Chapter 1

I led a very successful business life. I started my own cumputer design firm right after graduating from MIT. I created a design program for three dimensional archtectual drawings and soon found myself with a seven figure yearly income. I married lucky, we met before the financial windfall and married when it was just starting, so my wife wasn't a brown nosing money grubber or a trophy wife. Peggy was a saint, she bided my moods and comforted me when I needed it. She also taught me how to live with wealth, not to flaunt it, or use it to buy favors but to help others, to help the environment, and to support the arts. She refined me from a nerd into a well dressed, well mannered, need I say even debonair, gentleman. She bought my clothes then hired a private tailer to see that they fit properly. She gave me lessons on how to eat in public and at private dinners. She made me play scrabble and do crosswords so my vocabulary would grow. She made sure I always had something to read, and every night before sleep she would grill me about the days events, from world news to office gossip. I put my foot down when it came to opera, but all the other arts were on the table, and she seemed to have a knack for picking the best, some to physically or mentaly experience, and some to financialy back. My darling wife Peg, the love of my life, took sick one cold winter night and despite all the medicene and doctors I could buy, nothing made her well. She passed from my life but not from my being.

My wife was a saint, would I could say the same about our only child, Jerry, a son who seemed to take delight in torturing his parents. I'm sure we both over indulged him and ignored him as he grew up, at once showering him with all that money could buy, while shuttleing him around from one boarding school to another, each one more remote from the next, as he was expelled and or kicked out from one after another. He then blamed me for his mothers death and as soon as he turned eighteen he quit school and disappeared from my life. Oh it would have been easy enough to just look at the adresses where the checks from his trust fund were sent, but I nevered bothered to. As much as my Peg turned me into a moneyed squire, our son turned into a loud, obnoxious oaf, I was glad to be rid of him. Then he returned fourteen years later with a wife of his own and my tune changed.

Jerry was now a subdued, obnoxious oaf. He finally learned to tone down the bluster, but still retained the gift for gab. He had even, much to my astonishment, managed to mary a former beauty queen turned model. After wasting ten years of his life and his trust fund, he found himself on the wrong side of a gun at a high stakes poker game. He was able to glib his way out of the situation, but even his desultory brain realized it was time to change his behavior. I have to give him credit, of his own volition he turned himself in to a rehab center (very exclusive and expensive, of course) and came out a success story.He was able to quit taking drugs and pills and to stop drinking. He met a fellow resident who got him interested in real estate sales and provided him his first job. His toned down bluster and gift for flowery exageration, plus the connectons his new found friend provided, soon added up to a successful career, something that he could finally say he did on his own. So with his new found confidence and an even sharper hone to his patter, he met, wooed, and won the heart of one Phyllis Jones, the former Miss North Dakota, who, after being one of the final ten contestants in a national beauty pageant, decided to try her luck and limited talents in the big city. She soon found work as a fashion model, but when she blossomed from a slim ninteen year old into a curvacious twenty two year old, her agent guided her into lingerie modeling. Jerry met her at party thrown by the recent buyer of a penthouse condo in the toney part of town, she was a friend of the owner and party thrower, Jerry was the sellers agent and wheedled his way to an invitation even though he knew nobody there, not even his host. He was quite taken with her, and made sure he was introduced to her. His silver tounge and large wallet soon had her saying I Do, and he decided to bring his blushing bride home to meet his father, where he thought he would gloat while showing off the trophy he felt he was finally good enough to win. Bad idea. As soon as I laid eyes on my sons wife I knew he didn't stand a chance next to the man his mother had turned into a middle aged smoothy. I may not have the glibness of my son, but I sure had the class and the style. And, it turned out, the good fortune of being an older man.Who knew the young vixen had a thing for older men?

So Jerry came back to town with his wife and bought a house right across the street from mine. Peg designed our mansion and grounds with impeccable taste, and we found ourselves the lead actors in several archtectual and home and garden magazine articles. As you would expect, Jerry went the exact opposite route, making his house and grounds as garrish and glitzy as he could, unwittingly of course, he thought his taste was impeccable. He and his wife invited me to their first party after the renovation was complete. As I walked up the sweeping curve of my sons driveway I looked with distaste at what he had done to the landscaping. He had removed stately elms, oaks and maple trees that had stood there for years, and replaced them with small trees and bushes that he had trimmed into different shapes, with one near the house even shaped like a phallus, something he made sure to point out to every guest, along with a wink and a poke in the ribs with his elbow. I was standing idley by when Phyllis made her entrance to the grand ballroom, which I might add, was festooned with what would be black velvet paintings of Elvis, except that Jerry could afford silk, so the walls were bedecked with irredescent Elvi painted on shimmering black silk.

My daughter in law looked stunning. Her long blonde hair was swept up in a crown haloing her head, exposing her long alabaster neck where a simple gold locket hung and drew your gaze to the magnifecent breasts her strapless dress was barely containing. As my eyes traveled down her body I took in the sight of how her dress hugged her waist and hips before billowing out over her shapely legs and ending just above her black stocking covered knees. Her feet were shod in a pair of four inch high stiletto heels, held on by a single strap wrapped around each ankle. As my gaze retraced it's path back up her body I took an oath to myself that by the time the night was over I would know if those black stockings she was wearing were pantyhose, thigh highs or gartered nylons. Seeing as she was a lingerie model each was a possibility, and I vowed to find out, while at the same time getting a little revenge for all the trouble my son had caused me.

My obnoxious son and his equally obnoxious business associates joining us for dinner, had no chance against the suave father, and by the time the after dinner drinks were being served I had my daughter in law hanging on my every word. I made sure I was seated next to her at the table, and with the practiced guile learned from thirty some years of conducting multi million dollar deals with men I didn't know, my seemingly simple questions illicited all the information I would need to put her under my spell. I learned of her infatuation with older men, how her first real love was a professor from her college who was thirty years her senior, and how she never met any men her own age who knew how to treat a women. Needless to say my manners and attentiveness to her needs while dinning went into high gear and I soon had her under my spell. Seeing his wife doting on his hated father drove my son over the brink and he began drinking glasses of wine. He was now passed out on a couch, his dry years causing his tolerance to shrink, and making him vulnerable to the several glasses of wine he downed at dinner and the vodka tonic I toasted him with in the drawing room. I pointed out her snoring husband to Phyllis and smiled to myself when I heard her mutter under her breath "uncouth bastard." I instantly asked her to show me around the house, as I hadn't seen the renovated rooms. She eagerly took me up on my request, wanting to get away from her passed out husband and his fellow inibreated friends. We walked out of the room and down the main hall, by the time we had reached the curved main staircase we were in stitches over the snide comments I had first started and then she willingly joining in, as we made fun of the pretentious art hanging on the walls. Phyllis paused on the first step of the staircase and wiped away a tear of laughter. She then confided in me about how Jerry loved his taste in artwork and bragged that it was the best private collection in town. We laughed again as I said only if the second best consists of poker playing dogs. She laughed so hard she lost her ballance and started to tip forward. I quickly grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling and found my arms and chest supporting her entire weight as she leaned into me. Our faces were at the same level, our eyes met and held, almost as one we tilted our necks and put our lips together. The softness of her lips brought back long supressed desires, and with a passion I thought I no longer posessed, I kissed her long and deeply, folding my arms tightly around her waist, crushing her breasts into my chest. Phyllis returned my passion, mashing her lips into mine, then opening her mouth to push her tongue at my lips, urging me to open my mouth as well, so our tongues could caress each other.

I slid my hands from around her waist and moved them so one cupped her silk covered tits and the other grasped her ass cheeks to grind her crotch into mine. I could feel her pelvis start to make a circular motion against my groin, I dropped my hand and put it on the back of her thigh under her dress. I was about to find out what she was wearing, and to my delight it turned out to be thigh highs. As I ran my hand up her inner thigh I whispered in her ear that I was glad she didn't wear pantyhose, while at that very moment my hand reached the juncture of her legs and torso. Phyllis quickly spread her legs apart giving me access to her panty covered pussy. I gently stroked the silky material, outlining her labia through its thinness. Suddenly my finger found her clit, my massaging had awakened the sleeping sprite, and it popped it's head out from between her pussy lips where I could trace it with my thumb while continuing to stroke her lips. Then I felt the material of her panties wasn't as slick, pussy juice was saturating the gussett, turning the frictionless glide of my fingers over her panties into the panties doing the sliding over her very wet pussy lips.

While still kissing me Phyllis reached under her dress and pulled the crotch of her panties out of the way. She wanted my fingers to feel her bare skin, what she got was four of my fingers unceremoniously shoved up her pussy in one quick jolt. Phyllis squealed loudly, both from the pain and the pleasure that surged through her body. Her pussy quickly widened and I could feel the walls stretching around my fingers. Her pelvis started jerking back and forth as her torso pivoted above her spread knees. Her rocking motion caused my fingers to plunge in and out of her cunt, first just my finger nails at the edge of her pussy cavern, then with one sharp thrust, I'm in up to my palm, all four fingers wiggeling inside her pussy, stroking the walls and feeling them quake, then just as suddenly back out to just my finger tips, Phyllis' juices soaked my hand, making my it feel cool from the hallway air. I moved my hand and placed it on her hip. With a bit of force I pivoted her ass around so she was slightly bent over with her hands grasping the railing. She was standing on the first step, so I laid down on the floor and rested my head on the step. I was now looking directly up her dress, her feet on either side of my head. For the first time I got a look at her panties, at least the part that was left showing, for the leg bands had been forced up her ass crack so the only portion showing was her crotch, and that looked like just a patch. The panties were a pastel blue, but the material that was covering her cunt was almost dark blue from the juices collected there. I reached up between her legs with one hand and pulled her panties up and away from her crack and pussy. I put my other hand in between her pussy lips, then put my fingers in the shape of a cone and slowly began to insert them into her cunt. Phyllis began a long slow steady moan, she didn't move a muscle, allowing me the honor of setting the pace for her finger fuck. But again, it's not what you assume will happen that will get you, it's the unexpected that rears it's ugly head. When I decided my fingers were lubricated enough I put my thumb into my palm and the next time I had all four fingers inserted up her snatch I rotated them, making sure to juice up the back of my hand, then I shoved a little harder and my knuckles were at the entrance to her cunt. Phyllis continued to moan, but the tone changed to a higher pitch when she felt the knuckles of my hand as they penetrated the edges of her pussy and too late realized I was going to fist her. With no time to protest or squirm away I shoved my hand into her cunt beyond my knuckles, my hand was up her snatch about two inches from my wrist. I stopped pushing it in and just rested it there, letting her get used to the intrusion and relaxing her cunt muscles so I could get the rest on my hand inside her. I rotated my hand again, making sure it was well oiled, I wanted to give her some pain when I shoved my whole hand up her cunt, for the stupid bitch had married my son, but not so much that she would demand to stop before I could give her the exquisite pleasure she so richly deserved, after all, the beautiful bitch did marry my son.

I put my free hand on Phyllis' ass to steady her, then proceeded to slowly shove my hand further into her, slowly rotating it as I watched it disappear up her widening hole until only my wrist was visible and I could bend my hand around in her pussy. I was rotating my fist from wall to wall in her cunt while making little in and out motions, being careful not to let my knuckles slither out. Suddenly I was blinded by a light, Phyllis had lifted the front of her dress so she could look at me as I fisted her. Her legs buckled at the knees and she squatted down on my fist, forcing it ever deeper into her orifice. Now my hand was in past the bone on the upper side of my wrist. With a jerk Phyllis stood straight up and my fist came flying out of her, followed quickly by a gush of pussy juice that drenched the front of my shirt. Phyllis spread her legs further apart, reached down thru her legs and grabbed my fist. She rubbed her hand around it feeling her own juices. She dropped my hand and put hers where mine had just been. With another quick squat, she impaled her self on her own fist, bending her knees and pushing forward until I could no longer see it. She again stood up and again a gush of her pussy juice washed over the front of my shirt when her hand came out. She grabbed my hand again and wet it down with her fresh juice. Then she lifted her skirt again and looked me in the eye and told me to shove my fist up her cunt, and that's the word she used too, shove my fist up her cunt in one quick jab. She spread her knees and squatted down, opening up her hole to my lustful gaze. Her clit was blood red and stood like a mountain over some craggy valley below, her cunt lips forming a vee around its prominence. The lips themselves were swollen and thick, a ready invitation to any object that would like to pass their portal.