Parallel Lives Pt. 03

Inspecting them closely, he noticed how intricately crafted they were - the quality of the lace was exquisite and quintessentially feminine. Painstakingly sewn on at the front were hundreds of tiny seed pearls - undoubtedly genuine ones at that - embroidered into an image of a rose. The rose design was also echoed on the waistband that formed a sort of frieze that ran all the way around. These were clearly the panties of a billionairess.

Johnny tugged gently at the rosaceous waistband, and as Verbier raised her hips giving him the green light to continue, he took them all the way down. With a smirk he casually tossed the ludicrously expensive undergarment over his shoulder and on to the floor for one of Verbier's minions to pick up later. Now that she was bare from the waist down, Mrs. Verbier parted her legs in open invitation- that, coupled with the look in her eyes, clearly conveyed what she wanted him to do. Johnny shuffled forward and placed his hand between her widely splayed and shapely legs. Her pudenda was probably the hairiest he'd ever seen, like the garden of a long abandoned old house left to grow wild. The darker pink flesh of her inner labia protruded slightly from her like some kind of twin gatekeepers that were guarding the entrance to her private inner sanctum.

He looked up into her eyes as he began pleasuring her with his fingers, gently rubbing along her soft cleft and occasionally dipping inside her. What he saw in her was a look of approval, but at the same time clearly wanting more. He grinned for a moment, realising that he now held the upper hand and was in control of her arousal. Johnny continued to finger her for a good while, gradually bringing her up towards a controlled simmer of near orgasmic pleasure.

After a while he paused, though only to coax her out of her bra, which like her panties also incorporated a design of roses made from tiny pearls, each one sewn on individually. The size of her breasts came as no surprise to him -- they were absolutely massive, but not in an artificially enhanced way, they were naturally big. But then, given the size of the rest of her, they were never going to be petite, and far from looking enticing they were just big and saggy. When they were contained within her bra they made for an impressive cleavage, but outside of her bra they were rather disappointingly flabby. As soon as it was out of the way and also casually tossed onto the floor along with her panties, Verbier was as totally naked as himself, save for her jewellery. Johnny added stroking her breasts and nipples into the mix, ramping up her growing arousal yet further. Before long, she was writhing on the bed, almost completely out of control but still maintaining a fingertip grip on her faculties.

Once she was in a near delirious state and clearly on the brink of orgasm he removed his fingers from her and buried his head between her legs, rubbing his nose against her clitoris and extending his tongue as deep into her as he possibly could. It wasn't the most pleasant place he'd ever been, but at least she kept herself clean. Verbier shrieked and squealed as he delivered his coup de grace, and the enormous bedroom was filled with the primal sounds of a woman in the throes of a monumental orgasm. Sophia Verbier, billionairess president of the Verbier Media empire with its numerous subsidiaries and production facilities on every continent, was putty in his hands. That thought alone caused Johnny to feel empowered at what he was doing to her. He was in control of her now, albeit only temporarily.

Once her orgasm eventually subsided, he continued to caress and massage her until he felt ready to bring her to climax for a second time. She was clearly so highly strung that it didn't take much effort, and mere moments after her first orgasm concluded, her second orgasm consumed her.

The second was followed by a third orgasm in quick succession, Verbier looked and sounded as though she was at the very limit of her sanity.

Johnny's erection returned, and though he felt tempted to retrieve a condom from his suit jacket, he reasoned that after having already had unprotected sex with her it would be pretty pointless taking precautions now. So he simply repositioned himself, and with an assertive lunge of his hips he penetrated her, causing her to once more gasp and squeal with delight. Now it was his turn to be rough, and he rammed his hips into her like a jackhammer in human form. He rutted into her with forceful abandon, and her falsetto ululations of feminine orgasmic rapture were joined by his primal masculine baritone grunting and huffing.

He didn't last long before he came in her, but the brevity of their bodily union did not seem to faze or disappoint the wealthy and powerful American tycoon - as she felt the warmth of his emission inside her, she cooed words of grateful encouragement.

"Ooh-h-h-h, Johnny, your cum feels so good inside me."

* * * * * *

"Y'know, Johnny, you sure know how to pleasure a woman," Verbier said some time later in the early hours of the morning as they lounged together in the enormous bathtub that could have easily accommodated an entire football team. "I don't think I've enjoyed sex so much since I met my first husband!"

"It comes with practice," Johnny shrugged.

"I'll bet a young stud like you is on many a woman's radar," Verbier chuckled. "I expect you're literally having to fight them off! Must get awful tiresome after a while."

"You have no idea," he responded with a sigh, referring to all of the lustful gazes from women he received on a daily basis, the lurid flirting of the cab driver on the way to Savile Row, and all the inappropriately intimate touches he'd been on the receiving end of in train carriages and in crowded bars.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Verbier mused aloud in response.

For a moment he felt like lecturing her on what it was like to be subjected to sexism every day, but decided not to for he was fairly sure it would fall on deaf ears. He was pretty much convinced that it'd be wasted on the likes of Sophia Verbier.

"Have you been, y'know, screened lately?" she asked him.

"A while ago, yes," he confirmed. "Still firing blanks as always. Which for me is a good thing."

"Because being forcibly taken to the nearest Fertility Centre would get in the way of your career, huh?" Verbier supposed.

"It's kind of the last thing a guy like me wants to have to go through when you're trying to forge a decent career for yourself," he answered. "It happened to a friend of mine from university - he'd got himself a good job as a legal secretary at a law firm in Leicester, with a girlfriend whom he'd moved in with. He'd been "deliriously happy" to use his exact words, but that all changed once he'd been called up for his routine semen evaluation.

"He went for his evaluation as normal, went through the usual embarrassment of literally being milked for three samples of his semen, and the very next morning he woke up in the Midlands Regional Fertility Centre. It had all been such a blur that he could barely remember being told he'd produced three fertile samples."

"By the time he'd been discharged eighteen months later, his girlfriend had left him for another guy and had moved away to Scotland with him, the young woman his company had hired to cover for him in his absence had been offered a permanent contract meaning that he was then made redundant, and without a job he was unable to keep up with the rent on his flat and his landlady subsequently evicted him. He had no other option but to go home to live with his mother and start all over again."

"Poor guy," Verbier responded, with actual compassion in her voice, which rather took Johnny by surprise.

"And his story isn't an unusual one," he went on with a slight edge of bitterness to his voice. "There are loads of guys who have been through pretty much the same thing. Which is why so many of us dread having to go through it all. We're not stupid - we know how important it is for us to do our bit to help keep the population going and all that, but we'd always rather it happen to the other guy, if you know what I mean."

Talking about the Fertility Centres had appeared to cast a shadow of negativity in what was supposed to be, for Verbier at least, a night of wanton pleasure, and so she quickly changed the subject.

"I want you to do something for me tomorrow," she said as she turned and straddled him, causing some of the bathwater to slosh over the side of the enormous bathtub and onto the tiled floor.

"Anything you want, just name it," he responded dutifully. "That's what I'm here for, after all."

"I've been to England more times than I can remember," Verbier said, who was now face to face with him and was resting her hands on his shoulders. "But I've never visited Stonehenge before, can you believe that?"

"Sure, I can arrange a visit for you," Johnny compliantly answered. "I don't think I'll be able to do anything until the morning, however."

"That's okay, Johnny," she responded with a smile. "I've business to attend to all morning - a media empire doesn't run itself - but I'll be free all afternoon."

"As long as I get you back in time for the launch party in the evening," Johnny added.

"Of course," Verbier responded as she cast her eyes down into the water.

She gazed at his submerged dormant manhood as it rested languidly between his legs. Ever since she'd first seen a naked man in the flesh, she knew she had an especially powerful fascination for male genitalia.

She could never forget the first time she saw a man in the nude - his name was Vincent, and had been employed as a pool boy at the Verbier mansion in the hills above Los Angeles. She often gazed longingly at him as he worked whilst she sunbathed beside the pool, always wondering what he looked like underneath the t-shirt and shorts he habitually wore every day. With her bloodstream flooded with adolescent hormones, her mind was constantly occupied with schemes to engineer some way to "accidentally" catch him in a state of undress. All her scheming turned out to be in vain, for in the end it happened completely naturally and unexpectedly, one sultry August night.

The air conditioning had broken down, making it almost impossible to sleep in the Californian summer heat. Even though the Verbier family's estate was up in the hills the temperatures were still hot enough for air conditioning to be an absolute necessity. After several hours of tossing and turning in bed, and stripping down to only her panties, the eighteen year old Sophia Verbier felt as though she'd never get any sleep. She desperately needed to cool off, and to that end she abandoned her bed, slipped on a bikini and headed down to the pool for a midnight dip.

As she approached the pool however, she heard a noise. A splashing noise. Somebody had clearly had the same idea as herself. She simply presumed that it was her mother, for apart from the staff it was only the two of them at home in Casa Verbier at the time. Her father was in Europe on a business trip, whilst Eric, her mother's latest in a long succession of toy-boys, was in Hawaii on a surfing expedition with a couple of his surviving school friends. She crept along towards the pool, keeping herself in the shadows as best she could just in case it was an intruder of some sort. However, once she caught sight of the mystery midnight swimmer her heart almost leapt from her chest - it was none other than attractive young Vincent.

That alone was enough to set her pulse racing and her hormones to surge, but what happened next was enough to almost cause her to faint. After completing several lengths of the pool, Vincent stopped and waded towards the ladder. He hauled himself out of the water and, illuminated only by the lights in the pool and the full moon above, Sophia noticed that he was completely, and very beautifully, naked.

She managed to stifle the gasp she made, for she was sure he would've heard her. He had the most amazing body she'd ever seen - he was muscular in all the right places and without an ounce of excess fat or bulk anywhere. And his behind was so beautifully tight and at the same time wondrously soft like a fully ripened peach. But all of that paled into insignificance as soon as he turned and she caught sight of what nestled between his legs.

To say that she'd been interested by the sight of his penis would be an understatement - she felt instantly and helplessly captivated by it, as though everything else surrounding her simply melted into insignificance. Dotted all over the grounds of the family mansion were classical sculptures of nude men, and she had seen plenty of pictures of nude men too, but never before had she witnessed the sight of a naked man in motion. It was a truly breathtaking sight, and she looked on with enraptured fascination as she observed the way Vincent's penis moved around. His masculine genitalia looked strange and vulnerable nestling at the nexus of his muscular legs as they wobbled and limply dangled around as he walked.

Her first naked man stretched and then stepped over towards the loungers that lined one side of the pool terrace. He picked a towel up from the middle of the five loungers, the very same one she always sunbathed on, and wrapped it around his slim waist. It was little more than a fleeting glimpse, all over in less than a minute, but it had made a huge impact on her.

All thoughts of cooling off in the pool now deserted her as Vincent stepped away towards the pool house where he lodged, and closed the door behind him. An urgent need now consumed her, and forgetting all about a midnight dip, she dashed back through the gardens and into the sprawling Italianate mansion, up the stairs in the east wing which had become her own private wing of the property, slammed her bedroom door closed, quickly removed her bikini, spread herself out on the bed, and then pleasured herself until the sun came up.

Ever since that hot summer night she'd possessed an all-consuming fascination with penises and naked men in general, and it wasn't until fairly recently during a session with her therapist that she'd been given an official diagnosis as a phallophile. And now it was Johnny's penis that captivated her attention. She dipped her hand down into the water, and as she looked him in the eye she cupped his dormant masculinity. She'd seen thousands of naked men, and had bedded at least a hundred aspiring young actors who would do almost anything to be given a shot at a life-changing big break in one of her movie studio's latest productions. In a way Johnny was just like all the others, but at the same time in other ways he was quite unlike all of them.

Despite having already been worked several times that evening, Johnny's penis reacted to her touch, and it wasn't long before he was once more magnificently erect in her hand. She lifted herself up and shuffled forward until she felt the gently throbbing tip of his member at the entry to her innermost sanctum, and impaled herself upon his staff. And she rode him once more, right there in the enormous bathtub.

Chantal

Johnny had never felt so tired in all his life. His nether regions had never felt so sore either. Sophia Verbier had proved herself to have an almost insatiable appetite for sex, and he had been her plaything all night until mercifully she ran out of energy sometime around three in the morning. He'd lost count of the amount of orgasms she'd had, and he himself had come four times in total - a new personal best. As he roused from his slumber he became aware that he was alone in the enormous bed, and for a brief moment he felt disoriented and confused.

Still naked, he stepped out of bed and padded into the adjacent bathroom, hoping to find Verbier in there. Much to his surprise however, she was completely absent. He decanted himself a glass of water to quench the raging thirst he'd woken up with and then returned to the bedroom in order to retrieve his clothes. He soon realised that his trousers and underpants still in the living room next door where Verbier had partially undressed him the night before. That in itself was somewhat alarming and inconvenient, but not half as alarming and inconvenient as when he discovered moments later when seeking out the upper half of his Saville Row suit that all of his clothes were missing.

"He ought to be up by now," he suddenly heard Verbier's voice as the bedroom door opened and she stepped into the room, followed closely by her two yapping dogs, Minnie and Bipper.

She had evidently been up for some time, and was dressed in a no-nonsense, but still very expensive business suit. But the fact that she had entered the room closely followed by her personal stylist, Chantal, immediately made him shriek with embarrassment at being caught naked, and he dashed for the bed where he immediately covered himself with the topmost satin sheet. Of course, Verbier found it hilarious - her personal stylist however, less so.

"Oh, Johnny!" Verbier chuckled. "There's no need to be so embarrassed, it's only me!"

"Yeah, but... your st-stylist!" he stumbled.

"Has just seen you naked," Verbier countered nonchalantly. "So what? She's seen plenty of naked young men in my bedroom before."

"Bonjour, Johnny," Chantal greeted him.

"Where are my clothes!" he demanded.

"Ah, Madame had me take them down to the laundry," Chantal replied in her Parisian accent.

"What? Why?" Johnny demanded to know.

"It is quite normal - Madame always has her previous day's clothes laundered every morning," Chantal responded. "And those of whoever have shared her bed also."

"I want them back, now!" he asserted firmly.

"When they return from the laundry I shall return them to you," the French stylist answered. "It should not take long - they are very good at this hotel."

"There's no need to be shy, Johnny dear," Verbier said as she stepped closer to the bed. "I'm afraid Chantal has already seen your masculine charms so there's no point in hiding under the sheets like that."

"What?!?" Johnny gasped. "How?"

"Because I showed her," Verbier answered as though it was a perfectly normal and acceptable thing to do. "You were fast asleep anyway, what does it matter if I showed her your cock?"

"You are a very handsome man, Johnny," Chantal smiled. "Madame Verbier was very lucky to have you in her bed last night!"

He was about to counter with an angry remark, but before he had a chance to, Verbier grabbed the bedsheet and swiftly yanked it away.

"Hahh-h-h!" he shrieked as his nakedness was suddenly and unceremoniously revealed to the two fully clothed women in the room.

Instinctively he cupped his groin in both hands and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, accompanied by the sound of Mrs. Verbier laughing hysterically.

* * * * * *

"Monsieur Johnny," he heard the French woman tapping on the bathroom door sometime later. "It is I, Chantal, may I come in? I have your clothes here to give you."

Now wearing a bathrobe and with his immediate anger having been tempered into a seething resentment, he hesitantly opened the door. Verbier's personal stylist looked back at him through the crack in the door, wearing an apologetic expression on her face.

"Johnny, I am sorry I peeked at you in the bed earlier," she began contritely. "I would not have done it but Madame insisted I look at you. In this job you soon learn that if Madame Verbier tells you to do something, you do it."

"Yeah, I gather that," Johnny huffed in reply.

"Was she... rough with you last night?" Chantal asked him with genuine concern.

"A bit," Johnny confessed. "Nothing kinky or anything, just rather overenthusiastic. She damned near wore me out! That woman's insatiable!"