MoneyTalks
- 1 year ago
- 11
- 0
Money Talks, Part Two free porn video
Jill, my fantasy date from high school, and I had lost touch after Alexandra moved in with me.
Alex had taken care of my carnal needs and I was busy as a business consultant with the company to which I had sold my intellectual properties. Jill was an afterthought until something happened that changed all that.
A Ford Fusion was parked in front of my house without the driver leaving the car. There are no homes near me, so it was an unusual situation. I decided to investigate and find out what was going on. I walked over to talk with the driver. I was surprised to see it was Jill.
She rolled down the window and gave me her electric smile. I tried to be upbeat and cheerful. "Jill! I wasn't expecting you. It’s great to see you."
"Hi, Hank. You didn't call for a rain check on the house tour, so I came here to get a look at what you've done with Reynold's place after all these years. Do you mind?"
"No, not at all. I just was afraid someone was casing the place. It made me a little nervous. I’m glad you came by. Come on in."
"Are you sure? Can you spare the time?"
"Of course."
We took a short tour of the house although there was some incriminating evidence that I wasn't living alone. Alex had left her robe in the bathroom with her name prominently embroidered on the front suggesting I had a roommate.
"I didn't know you were married, Hank," she said.
"Well, I'm not. An out-of-town friend has been visiting this week." It was only a white lie since Alex lived in the next county. "Look, let's get together here tomorrow night for dinner."
"Oh, I'd love that, but tomorrow is girls' night out," Jill said. "A group of us get together once a month and do something special. This month we are giving our friend a bachelorette party. She's getting married for the third time. I think she keeps getting married just for the wild parties we give. The last time was crazy. We hired a male stripper, and she did everything with him but have, well, you know."
"I don't know but I can imagine. Let's make it another time."
"Great. Send me an e-mail or text. I'm generally available but unfortunately, not tomorrow."
At that point, I felt the same rejection as in high school. It was time for me to forget the girl of my dreams. I didn't forget about her but then, I didn't contact her either. Alex and I had broken up, so I was ready to move forward in another direction. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took the one less traveled by."
That road led me to Paris and a culinary school called La Cuisine Paris. I had adequate knowledge of the French language since my dad, as a military attaché, fell in love with my mom, a French teenager. We lived in Paris until I was six. Besides teaching me French, Mom encouraged me to help in the kitchen giving me an interest in French cuisine. So, I had learned the basics of the French language and French cooking.
I listed my house on Airbnb and hired a landscaping company to look after the garden. My thought was to be gone only a few months which was how long the cooking course was to last. I stayed a year.
The Parisian way of life was a paradise for me. Danielle made it heaven. She was nineteen from Libourne, a town southwest of Paris. We met at school where I had sampled French pussy before hooking up with Danielle.
Michelle in my chef’s class was first. We stayed late waiting for our pastry to bake. She was hot and not just from the oven. We both knew why we were there, and it wasn’t about baking croissants.
Michelle leaned over the stove and pulled up her uniform dress and pulled down her panties. There was just enough time for me to undo my own uniform and quickly plunge my eight-inch injector into her lady locks, pumping with repeated bursts until she was filled with my creams. “Happiness is a good filling,” she giggled when we finished. I agreed. Unfortunately, the croissants came out burned but neither of us was disappointed.
Audette was newly married and with her husband on an evening cruise along the Seine. They appeared inseparable but that was a cover for the truth. He was gay and rich, so it didn’t matter to her. Audette whispered in my ear as we watched the lights on the Eiffel Tower turn on in the distance, “Join me in room 153 at Hotel Eylsia for a drink,” as she put it. Each night I brought a bottle of wine for the three of us because her husband stayed in the room to watch. On the night before they returned home to Poland, Audette’s husband was there with his lover. After watching them get it on, it was our turn. Audette was as horny as ever. She even tried to seduce her husband’s partner with limited success. He reamed her ass while I banged into the hole next door.
Gabrielle or Gabby ran a café near the chef’s school. I went there for a glass of wine each night after class before hooking up with her upstairs at the restaurant. Gabby was a thirty-seven-year-old pregnant single mom with two girls. Clara was eighteen with Asian features. Madeleine was sixteen and looked a lot like Diana Ross. That seemed to guarantee that the girls didn’t have the same father. With Gabby already showing a little bulge, I was happy I was not going to be the father of her fourth child.
Anyway, Danielle was sexy with a funky sense of humor. I soon learned that French girls knew more about love than French kissing. She liked to say getting me hard for bed was like baking baguettes: “let la pâte rise, touch gently with fingertips, roll to size, then put it in the oven.” Her oven was always hot and ready for another loaf. When she said, "Laissez nous faire le pain," let's bake bread, she didn't mean in the kitchen. Our breadbasket was always full.
We moved in together at Mme. Benoit's boarding house on the Left Bank after my third month in Paris. Life was perfect until Danielle found a job in a two-star Michelin restaurant leaving me alone many nights. Eventually, I took a job at a family-owned tourist restaurant on a side street from the Champs-Elysees. As their cook, I learned things that La Cuisine Paris didn't teach, like taking shortcuts to make the restaurant profitable.
After a year away and like many expatriates, I began to long for my home in the United States, leaving Paris and Danielle with tears in our eyes. She wouldn't leave France now that she had a good job and of course, her family was less than three hours away via TGV. I was heartbroken.
Alex had written that her masters' thesis had been accepted and she had taken a job in a state hundreds of miles away. I returned home to an empty house with no virgin, no courtesan, and a heavy heart. I was miserable for the next three weeks.
The mayor called and said he was running for reelection and hoped he could count on my support. As a major contributor to Mayor Fitzgerald in the past, I was always invited to his private fundraisers. They were elegant parties for those of us supporting him with large donations. The best food and drink were hosted by the mayor's beautiful wife, Claire. Claire Fitzgerald, a dozen years younger than her fifty-one old husband, was both beautiful and charming. The standard joke in town was that people were voting for Claire, not her husband. The party was my chance to get back into a social life that I had left behind over a year before.
I knew almost everyone at the gathering and as usual, the food was catered by the best restaurant in town. Claire and the mayor worked the crowd greeting everyone with a warm smile and a firm handshake as politicians are known to do.
It was a good evening reconnecting with friends. The Paris cooking school, but not Danielle, was beginning to fade from my memory. Life was finally returning to normal until Claire took me by the arm and guided me to the kitchen. "Hank, I need to talk with you privately. It's an emergency. Tonight isn't the best time. Can we meet for lunch this week?"
"Of course," I said wondering what could be so urgent. "How about tomorrow at La Porte Verte, say twelve-thirty?"
"That will work, and lunch is on me."
I smiled at her and said, "Of course not. Maurice would be embarrassed if a woman paid for my lunch. So would I."
Maurice took us to my usual table overlooking the lake and brought two room-temperature flutes for the chilled Champagne. This time he was discreet and didn't ask about chilling the glasses. The déjeuner du jour, lunch of the day, was chapon farci aux marrons. We touched glasses wishing for her husband’s successful campaign and enjoyed the meal.
"So, Claire, what's on your mind? You seemed upset last night. It couldn't have been about the party. Everything was perfect."
"It's about the campaign, Hank. The person running against my husband is getting a lot of favorable press and strong financial support from her party."
"Claire, you can count on my support."
"I was hoping you would say that but under the circumstances, well, we'd like to do whatever it takes to get your help."
"Who is the mayor running against, Claire?"
"Her name is Jill Stratford. She's from here. People know her. They like her youthful exuberance, and she is beautiful. I think you might know her."
"Yes, we went to high school together, but I don't know her very well."
"But you know her well enough to take her here. You don't take just any woman to an elegant restaurant like La Porte Verte." And she rested her hand firmly on my thigh. Claire got the rise she expected. The bulge in my lap was hard to disguise. "If there is anything you want or anything I can do to keep your support, don't hesitate to ask," and she moved her hand close but not quite touching my aroused cock.
I took a deep breath realizing I was being seduced. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Maurice saved me by coming to our table to pour more wine and ask how we liked the chapon farci. Claire answered for both of us, "Merveilleuse, Maurice. Remercions le chef.'"
"Merci beaucoup, Madam," he said and hurried off.
Delighted that she spoke French I said, "I didn't know you knew French,"
"Oh, I only have high school French and spent a month in Paris taking art classes before I got married."
"Then we both love Paris! I brought home several paintings and would be honored if you would give me your opinion about them. If you have time this afternoon, we could look at them after lunch."
"I have until five-thirty when we hold a rally at the courthouse. I'll meet you at your place in half an hour."
“By the way, Claire, how is it you know that I had lunch with Jill Stratford. We were catching up on our lives since high school. She never mentioned getting into politics.”
“You know, Hank, how rumors fly in this town. George Dunn our campaign manager was here that day.”
It was two-thirty when she rang the bell. She looked even more alluring than at lunch as if she had stopped at home to freshen up. I led her into the living room where I had hung several paintings. "Can I get you a glass of wine while you browse?"
"Yes, any white wine would be fine."
Claire looked carefully at each of a half dozen expensive pieces and laughed when she said, "Hank, you probably should keep these. They are very nice. Do have more?"
"Well, yes, in the bedroom. They are very different from these."
"What do you mean?"
"They are the erotic paintings of Suzanne Ballivet. They might embarrass you."
"Oh, let me decide about that." Claire wasn't shocked at the pornographic images hanging in the bedroom. "I don’t know the artist, but I like them, Henry. Do you have a favorite?"
"Oh, I guess I like the man sitting on a chair with the woman on top. I also like the girl giving a guy a hand job.
"You mean holding his erection while he fingers her pussy? Maybe I shouldn't admit this, Hank, but it gets me aroused. How about you?"
"The truth is I don't need these paintings to get aroused with you here. You are gorgeous and the most beautiful woman in town."
At that, Claire threw her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. "Let's not play this game any longer, Hank. I want you and I think you want me." Without a word from me, she unfastened her blouse and lowered her skirt to the floor. She wore a pink bra and a matching thong. "Help me out of this, Hank," and she turned so I could unfasten her bra. Then she turned back as if to model herself. "So, what do you think, Monsieur?"
"Dazzling!" I mumbled with a frog in my throat. She might have been nearly forty but had the breasts of a woman in her twenties.
"So, you like what you see? Let me show you one more thing, then I'll help you out of your clothes." Claire slipped off her thong showing me a completely shaved pussy.
She didn't have to help with my clothes. I nearly ripped them off myself.
"Do you mind Hank if we could pose like your favorite picture? That might be fun." She spread her legs holding my hard cock. "Oh, you are so big, Henry, much bigger than the guy in the painting. Maybe we need to move to the next painting where I kneel on top. I like being on top." In one quick movement, she turned over and pushed me into her slippery cunt."
It was over much too soon. "Jeez, Hank, that was quick. "I don't have time for more this afternoon but there is a mayor's conference this weekend that my husband is attending. I'll have some time alone if you would like to join me."
We set seven on Saturday at her place. Claire said there was a lot of food left from the party and if I didn't mind leftovers, that's what we'd have for dinner. I promised to bring the wine. We were in bed together before eight that evening. I performed better this time and Claire tried to remember each of Ballivet's paintings for us to replicate before we rested for an intermission.
"If you are going to stay, Hank, you better put your car in the garage. It's a pretty good clue who is spending the night with me. The press would love it."
I moved my Bugatti into the garage. When I got back into bed, Claire was ready to continue by using only her imagination this time. I fell asleep exhausted.
On the way home the next morning, I passed a crowd of people listening to a woman speaking from a megaphone. It was Jill rallying the crowd to vote for her. I parked and listened. She caught a glimpse of me hiding in the back of the crowd.
"Oh, look who has just returned from France," she yelled. "For those who don't know him, it's Henry Decampere, one of my very best friends from high school. Say hello, Hank."
I waved realizing that even novice politicians know how to lie. Jill didn’t give me the time of day in high school. She was a political neophyte, after all, but already knew how to stretch the truth. I hadn't thought about Jill since returning home but now she was in the forefront of my mind. At home, my cell blinked telling me I had received a text from Jill.
"Can we get together, Hank? I'd like to see you this week if possible." It was likely she wanted my support.
I texted back, "Dinner @ 7:30, my place tonight."
Her reply was "K."
Hours later, Claire was livid on the phone. "Didn't I make an impression on you. Haven't I done everything you wanted?"
"What are you talking about Claire?"
"You were at Stratford's rally today not a few hours after I was fucking you. How could you?"
"Claire, dear, on the way home I passed a crowd and stopped to see what it was about. It just happened to be Stratford's rally. I'll work this out eventually but give me time."
"We need your support, Hank, more than ever. It doesn't do us any good for you to be seen at Stratford’s functions."
That afternoon I was in the kitchen preparing my specialty, lapin à la moutarde from the La Cuisine Paris class.
Jill looked lovely as always. The only thing noticeable was that she showed more than ample cleavage. It appeared that she had come to dinner with seduction in mind.
We sat together before dinner sipping an aperitif. I asked her about her ex, Dan, and where he lived. Jill wasn't anxious to say much about him other than he was living out of state and out of her life forever.
At dinner, she spoke of her campaign and what she wanted to do for the city. Jill was in a cocoon waiting to break out as the new mayor. However, Jill was not well-financed and needed financial help. I had been right. A healthy donation was her reason to see me. 'How different is politics than prostitution?' I wondered.
After dinner, Jill said, "This was nice, Hank. Was it chicken?"
"Rabbit. The varmint was eating my garden."
"You're joking!"
"Only about the garden."
She frowned and said, "Still being funny. It tasted like chicken."
Ouch! She had no interest in my culinary skills. Perhaps she would have been happier with chicken from Colonel Sanders.
Jill helped me clear the dishes, then we sat in the drawing-room to have a digestif. I handed her a snifter of cognac saying, Santé." She replied with "Cheers." The wine and after-dinner drinks helped to relax her and she said, "You know, Hank, I've never seen the whole house. Can I have a look around?"
"Help yourself while I pour us another cognac."
Five minutes later I heard a shriek, "Oh my God, Oh my God!"
She ran out of my bedroom facing me like I was Ivan the Terrible. "My God, Hank, you've got porn hanging in your bedroom."
I chuckled and said, "It's in the eye of the beholder, Jill. That's French artwork and painted by Suzanne Ballivet. I fell in love with her work when I was in Paris. Okay, some call it art and people like you call it pornography."
"You don't get it, Hank. It has nothing to do with the sex in those paintings. I'm not a prude. All along I thought your roommate Alex was a guy and you were gay. That's why I avoided you before you left for Paris. I didn't think there was a future for us. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Hank. How can I make it up to you?" and she planted a firm kiss on my mouth.
I kissed her back and pulled her on my lap. "Look, Jill, I misunderstood you as well. We've wasted a lot of years."
She gave me a salacious grin and said, "Maybe we need to make up for lost time."
I knew she was seducing me for the money, but I enjoyed the chicanery. I smiled and said, "You took the words right out of my mouth," while unbuttoning her blouse. Her bra fell to the floor. My mouth gorged on her nipples. Her hand found my crotch.
"Do you mind if I take a look, Hank?" and she unzipped my pants pulling out my fully inflated cock. She took hold of it saying, "Oh my, Hank, you're dripping already. I like that in a man." She slid between my legs and took me in her mouth in one gulp.
I let her play with me for a few minutes, then slipped off her skirt. "Not here Hank," she implored and left for the bedroom taking off the last of her clothes along the way.
Jill clung to me in bed whispering, "I haven't had sex with a man since moving back with my parents. Please go slow. Be gentle with me, Hank."
I gave special attention to her clit with my lips and tongue while my fingers explored her moist pussy. Her breathing became faster and deeper, panting, and gasping for air. She whimpered like a virgin when I penetrated her, then squealed when I dove in all the way Then she fucked like a courtesan with her eyes rolled back sounding like Sally at the restaurant in the movie, 'When Harry Met Sally.' "Oh, oh, oh. Oh God, oh yes, yes, yes. Oh God, don't stop." Maybe she was faking it, but I didn't care.
Jill Stratford wasn't as adventurous in bed as Alex, Danielle or Claire, but she was willing and eager. "Oh, I liked that," she said after I sent a surge of cum deep in her fuck tunnel. "Could you tell I was so close, Hank? I almost came. Maybe the second time you'll give me an orgasm."
It didn’t happen until the third try when she had an earth-shattering orgasm that was celebrated with a frightening scream. “That’s the first one I’ve had since my honeymoon!” she yelled. Jill stayed the night with many others to follow.
On the second month after my affair with the mayor’s wife, the topic of contributing to Jill's campaign came up again. I told her, "Jill, you will make a great mayor, or you would make a great wife. Which do you want? Mayor or my wife, but not both?"
She snuggled up to me with her hand gliding up and down my stiff shaft and said, "I've never mentioned this before but there is something that makes the decision easy. You know, Hank, if I had known you had a trophy cock like the one I'm holding, you would have been my high school sweetheart. I would never have married Dan. And there is one more thing I ought to mention.”
“What’s that?”
She didn’t look me in the eye and whispered, “I’m pregnant!”
“But I thought you were taking…”
She pressed a finger to my lips to keep me from finishing. “The doctors said I could never have children, so I’ve never used birth control. I guess your sperm gave us a second opinion.”
"So?"
"I'm dropping out of the race tomorrow." To emphasize her point, she took my throbbing cock in her mouth until it finally burst. "I like what you do at the end, Hank. It's my favorite digestif." she giggled wiping cum from her chin.
Mayor Fitzgerald never knew the role his wife played in his reelection and Claire couldn't have known how I resolved my conundrum in supporting two opposing candidates.
Footnote: The last time I heard from Alexandra, she had moved to Florida where a lot of horny rich pensioners live and was working as an escort. Alex said she was earning a lot more money than as a teacher and it was much more fun. As I’ve said, Alex craved excitement. Her story comes next.
Alessandra
- 05.03.2022
- 13
- 0
- Category:
- Love Stories
