Dan may be easy to dislike, but there’s a psychology behind his particular predilection for trophy wives and married pussy. Hate him if you must, but there’s a story there.

Dan’s parents, though wealthy, have not transferred to him all the trappings that come with that wealth. Though generous, they’re down-to-earth and remarkably well-grounded. During college summers, they required him to work in a warehouse of a company owned by a family friend. “To teach you why your education is important,” they’d respond when he’d complain. They did not impose that same requirement on him during the school year, except during his freshman year.

And so it was that he obtained a job waiting tables at the World Café in Santa Monica during that first year at USC. It wasn’t close to campus but the hours were decent, and the tips were often generous. The restaurant, now closed, sat on the corner of Main and Ashland and offered typical California fare for the health conscience. While part of the restaurant was indoors, it had a garden patio for diners to enjoy their meal al fresco.

Dan was working one September afternoon a few weeks after he started. Toward the end of the lunch hour, three older women were seated at Table 4, one of Dan’s tables. Before approaching them with menus, he took one look and rolled his eyes. ‘Here we go,’ he thought. ‘Salads and a bottle of wine.’

After only a few weeks, Dan found that he was able to gauge what a person would eat and drink by the way they dressed, who they were with, the day of the week, the time of day, and other such factors. It wasn’t foolproof, but he was more often than not correct. For example, at noon on a hot Friday afternoon in August, if three women in their late thirties or early forties walk in dressed for show, they were likely to each order a salad and together would order a bottle of wine (probably white, and maybe two bottles). The women at Table 4 fit this mold. All were trophy wives.

The brunette of the group wore a pair of white, open-toed heels below matching pants that stopped midway down her lean calves; a pale-yellow blouse covered what appeared to be ample breasts. As they sat, a French-manicured hand slid her oversized sunglasses atop her head, a diamond bracelet sliding down her slim, tanned arm in the process. Her lustrous hair had been pulled back in a clip, revealing glossy lips, high cheekbones, and soulful brown eyes.

One of the blondes – this one a dirty blonde with pretty green eyes – was a little different from her companions, insofar as she wore a silk skirt instead of pants. It was baby-blue and ended halfway up tanned and well-toned thighs. Covering a substantial pair of breasts that sat just a little too high on her chest was a white, spaghetti-strap silk top that hung loosely over her cleavage. A pair of open-toed backless heels adorned her feet, exposing red-manicured toes. Matching nails tipped her long slender fingers. Her hair was pulled back enough to reveal a diamond necklace, which seemed to be paired with the diamond tennis bracelet that clattered on her wrist.

The third woman – the other blonde, clearly a dye job – wore a pair of faded jeans over a pair of black heels. A red, silk halter top hid smallish breasts, and platinum hair in a tight ponytail highlighted a freshly-scrubbed face. This one’s sunglasses actually hid her eyes. Dan wondered briefly if she had breast envy, given her current company.

He took all of this in as he collected three menus and made his way to Table 4. When he approached, the three trophy wives looked up at him, all smiles. Dye Job lifted her dark glasses to the top of her head, revealing piercing blue eyes that smiled their brilliance.

“Afternoon, ladies. Can I start you with a drink? A bottle of pinot grigio, perhaps?” He doubted that either of these ladies noticed his flippancy.

The brunette must have been the leader of the group. “Absolutely. A bottle of Santa Margherita would be perfect. And I don’t think we’ll need the menus; we eat here often enough.” The blondes just nodded their heads. The group started with an order of hummus, but for lunch, Leader of the Pack ordered a mozzarella-and-tomato salad, Dye Job a Caesar, and Clown Tits sesame-encrusted tuna over greens.

Dan chided himself. ‘I forgot to anticipate the hummus.’

With a nod, he departed and put in their lunch order. Grabbing a bottle of pinot grigio, a corkscrew, and three glasses, he headed back to the table, popped the cork, and filled the glasses. He returned a while later to serve their appetizer and then lunches, and a few times to see if they needed anything (“Another bottle, please”).

After two hours of what Dan could only imagine was nothing but pure gossip and inanities, Clown Tits signaled to him that she would like the check. He quickly responded and placed the check folder on the table next to her, then departed. When he next looked, the three women were walking toward the front gate, having left the check folder on the table. He collected the folder and cashed it out, happy to find a thirty percent tip.

While he was cashing out, Clown Tits stopped at the hostess station and asked when the next shift change would occur.

“Four o’clock, ma’am,” she was told.

After thanking him, the three women bid their au reviors and parted ways, Clown Tits spending some time in the boutiques that dotted Main Street.

Dan worked the rest of the afternoon. Right after 4:00, he clocked out, collected his tips, and walked through the garden patio toward the front gate. On passing through the gate, he stopped short and took in the beautiful creature resting at the curb: an Aston Martin DB9 in titanium gray, its top down, its engine tick-tick-ticking in the hot afternoon sun. It took him a moment to notice the dirty blonde leaning against the passenger side door, arms folded beneath her generous breasts, one ankle crossed over the other.

“Oh, hi ... uh...” He caught the “Clown Tits” on the tip of his tongue.

“Katie Marcus.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Mrs. Marcus. I saw this car and ... is it yours?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Very nice.” Dan paused. “So, did you enjoy your lunch?” he asked, not even looking at her, instead circling the front of the car, eyes focused on sensuous curves and suggestive bulges.

“I did, very much. Thank you ... Are you just getting off work now?”

“Yeah,” Dan responded, barely hearing her. “Had a full day, but no class, so that’s okay.”

“Class?”

Dan was near the rear of the car now, looking at the cockpit. “Hmm? Oh. Yes. Class. I go to SC.”

“Really.” It was not a question. And he didn’t notice the little shiver run through the woman’s body. “So, where are you off to now?”

Dan gestured toward the mountain bike chained to a bike rack. “Home. We’re having a party tonight. Gotta shower.” His attention was again focused on the DB9, and he didn’t see Katie glance toward the bike, a sly smile parting her glossy, red lips. He walked back toward the driver’s door and checked out the interior from a better position.

“Who’s we?” she said, turning to face him, leaning the front of her trim thighs against the passenger door.

“Huh? Oh. I’m sorry. I’m being rude. My fraternity. Well ... I’m just a pledge. But anyway ... we’re having a party tonight.”

“That’s a long bike ride.”

“Not really. Well, yeah, it is,” Dan responded.

“Well, I can give you a ride if you want.” Katie placed her manicured hands on the window sill of the door and leaned over a little. The movement caused her lush breasts to bunch up between her arms, creating an immense cleavage. Dan didn’t even notice.

“No, but thanks. I think I need to burn a few calories. Keeps me in shape.”

“Apparently,” she smirked, rolling her eyes. The kid was oblivious.

“Nice car,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“So you said. My husband bought it for me for our tenth wedding anniversary.”

“Nice present.” Dan again gazed upon the body of the car. “This is a whole lotta car. Do you even get to enjoy it with all the traffic?”

“Sure. At the right time of day, the PCH is clear, and a great drive, too. We also take it over to our house in Palm Springs. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Dan hesitated a moment. He really wanted the workout that the bike ride would provide, but at the same time really wanted to take a ride in the Aston Martin. “Sure, why not? I have to work tomorrow afternoon. I’ll just get a ride or something.”

Katie Marcus pushed herself off the passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side, the heels of her Gucci slides clacking against the tarmac. Dan remained standing at the driver’s door, and Katie made no move to open the door herself.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mrs. Marcus,” Dan laughed, somewhat flustered at being in the presence of such beauty – he had always loved Aston Martins; such graceful lines. “I must have left my manners at home.” He opened the car door and allowed Katie room to settle into the driver’s seat before scurrying around to the other side. Before he fastened his seatbelt, she accelerated away from the curb and took a right at Ashland, then another right at Ocean, a low rumble playing through the exhaust pipes.

“So tell me, Dan. What are you studying?” she inquired, pulling errant strands of windblown hair from her face.

“Finance. I’m not really sure what I wanna do yet, but my parents think finance provides a good background.” He was hearing her words, but barely paying attention, instead wallowing in the exhaust notes as the engine burped and growled.

“Indeed it does. Some people think money is found in medicine or the law, but that’s not true. The real money is in finance,” Katie responded, pulling up to a stoplight at PCH.

“I guess. It just seems so boring. It’s all numbers and accounting and ... uh ... why are you getting on PCH?” he asked, looking in her direction. “It’ll take you forever to get me back to campus going this way.”

Without taking her eyes off the car in front of her, she responded, “Probably, but the scenery is much better. Don’t you think?”

“Well, I guess. I just don’t want to put you out.”

‘You have no idea, kid,’ Katie thought as she turned the Aston Martin onto PCH and accelerated, her hair whipping in the draft created by the car’s speed along the coastline.

She and Dan continued their small talk as she sped a few miles up PCH. When she breezed right past Sunset, Dan interrupted himself. “Uh, not sure where you’re going, but you just passed Sunset. I’m enjoying the ride and all, but going back through the Canyon and down the Valley will take hours.”

“Don’t worry about it. I live right up here.” She smiled at him; the dark Chanel glasses hid her eyes, but her full, red lips parted, revealing a dazzling smile. “I’ll get you back to that fraternity house in time for your little party, but until then...” Katie dropped her right hand from the gear shift to Dan’s exposed thigh. She lightly scraped those long manicured nails along his flesh, sending shivers up his spine. “And please, call me Katie. ‘Mrs. Marcus’ makes me feel like an old lady.”

Katie’s actions silenced Dan for the moment, but she did not relent, and kept her hand on his bare thigh, lightly rubbing the muscled flesh, tracing circles in his leg hair with her nails. Dan squirmed in his seat, uneasy at this turn of events. Certainly, he found Katie beautiful – hot as fuck, even – but he was unprepared for this. His stomach knotted and seemed to turn over on itself. But despite his trepidation, his cock began to swell.

Soon, the car rumbled past Pepperdine and she slowed a few miles later, her blinker indicating a left turn. When traffic cleared, she pulled across PCH and steered the car down a sidestreet and eventually onto a macadam driveway barred by a wide, swinging gate. Katie’s hand left Dan’s leg to press a button mounted on the sun visor, and the gate slowly slid open, revealing a pea-gravel driveway.

As soon as the gate opened, she eased the car through the pillars and up the winding, tree-lined path, the gravel crunching beneath wide tires. A slight breeze rustled the trees overhead and, as the car rounded a bend, a magnificent Spanish-style villa appeared. A fountain placed in the middle of an open courtyard spat water into the air, and Katie pulled the car around the fountain.

She brought the sleek car to a halt in the courtyard and killed the engine, releasing the catch of her seatbelt at the same time. With an inexplicable grace for a woman in heels climbing a low-slung sports car, Katie unfolded herself from the driver’s seat and strutted around the back of the car toward the front door. Dan followed, on her heels as a ten-foot door of carved mahogany swung open, aided by an elderly, liveried gentleman.

“Good afternoon, Amos,” she intoned as she marched past the man.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” He gave only a curt nod to Dan, who followed the woman through a large foyer that stretched the depth of the house, ending in a great room with French doors that led to an enormous terra cotta veranda. Katie dropped her purse on a side table before pushing through one of the doors and stepping onto the patio.

Dan followed her and, stepping onto the terrace, paused to take in the beauty of the property. Large slate slabs surrounded a shimmering swimming pool. Beyond that was a good fifty yards of lush, green lawn, the scent of freshly cut grass heavy in the air. The property ended abruptly, and he heard waves crashing below what must have been a cliff. To the right of the pool was an outdoor shower surrounded on three sides by slate-covered half-walls, and then a small pool house. To the left were further expanses of slate dotted with several tables and chaise lounges, some with cabanas, some without.

Leaving Dan in her wake, her scent lingering in the air and mixing with the earthy smell of the lawn, Katie pranced over to one of the tables that sat beneath an open umbrella. Dan followed, taking a seat across the glass-topped wrought iron table from her. Soundlessly, the butler materialized at the table.

“Would you like a refreshment, ma’am?”

“That’d be lovely, Amos. Sapphire and tonic, please. Two limes, of course.”

“Of course. And for the gentleman?” he asked, turning toward Dan.

“Uh ... the same thing, please.”

“Certainly,” Amos responded, before retreating into the villa.

“Beautiful property, Katie.”

“Isn’t it? It’s been in my husband’s family for three generations,” she informed. “We’ve been here for five or six years, and I can’t get enough of it. It’s so peaceful.” Katie crossed one trim leg over another, exposing further expanses of tan, taut flesh that shimmered in the slowly fading light. A heel dangled precariously from her toes.

“I bet.” Dan paused; the only sounds were the waves crashing against the rocks at the base of the cliff, and the faint burbling of the pool’s filtration system.

“So close to PCH, but you can’t hear a thing ... just the waves.”

“I’ll bet the sunsets are something, too.”

“Mmm-hmm. If you’re here long enough, you may get to see one.”

Before Dan responded, Amos reappeared with their drinks on a tray, setting it on the table between them. “May I be of further assistance, ma’am?”

“Not right now, Amos. Thank you. But have you gone to the grocer’s yet?”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t. I was waiting for you to return, but can leave any time you wish.”

“Wonderful. While you’re out, please stop off at the dry cleaners, and also at Colony House. I have an order ready for pick-up.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Amos once again retreated into the house.

Sipping their drinks, Dan and Katie sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the late afternoon sun falling toward the horizon and in the tranquility offered by the old estate. Before long, they heard the low rumble of an SUV backing out of the garage and making its way down the driveway.

As the crunching of gravel receded, Katie took a short pull from her drink. “So,” she began, setting her drink on the table, turning it on the condensation that collected beneath it.

Dan looked at her expectantly, and then turned his gaze to the horizon, bringing his glass to his lips. When Katie rose from her chair, he turned toward her again as she came around the table, a gentle breeze rustling her blonde tresses. When she neared him, she turned slightly, almost presenting her backside to him, and slowly, gracefully, lowered her bottom to his left thigh.

“Um...,” he murmured, sitting up straighter in the chair.

As Katie’s warm body sank into his, she draped her right arm around his neck. A finger beneath his chin tipped his face up toward her own. Dan’s heart slammed into his chest. His eyes remained locked on the slender, tanned face that descended on him, on the lightly powdered high cheekbones, on the lush red lips that parted slightly. His nostrils flared, attempting to suck in as much of her intoxicating scent as possible.

When her soft lips lightly brushed against his, his stomach knotted and his cock stirred. The scent of her perfume overwhelmed him, and his eyes rolled up before fluttering shut.

Katie caressed his cheek, her nails light on his skin. After a few light brushes of her lips along his, they parted and her tongue traced along the outlines of Dan’s mouth. Despite the hardening of his cock, Dan pulled back when her tongue slipped between his lips and into his mouth.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Katie,” he breathed, eyelids fluttering again.

“My husband’s gone, sweetie,” she whispered, planting light kisses up the left side of the young man’s chin, making her way toward his ear. Her left hand dropped to his chest, gently rubbing his firm muscles. “He won’t be back until tomorrow,” she breathed, her hot breath caressing his inner ear and sending shivers up his spine.

“But...” he began before Katie lightly nipped at his earlobe and then sank her hot tongue into his ear, breathing heavily.

“But nothing,” she moaned. Katie continued her manipulation of Dan’s fragility before patting him on the chest with her hand, sitting up straight on the lap of this young man. “Come on. Let’s go swimming,” she offered.

“Wha ... what about Amos, or whatever his name is?”

She squirmed in Dan’s lap, grinding against his hardened cock, as she answered. “He won’t be back for an hour or so. C’mon.” She lifted herself off him, pulling one of his hands with her.

“But I don’t have a bathing suit,” Dan protested weakly as he rose to shaky legs.

“Don’t worry about it. There are plenty in the pool house.” A red-tipped finger pointed across the pool as she released his hand and walked away from him, toward the villa. “I’ll be back in a few. The bathing suits are hanging outside the shower room.”

On trembling legs, Dan walked around the pool toward the small bungalow-style building. Entering, he found the hooks holding spare bathing suits, apparently for their guests. “What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pulling a pair of board shorts from a hook. He held them up to make sure they’d fit him. “This is crazy. What the fuck am I doing here?” he asked himself rhetorically as he slipped his shorts and boxers off, replacing them with the suit.

Leaving his clothes in the pool house, but with his shirt still on, Dan returned to the pool deck as Katie stepped from the French doors at the rear of the villa. He stood at the shallow end of the pool, dumbstruck as he watched her coast across the veranda toward the pool.

Katie had removed her relatively conservative attire in favor of a silver lame bikini. Her lightly muscled legs undulated as she moved across the slabs toward the pool. A taut stomach, tanned a rich golden brown, hinted at serious time spent at the health club and in the sun. The instant that Dan saw Katie at the World Café, he was attracted to her, but he never imagined that beneath her restrained skirt and top she had hidden such a hot fucking body.

More enticing than her legs and stomach were her breasts. They swelled inside the glittery top, bulged from her chest, and wobbled as she strutted toward the pool. A light smattering of freckles appeared at the top of the swells, continuing up toward her neck and off her golden shoulders. Thick nipples were evident through the paper-thin fabric.

Without stopping, Katie continued toward the pool and fell into a graceful dive. Beneath the water, she stroked a third of the length of the pool toward the shallow end before surfacing. Bringing her legs beneath her, she stood up straight, pulling her blonde locks away from her face, and exposing her full lips and high cheekbones. Her bikini top sagged slightly, revealing a crisp tan line across the top of her massive breasts.

“What are you waiting for? Jump in,” she commanded, her piercing green eyes alive and dancing in the setting sun.

Dan hesitated a moment before pulling his shirt over his head as he walked toward deeper water. He dove in and quickly surfaced, shaking water from his closely-cropped hair.

“Feels great, huh?” she asked as she doggy-paddled toward a ladder.

“Wonderful,” he responded, treading water. “Great day for it.”

Katie climbed the ladder and padded across the pool deck toward the table where they had been sitting, water dripping off her firm body as she went. She retrieved their drinks and returned to the side of the pool, setting them down near where Dan was treading water. She then leaped in, head first, and swam a lazy circle around him. She made her way back to the ledge near their drinks and took a long sip from the tall glass. A moment later, Dan joined her there.

“I never tire of having drinks in the pool at sunset on a hot afternoon.” Holding on to the edge of the pool, Katie floated closer to Dan and kissed him hungrily, her wet tongue sliding over his lips, shoving into his mouth, her bloated breasts bobbing on the surface of the water. Dan reacted and kissed her back. “Even better when I have company,” she whispered, her words muffled as she mashed her soft mouth against his. Before Dan’s hand found her hip to pull her closer, she pulled away, slipping from his grasp.

Grabbing her drink, she doggy-paddled toward the shallow end of the pool, closer to the pool house. Dan followed, leaving his drink where it was. By the time he caught up to her, Katie had reached the other side of the pool and had thrown her arms up on the edge, looking out over the ocean at the setting sun.

Dan approached her from behind and placed his arms around her midsection, feeling the tautness of her belly. He nibbled lightly at her neck, the scent of chlorine strong. The gurgling of a pool filter drowned out the sounds of the ocean below.

“Mmm. That feels nice,” she murmured, bringing her drink to her lips.

Dan allowed his hands to float toward the surface, brushing lightly against her stomach as they rose to her breasts. They filled his hands, the thickened nipples hard against his palms.

“And that, too,” she again murmured, setting her drink down and resting her head on her crossed arms. Dan kneaded the firm flesh and then tentatively grasped her turgid nipples between thumbs and forefingers, squeezing them delicately.

“Nice, too,” she whimpered, grinding her taut butt against him. “But harder.”

Dan slowly increased the pressure on Katie’s now-engorged nipples, alternately pinching and twisting them.

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

“Too much?” he asked earnestly, unsure of himself.

“No ... God no,” she gasped, squirming backward against him, grinding that firm little butt against his cock.

Encouraged, Dan’s hands left the older woman’s hardened nipples and he hooked his fingers into the top of the bikini, easing the cups down and exposing the enormous breasts to the lapping pool water. His hands slid along the outer swells of them, undulating over the faint ripples caused by the implants, then again took her swollen nipples between his fingers, pinching, pulling, twisting. Katie grunted and groaned, and jammed her ass back against him.

Emboldened, Dan’s right hand released a nipple. He looked around, still apprehensive that someone might walk into the backyard and catch them. Seeing no one, he relaxed a little and allowed his free hand to massage its way down her chest and stomach toward her bikini line. Reaching it, he traced a finger along the edge of the bikini bottom, hesitating to dip further.

Katie, unaware of Dan’s residual nervousness, thought he was simply teasing her and groaned in frustration. She pulled an arm from beneath her resting head and plunged it beneath the surface of the water, finding Dan’s probing hand and pushing it into her bikini bottom.

Dan’s hand sunk deeper into her bikini and found her bare pussy, and she released her grip on his wrist. He ran a finger down each side of her slit, back up, and down again. His middle finger strayed into the crevice between her full labia and, beneath the surface of the pool, parted her delicate lips. He sank it into the folds of the married woman’s pussy then withdrew it.

His left hand remained at Katie’s left breast, kneading the firm flesh, feeling it squish between his fingers, the nipple trapped between two knuckles.

“Pinch harder,” she moaned.

Dan complied, and again took a thick nub between his fingers, pinching and twisting. As he did so, his right hand found Katie’s clitoris and flickered over it lightly. She ground her ass harder against him, and the speed and pressure of his finger against the older woman’s clit increased.

Still resting against the side of the pool, Katie’s breathing quickened and became labored. Dan pinched and pulled at her left nipple as though trying to milk her, and his inexperienced fingers sped over her hardened clit, water splashing against their bodies as his hand jerked beneath the surface.

Katie began to heave, and she grunted out, “Twist it! Harder!”

Dan twisted the nipple wickedly, distorting her breast.

The woman shuddered and shook as an orgasm washed over her lithe body. Her knees wobbled but she was held upright, trapped between the side of the pool and the young man assaulting her body.

Dan increased the pace of his manipulation of her clit, all the while twisting the thick, reddened nipple, releasing it, twisting again, releasing, testing this new frontier.

She convulsed in his arms, muttering “Omigod, omigod, fuckkkk!” the volume of her voice increasing with each utterance.

Katie’s body continued to tremble for the next thirty seconds, and when her orgasm began to subside, she raised her head from the cradle of her arms and looked over her shoulder at the young man, a lustful gleam in her eye. “You’re a very bad boy,” she breathed.

Katie bucked her firm ass against the kid, pushing him away from her, and turned from the edge of the pool, facing him. She took his face in her hands and pulled him into her, their lips smashing together, tongues playing against each other. As Dan placed a hand behind her head, wrapping her blonde tresses in his fingers, she dropped a hand to the board shorts, finding his engorged cock.

“Thick and hard,” she moaned into his mouth. “The younger the better.”

Katie’s slender fingers moved to the drawstring on the trunks, pulling it loose. She delved her hand into the young man’s swim trunks and it curled around the turgid shaft. She stroked up and down the shaft, pausing to drag her nails over the tight sperm-laden balls, and then both of her hands pushed the suit over his hips and down his legs.

Katie guided Dan around so that his back was against the pool wall. “Up,” she said, her painted nails tapping him lightly on his chest. He put his arms behind him and lifted himself onto the edge of the pool, water dripping from his young body. She pulled the suit the rest of the way off his legs and moved between them, pushing them apart.

Placing a hand against his chest, Katie pushed Dan backward so that he was resting on his elbows. Leaving her manicured hand on his chest, the long, red nails tracing circles over his nipples, she dropped her head toward his waist and took the fat cock into her mouth, her free hand circling the base and squeezing.

Dan was overcome with lust at the sight before him. Katie’s large breasts rested on his thighs. Her still-red lips stretched tautly over his shaft, occasionally exposing the shiny, purple head of his cock. Her manicured fingers tightly gripped the base of his cock, seemingly trying to draw the cum from his balls. Her head bobbed, leaving trails of red-tinged saliva dripping down the thick, veiny shaft.

Though he was still nervous at being in this married woman’s pool, both of them naked, his excitement engulfed those worries and his balls tightened, the cum churning.

But before he released a torrent of cum down the woman’s throat, Katie released his cock and pushed herself away from the edge of the pool. “Stay where you are,” she ordered, backstroking away, her inflated tits seeming to float atop her chest.

When she reached the opposite side of the pool, she hauled her trim body from the water and trotted over to one of the poolside tables, and grabbed a bottle. She turned and dove back into the pool, swimming underwater toward Dan’s prone figure, breaking the surface right between his legs.