ALPHANSO and Subastian Pt. 02

ALPHANSO and SUBASTIAN, part 2

I had to get out of the house, away from the computer. Working from home was driving me nuts. Don't get me wrong -- I was grateful to be able to work through this pandemic from the relative safety of my home office and keep the money coming in, but I was really, really bored and frustrated as hell. I missed my office and my team and all the social interaction. I guess I'm a lot more of a social butterfly than I realized.

I'm known as a good listener, receptive to others' ideas and opinions, and willing to subordinate my own goals in order to help others stand out and shine. I guess you could say I lead by serving others who are more driven than me to become all that they can be. It gives me tremendous satisfaction and I don't mind not climbing that ladder with them or instead of them. I much prefer to give them a big boost up whenever I can. It's just the way I'm wired. I kind of like to look up from below and know that I played a key role in their ascent.

Come to think of it, that's how it turned out with my (almost) ex, too. I was first drawn to her because I saw so much potential in her. She couldn't see it then, but I could. Her family background (Catholic, Latina) had constrained that potential. It was there underneath the surface, but she had to break out of and away from all of that -- transcend it, and venture into the forbidden parts of her psyche that were desperate for freedom. I nurtured her talent until she became an unstoppable force in the fashion world. When she walked into any board room or show room, all eyes turned. She became sizzling hot, and as her devoted spouse I became the envy of nearly every man - and some women too.

Behind closed doors she made me play the romantic loving husband and not stray from missionary position -- at first. It was good for a while, but I got bored fast and I think she did too though she couldn't admit it. It didn't take long before I could no longer get it up for her that way, and that stirred up her anger, which was fierce.

To appease her and avoid her wrath I would go down on her. It took a while for me to get the hang of it and for her to relax and get into the pleasure of becoming the entire focus of attention (she never went down on me or even offered a hand job), but when she began to let go and loosen up, she started grabbing my head and forcing my mouth and tongue down harder onto her clit. At one point I realized that my cock got hard when she did that. She'd wrap her legs around my head, lock me in place, then ride my face masturbating herself on my mouth and tongue. The more aggressive she became, the more she just used me to pleasure herself, the harder I got for some reason.

Although this turned her on it also seemed to disgust her -- like somehow I was less of a man, and as her star rose, the more she couldn't stand it. Jimena needed a powerhouse of a man to subdue her, a real man who craved her, who could fuck her brains out on pure animal lust alone.

Over time she became more brazen with other men right in front of me. Not just any men -- the hottest Puerto Rican physique models in the business. I could feel my face blush deep red every time she would flaunt herself like the highest pedigreed cat in heat, which she really was. Her body, her face, her skin -- all sublime. Like I said, every man envied me being with her, but increasingly their eyes burned into hers, and then checked mine, for an opening -- to see if they could get a taste of her, if she was open to it even though married to such a decent guy who had helped make her famous.

No one wanted to jeopardize their careers -- this was a professional setting. But they took increasingly bold risks -- she loved wetting her finger in her mouth and putting it on a rock hard pec and going "szzzzzzzzzzzz", then teasingly tasting her finger again while giving her best "naughty girl" look, and holding eye contact for way too long, then sauntering away.

She especially liked doing this when a guy was modeling briefs, or form fitting shorts or jeans shirtless, and I could easily see the effect she had on these guys -- who couldn't? Their rock-hard young cocks threatened to escape and explode from the thin fabric prisons that constrained them. Wardrobe more than once had to replace garments that were soiled by their copious precum. They often had to take a quick break and grab something cold to hang on to.

Every one of them wanted to take her right there in front of the camera crew and even in front of me, her husband, yet they knew that to fall for her bait might mean killing their careers forever, and no one wanted to risk that. The impotence of their restraint infused her with an addictive power that fueled her rise as the true fashion DIVA she was born to be -- Jimena Dicker.

Her demands became increasingly outrageous -- yes I caved to her demand for a custom Porsche, as but one example, even though I couldn't really afford that level of extravagance - but no one would challenge her, no one could challenge her -- until Brazilian physique model super star Eduardo Sargento invited us (no her really, but of course I was included as a courtesy) to an intimate cocktail party at his stunning view home off Mulholland Drive high in the Hollywood Hills.

Jimena demanded that she drive her lemon convertible Porsche with me as her lap dog passenger -- she wanted to make a grand entrance from the circular drive (I researched the home online for her, as always, so that she could be prepared). When we arrived, there were a half dozen luxury vehicles parked along the ample driveway under the Magnolia trees in full bloom, and everyone appeared to be inside except for the handsome young valet who opened the door for her then escorted her to the long stairway that led up to the entry, with me trailing behind.

As always, Jimena's outfit revealed more than it concealed, and amplified her perfect, ample breasts, bare shoulders and diamond studded navel. Her Christian Louboutin 8" platform dress sandals made her voluptuous ass compete for attention with her sleek legs. They also made climbing the long stairway that much more precarious, so much so that at the top she stumbled right into the solid wall of Eduardo's ripped muscle body.

Even when she was standing tall in 8" heels, Jimena's eyes would only meet the level of Eduardo's nipples that crowned his smooth rock-hard pecs. But as she fell forward her face fell lower as she hit the wall of his abs. At 6'3" 205 pounds Eduardo dwarfed her -- and me. His exquisitely tanned caramel skin radiated through the translucent white, ultra- short-sleeve evening shirt that caressed every inch of his beautifully and famously chiseled physique. He let it hang open casually across his pecs and down his abs, so Jimena's face literally kissed his abs!

I raced forward to try to catch her and keep her from embarrassing herself -- she hated nothing more than to be embarrassed, but Eduardo caught her and helped her onto her feet like a delicate bird, then lifted her right hand to his mouth and kissed it as his eyes captured hers. Her body responded involuntarily -- she lost a bit of her DIVA edge, but I could not tell if it was due to her fall, her skin-to-skin encounter with his exquisite abs, or his disarmingly charming kiss of her hand. Whatever the cause may have been, it made my face blush deep red as Eduardo looked down at me, literally, then turned to escort Jimena under his arm into his home, as if she were his.

I wanted to escape, to hide somewhere, but she had the keys to the lemon Porsche (though it was out of my league financially -- I could barely keep up with the lease payments and insurance -- it was worth it if it made her happy and sold her brand) and I did have a responsibility to make sure nothing happened to her and that the evening furthered her career in as many ways as possible.

Paparazzi greeted us by the fountain just inside the entryway, with hot flashes all around as their lenses devoured Jimena with Eduardo for the first time, and with her doting husband on the periphery, in the background, and easily cropped from wherever I appeared, which was completely fine with me. I never sought the spotlight. I could see and feel in my groin -- as could everyone else -- the intense sexual chemistry that this gorgeous power couple radiated. Way beyond hot -- they were incendiary!

In a truly masterful stroke of genius, Eduardo (or his managers) had tall cocktail glasses hand crafted in the form of his body and hers, so that each guest could envelop them in their hands and fantasize about holding the real thing. The servers floated through the space with a tray of his-and-her frothy glass bodies with Eduardo's personal mixologist's custom tequila creation for this occasion, Una Union Perfecta.

By the time they got around to me the only remaining option was his body. The server stood impatiently in front of me until I took the final glass -- HIS final glass, because I was holding up the toast. As I lifted his glass torso from the tray, I could not help to notice that the tip of my index finger landed on and traced the ridges of his ripped abs, just as my wife's lips had inadvertently done just moments earlier.

My face flushed hot, and I diverted my attention to the buzz around me as Eduardo welcomed "DIVA Jimena" who "graced us all with her divine presence". I was keenly aware of his suave subtlety -- although he threw all of the attention toward her, at least verbally, HE was in control of their attention, and as a result HE wound up at the center of it, and HE graciously and strategically shared that center with her. But there was never a moment when his inescapable sexual magnetism did not permeate everything, including her.

Jimena was visibly flustered. She was so used to being the center of the universe and in total control, but her mouth was dry, so she downed her Union Perfecta and held it out to be replaced with another, then another. Her throat and breasts felt impossibly tight as her sex juice dampened her panties and the tops of her inner thighs.

She looked amazing in the lush soft glow of the landscape and pool lighting as she relaxed into the rhythm of the sensuous Brazilian music, the warm, subtle breeze, and Eduardo. I have no idea what was in those drinks -- I knew I'd most likely have to drive us home, and so was still on my first drink but even with just a few sips I was feeling no pain. She was already on her fourth, and there was no way she could still be standing in those 8" heels if she didn't have Eduardo's rock-hard abs and pecs to steady her hands on. She would hand him her drink to hold it for her as she pushed her short pencil skirt down to hide her moistness, then he'd help her tip it up to her lips as his deep brown eyes burned their way through all of her "good girl" pretenses and defenses.

As she finished her fourth Union Perfecta, Jimena stumbled backward into Eduardo's strong right arm. His tight right sleeve ripped apart as he lifted her off the ground with that one arm, as if she were a 100 lb. dumbbell and he were about to do bicep curls with her. It shredded down from his perfectly sculpted deltoid (that image burned itself in my mind for all eternity -- his thick bronze bicep and forearm etched with flexed muscle fibers and veins against her smooth impossibly small flat waist).

As he lifted her 5'5" frame he said in her ear "you're not safe in these things; let's just slip them off you" and with his left hand he untied and then let fall each of her 8" sandals. When he returned her bare feet to earth, stripped of her $1k diva platforms, her eyes only reached the height of the bottom of his pecs, and her mouth and lips reached his mid-abs. Eduardo towered over her -- it was stunning to see -- but by now the evening was winding down and nearly all of the guests had left for other parties or for home except for me, so I was the only one who fully witnessed just how much Eduardo dwarfed my wife in every possible way.

As Eduardo lowered her to the earth, his left hand brushed against her panties and he felt how wet she was. As Jimena wobbled even on her bare feet, Eduardo summoned his female servant to escort her to the master bath to remove her soaked panties and help her lightly douche, freshen up, and get more comfortable. That's when Eduardo turned and noticed that my attention was riveted on them.

My face flushed hot red and I quickly shifted my gaze to the other spectacular view, the carpet of LA lights spread out far and wide below, but I could feel him approach me. Had he noticed before? Had he been aware of me at all? He had not acknowledged me from the moment I had tried to rescue Jimena from her embarrassing stumble into his abs as she climbed his entry stairs, yet suddenly he seemed keenly aware of my solitary presence.

I didn't dare look down to check, but I feared that a wet spot at the tip of my ever so hard 7" cock might be staining my linen pants and visible to him, along with my bulge, even in the dim night lighting. I turned away from his approach to hide the involuntary evidence of my arousal, but he came so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body as he breathed into my ear with a deep voice in Portuguese: Ei homenzinho, você está pronto para assistir sua esposa supermodelo BEG por mim? I had no idea what he was saying but the way he said it made my cock jump for some reason. (I later learned that he was explicitly signaling his intentions: Hey little man, are you ready to watch your supermodel wife BEG for me?)

Then he moved in front of me to interrupt my feigned interest in the lights below and replace it with -- his abs. Not a six pack, but an 8 pack, every slab of his ab muscle rising high and proud above his velvet skinned waist; the light from the pool cast shadows across his abs that made them stand out even more. I admired and envied any man who could achieve that. Lord knows I had tried for years. I was lean -- no gut whatsoever, but no matter which workout I followed, I could not get anywhere near that effect. Of course, it helped that he was 27, nearly two decades younger than me, but even in my 20s I never had that -- few guys do. And that's just one part of what made him such a global sensation.

"Enjoying the view?" he chuckled. Oh God! He caught me staring -- so rude, so disrespectful. My face flushed bright red as Eduardo took his torso enshrined glass from my hand and summoned the last of the catering staff. "My friend here probably didn't notice that he wound up drinking from my torso instead of from his wife's, as I'm sure he would have preferred. My sincere apologies for this embarrassing error. Bring us both double Union Perfectas, VELOZES!"

The last thing I needed was another Union Perfecta, especially not a double, and I opened my mouth to tactfully decline, but Eduardo cut me off and explained how his personal trainers, chef, and mixologist had developed the plan and menus that enabled him to enjoy himself with exotic treats like these Union Perfectas without jeopardizing his elite physique status and... at that moment two large frothy glass busts of Jimena appeared on a tray. Eduardo sensuously trailed his finger down her back and over her plump booty and paused there, then handed the glass to me and took the other for himself.

"Alright Sebastian..." (I could barely take in the fact that he knew my name -- it is the first time he ever acknowledged it or my presence!) he said as he turned and raised Jimena's torso with his right arm and toasted, "BOTTOMS UP!" He flexed his massive vascular bicep a foot from my face as he upturned the glass and drained Jimena's torso directly into his open mouth, then thrust his tongue deep into the glass to lap up every drop.

When he had finished, he handed me the empty glass and stretched his arms above his head, flaring his lats as he pulled off the remnants of his shirt over his head. He wiped his lips with it, then the sweat from his armpits, then turned and tossed it behind him but upward so that it hit my face. That threw me WAY off balance. I could smell him, Eduardo. He made sure his shirt was branded with his hyper masculine scent so that it would have its inevitable and intended effect.

As I stumbled back with his empty glass in my left hand and Jimena's still full torso in my right hand, Eduardo grabbed me behind the shoulders to steady me, than guided Jimena's torso to my lips with his left hand and raised the glass so that I had no choice but to swallow. I tried to stop but Eduardo held me in place and to make sure that I swallowed it all. "That's it my friend, you must respect me as your host and Jimena as your wife. Leave no drop behind for another to consume, especially one more thirsty for her than you!"

What the hell was he saying? Why was I suddenly feeling so wobbly?

When I had finally drained the glass, Eduardo took it from me and sought out the remaining drops with his amazingly agile tongue that reached the very depth of her glass torso. He then returned the empty glass to me as he grabbed his torn shirt from my forearm. He wiped his lips with it again, clearly savoring every last drop, then wiped his deep, muscular pit with it before grabbing me behind the head with one hand and wiping my mouth with it, lingering beneath my nose, then abruptly and firmly covering my nose and mouth with it and locking my head in place so that I could only inhale through his torn shirt, smelling him.

"BREATH DEEP!" he ordered. I tried to resist and hold my breath, but he locked my head in place with one hand behind my head and his other hand grinding his shirt into my face. He turned my head up as he moved behind me and pulled my back up against him. He looked down into my eyes from behind and tightened his grip. The feeling of his rock-hard pecs behind me as he locked my head in place forced me to gasp for air -- air saturated with his incredibly strong and intoxicating pheromones. "That's it, breath DEEP".

As I gasped for air, he guided my hand up to his shirt to wipe my mouth with it. My arms and legs felt like jello and everything felt a lot softer and less stable... including me. The lights of the city wavered below as my legs gave way and he caught me before I hit the ground. "Whoa buddy, easy" he said as he wrapped his left arm under my armpits and held me up from the side. "Looks like you're in no condition to drive, minha amiga. Better rest a while. Let's go find your wife and see how she's coming along". I was grateful for Eduardo's support in that moment as I could not have stood on my own, and I leaned into his strong body for support as he guided me through his magnificent home and toward his master suite.