Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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The Richest Man In The World free porn video
THE RICHEST MAN IN THE WORLD
Richie, bag slung over his shoulder, stepped off the moving walkway and enteredthe Cuba West Air terminal. His gate was near the back. The two women behindthe counter, one a blonde, the other a redhead, were gorgeous and dressed inCuba Air's blue retro-styled uniform, complete with little caps perched atoptheir heads. They looked just like stewardesses from the 1960's, which hadbeen the goal.
There were two guys in line ahead of him and when it was his turn Richiehanded over his ID. He watched the two guys, dressed in 'casual' clothes thatcost more than his car, being led away by the redhead.
"Good morning!" the blonde said cheerfully. Her short uniform jacket wasstraining at the buttons over her healthy chest. She swiped his ID card andas his personal info filled her computer screen her eyes lit up.
"Very nice to see you Mr. Palmer!" she gushed. "Are you checking any luggage?Just the bag? Splendid." She typed for a few seconds, then a small box nextto the keyboard spit out a silver-edged plastic card. The blonde punched ahole in it and threaded a red cord through the hole.
"This'll be all you need on the island," she told him cheerfully, handingthe card over. He draped the cord around his neck as he'd seen the other mendo. The redhead returned and smiled at him. Her eyes went from the card aroundhis neck to the young man's sloppy attire and back to the card. She blinkedtwice, but her smile never wavered.
"You can wait in the VIP Lounge," the blonde told him. "Suzy'll escort you.We'll be boarding in just a few minutes."
"Thanks." Richie followed the redhead toward an unmarked door. Her shortskirt was so tight she had to take tiny steps, not that she was likely to breakinto a trot in her four-inch heels.
The VIP Lounge was all leather and dark stained wood and chrome. He guessedthere were twenty-plus guys in there, average age fifty, drinking whisky andsmoking cigars. They were all dressed like they were about to hit the linksof their favorite country club, and he caught more than a few curious stares.Then one of them caught sight of the card around his neck with its silver bordersand suddenly they were all smiles and questions. Who was he, what did he dofor a living, was this his first trip to the island. Richie noticed all oftheir cards had red borders.
He muttered a few vague responses, found a leather chair in the corner, andsunk into it, hoping to be left alone. He kept himself occupied while waitingto board by surreptitiously ogling the lounge's hostesses as they served drinks.They were in ridiculous French maid outfits complete with teetering high-heels,fishnet stockings, push-up bras, and frilly skirts so short their white satinpanties showed every time they bent to set a drink on a table. Richie saw morethan one of the erotically-clad women being groped by the increasingly boisterousmen without complaint.
"C'mon, whaddaya do?"
"What?" Richie looked up to see one of the country club types standing nearby,weaving slightly.
"Internet? Actor? You don't look familiar," the rosy-cheeked man said, squintingat Richie, slurring his words slightly. "Inheritance?'
"What are you talking about?"
The man grabbed the plastic card hanging around his neck and waved it. "Costme a hunnerd grand just to get a red package," the man said defiantly. "Gold'sa quarter mil. How much it cost for a platinum?"
"I don't know. It was a gift," Richie told him honestly.
The man blew a raspberry through juicy lips, clearly not believing him, butjust then the door at the far end of the room opened and it was announced thatthey could board. The men lined up and filed through the doorway, the prettystew checking all of their ID cards around their necks before allowing thempast.
The airplane was like none Richie had ever been on. It was a small passengerjet, maybe a 737 originally designed to hold 150 passengers or so, but hadbeen converted. Instead of thirty rows of narrow seats crammed together, thejet featured fifteen rows with just one seat on each side of the aisle. Andthe seats! They were full-size leather recliners, each facing its own flatscreenmonitor, with its own wet bar and a curtain that could be pulled all the wayaround for privacy.
Richie was given the first seat on the right. Next to him was an elderlygentleman sporting a gold-edged card who couldn't seem to stop smiling. Richie'sbag was stored in the overhead compartment for him and a beautiful blonde stewwho smelled like peaches helped him with his seatbelt. He stared down intoher impressive cleavage as she snugged the belt around his waist and pattedthe buckle affectionately, which was positioned right above his crotch. Richiecleared his throat nervously as she smiled at him warmly and moved on.
He counted over half a dozen flight attendants for their small group, everysingle one of them a beautiful woman. Their uniforms had to be individuallytailored – they fit each woman perfectly, snug but not too tight, theskirts just above the knee, their stockings the old-fashioned kind with theline up the back.
The screen in front of him lit up as a brunette flight attendant with sensuouslips stood in the aisle near the front of the cabin. She demonstrated the useof the seatbelt and oxygen masks and pointed out the emergency exits as a correspondingvideo played on all their screens. Halfway down the fuselage another stew wasdoing the same for the men in the back of the plane.
"Gentlemen, this is your captain," a warm voice said overhead. "If you'lltake your seats we're next in line to takeoff. Seat-belt light is on, and pleaseno smoking until that lamp goes out. Flight time will be three hours and twenty-oneminutes, maybe less if the jet stream cooperates. Flight crew please preparefor takeoff." The captain clicked off.
Ten minutes after wheels up the airplane leveled off and the captain extinguishedthe no-smoking and seatbelt lights. The all female crew stood up and Richiewatched four of them at the front of the plane. As a group the flight attendantsunzipped their skirts and tugged them down over their hips. Even when the airplaneswayed they didn't lose their balance as they stepped out of their skirts,folded them, and put them away in a cabinet. Underneath they all wore blackg-strings over the stockings. Their uniform jackets came off next, revealingtheir white button-down blouses. The blouses turned out not only to be midriff-baring,but nearly see-through as well, and not one of the flight attendants seemedto be wearing a bra.
No drink carts for this plane; the stews emerged carrying waitress trays.Many of the men hooted when they saw their new attire.
"I'll be your flight attendant, sir, unless you'd prefer another girl."
Richie blinked at the blonde in front of him. Her tits were huge, strainingthe front of her shirt. "Uhhh, my . . ?" he began.
"Platinum package guests get their own flight attendant," she told him, guessingfrom his appearance that this was his first Pleasure Package trip to Cuba. "Myname's Tiffany."
Sure it is , he thought. "No, you're fine," he toldher.
"Something to drink, sir?"
"Uhhh . . . " Richie tried not to stare at the stews big nipples visiblethrough her shirt. "Diet Coke, please."
Maneuvering through an airplane in flight in four-inch heels was no meanfeat but the flight attendants never once stumbled. In less than twenty minutesthey had every passenger aboard stocked with a beverage and snack of his choosing,and were comfortably over international waters.
Richie had brought a book to read and was twenty pages in when he saw shapelylegs in front of him once more. He looked up to see Tiffany, this time withouther tray. She squatted down in front of him so that they were nose to nose.
"What would you like now, Mr. Palmer?"
"Uhhh." Was there a meal on the flight?
"A striptease? A handjob, or blowjob, some sort of sex? I can service youwhile you read, if you like," she told him softly with a smile.
"Ummmm . . . ." Richie looked around. A redheaded flight attendant was justpulling the privacy curtain closed around the elderly man's chair across theaisle. The other six attendants were moving into the passenger compartment,and everyone but him seemed to have known this was part of the package. Hewas in so far over his head it wasn't funny. "Surprise me," he told her finally.
Tiffany grinned and stood up, grabbing the edge of the curtain. They'd toldher to take special care of him, and she knew what that meant. "Oh, I will," sheassured him.
Two and a half hours later Richie was staring out his window at the coastof Cuba. He was exhausted, but he was too excited to fall asleep.
His balls ached. He'd come three times in seventy minutes, once in each ofTiffany's orifices. Her ability to deepthroat was truly amazing, but his favoritepart had come when she'd reclined his seat, sat on his lap facing away fromhim, and laid back against his chest. He played with her huge tits and hardclit while she worked her hips up and down like a piston. Her ass was slickand tight as a fist and if he hadn't come twice already he wouldn't have lastedmore than three minutes. He was pretty sure she came twice, although he alwayshad trouble telling. She'd cleaned him up first with her tongue and then ahot towel before putting her abbreviated uniform back on and serving him anotherDiet Coke.
As the plane descended in a lazy turn toward Havana International Richiestared in awe at the massive, spectacular casinos and clubs with their neonand holos visible even in broad daylight from a thousand feet.
Cuba's recent history was legendary. Fidel Castro was one hundred and threeyears old -- weak, suffering from the early stages of Alzheimers, but stillin control -- when the privately funded mercenary army six thousand stronginvaded from Costa Rica, where they'd been training for six months.
The shooting was over in two weeks, and that's when billionaire LawrenceCross, bio-pharmaceutical visionary, proposed a deal with the Cuban people.He had the might to rule Cuba by force, but had other plans. He asked for tenyears. Ten years to turn Cuba into what it had been, the jewel of the Caribbean.
If any other man had asked for such a thing he would have been burned atthe stake, but Lawrence Cross had earned his billions in such a way as to makehis a household name.
A decade before anyone thought it could be done Cross' bio-technology mega-conglomeratecame out with Bountifull. The synthetic hormone derivatives inside that littleyellow pill safely and permanently increased the size and firmness of a woman'sbreasts. As it was prescription only, the dosage could be adjusted to producethe desired cup size within three weeks. No more implants or cosmetic breastlift surgery.
He first marketed the pill overseas, where he knew he could get it on theshelves quicker. The FDA dragged its feet, as usual, but after a documentarydescribed how fifty-thousand American women a month were traveling to Canadato get a prescription for the drug they saw the writing on the wall. Four yearslater, when he came out with Bonus, a pill that did the same thing for penises,the FDA was a little quicker with their approval. After Bonus had been on themarket for six years it was official – Cross was the world's third richestman.
Next was Meta-Life, which prevented the user's body from turning any of thefood they ate into fat. Definitely prescription-only, this little blue miraclemade fat people thin and kept them that way.
Two years later one of his companies came out with Arouse – the firsteffective, legitimate aphrodisiac. It worked on both men and women and wasalmost frighteningly effective. Richie more than suspected Tiffany had takenher share of yellow pills to get her chest, and wouldn't have been surprisedto learn she was a regular user of Arouse, she'd certainly been wet enough.It was rumored to be addictive but Richie had never seen anything substantiveon that. He himself had tasted a few Bonus pills, just enough to get him wherehe didn't feel undergunned in the locker room. The makers of Bonus had discoveredthere was a genetic-level line in men that couldn't be crossed when it cameto penis size – they could only get it so big, no matter how many pillswere swallowed, because any larger and there wouldn't be enough blood in thebody to get it erect. That was still damn big, though, and at first many aman had found to his surprise he was too big to get a proper blowjob anymore.Women didn't have the same problem, however, and Richie had seen a number ofgirls his age or younger who'd gone crazy and made Tiffany look flat-chested.
By most estimates it actually took him fourteen, but by the end of his tenasked-for years the votes were in. Americans alone were spending thirty-fivemillion dollars every day in the new casinos, not to mention the restaurants,clubs, and brothels. Every Cuban was guaranteed health care, and high-payingjobs were found for every man, woman, and child willing to work. Hundreds ofmulti-national corporations, including Cross' own pharmaceutical enterprises,attracted to the island's almost non-existent legal restrictions and amenabletax-rates, built there. The Cubans loved him, and called him El Rey, the king.No one seemed to care anymore about his army, which hadn't disbanded, the legalizedbut strictly regulated prostitution which brought in as much cash as the gambling,or that he was, for all intents and purposes, the King of Cuba, taking tenpercent off the top.
Now Cross' story was the thing of legends. He'd killed Castro thirty-fiveyears before and Cuba's GNP was now larger than California's. Between Bountifulland Bonus, Meta-Life and Arouse, Cross was soon the undisputed Richest Manin the World.
Ten years after taking over, after receiving the blessing of the Cuban people,Cross had disappeared from the public eye. Just like Howard Hughes had a centurybefore him, Cross had become a recluse, a hermit, that hadn't been seen inpublic in fourteen years. Some people wondered if he was still alive.
By the time the wheels touched down the flight crew had their skirts andjackets back on, their hair and makeup fixed, and looked nothing less thanthe professionals they were. The captain thanked everybody over the PA, hopingthey had an enjoyable flight, and rolled the airplane to a perfect stop attheir gate. The crew lined up at the door to greet the passengers as they deplaned.Richie saw the men tipping the flight attendants with big wads of bills andfelt like an asshole because he had no cash. Tiffany didn't seem to mind, shejust kissed him on the cheek and shook his hand. In the concourse he checkedout the card she'd put in his palm. A business card, with her name and phonenumber and one word, ENTERTAINMENT.
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