The Trophy Wives' Club

"You little blackmailer," she snickered.

"No blackmailer -- just a negotiator," I chuckled.

Five days later, Bernice and I met on the same bench. "You really fucked up my life, asshole," she snarled -- although by now I knew her well enough to know that it was a fake snarl.

"How so?" I deadpanned.

"I got you a date with Dolores at the expense of my conscience and pride, that's how," she snarled again.

"How so, again?" I asked, this time with a smile.

"I precipitated a fight between her and that asshole football player she's been dating, told her that you wore me out so that my pussy was out of commission for several weeks, and that if she wanted to let loose and just have some great sex she should go out with you. If you play your cards even half-way decently you'll get your tongue, fingers, and cock up her sweet pussy."

"How can I ask her out, out of the blue?" I finally choked out I was so startled.

"I got that arranged, too. I told her that I had a date with you for an off-campus dance party Saturday night, and that we arranged for you to pick me up at the sorority house. I told her that when you get there, I'll fake a family emergency, she'll be around, and if you act disappointed she'll offer to go in my place. I even got you tickets for the dance party, dipshit," Bernice said with a smile as she pulled two tickets out of her fanny pack (Bernice didn't carry a purse and could give a shit whether anybody liked her bright red fanny pack or not).

I put the tickets in my pocket then gave her a passionate tongue-filled kiss. "You let me know when you want to be serviced, and I'll give you the time of your life," I smirked.

"You've already given me the time of my life. I just want two more two hour sessions -- max -- with you. I'll let you know the dates, and you'll show up even if you've got a conflict with Dolores -- got it?"

"Got it!" I laughed.

**********

The set-up part of the date with Dolores went perfectly. Bernice put on a good show about a family emergency, I acted disappointed while she cried, and Dolores "just happened" to walk by with her makeup perfectly applied and her hair also done perfectly, but in casual clothes. Bernice volunteered her. I said to Dolores "Would you really go -- I hate to waste the expensive tickets?" Dolores replied "OK, but I need to change," and she came down from upstairs only four minutes later perfectly dressed for the dance party.

Dolores and I had a nice chat on the way to the dance party. She was very personable in addition to being as beautiful and sexy as any woman I had ever seen. We had a good time at the dance party -- I can dance passably, and she dances well -- and there were people that both of us knew there. Even though Dolores didn't have much to drink she seemed to be tipsy when we left. I suspected that it was an act, which was confirmed as we started driving back to campus.

Dolores took off her seat belt and snuggled up to me. "You're not the type to take advantage of a poor helpless drunk girl, are you Joe?" she said with perfectly slurred speech.

"Uh, no Dolores. Besides, even if I were a cad your sorority house and my dorm room wouldn't work out."

"Thank God you're not a cad," she slurred even more, "because Bernice left town on her family emergency and gave me the key to her apartment. Can we just stop by a second on the way home so that I can feed her cat?"

I knew damn well that Bernice didn't have a cat. "Sure," I replied and then quickly drove to Bernice's apartment building.

Dolores stumbled with the key and couldn't get it to work and finally handed it to me and said "You try, I'm too drunk."

I opened the door, she walked around saying "Here kitty-kitty," until she accidently bumped into me. She ran her hand over my crotch. "If you're not going to take advantage of me, why is your cock hard?" she asked, again simulating a drunken slur.

I kissed her -- she kissed back. "I'm helpless -- I can't fight you -- please don't fuck me," she mumbled as she kissed me and stroked my cock through my pants.

That obviously was an invitation. I lifted her up while she was still pressing her lips to mine, carefully laid her on Bernice's bed -- which Bernice had graciously provided with clean sheets especially for the occasion -- and while still kissing her removed her panties with no resistance whatsoever from her -- in fact she lifted her ass slightly to facilitate removal.

I was super-charged to give my absolute best. I immediately dove for her pussy. I gave her the best tongue oral that I was capable of, followed immediately by a Sicilian Corkscrew, and then a Shocker. By that time she was frantically clawing my pants, so I quickly undressed as she pulled her dress over her head and undid her bra. I got her into my third favorite position with Denise -- and my favorite position with Bernice -- sitting on the bed facing her. As I penetrated her she wrapped her glorious thighs around my waist, put her arms around my neck, and started gyrating.

As I bucked up and down while she gyrated, I sucked a tit, played with her clit, and stuck a finger in her ass, all at the same time. Within minutes we both were approaching sensory overload, and my circuits fried -- and I do believe hers did too -- as I injected what appeared to be the largest load of my life into her pulsating pussy.

As we lay in euphoric splendor with her head on my shoulder on Bernice's bed "That was the best fuck of my life" caromed about my brain. After about a half hour I tongue lashed her pussy and clit again, resulting in her writhing around in the throes of another powerful orgasm. When she came down from that she looked me in the eye and with the sweetest look on her face said "No guy has ever eaten me after fucking before. That was fabulous!"

Then she did something no sex partner ever did for me before. She sucked my cock even though it was covered with her pussy juices. I loved it, and though I got hard I knew I hadn't recharged and didn't want to disappoint, so I went back to my old reliables.

Dolores was the recipient of another tongue lashing, Shocker, Spocker, and Sicilian corkscrew, by nine the next morning. With time to recharge I even got to doggy fuck her before we left Bernice's bed -- which was in shambles.

When we got to her sorority house, before she exited the car, she turned to me and said, "That was the best sex of my life. Even more than that, I really like you Joe. Is there a possibility of a relationship?"

"Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle? Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back? Is a frog's ass watertight?" I chuckled. I probably would have kept going with stupid metaphors but she interrupted me.

"Enough; I get the picture," Dolores laughed. "Pick me up at 7 p. m. on Tuesday for the student concert -- and maybe something else," she giggled as she closed the door.

I think that she heard me say "For sure," before the car door closed, she waved, and ran up the steps of the sorority house.

*************

Things with Dolores went better than I possibly could have expected. By the time that summer rolled around we had had sex in ten different venues on campus, three nights in motel rooms, and another night at Bernice's apartment. I wasn't even the slightest bit interested in any other woman -- I never even looked at one again -- except that I did pay up on my promise to Bernice for two more sessions before school ended. I was so grateful to Bernice that I gave her my all on both occasions, even though I had a level of guilt for "cheating on" Dolores even though at that point we had never pledged to each other that we were exclusive.

Things must have worked out for Bernice too because she graduated as Valedictorian of the School of Arts and Sciences (Bernice is a year older than Dolores and me). As a graduation, and thank you, present I gave her a Montblanc pen in an engraved holder that said "Thanks, Bernice -- for being the smartest and most selfless sexy woman on the planet; Love, Joe."

She actually teared up and gave me a hug when she opened her present. After she wiped away a tear she said "What are the chances for other sessions -- I'll be working only one hundred miles away?"

"As long as I'm with Dolores, nil," I chuckled, "but I'll certainly never forget you."

"I guess I'm too damn selfless," she snickered, then kissed me, and disappeared to meet her parents.

I didn't have any "sessions" with anyone besides Dolores the summer between my junior and senior years. I stayed at Dolores' house -- actually mansion -- two weekends while her parents were in Europe, and she visited my parents' small humble abode once, although we had to rent a motel room to do what we wanted. My senior year I gave up my chess scholarship and worked part-time instead, having saved up enough money from working summers -- and winning professional chess tournaments (although I'm sure that the NCAA would have disqualified me for college competition if they knew that) -- that I could fairly easily pay my last year's tuition. That was also possible because Dolores and I got an apartment together -- which her parents paid for -- and I split food costs with her and paid for most of our social activities.

It wasn't until I visited Dolores' parents' mansion that I realized how loaded that they were. It was clear that they had megabucks. Although Dolores was their only daughter (she had two brothers) and they gave her every material possession she desired, they didn't really seem to be that emotionally involved in her life. They only visited her at college once our senior year -- which required me to hide all of my stuff in closets or friends' apartments the two days they were there. She did introduce me to them as her boyfriend, but they were anything but warm to me.

The coolness of her parents was about the only downer our entire senior year, however. In fact things that were very important to Dolores -- sex and love -- only intensified. We professed love for each other daily and had sex of one form or another virtually every day that she didn't have her period too; and one day almost every weekend was spent entirely in sexual bliss, over the course of the day and night two (and once even three) orgasms for me, ten to fifteen for her.

There were two minor flies in the ointment. One was that she spent lots of money -- her parents' money -- on clothes, makeup, spa treatments, and anything else that she desired; the second was that if she drank she would regale her girlfriends -- often in front of me -- about what a sex God that I was. I hoped that she wasn't doing the latter because she had to justify to them why a goddess like herself was dating a guy not in her league in the looks department. When I confronted her about it she assured me that she wasn't. However, it did lead to many of her female friends either giving me "come-on" looks, or looking at me warily, neither of which I liked.

The logical extension of our romance was to get married, which we did two months after graduation after we had both obtained decent jobs in the same city. It was a simple civil ceremony because her parents refused to participate since, according to them, she was clearly marrying beneath her, especially since I was not from megabucks, and she had spurned their efforts to hook her up with some of their wealthy friends' sons. At least her brothers came to the reception; one, Anthony, was a great guy, the other, Jonathan, seemed pained to be there.

Since Dolores didn't have a close emotional relationship with her parents she never once seriously considered caving in to their wishes, but she did admit that she would have a hard time giving up her shopping trips, spa sessions, and the other amenities that their wealth provided, since they stopped all financial assistance as soon as we married. "I'll get by," she said as she shrugged her shoulders just before the wedding.

"Plus, you already have enough fancy clothes to last a decade," I chirped in reply.

"Yeah -- I don't need many more," she sighed. Then she brightened up. "Plus, I plan on spending a lot of time naked," she giggled.

*************

We started out married life very happy. For the first three years we progressed in our careers as much as could be expected, we moved from an apartment to a townhouse, we had a nice circle of friends our age, we stayed physically active, me by running and weightlifting, her at a health club, and impossibly the sex got even better, although we had completely hedonistic days only about once a month, rather than the once a week in college.

Then Dolores reconnected with Jane Britton, a woman that she had her debutant party with when she was eighteen, who enticed her to join the local Junior League.

The Junior League does lots of good, charitable things. However, at least in our metropolitan area, almost all of the members (Dolores and a handful of others the only exceptions) were women who themselves were rich, or who had filthy rich husbands. More than a third were trophy wives, significantly younger than their megabucks husbands.

Being surrounded by such wealth, including when Dolores alone, or both of us together, attended fund raisers or meetings at one mansion or another, re-kindled Dolores' fondness for material things. She started spending way too much money -- essentially everything that we made. When she started dipping into our modest savings, we had our first big fight.

While our fight was knock-down, drag out, neither of us held a grudge. We got back on keel with one of our hedonistic all-day sex sessions during which she was even more energetic and responsive than normal. Later that week, she came to me with a surprising proposition.

"Joe -- I know that I can't be spending our money like water, and I really, really am going to cool it. However, two of my friends from the Junior League truly value my companionship and are willing to pay my way for shopping trips to New York City, days at the Spa, and other activities. I wanted you to know that so that you don't think that I'm being reckless when I go with them various places."

"What do they want in return?" was my suspicious reply.

"They simply want my companionship -- is that so hard to understand?" she said in a sweet voice as she approached me and planted quick soft kisses on my neck, cheeks, and lips.

"No -- I value your companionship too, in fact it's priceless; but what will their husbands say about them spending money on you?"

"Jane's and Amy's husbands are so filthy rich, and will do anything for their trophy wives, that that seriously is not even a minor problem. What they spend on me is less than a blip on the radar."

When I thought about it, I realized that it was true. From my interactions with Jane and Amy at Junior League and other social events I knew that their husbands worshipped them, and both were on the list of 200 wealthiest Americans.

"OK -- no skin off my nose," I replied with a shrug of my shoulders. Dolores' response was quite different. She immediately undid my pants, got on her knees, and gave me a spectacular blow job right in the middle of the kitchen. While we have an ultra-rich sex life, blowjobs are few and far between, so I knew that Dolores was really grateful for my attitude. I almost collapsed after the blowjob her lip, tongue, and sucking action was so extreme.

After our little talk, and my spectacular blowjob, there were no more money issues between Dolores and me. However, other things changed. We started to socialize much more with Jane and Amy, sometimes with their husbands, other times without, and both Jane and Amy started seriously flirting with me. It started getting a little blatant and uncomfortable -- especially with Amy.

In some ways, Amy was the epitome of a trophy wife. She was twenty nine years old, looked better than any fashion model, had a regal bearing yet a friendly disposition, and was married to Wilton Braxton, a guy in his seventies who was number thirty five in the last list that I saw of wealthiest Americans. Amy was the only woman I had ever seen live in my life who was better looking than Dolores, and she was religious in maintaining her looks including by working out with a personal trainer five days a week.

Amy was also the most charitable person that I had ever met. She was tireless in raising money especially for battered women, childhood poverty, and children with significant illnesses, and when not working out, socializing, or taking shopping or Spa trips, worked constantly and with great energy for charities. If any fundraiser ever came up short of projections, Wilton Braxton gladly made up the difference because it seemed that keeping Amy happy was his major joy in life.

After an especially flirtatious encounter with Amy in a den at one of the mansions where a social event was held, during which she appeared to be faking drunkenness, I thought that it was time that I talked to Dolores about it.

The next day, after a nice brunch and a wonderful morning sex session, I sat Dolores down on our patio. "Honey, there is a delicate subject that I need to approach you with."

"What, darling?" she inquired with a smile.

"I don't know how to say this except to come right out -- but Amy Braxton and Jane Britton seem to be consciously hitting on me every chance they get. Certainly you've witnesses some of the comments they've made yourself."

"You should be flattered," was Dolores' chuckling response. "Well maybe not entirely flattered," she continued with a diabolical grin, "because Amy's husband can't do anything for her in the bedroom, and Jane's very little. I'm sure that they just enjoy repartee with a sexy guy like you."

"You talk with them about their sex life?" I inquired, very perplexed.

"Of course, darling; women always talk about their sex lives."

"Do you talk with them about ours?" I hesitantly asked.

"Why yes -- I've told both of them the many marvelous ways that you keep me as sexually fulfilled as any woman on the planet."

I gulped. "You tell them everything?"

"Just about," she giggled, noticing my discomfort.

"What...what...what's their reaction?"

"They can't get enough of the details -- they're so jealous of me," Dolores grinned.

"I really wish that you wouldn't do that," I stammered.

"Why not? They keep it to themselves."

"Are you drunk when you talk about your sex lives?"

"Sometimes, but many times -- especially when we go to the Spa or on shopping trips -- we're stone cold sober. I think that they live vicariously through me, and I'm only too happy to help them out since they sponsor my activities," she replied totally unabashedly.

Seeing the distress on my face, and noticing me fidgeting with my hands, she came up to me and sat on my lap and gave me kisses. "I really wish that you wouldn't do that anymore," I said between kisses. "I don't want to insult them on one hand, and on the other, I'm only a man. You know that they're very attractive women."

"I certainly do know that, darling -- in fact Amy is probably the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen, and Jane isn't too far behind. But I know that you can handle it."

With that she got down on her knees and gave me another fabulous blowjob -- the second in as many weeks. Disturbingly, I fantasized that it was Amy's lips on my cock; believe it or not the first time since I met Dolores that I fantasized it was someone else when we had sex.

The flirting by Amy and Jane only intensified after that. Some of the comments that Amy made -- including in Dolores' prescience -- though double entendres -- were beyond risqué. Dolores only smiled, while I perspired.

*************

The situation reached a critical stage one Friday night. Dolores and I, separately, right after work, were supposed to meet Amy and Wilton -- breaking away from his busy schedule -- at the opening of a popular stage play downtown. Of course Amy and Wilton had gotten front row seats since they were benefactors of the Theater.