It was just another day in paradise. Or at least that's what most people observing from the outside would surely think. Here I was, lounging by the pool in my skimpy pink bikini and soaking up the rays while maids and butlers saw to my every whim. Whether it was supplying food and drinks, applying sun lotion or even just fanning me I had servants to see to my every material need.
This has been my life for years now. At first I had loved it, my status as queen bee being the fulfilment of my life ambitions despite having only reached my late twenties. As I had grown up I'd absorbed the lesson that our celebrity infused culture had taught me. What mattered wasn't what you knew, it was how you looked. That was the route to wealth and power. And it was a route I was determined to follow.
My childhood had been anything but idyllic, brought up by an over-worked, under-paid single mom. Most kids looked to their parents as role models. Not me. My mom was a lesson in what not to do in life. She'd worked hard her whole life, gone to night classes to get a qualification and worked her way up to a junior finance position at one of the big banks. She did everything that you were supposed to do and yet she had so little to show for it.
I watched as my father walked out on her. He was a bum who cared more about his dick than he did about me or my siblings. So while my mom worked day and night to put food on the table he skipped out on us, lured away by a younger, fitter model. Now my mom had been laid off by the bank in one of their seemingly never ending series of restructurings, which were just euphemisms for firing a load of people and getting everyone else to work harder to pick up the slack.
What was she left with? Bags under the eyes and a worn, tired face unable to attract anyone to support her through her old age. That's where playing by the rules got you, nowhere.
No my role model wasn't my mom. My role models were provided by the moms of my friends who were nothing more than trophy wives. Now a lot of educated, clever people look down on trophy wives. They pity their dependence on their men and think they should be seen as individuals in their own right, not just mere appendages of their husbands.
But as a naive child that isn't what I saw. I saw women who had great lives. They were not constrained by the need to work and could spend their days looking after their kids, spending quality time with them and actually had the opportunity to keep themselves looking hot and attractive. Whether that was spending time in the gym or having a bit of touch up surgery here or there it worked. These trophy wives had it all and I remember thinking even as a young girl that I wanted to be like them.
Except I was really ambitious. I didn't just want to marry some corporate bureaucrat. I wanted someone who was really minted and someone who could give me the life of glamour and luxury I had always dreamed of.
I knew that I couldn't hook the great catch that I wanted without a lot of hard work. That's why I spent every waking moment making myself as attractive as I could. It's why I dyed my hair peroxide blonde. It's why I had a boob job to create a rack that would turn any man's eyes. It's why I visited the gym every day to keep my body in shape. It's why I made sure I had the best cosmetics, the best clothes and the best accessories to make me look as hot as possible.
I entered beauty pageants and put all my efforts and energies into looking as hot as I could. And I loved the power that gave me. The power to make men go weak at the knees, to stumble over their words and fall over themselves to please me.
I knew what the educated nerds who were going to go off to college thought of me. They rolled their eyes at me and thought I was just a slut and a bimbo. And you know what? They were right. And what was wrong with that? They might have had their books and their feminist ideology. But that wasn't going to keep them warm at night. That wasn't going to attract hot guys with big dicks and flash cars.
As my body filled out I turned into an absolute rocket. And guess what I still ended up going to college. That might have been more down to generous marking to the teachers I gave blow jobs to or the nerds that I got to do my homework than my brains. But who cared? It was results that mattered. I can still see the shocked face on one of my classmates faces when I got accepted by an Ivy league college when she was stuck with a shit in-state community college.
And what a time I had at college. While the new nerds I managed to control did my homework for me I was back at the dorms being railed by douchebag jocks who were only interested in girls for one thing. Sure, most feminists would be outraged at the way they behaved. But then again they'd probably never experienced what it was like to have their cunts pounded to earth shattering orgasm by a big cock.
After college I was straight away on the lookout for guys who could fulfil me, both sexually and materially. Who had enough heft in both their briefs and their wallets to give me the life I'd always dreamed of having. The deal was pretty simply. I would keep myself looking hot for them if they gave me what I needed in the bedroom and provided the luxury lifestyle I had always wanted.
That is how I'd ended up here as Jenna Gonzalez, married to Nacho Gonzalez the most feared gangster in the whole state. I could remember the night we had met like it was yesterday.
I was out partying with some friends and my latest trick, a young hotshot stockbroker. He was a little bit preppy for my tastes but he was raking in the dough and was keeping my life sweet while I waited for something better to come along. He was nice to look at but to be honest his dick didn't quite do it for me and that was a deal breaker for me. I kinda felt bad because I knew he was falling for me bad. He was one of those romantic types. Always buying me flowers and surprising me with meals out at fancy restaurants. Sadly for him though, I'd always been a girl who would much rather be at home having her cunt battered by an egotistical jock than having small talk and eating great food.
Anyway, I was partying hard when in walked Nacho with his crew. I noticed him straight away and immediately felt something stir inside of me. It was pretty hard to explain because I usually only went for white guys and he was Mexican. Plus he must have been at least 20 years older than me, which I'd normally find kinda gross.
But there was just something about him. He exuded power. And there was nothing that I found as attractive in a man as power. I always had a weakness for bad boys who don't care about anyone else but themselves and didn't mind just taking what they wanted. And somehow I knew straight away that Nacho was the baddest of bad boys.
There was just something about him. The way he held himself, the way all the other guys in his group deferred to him, the way he swept imperiously to the VIP area of the club and was swiftly surrounded by a phalanx of hot chicks.
Physically I could see he very much still had it, despite being so much older. His hair had gone grey in parts but that just made him look more distinguished. Meanwhile his body was still in fine shape and he clearly looked after himself.
Although he was surrounded by a group of other hot younger guys I only had eyes for him. Something about him told me that he would be great in bed. He wouldn't make love to his women. He'd fuck his sluts. Just how I liked it. And suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be not just one of those sluts, but his number one slut. I felt my cunt flutter between my legs and I knew that I needed to get to know this stud.
