2. The Trophy Wife and The Stud

June 15, 1995
The Videotape

7:00. The numerals blinked in the corner for a few seconds, and the tape began to roll. The scene was focused on a workout room: tile walls, 3 pieces of overly-expensive equipment, a weight bench.

The man came into view from beneath the camera. He was in his mid 40s, a touch of gray around the temples, and with only the slightest paunchy belly. His upper body was muscular and well developed. He worked for some time with the machines before turning to the weight bench and the free weights ... only a few minutes on leg exercises and even fewer on ab-work.

Almost exclusively, he worked his arms and shoulder muscles. In between sets, he'd flex his biceps or strike what he thought of as his "HULK" pose, trying to ripple the muscles of his chest or back. But he never spent very much time on his legs or trying to get rid of that little paunch.

7:30 blinked the clock in the corner of the screen.

The man was covered in sweat now and the breaks between sets were longer. Ten minutes later a small platinum blonde came into the room. She was petite and large busted, and wore an impossibly tight and revealing cheerleader uniform, her breasts bulging above the deep plunge of the neckline, the cheeks of her ass nearly visible as she pirouetted. Posing, she talked to the man and he stopped his workout and smiled back at her.

She bent low to tie a shoe, and his eyes were glued to the blonde's cleavage. Then she flapped the front of her tiny cheerleader skirt, flashing him a view of a deep blue triangle of silk that covered her sex. Centered on the blue was a red heart.

She was prancing and teasing as she got closer.. just out of his reach. He leaned forward and grabbed her, mauling her large, firm breasts in his meaty hands. She grimaced for a second but then pushed herself at him. He ripped the cheerleader's tunic off her chest and grabbed a double handful of her tits. Using them for handles, he pulled her close and buried his face between them. She curled one hand behind her head urging him on.

The blonde cheerleader backed off a bit and then slipped to her knees, sliding the man's shorts down as she dropped to the floor. His cock was large: about 9 inches and very thick. She wrapped both her hands around it and began to lick and nibble at the large, deep red head. She seemed intent on teasing him: she'd lick for a while, then stop to talk to him, shake her blonde hair over his crotch, then use her mouth again.

When he began to thrust his hips at her face, she picked up his pace and took more of his member into her mouth. It almost looked like she was praying: on her knees, both hands clasped together. But of course, no prayer included bobbing her head down on his shaft, or the exotic shake of platinum blonde hair as she twisted her face to increase the stimulation for him.

Suddenly he reached for her shoulders. Simultaneously pulling her off him and closer to his face, he spit on the valley between her pale breasts. He slid to the end of the bench, eagerly trying to get his cock between them. She pushed her breasts together and began to bounce up and down on her knees, moving her tits up and down around him. It took just a few strokes before he found his release, shooting a pair stringy jets of jism across her face and bosom.

He nearly collapsed backwards as she cleaned him up with her hair, and led him to the shower area that can be seen at the back of the gym.

The pair showered: she carefully soaping and tending to his body. When it was her turn she soaped her breasts and rubbed them against his broad chest. Newly aroused, he grabbed her waist and turned her around. He bent her at the waist and roughly entered her. She smiled back over her shoulder and in about 3 minutes he shuddered and then withdrew quickly. He pushed her under the water and left to get dressed, off camera.

8:00. She wrapped herself in a towel and flicked off the light.

End of tape.

Bobby

"UHH"

Each rep with the machines caused Bobby Droux to grunt. It was damn hard keeping in shape at 46, but it was worth it. He put in a good half hour in his gym at home every day but Wednesdays and Saturday. 'Still manage to get in my exercise those days,' he thought.

"UHH"

Saturdays he played golf at the club. And on Wednesdays he got his exercise at lunch, fucking his new 'administrative assistant' on the couch in his office. Remembering yesterday's session brought a smile to his face.

"UHH"

He'd finally forced the heavy head of his thick tool into her throat. He laughed to himself as he remembered how she'd struggled at first, but the bitch took it! 'Administrative assistant, what a laugh. If the cow wouldn't take it in the ass by the Fourth of July she'd be gone.'

"UHH"

Getting hard was interfering with his workout, so he left the machine. He laid down on the weight bench and began working with the weights. 'Babs will be in soon anyway,' his mind drifted off to his wife as he exercised.

"5...6...7..."

She'd been a cheerleader for the Orlando Magic when he'd first seen her. On an 'off' evening during a business conference, he'd gone to watch the Mavericks get beat by the Magic, and the small bundle of red-headed energy spent the evening bouncing around in front of his section of seats.

"12...13...14...15..."

He'd made it his business to go down at half time and invite her to dinner at the most expensive place he knew: the Members Room at the country club. 'Money'll do it every time,' he reflected. 'She was the first natural redhead I ever screwed.' Once he discovered how flexible and agile she was in bed, he was hooked.

"22...23...24..."

Bobby Droux had come home, rented a condo in North Dallas for 'his new piece,' and sent her a one-way plane ticket. Six months later, he was divorced and two months after that he married Babs. That was 6 years ago, when she was only 19. Since then, she did .... - he realized he didn't know what she did during the days, and didn't really give a fuck.  'Probably screwing the pool boy. Who cares, as long as she keeps her main stallion well serviced. She's got a tongue like a lizard, a trick pelvis and looks great on my arm at dinner parties.' Bobby Droux was a simple man: he did most of his thinking with his dick - and his checkbook.

"28...29...30"

A short platinum blonde walked into the gym. She wore a high school cheerleader's uniform, which her 38D bosom strained almost to the breaking point. Bobby looked up at her: "Damn Babs!" he said "You sure you didn't get a boob job I don't know about?"

"No, daddy. They're the same as the first time you saw 'em." She smiled and bent, unnecessarily, to tie her sneaker, giving him a good look at her cleavage.

"You decided to be a blonde bombshell for a while, huh?" He sat up and stripped off his shirt. He knew where he was going to be soon:  'I love me some titty fuckin with cheerleaders,' the lawyer thought. He'd never titty-fucked a cheerleader in his life - except for the one he married, but Bobby savored his fantasies in such detail that they'd become real memories for him.

Babs

Barbara stole a look at the bulge in his pants: he wasn't hard yet and she needed to get him fucked and showered in the next half hour. "I fought dat daddy would wike to pway wif a bwonde." She switched to her little girl voice. The one that turned him on so. It worked today, too. His pants started to tent up and he smiled.

"I'm so hot, daddy." She lifted the front of her cheerleaders skirt and fanned herself with it, revealing a matching royal blue g-string, which immediately caught his eye. It was new and had a red heart on the small triangle of silk. "I have a heart-on for you, daddy."

She took a step closer... just out of his reach... running her finger along the edge of her g-string. She thrust her pelvis at him. "See?"

"Yeah, baby, I see."  His voice was husky now, and he lifted himself up for a second while he removed his shorts and supporter.  He was big, the biggest she'd ever had: 9 inches and fat with a plum colored head. Not that she'd had so many.  In fact when she met Bobby, she was on the verge of getting kicked off the Magic's squad because she wouldn't party with the team, and the millionaire ballplayers were complaining.

He was SO good to her those first few months: plenty of money for her to send home to her mom in the retirement home, lots of attention and always waiting until she faked her orgasm before he came. As she looked at it, she licked her lips.  He had SUCH a nice cock.  To bad he didn't have a clue what to do with it.

She looked at him thru her eyelashes and let herself get grabbed. He mauled her breasts for a few minutes and ripped the cheerleader's tunic off her.  'Hope those buttons are easier to find than last time,' she thought as the white and blue buttons flew all over the small gym.

"Bluba-lubba-lubba-lubba-lubba-lubba-lubba."  Bobby loved pushing her breasts together against his face so he could make that motorboat sound.  She hated it.

"Oh yes, daddy! You know how that turns your widdle cheerleader on."  Her eye caught the clock on the wall. 7:40.  'If he's out of the shower by 8, I can get him dressed in time for that meeting with the architect.'  She reached down for his hard cock.

"YEAH, baby.  Daddy's got some meat for you.  11 inches of stud-meat for you."  She never could figure out where he started measuring to get to 11 inches - 'must be somewhere up near his asshole!' - but if he wanted it to be 11 inches, it was OK with her.  He put his hand on the back of her neck and started pushing her down.

She quickly stripped off the tunic and slid it under her knees as she knelt. Her small hand curled around his thick shaft.  It was warm and moist, encircling almost 2/3 of it. "OK, you big stud," she purred as she kissed her way down his chest, "just lay back and let Babs do what you like best."

The blonde hair splayed across his abdomen as her mouth found his hardcock. She nibbled at the large plum at the head of his member, her teeth scraping lightly across the silky smoothness. She flicked her tongue into the small slit and the shaft in her hand jerked in response.

She shook her head to give him a clearer view. He was leaning back on his elbows, looking down on her. "Look down on me is right... in every fucking sense of the word."

"C'mon stud," she cooed at him between slurpy licks on his cockhead. "Us cheerleaders like to taste quarterback jism." She stretched her mouth open wide, almost painfully wide, and began to bob her head over his member. It began to throb in her hand as she jacked him into her mouth.

Suddenly he sat up, grabbing her shoulders. He pushed her back and brought his face close to her chest. "PTTTOOOOOY"  He spat a big glob of spittle between her breasts.  She held her face in a false smile - she knew about the damn video camera he had "secretly" put in here.

She knee-walked up to his pelvis, pushing her breasts together around his member.  "Oh daddy is gonna do Bab's most favorite thing in the world," she coo'd at him in that babygirl voice.  Mentally she finished: "Second favorite, really, right after menstrual cramps!"

And she began to pump her breast-tunnel up and down his shaft, licking at the head at the top of each stroke. He jerked, spasmed and shot two skinny ropes of cum across her face and neck. She waited a heartbeat and then began to wipe his cock with the hair of the platinum wig.

"Thank you daddy, for this lovely necklace," Babs purred as she smeared his thin, milky semen across her upper chest. Better move it.  He'd want some more in the shower too... he always did.  With a quick glance at the clock she stood and took his hand and led Bobby Droux into the large shower at the far end of the workout room. 7.55

Bobby

He enjoyed having her wash him. She'd lather her hands and her body, then rub herself against his back while using her hands on his chest and cock. She used that sissy soap - the herbal crap with the smell - but it felt good in her hands. She'd plaster her big wet titties against his back and scrub the nipples up and down and around and around while her small warm hands stroked his cock. Even soft his shaft had plenty of room for both of her hands ... and it was anything but soft now.

She was still using that little girl voice that turned him to wood. "C'mon daddy, winse off. Your horney cheerleader wants another taste of her studly quarterback." She moved him so the spray washed his member and slid to her knees while she urged him with her hands to turn around to face her. With a loud slurrrp she sucked him into her mouth, and began lashing the underside of his cockhead with her tongue. He looked down at the wet blonde hair plastered against her head and... he reached for the shampoo.  'Hell, I may be the stud stallion in this house, but even I gotta take a couple of minutes to recover.'

With a small smile at the wonderful feel of her mouth on his cock, he casually tipped his head back into the shower's stream and lathered his own hair with the special "anti-baldness" formula that his buddies said worked wonders.  'Not that I need it ... but I don't want to need it either,' he reassured himself.

As he let the lather rinse away, he felt himself harden, so he decided to give Babs what he knew she wanted.

"Turn aroun' shugah."

Babs

She slithered up his body and turned around, bracing her hands on the built-in bench on the far wall of the shower.  'If I hurry up, I might even get off this time. He just came, maybe he'll last long enough.' It was more a hope than an expectation.

She slid her hand between her legs and spread her labia.  'HERE BOY! Barbara doesn't want no back door today.'  The base of her hand pressed against her clitoris and she ground her hips against her hand. It looked to Bobby that she was wiggling her ass at him alluringly, but all she was really trying to do was get off.

"Huwwy daddy. Babsie needs it bad!"  With a small growl, he took the half step toward her and drove his cock into her cunt.  Her moan was not fake.  She bumped and ground and wiggled against him. Her vaginal muscles clutched at the softhard of his member. And her hand was a blur on her clit.

'Close! Ohhhhh GOD! SO FUCKING CLOSE ... A little more ... JUST A LITTLE, and ...'

He pushed in, spasmed and withdrew before she could find release.  He slapped her ass and stepped back into the cascading water.  "Damn Babs! You're getting better every time."

It took her a pair of heartbeats to catch her breath. She stood up on shaky legs, her hand fisted between her legs. "Oh daddy! You're so good! Such a stud!" Her voice was tremulous with need, but he'd probably hear it as an afterglow.

He pushed her into the water and walked out. "Hurry up, baby. We got that builder comin' over soon."

The Meeting

Babs opened the door shortly after 8:40, and offered a confused frown to the man standing there. She gave him a look, top to toes: almost 6 ft tall, deep blue eyes, sandy hair, broad shoulders, trim waist, faded jeans, well worn blue broadcloth shirt, work boots.  "You aren't Howard Clinkshales, that I already know. He's 68, bald and has a big nose. So you are....?"

Mark was a bit surprised to hear an authoritative tone of voice from the woman who opened the door. Authoritative didn't quite go with someone who looked like raw sex.

"I'm Mark Gordon. And you're right, I'm not Howard. He - uh - said something came up at the last minute and he couldn't make it. But he said to tell you that I could handle putting in a deck without him. You are Mrs. Droux, right?"

What he saw was a small woman with platinum hair, nicely shaped auburn eyebrows, and a random splatter of freckles across a porcelain white face. The nose was slightly upturned and was bracketed by a pair of sea-green eyes.  She was dressed - or more accurately nearly dressed -- in micro-short painted-on lycra shorts and a halter top that let him know that there were several small bumps on the edge of her areolae, at about 2,4 and 5 o'clock on the right, and 12,3,6 and 7 o'clock on the left. Apparently her nipples were chilly. It was hard not to stare.

She waved a hand in front of her large breasts... intercepting his line of sight.  "Hello? Up a little?"  He realized he was wondering if she shaved her pussy or not... and wondering if he could tell by looking harder.

He blushed and met her gaze.  She smiled.  "Yes I'm Barbara Droux." The smile dropped from her face. "Don't call me anything but Mrs. Droux while Bobby - my husband - is around.  But when he's not, you can call me Barb -- not Babs.   And I know why Howard didn't come.  He thinks Bobby is an asshole, right?  C'mon in.  Have a seat over there in the front room - Coffee?"

Mark stepped in to the foyer and moved in the indicated direction, ignoring the issue of Clinkshales' reason for missing the meeting.  'Give the asshole what he wants, he will pay and on time too!' was Clinkshales' only advice.

"Uhhh.. sorry 'bout that. Coffee? Sure. Thanks. Black please."

He looked around.  They called this style "Traditional" in Dallas.  It was anything but; there was no tradition behind it at all.  The house was large - over 6,000 sq ft he guessed - with 12 ft ceilings, brick façade with 'marbelesque' floors and painted wood built-in everything.

Barbara walked into the room thru another door, carrying a tray with three cups.  She handed one to Mark just as a tall, well muscled man walked in.  He took a seat on the couch and wrapped an arm around Barbara's waist.  She giggled and sat on his lap before handing him his cup of coffee.

When she spoke, Mark tried not to spill his coffee.  She was using a little girl voice to her husband. "Daddy, this is Mark Gordon. Mr. Clinkshales couldn't come, but he said that Mr. Gordon could build our deck OK."

"Great honey!" said Bobby. He put his coffee cup in her waiting hand and reached across the table between them and shook Mark's hand. "Glad t' meetcha fella. If Howard says you can do it, then by dayum, I'm gonna let ya do it."

"Uhh Yes, Sir." He tried not to wince as Bobby gave him the 'ultra-hearty-I-can-squeeze-even-harder-if-I-wanted-to-hurt-you' handshake. Mark decided not to try and compete with a potential client. "I'm sure I can take care of a deck... and lots more if you need it. Now Mr. Droux...."

"Better call me Bobby, Mark. Otherwise I'll be lookin' around for my father." He barked out a fake laugh. "And this little thang is my Babs." The hand that had been around her waist had drifted and was now casually squeezing the inside of her right thigh ... very near the junction of her legs. Only by deliberate effort did Mark keep his eyes on Bobby's face.

"Right. Bobby then.  Well, if you'll give me the details of what you want, I can get started with an estimate."

"Mark. I'm a real estate lawyer.  I don't do details.  You just give Babs what she wants..." there was a pause of about a heartbeat.  Babs squirmed in Bobby's lap, and Mark didn't want to look at what Bobby's hand was doing between her legs.  "... and I'll pay the bills."  He leaned forward, and Bab's expression told Mark that she was in some pain.  Again Mark didn't look at what Bobby's hand must be doing in her crotch.  "Just don't fuck me over son," the lawyer continued, "cause I know construction and you don't want to mess with Bobby Droux."

"No.  No worries about that, Mr. - uh - Bobby.  Howard Clinkshales is my uncle, and just from knowing that, you know you can relax.  I make a decent profit and I do good work, so I have lots of repeat customers.  I don't have to cheat. ... I'll just get the details from Mrs. Droux."  That last remark earned him a small smile from the aforementioned Mrs. Droux, who had relaxed once Bobby had finished his little threatening remark.

Babs squirmed again and had a strange expression on her face when Bobby stood. Mark watched in semi-shock as Bobby lowered her to the ground, his arm across her torso. Apparently when he stood, he had lifted her with one hand in her crotch. Mark stood as well.

Bobby straightened the crease in his suit-pants and walked toward the back of the house. "I have to git to the office, so I can make enough to pay for all this."

Babs ... Barb ... Mrs. Droux .. whatever ... ran over on tiptoes to Bobby before he could get out of the room. She threw her arms around his neck and kicked one sneakered foot up behind her. "Gonna miss you, daddy!" Her voice oozed sex, now, but still in a little-girl tone. Mark found it was strangely exciting.

"Go on now, shugah.  I got to git!  And you know it.  You just tell him exactly what you want, and I'll buy it for ya." Bobby Droux, self-defined lawyer extraordinaire, extricated himself from her grasp and headed for the garage, and the Beemer that waited for him there.

She leaned out the door, until the garage door closed again with Bobby's car on the outside. Mark had stood transfixed during the little scene. Now he shifted awkwardly as she closed the door to the garage and turned to face him.

When she spoke, it was a normal voice again - the authoritative one she'd used at the front door. She pointed a crimson fingernail at Mark. "You make one comment about all that and you'll never get this job or any other.  You sit there.  I have to get changed out of this." Her thumb slid into the waistband of the sprayed-on shorts and she let it snap back audibly. "Or you can take a look outside. The deck is going across the whole back of the house."

Before he could even reply, she turned with the squeak of sneaker-on-hardwood-floor and marched down a hallway. Mark watched her white-lycra'd ass cheeks snicker-snack back and forth. 'Real nice ass, too!' he thought as he replayed the strange interaction between husband and wife.

Barb

Barbara Droux began rubbing the hard nubbin of her clit thru the rubbery shorts before she even closed the door to her bedroom.  She was still swampy-wet and sexed up from her non-satisfying session this morning with Bobby.  'And this fucking lycra kept me hot and bothered since then, too! At least the wet spot doesn't show thru.'  She ran to her bedside and retrieved her 'rubber lover' from the drawer.  It was a warm gel, translucent blue penis with bumps and ridges along its shaft, and had a special prong in front that straddled her clit.  Flopping back on the bed, she wriggled until the lycra pants were down around her knees.  She grabbed the rubber cock and slammed it into her pussy with one hand, twisting the vibrator knob on the bottom to HI with the other hand.

She bucked her hips up and down against her imaginary partner.  Her right hand was a blur as it pulled the rubber cock out and jammed it back in.  'Not as fucking big as Bobby ... but it's a damn sight more polite.'  It was her last conscious thought before her mind drifted away on a flight of fantasy fucking.

Mark

He sat for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts, then decided to get his clipboard from his truck.  He walked to the door - only to find himself opening a closet at the wrong end of the living room - when he heard her voice.  It was distant, and she must have been screaming to be heard all the way in here.

"Yes.. OH GOD YES... OH FUCK ME... FUCK MEEEEEEEEE ... DON'T STOP... YESYES YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS"

Mark quietly took his sudden erection to the REAL front door and slipped outside without slamming it.  He couldn't think of anything else except the outline of her pussy inside the lycra shorts, the visibility of her nipples beneath the halter top ... and what he was planning for his wife at lunch.

. . .

He was taking measurements 15 minutes later when Barb came down the steps from the kitchen door.  The only thing that was the same about her was the sneakers.  She was wearing a man's shirt faded-blue cotton shirt, tied at her midriff, a pair of not-tight jeans... and a shock of auburn hair, cut short, that matched her Celtic coloring.

Her face was flushed - and he knew the reason for THAT - and there was a genuine smile on her face. "Mark.. right? It is Mark?"

He nodded.  "Well, I'm sorry you had to see all that before... Bobby ... Well, Bobby likes to show off, sometimes.  And he really likes that 'Daddy' stuff.  This was one of those times."  There was an aggressive defensiveness to her tone.  "And just to be completely up front, you need to know that 'giving Babs whatever she needs' does not mean what you might think.  I don't fuck around.  Period."

Mark was taken aback, but said nothing... just a few "Uhhuh"s and "Mmmhmmm"s.

"But tell me honestly," she went on in the same tone, "what did you think of the outfit? Would the Daughtahs of the Confederacy approve of me wearin' it at the next Sunday tea?" Her voice took on a Scarlett O'Hara drawl. She fisted her hands and planted them on her hips; there was a twinkle in her eye as she looked at him.

Mark grinned. "Barb... it IS Barb, right?" he intentionally mocked her question of a moment ago.

"Better not be Babs!" she interrupted briefly.

Mark continued: "Half of 'em would fall over dead, the other half would be scandalized... but all the men would be panting and drooling. Is that the effect you'd be going for?"

"Well, Bobby would." She laughed. "Now let me tell you about this deck."

They talked for about an hour and a half about details and then she blew him away with her knowledge of dealing with subcontractors, avoiding potential liens on the property and structuring payments so that she would be fully protected, and he could be confident that he would be paid on time.  Whatever Barbara Droux was, she was not the bimbo trophy wife that Mr. Bobby Droux thought she was.

Mark left half an hour before his date for a nooner with Lissa, thinking of Barb's tight ass jiggling back and forth as she quick-marched down the hall.  He was still trying to figure out if there was enough room in those shorts for any pubic hair or if she was shaved, when he opened the door to Lissa's office.  His wife's secretary took one look at the glassy expression on his face, the boner in his pants and laughed.  She stuck a post-it note on his forehead and pushed him into her office, closing and locking the door behind him.

 

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Interludes - 3