Billionaire and the Sisters Ch. 72

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A note to readers: This is a long story that unfolds chapter by chapter through the eyes of two protagonists – Mark and Elsa, and as in many of my other stories involves a growing spate of horny characters. Every ten chapters or so I will provide a short summary at the start of that episode to bring new readers up to date (see start of Ch. 70). This story could appear in a number of genres (Loving Wives, Incest, Lesbian, Fetish, and more) depending on the chapter, but the overall theme is Group, so I have applied this moniker to all chapters. The story is still being written, yet I intend to post a new chapter every couple of days. Enjoy.

Chapter 72 – A Home On St. Croix. A Detailed Email


The real estate agent pulled up at our villa with a small minibus that could accommodate about fifteen people. We piled in and were on our way to see the first property. As we drove along, the agent, a woman named Elisha Rhodes, used the PA system on the small bus to brief us about the property we were about to see. She seemed thorough and had done her homework on each of the ones we saw that day. A few questions got asked, and she had ready answers for each of them.

Sheila had been interacting with Elisha to tell about our unique family and requirements for a vacation home in a warm clime, and to line up some of the properties we’d see.

The third one was the winner of the three, and in our price range there were no others for sale. The asking price was fifteen million. The price range was something that Sheila had set based on comparable high-end properties on St. Croix and other Caribbean islands.

The property sat on three acres with four hundred feet of beach frontage. One side was a nature preserve, and the other side was an uneven rocky tor for three hundred yards that belonged to the local government. The result was a large amount of privacy and the unlikelihood of ever having nearby neighbors. The house was modern, new, and built to Miami-Dade building code that became the norm in storm-infested waters after Hurricane Katrina. Further, the building was elevated so even a significant storm surge wouldn’t affect the house.

The house had a flat roof, eight bedrooms, eight baths, huge kitchen, open plan living, central air if we chose to use it, a pool, and a very private beach. Elisha confessed that some of the locals snuck onto the beach to sun and swim in the nude. When she said that our presence would end that practice we all looked crestfallen. She laughed and affirmed that she’d put the word out that nude bathing was still allowed, if that was what we wanted. We all nodded enthusiastically and that just made Elisha laugh harder.

We had a unanimous vote for house number three. We could all see ourselves using this as our warm weather getaway, especially during the terrible winters the city endured. I immediately wrote out an offer, pending inspections and clear title, and submitted it and a check for a million dollars to the realtor. Based on Sheila’s recommendation, I’d bid twelve million cash for the house and furnishings. To our surprise the offer was accepted unconditionally that evening.

Elisha arranged for the house inspections the next day. Lucas went to accompany the inspectors to the property so he could take a closer look regarding the installation of security cameras, wiring, alarm sensors, and the like. I left it to him to get everything he wanted installed and operating the way he wanted. He also wanted to create an armored safe room in the house, and make a few modifications regarding the security team that accompanied us. The inspection cleared, and the title proved clear and insurable.

We (I) owned a villa on the island of St. Croix, in the U.S. Virgin Islands, or would after the closing a few weeks later. We cheered and toasted our new home at dinner that night at one of the restaurants in Christiansted. People in the restaurant wondered what was happening, but only learned that our crowd had a happy event we all shared.

Tuesday, we flew home. I sat in the jump seat so I could watch Cindy and Elsa fly the Citation. The jet was far beyond my capabilities at that point, but every little thing fascinated me. Cindy was in the left seat and Elsa in the right or copilot’s seat. This trip, Cindy was the PIC and Elsa was SIC. Again, they’d dressed in their short dark skirts – commando, of course; black flats; and their white shirts with epaulets on the shoulder containing their captain’s stripes. They were hyper-efficient, crisp, and constantly used their checklists. Neither took anything for granted on the hop back to the continental U.S. They talked to me about cockpit management, especially with a two-person crew.

I listened on my headset as we neared home base. Cindy handled the radio as she dialed in a new heading on the autopilot. “City Approach Control, November Two Mike Whiskey with you out of fifteen thousand for six thousand. We have information Kilo at City Airport, and we filed for canlı bahis şirketleri the GPS approach at The Meadows airport on runway zero two.” Below five thousand, the weather was VFR enabling us to make a clean visual approach rather than having to rely on instruments.

“Radar contact Two Mike Whiskey. Continue descent and proceed on course. Airport is VFR. You are cleared for the visual to zero two at The Meadows.”

Elsa replied, “Cleared for the visual runway zero two The Meadows. Two Mike Whiskey.”

As we neared The Meadows, Cindy called in on our Unicom frequency to announce our impending arrival in case Wes or Scott were using the airport, but we heard nothing in reply. Both Cindy and Elsa kept a diligent scan outside the plane for other aircraft. We were cruising along at about twice the speed of the smaller Cessnas and Pipers that frequented the area on training flights.

I’d done enough instrument flying to understand the entire communication sequence. We’d flown most of the way northwest at forty thousand feet until about twenty minutes earlier when Memphis Center had started us down in altitude. We’d been handed off to Kansas City Center, and now to City Approach. I wondered why I hadn’t become as enthralled with flying as I was now earlier in my life. Wes was right; this was almost as good as sex.

Cindy and Elsa ran through six major checklists for approach and landing. We lined up for our little airport’s runway turning onto the runway heading and lining up about ten miles from touchdown. The gear went down and the trim stabilized the aircraft as the flaps deployed at the five-mile mark. We had a nice steady descent and approach right down to the runway flare and touchdown. Very smooth flying. We kissed the runway going about a hundred-and-sixty miles an hour, rolled out, used the thrust reversers to slow the aircraft, and then taxied to our hanger.

Four of the security guards drove golf carts down to meet our plane. They stood by as the engines spooled down, and then as Elsa deployed the stairway and greeted them. We loaded up the golf carts with luggage and as we stood around the security staff rushed that load up to the house, set it aside and then returned for the passengers. By that time, Elsa and Cindy had the hanger open and were using the small tug to maneuver the jet backwards into the hanger as the rest of us watched their proficiency. The next day a load of jet fuel would arrive in a tank truck for the jet.

I couldn’t back a trailer down a boat ramp to launch a small boat. I know. I tried. The two of them casually backed the twenty million dollar jet into the hanger without a second’s hesitation or false step. They chocked the wheels, disconnected the tug, parked the small vehicle, and then shut the hanger doors. They rode up to the house with me in the last golf cart.

Barnes had left us a buffet dinner in chafing dishes on the kitchen counter – a delicious pot roast, potatoes, and vegetables. He’d left us a fresh salad in the refrigerator as well, and set out some recommended wine to go with the meal. The twelve of us partook of the meal, and then the men in our traveling party headed off back to the city so they’d be at their apartments near work the next morning as the week started.

As we sat around after eating, I asked Elsa, “I meant to ask you, what happened to those two couples you were talking to on Thursday evening when we were sitting in the lounge at The Conch? For a few minutes, I thought you were going to have them join us in that evening’s sexual activities.”

Elsa gave me a devilish grin and teased, “What? Did you want some new pussy?”

“No, no, no. I’m just curious. I heard the start of that conversation with you and the wives, but I got to dancing and didn’t hear the end of it. They were gone later and I didn’t think much more about it until now.”

Actually, I did recall meeting Ellen and Sarah. They were both young, sexy women, especially Ellen. Heck, yes, I’d like some of that pussy. I’m a guy.

Elsa said in a coy tone, “I did something kind of naughty.” Despite that feeling, she seemed rather proud of whatever it was that she’d done.

“Why does that not surprise me in the slightest. What did you do? Cindy was in on it too, right?”

“Yes, Cindy and I conspired to set up a foursome for those two couples – a wife swap, if you will. Sarah was the most reluctant one, but she finally admitted she thought Terry was sexy and that she’d like to be with him. Wade was hot for Ellen and vice versa, so I explained how they should proceed to maximize their arousal, orgasms, and satisfaction. You would have blushed to hear how detailed I was, but I thought they needed the remedial instruction about how to get started once they were in one of their hotel rooms. I also explained how they should remain together and end the evening with their partner so that they could reaffirm their love and commitment.”

“You could sell ice to Eskimos.”

“It canlı kaçak iddaa wasn’t a hard sell. Mostly, I talked from personal experience plus what I’d learned from some of the married couples we carouse with: Andy and Margo, Don and Edie, and Jon and Amber. Terry and Ellen were on board, but Ward and Sarah just needed some self-assurance and a little nudge towards a big bed with someone else. Walking them through what the rest of their evening could be like seemed to help.”

“Where’d you send them?”

“They went off to Ward and Sarah’s hotel room since their hotel was closer to the restaurant. I did get their email addresses and gave them mine, so I might hear back from them sometime.”

“If you do, let me know. I hope it worked out for them. They were nice people, and yes, if either of those pussies became available I would certainly love to be involved in some physical way. Invite them to one of our parties.” I gave her my best lecherous grin.


When I opened my email a week or so after Mark had asked about the two couples we met, the one from Sarah stood out as long and detailed. I couldn’t wait to read it, but I saved it to read at home that evening. I figured the results from the swap session I’d aimed them at could have gone either way based on how tentative she was the night we met.

Dear Elsa – Thank you a thousand times. The foursome that Ward and I shared with Terry and Ellen was mind-bending and phenomenal. I know Ward was ecstatic about getting to fuck someone as pretty as Ellen, and she was a bundle of demanding sexual energy who barely turned him loose for the next three days we were all in St. Croix. Terry was such a gentleman, and such a wonderful lover. He even showed Ward some tricks to make me cum more frequently. I lost count of the orgasms Terry gave me that Thursday night … and the next two days and nights … and then on Sunday before the four of us rushed off to catch our flights back to the mainland. We sure spent a lot of time in bed fucking and making love. I couldn’t believe that I got on the plane with another man’s cum leaking from inside me. I guess I can use that language with you, since you were so graphic we us before we went off together.

You asked for details, details, details, so here goes. When you sent us off to our hotel you had Ward drive Ellen, and Terry drive me. Terry right away asked about my ‘boundaries’ – I didn’t understand what he was talking about for a minute. He had to explain it to me: did I like rough sex, oral sex, anal sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, or have any fetishes. I told him I was so used to plain vanilla sex that just about anything else would be refreshing and new. I said about the only thing was I didn’t want to end up hurt or permanently marked. Terry laughed; he told me he was a lover not a roughneck who was into B-D-S-and-M. I learned what that stood for as we drove.

Ward was nervous when we went into our hotel room, but he wanted to get right down to business and start fucking Ellen. I was sure he thought the opportunity would evaporate because either I got squeamish about everything or she would. I assured him it wouldn’t end any time soon and he relaxed a little.

Ellen would have none of Ward’s idea of a running start to fuck. She told him she wanted A LOT of foreplay. She had him slowly strip their clothes off. Ward’s cock was pointing at the North Star by then, and I thought he’d pop off just from the suggestion of intercourse. Instead of fucking, Ellen told Ward he had to eat her pussy until she’d had a half-dozen orgasms. Ward normally didn’t do that for me; once in a while, but he always wanted to get down to business and so I accommodated him. I learned that night that I should insist on my ‘starter’ orgasms as Ellen called them.

She taught my Ward how eat pussy: ‘Put your tongue there and then there, use your lips and pull on my labia, kiss it, lick it, use your fingers – first one, then two, and then three, and keep licking. Find my clit, you found it, that’s it and now make love to it. More. Don’t stop. More. Use the end of your tongue. Touch it.’ She was insistent, but patient with him.

I asked Ellen how she knew so much about pussy eating. She told me that she routinely ate her sister’s pussy and vice versa. That sort of shocked me, but then the whole evening was one big lightning bolt of shock.

About that time, Terry had me naked. He said, “Let me show you what pussy eating is all about.” He went down on my pussy. I was wet with anticipation but low on expectations. My first orgasm happened two minutes later on Terry’s tongue. I shot into the Milky Way, went around several stars and plummeted back to earth; it was marvelous and I’m not sure I ever came so hard. Ward watched us in awe that Terry could get me off so fast. I was amazed I’d cum that fast, but I was sexually excited. Terry could tell, and he brought me to six or seven more over the next half-hour or so. I was so sexually worked up that I wanted to fuck canlı kaçak bahis the bedpost. Terry seemed insistent that we take our time and have lots of foreplay.

Ellen went down on Ward, sucking his rock hard cock until he started to cum. She directed his first shot to her mouth, but the next seven or eight to her face and breasts. Ward cums a lot, I know, but he was over the top. He’d drenched her in his semen, and Ellen loved it. She rubbed it into her breasts, and then captured some from her chest and ate it. She was so sexy about it. She told me I had to eat it from then on. She had me lick up some from her breasts so I wouldn’t entirely miss that load.

I went down on Terry. I loved the feel of his cock in my mouth. Ward usually just wanted to start fucking and not mess around with things like a blowjob. I found great pleasure in fellating Terry, and he liked it too. When he started to cum I duplicated what Ellen had done. I took some in my mouth, and then directed the rest to my face and tits. I thought Ward would faint when he saw what I was doing. His eyes actually bugged out of his head, especially when I made a show of sucking Terry clean and eating his cum. Ellen came to me and licked some from my tits, even sucking on my nipples to further arouse me. Back to the Milky Way! I came again.

We did foreplay for an hour before the fucking began. After that I tried to have Terry’s cock inside me all the time for three days. He was a little thicker than Ward, but did things like slow-fast, hip wiggle, and then soft-rough. He’d playfully slap my butt, or my breasts, and even my pussy right on my clit. I loved it. I kept having little orgasms because even though we were fucking, he’d be using his thumb on my clit. I came and came and came. My whole body still feels tingly from all the magnificent orgasms we shared even though they ended from that session a week ago after we all parted. By the way, Terry is a priapic wonder; he barely went soft from the time we started fucking until we parted on Sunday. He was amazing. He showed some other tricks to Ward so he could be the same way.

Ward had been a missionary man. Terry had me in about five dozen different positions, and then he’d ask whether I liked that and was I getting enough stimulation. Oh God, I’d orgasm and tell him I was good in that position. We change position, I’d have another mind-bending orgasm, tell him I was good, and so on. I loved the variety and was even making up some of my own positions for us to try.

Ellen pulled Ward through a bunch of sexual positions too, and soon she had turned him into a better lover doing some of the same things Terry did. She admitted she was probably a nymphomaniac. She just loved to fuck, fuck, fuck. She even confessed some really slutty behavior in her past, and it made me want to do the same things, like pick up a guy in a hotel bar and fuck the daylights out of him. I told that to Ward last night while we were fucking and he came and about blew me across the room he was so excited at the idea of me fucking a total stranger.

Terry took my anal cherry. I guess Ward thought it was OK because he’d already been in Ellen’s ass a few minutes earlier at her insistence. I never thought I’d enjoy anal sex, but I’m a convert. I had some intense orgasms that way and they were easier to come by. Ward had better start learning to try new things with me.

Terry took me down on the beach right outside our resort with a blanket and a few towels. I’d put on a swimsuit, but Terry just wore his boxers. It was dark, but the moon was out and we could see a lot. He fucked me right there on the blanket. Other people walked by, but we just kept at it. I know at least one other couple watched us through a pair of orgasms. I wanted to do it in the daytime, and I told Ellen, Terry, and Ward. Saturday, Terry drove us to a nude beach. We were the only ones there, at least when we started. After spreading out our blankets we got into the sex in a big way. I was riding Terry and Ellen was riding Ward when two couples came along the path from the car park. They watched us for a while, and then they too started to make love only about fifty feet away. I loved watching them. We kept going most of the day. I guess I’m an exhibitionist at heart. If one of those men had asked whether they could fuck me, I would have spread my legs for them and invited them in. I’ve turned into a complete slut and I love it.

I guess this is old hat to you, but I feel like my head exploded over that weekend and that I am a better and more complete person because not only did I make love time and again with another man, but also made love with Ellen and she did with me too. I discovered I’m bisexual and I love it. If you’d told me a week ago that I would eat another woman’s pussy, especially after it was loaded up with my husband’s cum, I would have told you that you were crazy. If you’d told me another woman would deliver countless orgasms to me as she ate her boyfriend’s spunk from inside me, I would have said the same thing. But, and this is so exciting, I participated so willingly in all those things, and I am vibrating like a violin string I’m so excited about what I did and how I feel about it. I discovered that I’m bisexual.

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