in various subjects both in high school and when they went to community colleges, I got tutored myself. The "tutoring" I received was in sex. I was almost always sexually satisfied between the ages of eighteen and twenty one, and more than half of the females I tutored, and who tutored me, seemed to be genuinely satisfied with my sexual abilities too.
I was the beneficiary of so much "instruction" because I quickly gained a reputation for being patient and discrete, as well as smart. I was able to relate to my female companions on their intellectual level so that they easily understood the subjects that I helped them with. I was always kind and gentle with them during sex, and I never, ever, ever told anyone else that I had sex with any one of them, although I'm sure that they told each other.
I had sex with eleven different women during this period, most of them multiple times, although I never had a "relationship" with any of them. It was a strict -- even if very desirable -- trade, information for pussy. Not always pussy. One young vixen introduced me to the pleasures of titty fucking, and another to anal.
There was only one woman -- she always went by her street name of "Jezebel" rather than her real name, "Whitney" -- during this time period that I didn't treat gently. However, that was not because I wasn't trying to be nice to her.
Jezebel is my age; she is a big woman, as tall as I am and at the time probably outweighed me by five-ten pounds, although she wasn't fat. Most of her extra weight was in her tits and muscular thighs. While her face was just ordinary, everyone who knew her -- including me -- thought that she had about the most Aphrodite-like body possible. Any guy who wasn't enthralled by little women with little tits would consider Jezebel's body "consummate!"
Jezebel was very sexually active since she loved sex and could get just about any guy she wanted to fuck her. She was also athletic, and played softball and basketball in several leagues. While not particularly academic she wasn't stupid and had more ambition than most people in our neighborhood. Her primary goal was to own a porn studio or website. I tutored her mostly in math and business matters that would help her work toward that goal.
Jezebel told me -- and I believed her -- that I was the only guy she let fuck her bareback, because she was sure that I had no STDs. She was the first woman ever to ride me reverse cowgirl, and almost ripped my dick off as she bounced up and down while at the same time massaging my balls. When I fucked her doggy, she kept yelling "Harder, fuck me harder, you bastard," no matter how much effort I put into it. She seemed to enjoy it; but whether she was faking an orgasm or it was real she always let out a primordial scream when I came in her, and told me afterward that it was great.
Jezebel was the only one of my women "acquaintances" whoever fucked me without having me provide her some academic service first. Six times -- I remember exactly how many because they made an indelible impression on my socially awkward psyche -- she simply called me up during the night and asked if I needed a good fuck. When I showed up at her apartment in response to her calls she delivered -- in spades.
I never fell in love with Jezebel, but I sure did like her, and would have done anything for her even if she didn't fuck me in return.
My senior year in college I invented a readily programmable, encrypted, sophisticated proximity detector. It's kind of like the EZ-pass system used on many toll roads in the United States, only specifically for secure systems. Various forms of my detectors were adopted by corporations with proprietary systems, many government agencies both State and Federal, and the military. I actually had to get a security clearance to participate in the patenting of my own inventions.
As a result of my inventions I got gobs of money in patent royalties and set up two companies to sell the products to different markets, and to research new products. Because I have no managerial abilities, and am interested only in inventing and engineering products, I had my attorneys set up a web of shell and holding corporations that owned my two operating companies and hired people to run those corporations. I owned all of the stock in the ultimate holding company, but someone would have to be really sophisticated and spend days searching in order to find that out. I never used my web of companies to cheat on taxes, but some were located off-shore just to make it more difficult for anyone who was looking at ownership to find me.
The only people who knew that I was the ultimate boss were the CEOs and CFOs of my two operating companies. To everyone else I was simply the salaried head of the new product engineering department of one of the operating companies.
By the time that I turned twenty four I had all of the mechanisms set forth above set up and was looking for a long term relationship with a female. Things were difficult for me because of my borderline social anxiety and since I was no longer trading my brain power for sex, but after going through a number of on-line dating sites and diverse social groups, when I was twenty six I finally met someone that I was smitten with and who was interested in me.
Allison was probably the best looking woman who ever showed any real romantic interest in me. In addition to a beautiful face she had a very nice body, highlighted by a pair of boobs that I considered world class. They were -- to my tastes -- just the right size, texture, and firmness, and were topped by puffy nipples! I LOVE puffy nipples!
Although we had a fairly conventional courtship, looking back on it I now see that it was more superficial than most. I guess I was so enamored with her looks -- and especially those awesome tits -- that I overlooked some things that many would consider important in a spouse.
One thing that I did notice at all times during our relationship, however, was her total lack of interest in my work. She never asked anything about it, seemed bored and feigned a total lack of understanding if I ever brought anything about my work up, and was totally devoid of curiosity whatsoever.
Allison's lack of interest in my work was actually an advantage when it came to a pre-nuptial agreement. Gail, one of the attorneys that helped me set up my corporations -- and someone who I greatly respected -- insisted that I get a pre-nup. In fact when I was wavering back and forth about a pre-nup once I had asked Allison to marry me and she had accepted, Gail threatened to quit working for me if I didn't present Allison with a pre-nup.
Gail drafted a pre-nup that was very simple and not onerous. It simply provided that the only thing exempted from community property was any stock, interest, or royalty related to any company or patent that either of us owned more than 10% of as of the date of the marriage, or even acquired during the marriage. Allison had her father review it and then signed it without even questioning me about it.
Sex with Allison was always very good. Sex with her was especially good when I fucked her tits. I always had my most massive orgasms when I fucked those perfect orbs, and she always had an orgasm too, though not as large as when I fucked her pussy. She could get me to do almost anything she wanted to if I got to fuck her tits!
I had been married to Allison for about two and a half years, and we already had our first child, a beautiful little girl we named Amber, when I ran into Jezebel on the street during a quick, solo, trip to my parents' house. I had offered to buy my parents a new house in a fancier community, but they were people with a simple life style and many friends in the neighborhood, so they declined.
Jezebel looked good; she hadn't gained a pound since I saw her last, and was better dressed than at any other time that I had seen her. We went for a cup of coffee and she told me about her newest venture, and I told her the same story that I told everyone else about being a salaried employee.
Jezebel was setting up a porn website, but was having trouble with the finances. I subtly inquired about it and found that she only needed $25,000 more to get everything running the way that she wanted it.
I told Jezebel to meet me again in one week, same coffee shop, same time, and I might be able to introduce her to an investor. She was really excited about that, and gave me a big hug and sloppy kiss on the cheek when I left.
I thought about it for a week. $25,000 was a blip on the screen to me, and despite the "questionable" nature of the business she had her heart set on, I still had a soft spot for her.
A week after our first meeting we met again, and this time she looked even better than she had before. She was wearing more revealing clothes that made it clear that she still had the same consummate body that she had when I was lucky enough to pork her when I was in college and she was in community college, but her face and hair looked better than they ever had before. The coffee had no sooner been placed in front of us when I handed her an envelope with $25,000 cash.
Jezebel was bowled over. She actually started crying -- something I would have never expected of someone with such a tough exterior.
Jezebel offered to give me an ownership interest in the website -- I politely declined, saying that I just wanted this to be a gift, and I did not want any ownership interest. She rubbed her hand on my thigh and offered to fuck me better than at any other time in my life. With her body and motivation I do believe that she would have delivered on her promise, but I politely declined that too saying that I loved my wife.
"Your wife is one lucky bitch," Jezebel said through some more tears as we parted. "If there is anything that I can ever do for you, just ask and it's done!" she said in all earnestness.
"Become a great success!" I said with a big smile, and then gave her a tight hug. I was a little distressed that I got a huge hard-on when I hugged her, but broke off my hug as soon as I felt my pants tent. She was polite enough not to say anything about it.
Allison and I had two more children, a second girl, Whitney (no I did not name her after Jezebel, but readily concurred with my wife when she suggested that name), and then a boy, Jerry.
While sex with Allison was always good, over time I got to see that she was actually pretty shallow and materialistic. She had other good qualities, however, and I really did love her, the only woman that I had ever loved. Even more important to me, she had given me three wonderful children.
Amber, twelve at the most relevant point in this story, had her mother's beauty and the best aspects of Allison and my personalities. She also was as smart as I was, testing at the same genius level that I did, but infinitely more social.
Whitney, ten, was also a beautiful girl, although unfortunately for her she got some of my features that -- while not homely -- weren't in the same class and Allison's or Amber's. However Whitney was the most caring, loving, and empathetic person I had ever been around, and could light up any room just by her presence. She also wasn't hiding when brains were passed out.
Jerry, eight, was simply a fun-loving little boy. I don't know where he got it -- maybe somewhere on Allison's side of the family -- but he was a real jock. I developed an interest in baseball and basketball only so that I could talk sensibly with him about his favorite pastimes. He never had a bad word to say about anyone, always seemed to be in a good mood, and got along well with both of his sisters, and they with each other.
You would think that with such wonderful children that I would consider Allison a great mother. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The main conflicts that Allison and I had were about raising the children. I'm not sure what it was -- maybe it was simply the green-eyed monster of jealousy -- but Allison had a poor relationship with Amber. She was overly strict with Amber, and sometimes cruel in her comments. I had several blowups with Allison right in front of Amber when Allison treated her badly because I just couldn't take it.
It had gotten to the point, by the time that Amber turned twelve, that Amber would never go anywhere with her mother unless I also was going along. This was a real problem when one summer Allison wanted to take the kids to a lake house her family had for a week when I had to work. It took all the persuasive power I had to get Amber to go along, and a real confrontation with Allison to make sure that she would be pleasant to Amber on the trip.
Although Allison was better with Whitney and Jerry than she was with Amber, she had her moments with them too. Also, despite the fact that Allison was a stay-at-home mom, I probably spent as much time with the kids as she did since she always seemed to have one event or another to go to, and the time I spent with them was usually much higher quality.
So, now having been married about fifteen years, with three great kids, a wife that I dearly loved and enjoyed sex with although we didn't have a "perfect" marriage, I was driving home from the airport after a one night business trip. It was about one p.m. Even though I had told Allison about my complete itinerary, based upon my phone call to the family the last night she had not -- as usual -- paid any attention to it, so I didn't know if she would be home to greet me or not. If she was, I was hoping for some "afternoon delight" in the form of a titty fuck before the kids got home from school about 3:30.
I was at a stop sign, getting ready to turn right onto the through street that I live on, when a car I recognized went by. It was Roger Mayberry's distinctive red Corvette. The top was down and he was readily visible in the driver's seat, playing with the radio dial as tunes blared out through his custom speakers.
Roger Mayberry was one of the top sales people in one of my corporations, dealing primarily with military sales. He had as good an understanding of our technology as any non-engineer could be expected to have, and had an easy manner with people. Like virtually all of our employees he had a top level security clearance, even higher than most because the military applications of our technology were even more sensitive than any others.
"What's Roger doing here at this time of day?" I naively asked myself. Since the street I live on is a through street, I didn't even consider the fact that he might have been at my house, about two blocks away. I just wondered what business occasion could bring him to this end of town.
Within a minute or so I had pulled into my driveway, walked into the house and not seeing Allison on the first floor, walked up the pretentious winding staircase that Allison loved and "had to have," up to the second floor. My shoes on our marble hallway floor made a distinctive "clap, clap" as I approached the open master bedroom door. When I was about ten feet from the door I heard a sultry voice say "Did you forget something, Rog, or did you decide to make another sperm deposit?"
In shock I entered the master bedroom and there was Allison, naked, lying on her back with her legs apart and a creampie oozing from her pussy.
When she looked up between her splayed legs and saw me her smile quickly turned to distress and she half-screamed "Oh, Brian -- shit, I'm so sorry!"
Unfortunately, within a nanosecond my mind had completely comprehended the situation and feelings of anger, disgust, anxiety, hate, and fear had whizzed around my brain at warp speed. I'm sure that I stood there frozen with my mouth agape as all of the other emotions rattling me combined into a single sensation.
A bleak, dark, overpowering, pall of sadness descended upon me. I remember stumbling backwards a few steps, but nothing else until I awoke in the hospital.
A monitor apparently alerted the nursing station to my awakening because a nurse came running into my room seconds after I opened my eyes, followed about a minute later by a doctor.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Banks?" a cute middle-aged nurse with the name tag "Nancy" innocently asked.
"Like my head is in a vice," I moaned.
"We're so happy to see you awaken so quickly," she gushed, grabbing my wrist and looking at a monitor next to my bed at the same time.
"Why am I in a hospital and how did I get here?" I asked just as the doctor walked in.
"Mr. Banks, I'm Doctor Petra," a short and very pleasant female Indian doctor responded. "Let me look in your eyes and then I'll answer your questions," she continued.
With Nurse Nancy still holding my wrist Dr. Petra took some sort of light source out of her pocket, and without actually shining an intense beam into my eyes shone the light source back and forth, and moved my eyelids and the skin surrounding my eyeballs with her soft yet firm hands, for a good two minutes.
When Dr. Petra straightened up the nurse released my wrist. They both smiled and Dr. Petra said "Mister Banks, you suffered a concussion. According to your wife you tripped on something in your bedroom and fell backwards onto the marble floor in your hallway, and hit your head on the stone. You could have died, but your vital signs are good and your concussion likely not as severe as we were afraid it might have been."
Instantly the pall of sadness came crashing on me again as I recalled what had precipitated my backward stumble. My eyes widened and I loudly moaned "barf bag!"
Fortunately Nurse Nancy had quick reflexes, and some sort of container -- though not a "barf bag" -- was under my chin in a flash. Despite not having had lunch that day I barfed up what was in my stomach, mostly bile.
Once my stomach was completely emptied I laid back. Nancy put a cold compress on my head, and Dr. Petra did another examination. When she concluded that she announced "I am very surprised by your regurgitation, Mr. Banks. That could indicate a more severe concussion than I had hoped -- but there are no other signs of it."
"Could my reflex reaction have been the result of remembering an emotional crisis that precipitated my fall?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, that is very possible," Dr. Petra mused, stroking her chin. "Did you have such an emotional crisis?"
"Yeah!" was my surly reply, "I didn't react well emotionally to seeing another man's semen leaking out of my wife's vagina," I snorted. After a moment's delay I was actually quite proud of myself for not using "cum," "cunt," or "fucking," in my soliloquy. Still, you wouldn't know it by the shocked look on the faces of my medical attendants.
"By the way," I sarcastically continued, before I could get an expression of pity from either of them, or before they fell backwards themselves, "where is my faithful bride?"