Making My Point

It was only fitting and fair. Now, instead of me being a janitor, I was the 'chief stud' of the island, going from one goddess to the other, constantly servicing them.

Their little husbands could only watch mutely, never daring to interfere with me openly breeding their wives. Every single night I would be at one of the four homes, between the bikini-wax smooth show girl legs of their trophy wife, bareback and potent. I never left without a sexy mommy sporting a 'creme pie' escaping their sperm-filled pussy.

Those wimps were now relegated to having to get MY permission for the right to ask for sex from their legally wed wives. I only gave my approval if their wife was already pregnant with my baby. That was only permission, though. The wives also had the right to say 'no' and did.

It took more and more in the way of transfers to their personal checking accounts for the ladies to permit 'conjugal relations' with their legally wed hubbies. Eventually, they couldn't afford to pay for it and had to get an odd satisfaction watching me service them.

When the wives figured out that those wimps actually enjoyed seeing them being 'serviced' by me, they immediately put an end to those living room breeding sessions. Henceforth, I'd meet up with the wives in the master bedroom (OUR bedroom), while their gnome-like hubbies were consigned to guest rooms.

For some odd reason, none of the four husbands liked our arrangement. But, since the four ladies and I did, it continued: a reality show version of 'Fantasy Island'.