Chapter 522: Play Date With Trina And Her Friends

I might as well see Trina about this afternoon’s playdate.

I showered, got lunch, and headed over to see why Trina called my parents to arrange for me to come over.

Cars filled her driveway and went down along her street. I found a spot down the block to park my beat-to-hell Camry.

Trina met me at the door, naked. I quickly stripped, and she did a double-take. I got my dick sucked hard for her to check to find that it was nine inches. I thought I had been here since Paula’s accident, but it seems I hadn’t, or she wasn’t around when I visited.

“Now that changes things a bit, David,” Trina told me. “Except for the girls whose cherries you popped years ago and me, the others here are all virgins. They are all sixteen or older in case things move in that direction. I hadn’t planned on having sex with you, but that is a damn perfect dick. Lenny is too fat for us if we don’t want to get stretched out. Could you give me a quickie?”

It was the definition of a quickie. Trina’s pussy was barely even moist when she came. I had a much longer fuck with her best friend, who got her pie creamed in return for the string of orgasms I gave her.

None of the girls out by the pool would have minded me mounting them, but Trina said they wanted me over to hang out. They all had boyfriends but weren’t ready to move past heavy petting with a bit of oral. I was here to be a guy for them to ask guy questions who would give them honest answers and not try to molest them, even if they wanted it.

One of them finally asked the question I suspect they were all thinking about, “What the heck do you do with all that money?”

“I don’t seem to be doing enough to spend it fast enough. I give outrageous raises to the staff at my restaurants and businesses, pay for over ten thousand foster kids living in my four foster care complexes, and help people who need it. I don’t even know how many millions of dollars it cost to get two kids updated prosthetics and get their brother a car to drive his two siblings around. His parents got new ones too. Someone used my money to renovate their house at the same time. He wrote a letter asking me to help him get a reliable used car to take his siblings to and from their doctor’s appointments, so his parents didn’t have to take off work. Things went a bit overboard,” I told them.

One girl asked, “That is a lot of money to spend on a stranger. It doesn’t sound like they will ever pay you back.”

“I’m not bragging or being a dick when I say the money doesn’t matter,” I told her. “When the guy died, I got much more than just money. I don’t even know all of the companies and businesses under all of my many corporations. Whoever set all this up made it so that these businesses give me ten percent of their net profits. That is the money they have after paying everyone and all their bills. These places are all profitable, so I get money from them. The corporation that owned the land where I built the foster care complexes puts money in the bank even after paying all the complexes’ costs. Each complex is a mini-city with hospitals, dentists, mental health doctors, schools, and everything else they may need. I pay for it all. I don’t even fully grasp how much I make an hour.”

A different girl asked, “So, what are we talking about here? Something like a thousand dollars an hour or something?”

Now you’ve got me curious.

I connected to my implant and had it run the query. I looked at my phone and checked it twice to ensure I wasn’t off by a few decimal places.

“If I only got the pitiful half of the one percent interest banks are paying in the U.S., just what I have in cash in the bank earns around five-hundred-thousand an hour. But my money isn’t in the U.S. banks. It is at a bank on an island out in the ocean somewhere. It is only large enough to have a small embassy, helipad, dock, and bank. I own the bank and island. Because the bank makes loans of no less than a billion dollars, I earn a much higher interest rate on my money. According to what I see on my phone, I get around ten percent interest from the loans and six percent on the rest. From my phone shows, it is between five and ten million dollars an hour. That doesn’t include what I get from the businesses. Some quick math shows that it is about one-hundred-fifty-thousand a minute. Beats the hell out of minimum wage,” I replied.

“You have over a trillion dollars in the bank? That is more than the top ten wealthiest people in the world. Why aren’t you at the top of that list?” a girl asked.

I answered, “My assets and bank accounts aren’t where the people that make those ratings can access. Plus, who would believe a nineteen-year-old has a trillion in the bank and nearly another trillion in assets? While I can work out an even swap, I can’t sell any of the companies, either. Any I do exchange comes with the old company still paying me ten percent of their net profits. I’ve banked over two million dollars in the time we’ve been hanging out.”

“But you drive a piece of shit car. I saw you drive up,” a girl said. “Why don’t you drive a Ferrari or Lamborghini? Didn’t you go to some top driving school where you learned to drive them at high speed?”

“I drive them from time to time when I have somewhere I can enjoy driving them. I could buy one, take it out once, give it away, and never notice. Before I had any money, someone gave me a beat-up Honda for my first car and replaced it with a Camry after something happened to the Honda. It gets incredible gas mileage, and no one will park around it. People don’t even give me a second look when I get out of it,” I told her. “If I put a million dollars in all of your accounts right now, how much would you have left in a month? Would you be able to pay the ongoing taxes on what you bought? Give it some thought. Food seems to have magically arrived. I hope you like burrito bars.”

The girls talked through what they would do with a million dollars as we ate. Some wanted to buy a big house. I explained that they would have to pay property taxes on that house for the rest of the time they owned it. That could be as low as one percent of the home’s appraised value, but more expensive houses tend to have a higher property tax rate than one percent. They had to add in repairs and maintenance. That was all after the federal government taxed the million at thirty-seven percent. Add in the state and local taxes they were looking at, up to fifty percent going to the government right off the top. That put them at five hundred grand.

Buying the house comes with closing costs, commissions, and sales tax. They were looking at around fifteen percent. Sales tax on exotic cars also tended to be higher than the regular tax rates, plus you had insurance.

“Say you buy a Ferrari at two-seventy-five. You are looking at around three-hundred-grand with taxes. I will guess your insurance for a teenage driver is around fifty-thousand a year if they insure you. They usually want you to be at least twenty-five with a clean driving history. If you are lucky, you might get to drive it up to five thousand miles a year. Plus, many require you to have another car as your primary vehicle. More likely than not, you won’t have any insurance on the Ferrari and thus have to pay everything out of pocket in a wreck. Driving a car like that means you are likely to get sued for a million dollars or more if you are at fault,” I explained.

“But you had that Lotus at fifteen,” Trina noted.

“Yes, and it was insured by the performance driving school until I got all this money. I don’t know if I own an insurance company or just have lawyers that settle claims if I get into an accident. Say I did hit someone, and then they sued me. If the jury felt generous and gave the person a hundred million dollars, I would have earned that back in a day. That is, at the U.S. average savings rate of half of a percent,” I answered. “If I hit someone in the Camry, they would be lucky to get whatever the insurance policy has for a maximum. Given that there are some safety modifications, the emergency braking would reduce the damage further.”

One of the girls said, “Thinking about all the downsides of having a million dollars is making my head hurt.”

I told her, “Now you see why I don’t even try to figure out how much I have coming in. If you get your parent’s permission in the next ten minutes, you can eat dinner at an exclusive private nudist resort. The top ten wealthiest people in the world must book their reservations at least two years in advance. Spend the summer if you want.”

“Bullshit,” one girl said and called her parents.

“David said that I could spend the summer at one of the most expensive exclusive resorts in the world. All I need is your permission. Can I go,” she asked her parents. “I have to know in the next ten minutes.”

They called her back two minutes later to tell her they got emailed forms to sign for the resort to have a power of attorney to treat the girl if she had a medical issue. Another form said that the place’s age of consent was fourteen. If sex was between an adult and a minor, the minor had to speak with someone at the resort to confirm they weren’t being forced or coerced. The adult guests wouldn’t risk the fate that would befall them if they messed around with a minor. The final paperwork confirmed the girl’s medical history, any meds she might be taking, allergies, and a statement saying that illegal drugs aren’t permitted at the resort. Her parents signed and sent everything off.

“You have seven minutes left,” I told them.

With a minute to spare, all of the girls, except Trina, had their parent’s approval. Most seemed to think it was a joke.

“I can’t reach my parents,” Trina said sadly.

I hugged her and said, “You didn’t need their permission. They are staying at the adults-only resort on the far side of the same island. You must read their emails closely instead of ignoring them because you are jealous of the pictures.”

“Get dressed. A van is waiting to take you to the private airport to catch your flight. Give your car keys to one of the people waiting outside. They will drive your car to your home for you and give your keys to your parents,” I told them.

Please don’t believe me! I don’t care.

I headed home and saw Crimilda, Ellen, Ariba, Rosie, Tee, Dee, and the unnamed boy chasing each other around with water guns and water balloons. When they saw me pull into the driveway, they ran toward the house. The dark cloud hanging over Dee seemed to have finally gone away.

Think again, kids. There is a hose connected to the corner of the garage. I can get to it before you get to me.

“DADDY, STOP!” Ellen squealed after I had soaked her from head to toe. “That water is cold!”

Before they could get close enough to get me wet, I had them all looking like drowned rats. They looked at each other and me and then stripped off their wet clothes. None of them seemed the least modest as they started to resume their attack on me.

“You didn’t just leave those wet clothes in the middle of the yard, did you?” I asked.

It made them stop long enough for me to get into the house before they could try to soak me. Like the good kids, each came in with their wet clothes to put them in the basket by the pool house, where guests put their wet bathing suits after changing. Ellen threw Dee into the pool. Soon everyone except the new boy ended up in the pool.

“Tim doesn’t like water,” April said as she walked over to take Tim’s hand.

Ellen added, “That isn’t true. He doesn’t like the pool because he can’t swim.”

April got Tim to sit down and put a tween-sized life jacket with integrated water wings on him. She zipped it up and got him over to the side of the pool. I heard Ellen and April over the link as April told Ellen to pull Tim into the pool as she pushed him.

I was faster. I grabbed Tim and launched him toward the deep end. He came up floundering, but as soon as he stopped freaking out, the life jacket had him bobbing away. Tim managed to dog-paddle his way to where he could stand up.

“Welcome to the gang, Tim. If you hang around, get used to being thrown or pushed in the pool. We won’t do it without you wearing a life vest until you can swim well without it. April can teach you to swim if you want. She is part fish,” I told him.

He thought, “I know how to swim and don’t hate water. I get tired fast when swimming, and I don’t have enough fat to float well, so I sink. I can’t hold my breath for long either.”

“Tim, take off the vest and get where you can only touch on your tip-toes. Try to float first and swim from side to side until you get tired.” He did two laps before she was too tired to keep swimming.

Once he got his breath back, he tried six times to see how long he could hold his breath. Fifteen seconds was his best. We got him back in a life vest to keep him safe.

I told Ellen, “You need to help Tim work on all his muscles. I’ll message Molly to get Tim some shakes made up for him. He needs some fat in his diet as well.”

“Why Ellen,” Dee asked. “He’s going to be living with me in my room.”

I replied, “Because he will live with you in your room. Do you want Tim mad at you because you made him hurt all over? I’m sure he would appreciate you helping rub his sore muscles instead.”

“Rub something else, too,” Rosie said before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Did I change her brain so much that there is nothing of Chrissy left inside her now? Rosie seems like an entirely different person altogether. That isn’t exactly a bad thing, though.

Dee fired right back, “You didn’t complain about him rubbing your something else earlier.”

Tee had to add, “What is the big deal? We rub each other’s something else all the time. I would rub his something else, and he can rub mine.”

“Your boys, Tee,” Ariba said. “You will let anyone rub your something else even if they were perverted, dirty creeps, as long as they weren’t forcing you to let them.”

“Yeah, so?” he bantered.

As the kids teased each other, I noticed that Crimilda got out of the pool to go to the bathroom, and Tim did as well.

Rosie noted that too and said, “Now look what you’ve done. He went off to the bathroom with Crimilda again. At least no one will have to worry about rubbing his something else for a while, or hers.”

“ROSIE JONES!” I yelled at her. “That is going over the line and being outright mean. It doesn’t matter what they do in the bathroom together if they even go to the same bathroom. I won’t have you spreading rumors about each other or other kids at school. What they do between them is private. It doesn’t matter if you were right there when they did something. It isn’t cool for you to say anything about it. I have a lot of kids, but you won’t ever hear me talking about my sex life. If you do that again, I will have my mom sit down with you to chat about it.”

Go off and cry about it, Rosie. That still won’t change things.

Crimilda coming back from the bathroom with Tim and her slapping Rosie’s face didn’t help matters.

After asking Tim for permission, Crimilda said, “Tim isn’t verbal, as you know, so he had no way to tell you that he gets constipated, and it hurts him a lot. I had to learn to resolve it for others when I lived with my aunt and uncle before moving to live with my sister Becky. Since you never asked, I’m going to tell you something. I’m not a virgin because I was raped almost daily by my cousins and uncles. The police wouldn’t believe me if they watched my uncle screwing me in the squad room. I don’t have to suffer that anymore, but it doesn’t mean I don’t get horny like other girls. If Tim is going to have sex with anyone, it will be with Dee.”

“LIAR,” Rosie yelled at Crimilda.

Ariba went to put her arm around Rosie and said, “Crimilda, Ellen, and I all come from families that don’t follow most laws or live in places where adults raping children get overlooked. Certain things get accepted as being part of life in that world. I didn’t get touched for many reasons. Mostly because my aunt Elise would find an excruciatingly slow way for whoever did that to me to die. Anyone who managed to molest or rape Ellen would forever be watching over their shoulders. David doesn’t worry about them one bit compared to what Ellen will do to them when she finds them. Crimilda’s parents froze some of their embryos, and her aunt found one. That witch planned to kill off Becky, who became head of the entire big family and make Crimilda the head of the family. They would control Crimilda to have her do what they wanted. Her family could do whatever they wanted to Crimilda if they didn’t kill her or do anything permanent. Ask Dee, Tee, Bambi, or Camden if you don’t believe us. If you’re still not convinced, David can take you to visit various of these elite families for you to see things firsthand.”

That made Rosie cry even more. When she calmed down, she did ask why he didn’t take a laxative or poop-softener.

“Tim can’t take those because they will make him deathly ill. Whatever is in them interacts badly with his body. Did you notice that he has been eating fruit and drinking juice all day?” Crimilda asked Rosie.

They seem to have things worked out and are riding each other’s butts when someone screws up.

One of the pediatricians came out, took Tim’s hand, and told him, “We are going to fix your constipation problem right now the old-fashioned way.”

He had a look of pure fear on his face.

“Don’t be a baby! They will put water in your butt to get all the poop out. You will feel better fast,” April told him.

Snowflake came out looking embarrassed. Snowflake told Tim that she had been backed up for days too. The nurse was giving her an Enema as well. They could see who could hold it for the longest time before running to the toilet.

That seems like an odd thing to have as a challenge. It must be a kid thing somehow.

One of the nurses got the kids to one of the areas they used to do enemas.

“Not the most pleasant way to get kids to give a stool sample, but they aren’t all that willing to fish poop from the toilet or go over a bucket,” the pediatrician explained. “I wish someone warned me about Tim dropping in my lap. There is majorly crazy stuff in his medical records. I did note that some doctors reported that what they theorized was a psychic connection between him and selected others. April is the one that came to tell me that he was constipated. I quit questioning how April could do that years ago. She’s told me multiple times that your siblings were sick or had something else off with them way before they started to show symptoms.”

With nothing else on my to-do list, I went for a walk until time for dinner. It was going to be an hour later than usual due to my parent’s late meetings today.