Billionaire Breeder

Her soaking wet pussy slid up and down on his dick, her plaid skirt pulled up around her waist.

She moaned at the top of her lungs, giving herself thoroughly to the act. Her calves burned and she continued to ride him, cowgirl style, her small hands on his masculine chest, built like a brick wall.

Tommy Brolin had it all, and she wanted every bit of it.

He was a thirty-seven-year-old billionaire with a breeding kink and she was an eighteen-year-old with a billionaire kink. A perfect match.

"Oh yes, daddy," she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Fuck me, cum inside me, breed me."

She backed her ass up and down, sliding her pussy along the entirety of his ten-inch dick.

The one thing she wanted to do most of all, was make sure he was happy. She rode him, his gigantic cock stretching her tight pussy.

"Please."

She rode him and rode him, her body was covered in sweat, the lactic acid burning in her legs.

You couldn't say he didn't have stamina. She'd been riding him like this non-stop for twenty minutes and not once had he shown any signs of cumming. She began to wonder if he even could.

Then, without warning, he flipped her backwards, his enormous frame, comprised entirely of muscle, picked her up and laid her flat on her back on the king-sized bed.

Still inside her, he flipped to his knees, throwing her smooth, toned legs up over his shoulders and pinning her delicate wrists above her head, pounding that pussy for all it was worth.

She felt the relief as first the lactic acid buildup in her legs began to dissipate, then for his priceless seed as it shot out of his body into her waiting cunt.

"Fuck yes, fill me up, daddy," she moaned as she felt his warmth enter her, a guaranteed income that would, if she played her cards right, last for as long as she had been alive.

Finally, once he had completely unloaded into her pussy, he slipped his cock out and lay back on the bed.

It glistened with her juices and she marvelled at its size, the beast that just destroyed her aching cunt. Even now, she could feel her gaping opening, stretched to near breaking point.

"I'm just popping to the ladies," she said to the uninterested businessman, who had already returned to work on his tablet.

Tommy Brolin did not give a fuck about any of these sluts. To him, they were nothing but a fancy cumrag, and like all cumrags, they were a dime a dozen.

Sure, knocking up these whores cost more than a dime, but he could afford it. Every time one of them got in the family way, he just cut her off, leaving his assistant to deal with it. That is what he paid her for, after all.

Besides, child support was a small price to pay for spreading your seed, and he had spread it far and wide.

Over the last ten years, he had lost count of the number of children he had fathered, and how many women had falsely claimed he had been the father, desperate sluts who had been stupid enough to get knocked up by some broke loser, rather than filling her cunt with quality seed.

And his seed was top fucking quality. He was built, in part to genetics, in part to a dedicated workout routine. He was naturally intelligent but also a hard worker, putting in seventy, eighty-hour weeks, often more. He had built his empire by sheer fucking force of will. He didn't have time for a family. He was building a legacy.

But he was, after all, still a man of needs. So, he had hired a team of experts to trace and identify any young woman worthy of giving birth to his progeny.

Young women, no older than twenty-three, fit and healthy, and obviously, intelligent. He didn't want to impregnate an army of bimbos, giving birth to idiot children who would sully his good name.

Of course, there are never any guarantees and some of the women who had slipped through the net (either through poor vetting or by straight-up forgery), were clearly unstable. He would have been more upset about these lapses, if they weren't the best fucks they found him.

But not all of them were like that.

Take the one in the bathroom, whatever her name is. She was a bright girl, hardworking, industrious, always eager to get ahead, and right this second, she was almost certainly laid in the bath, legs aloft, letting his thick seed slide deeper into her, desperate for a Billy: a Billionaire Baby.

At least, that's what they called them online.

There were whole communities online dedicated to discussing how to get impregnated by a billionaire, how to ride the financial gravy train for the best part of two decades and, for the more long-term minded amongst them, how to invest that cash into long-term financial stability.

Those were the ones Tommy was interested in. The ones who could see the bigger picture, who wouldn't burn the fraction of his fortune they were able to squeeze out of him, on designer handbags and botox.

So, naturally, his team often scoured these forums for women who met his requirements.

Not that they were always successful. His requirements were very strict and that narrowed the pool. Then there were those who fit the profile, but weren't interested in being an incubator. They had ambitions and dreams of their own.

Good for them, but they were of no use to him.

Even though he had a dedicated team, he was sometimes tempted to lower his standards, because whilst he was remarkable in every regard (from currency to cock, as one tabloid put it), he was still a man, and a man has needs.

"All done," said whatever her name was, straightening her plaid skirt. It had become an urban legend within the communities that Tommy liked the plaid skirts, loved them. Nothing made him hornier, nothing made him shoot his load, faster, bigger, or deeper.

He had no idea where it originated from, but a few months ago every woman started turning up here in the exact same outfit, all desperate to leave the dress on whilst they rode his monstrous dick.

Now, he didn't have a problem with it, but it was hardly his kink, although he did have his fair share of them.

"Hey daddy," she said crawling on the bed towards him, "I think I might be pregnant. I know it's too early to tell, but I could feel your massive load shooting deep into me. Deep."

She started playing with his dick, only-semi erect but still impressive. Her hand looked like that of a doll as she handled it, her fingers slipping loosely over the shaft, lubricated with her juices.

She leaned over and took it in her mouth, sucking her own fluids off, moaning deeply as the head touched the back of her throat.

This was always the bit he hated most, and though they had tried to work out a system, it still didn't work perfectly.

"Excuse me, Miss Watson? Your ride is here."

It was Naiomi, his assistant for the last fifteen years, predating his billionaire status and one of the few women, one of the few people, he trusted and respected.

She was beautiful, smart and highly capable, and far too highly qualified to be working as his de-facto pimp, which is why he paid her so well.

Not that she stayed because of the money, though she certainly enjoyed it. Rather, she valued loyalty, or more specifically, valued working with people you know and trust. And, whilst she didn't necessarily agree with all of Tommy's "hobbies," as she called them, she was there to clean up the mess afterwards, both figuratively and literally.

"Thanks," said Miss Watson, swaying his dick from side to side, "but I've got my ride right here. Isn't that right, daddy?"

Naiomi rolled her eyes, hard. She hated the breeding kink thing and she hated that every one of these women, who rode his cock as if it were a game show: "Who Wants To Trap A Billionaire?," called him daddy. She had no idea how he personally felt about it, and it wasn't any of her business, but if she had to guess, she would say he probably didn't care.

All he cared about, as far as she could tell, was being fawned over, adored, and obeyed. He was, in his world, master of all he surveyed, whether that was billion-dollar acquisitions or bargain-bin pieces of ass.

She knew that wasn't fair, after all, they had gone through The Process, but she found the thing so fundamentally dystopian that she couldn't stand it. As if the only way to get ahead these days was to bend over and let the super-rich fuck you.

In many ways, she realised this was true. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Just like she didn't like having to wait here as Miss Watson played with Daddy's dick until she realised that no, he wasn't going to look up from his tablet, or acknowledge her in any way.

Thankfully, this one realised pretty quickly.

"There's a changing room," said Naiomi as the young girl started gathering up her clothes.

She ushered her out and directed her to the changing room they'd had fitted for precisely this situation. Originally he'd wanted the room to have two doors, one leading into his bedroom and the other to the door, that way he could, by remote control, show them the door.

Naiomi had immediately vetoed that on the principle it was monstrous.

Tommy had put up a bit of a fight, but only for show. Truthfully, she didn't think he really cared one way or the other, as long as someone got rid of them when he was finished.

But to be fair to Tommy, she thought, he did have good taste in ass. She watched Miss Watson's tight, perky rear-end as she waddled into the changing rooms, legs held tight so as to spill as little of that Billy Bounty as possible.

She wondered, if she was a spoilt billionaire, would she have an endless parade of pussy through her penthouse?

She'd like to think she'd treat these women with a bit more respect, but she understood that after you've gone long enough having every whim catered to, every desire served up on a silver platter (literally), then you can start to see people like that too, as a whim.

A couple of minutes later, Miss Watson reappeared from the changing room. The savvy ones always wore outfits that were simple to take off and simple to put back on. Get that billionaire dick in you ASAP.

As she led the latest hopeful to the penthouse elevator, she couldn't help but wonder what her pussy tasted like. It had been so long since she'd had a fine piece of pussy on her face, or any pussy for that matter, that she could barely remember the taste, the aroma, the thrill of hearing another woman moan when you ran your tongue up her lips, to gasp when you sucked on her clit, to beg you for more, to feel her wetness running down your hand as you slipped your fingers inside her and started stimulating her g-spot, for her lose her fucking mind when you slip another finger into her asshole, when her thighs clamp on to your head, locking you in place, desperate for you to keep going, to maintain the speed, the pace, the pressure, until she finally cracks, screaming, writhing, banging the headboard back and forth and losing her fucking mind over what you have done to her body, the pleasure you have sent shooting through every inch of her, all of it because of you.

PING.

The elevator doors opened and Miss Watson stepped inside.

"Tell Daddy I left him a little gift in the cha-". The elevator doors closed, cutting her off and cutting her out of Naiomi's life forever.

She was relieved but also a little disappointed, for she would have loved to eat that sweet little pussy, to have Miss Watson slip her tongue into Naiomi's pussy, into her ass, working her tongue in that tight hole.

Oh well, she thought, guess I'm fucking myself again tonight, as per usual.

As Naiomi made her way back up to Tommy's room, she could feel how wet the thought of that fresh little cunt had made her.

"Fuck's sake, Tommy," she said in the doorway, "you could at least put that thing away."

"The human body is nothing to be ashamed of," said Tommy, eyes glued to the tablet, his naked form still adorning the top of the sheets.

"You aren't ashamed of anything."

He lowered the tablet and she knew what was coming.

"I have moved beyond the flawed logic of basic human morality." She leaned against the doorframe as he spoke, this was a speech she'd heard a million times. "I am the start of the new epoch of evolution, the originator, the seed from which the evolutionary tree will branch off into a post-human world, Homo-Brilious. I do what I do..."

"Because you're a rich pervert," she said.

"...because it is my sacred duty to enhance the transformation of the world away from the thoughtless, destructive creatures we are, and into the beings we could, we should, we need to be."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Actually," he said, "that the billions of dollars and revolving door of fresh cunt. Which reminds me, when's the next one due?"

"You're disgusting," she said, walking away. "Eight o'clock."

"You'd do it too if you could," he shouted after her, before returning to his work.

Like fuck would I, she thought.

As she headed for her office across the way, she remembered Miss Watson's parting message.

A little gift.

She looked around and, seeing no one watching, slipped into the changing room. There on the bench and neatly folded were Miss Watson's panties.

She picked them up, ready to throw them away. But as she did so, she noticed they were wet. Naiomi brought them up to her face and inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of the girl's sweet cunt.

She turned around and quietly locked the door, then sat on the bench where the panties had been placed.

You're a fucking deviant, she thought. You're going to hate yourself after this.

That may be so, but at that moment Naiomi could think of nothing more than that girl's sweet cunt sitting on her face, riding her tongue feverishly, as she leaned over and worked Naiomi's cunt with her own moist tongue.

With one hand holding the panties to her nose, and taking a little of the wet spot in her mouth, she slipped her fingers down into her trousers and underneath her own panties, rubbing her fingers all along her wet cunt, moaning softly into the panties, until she finally came, sucking on the wet fabric as she did so.

She sat back on the bench, catching her breath, her desire quenched for the moment, and slipped the girl's panties discreetly into her jacket pocket.

When she returned to the office, she popped into the en-suite bathroom, washed her hands and sat at her desk, ready to resume work.

As she waited for her computer to boot up, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and dropped in Miss Watson's parting gift, watching them gently land on all the others.