My name is Jeffrey Jackson Stewart. I'm a tall, good-looking young black man living in the great state of Maine. I have some news for you. Are you ready? The world is mine. End of story. Why? Well, maybe you should ask yourself why not. All my life, I knew that I was destined for greatness. I know. Every brat in foster care tells himself or herself that. It helps them cope. Me? I knew it would someday be my reality. When I turned eighteen, a man named Phillip Smith approached me. He was a lawyer representing the estate of Jarvis Maxwell IV, the recently deceased, world-famous billionaire. It turns out that Jarvis Maxwell IV was my biological father. I was the result of an affair he had with my long-dead mother. And he left me his entire estate.
Actually, this wasn't without conditions. The old bastard had to be a prick even after his death. He required me to engage in worthwhile endeavors while under twenty one. If I should meet his expectations, I would inherit the entire fortune. If I screwed up, I was gone. A team of lawyers working for attorney Phillip Smith were the administrators of the Maxwell Estate. I had to pass their tests. Rigorous ones at that. Definitely not for the weak. Those were the rules. The laws for the rich are different, I guess.
Yeah, one of the world's richest men was my father. When I found out who he was, I got mad, actually. I wasn't thrilled. My entire life, the bastard knew I was out there, and what I endured, yet he never bothered to send for me. He never bothered to get to know me. I guess he was worried about sullying his reputation as the world's leading philanthropist. Well, overnight, my life changed. The world became aware of me. The eighteen-year-old foster brat who became heir to a sixty-billion-dollar fortune. How about that? They didn't know what to make of me. They thought I was a thug from the streets. Never mind that I was a college-bound scholarship recipient.
I had big plans. I wanted to be educated. Then, I would rule the empire my father left me. I'm now a student at Larson College. It's a small, four-year private institution located in the city of Sanford, Maine. Larson College has eleven thousand students, and it's evenly divided between male and female students. Although the school has a strong liberal arts curriculum, it's beefed up its computing, programming and engineering departments. I chose this school because it was the school my father once attended, back when he was a college student. I guess that in spite of myself, I wanted to get to know the bastard.
Larson College was an interesting place. The school was wonderfully diverse. It also had one of the best sports programs of any small college in the nation. The Larson College Department of Athletics sponsors Men's Intercollegiate Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Swimming, Wrestling, Soccer, Rugby, Tennis, Golf, Ice Hockey, Lacrosse, Football, Fencing, Volleyball, Gymnastics, Rifle, Pistol and Outdoor Track. For female student-athletes they offered Women's Intercollegiate Softball, Basketball, Rugby, Rifle, Pistol, Tennis, Golf, Cross Country, Swimming, Ice Hockey, Volleyball, Field Hockey, Lacrosse, Gymnastics, Fencing, Wrestling, Soccer and Outdoor Track. Yeah, they were an athletic powerhouse. Competing in the National Collegiate Athletic Association's Division One. I liked it already.
My arrival on campus did not go unnoticed. Lots of students at the school came from prominent families, but none of them had billionaire status. I did. And I was a black man. How about that? I kept to myself. I was basically just a student going to class. I lived in the dormitories, though I had my own room. I went to my classes. I majored in Criminal Justice, with a minor in Literature. Life at Larson College was fun. I never thought I'd have the money to attend a school like this. Tuition at Larson College goes for upwards of twenty five thousand dollars a year. Now, tuition is chump change for me. Well, not really. The will of Maxwell granted me an allowance of two hundred thousand dollars a month. And not a penny more. That's cool because spending that much money was a challenge for me. I've been frugal my whole life and now I'm filthy rich.
I don't believe in wasting money. I never have. So, I donated to some charities which helped young black men who were at risk in the inner cities. Those were guys I could relate to. I also took time to travel to places like Atlanta, Harlem and Princeton. Cities I always dreamed about visiting. Now, I could go anywhere. I could do anything. All I had to do was stay in college and continue my intellectual pursuits, and I'd make tons of money. It seemed ridiculously simple. Of course, without complications and conflict, there would be no story for me to tell. What makes my story a tale worth telling? I'll get to that real soon.
I am now one of the world's richest people. And I'm also the world's richest African-American. You had damn well better believe that women started throwing themselves at me. I'm a six-foot-six, broad-shouldered, muscular brother with an athlete's build and a male model's chiseled physique and handsome face. I never had trouble attracting women before. Now, it all seemed too easy. You had damn well better believe that I enjoyed myself. Man, I got so much booty that I seriously thought my dick was too sore to ever be used again. Of course, I was wrong. Because I tapped more booty again and again.
