Billionaire and the Sisters Ch. 37

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. 30). 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.

Mark

Elsa arrived home from Las Vegas Saturday afternoon. She wasn't sure whether the Las Vegas building department would issue the required permits to start the condominium her architectural firm had designed for the developer, but Sean and she had answered all of the questions and addressed all of the concerns the city had up to that point.

Elsa amused and aroused us over dinner on Saturday evening telling us about Sean and Pam, and how they'd gone on a crash course to redefine their relationship, come out of their shells, and become more in touch with a more libertine side of themselves and culture.

Not surprisingly, the other girls as well as Carter who was at dinner with us urged that Elsa invite Sean and Pam to come to one of our parties – although orgy might be a slightly more accurate description of what goes on. She promised she would.

Sunday morning, Cindy and Elsa were out the door early for some special security training that Lucas had arranged. Deke was involved, so I knew that part of it had something to do with firearms.

Despite it being Sunday, I had a day of meetings plus some personal research time, so I went into my office at Worthington Industries. By eight-thirty I was up to my elbows with our CFO in division and product-level profit and loss statements for the prior quarter. We had to post earnings in ten days and I would have to speak to the reports to Wall Street. We were talking about where we could adjust production, organizational structure, and resource deployment wherever there were numbers that we didn't like.

Sheila and Melanie had also come into the office. Melanie dutifully sat in my meetings and took frantic notes of one decision or idea after another. Sheila came and went depending on the meeting. She was catching up on a pile of mail and correspondence to my office.

Just after lunch, Andy came in and we gave him an update on what our thoughts were about the various business units. He fine-tuned some of our ideas, and then we talked about the staff and administrative functions. I liked them slim and trim. I didn't like the idea of doing business with ourselves. We didn't make money or please customers that way.

One result was to integrate some of the HR operations in the city area into a single operation run out of the Worthington Building, but with satellite offices and an HR 'bus' that would travel from site to site for special purposes. The bus had been Melanie's idea. We also revamped the procurement process and consolidated some of the trucking operations to avoid so many empty backhauls. Melanie also suggested offering the empty backhauls to our A-list customers; I thought the idea was stellar, and Andy did too and planned to do a trial implementation to see how it worked.

My weekend meetings ended about four o'clock. Andy and I chatted about some non-business topics for a bit. Melanie appeared with the typed notes from each meeting. She was fast, and being the weekend I knew she hadn't had any help from Izzy – her new protégé. Sheila also appeared and laid out a dozen correspondence folders on my desk for my approval and signature. She told me I could ignore them until the next day.

Sheila then got that gleam in her eye that signaled she was thinking about something sexual. She sashayed across the office to where I sat and planted a passionate kiss on me, and then she repeated the kiss on Andy.

Sheila said, "To my knowledge, this office has never been officially christened with a good sex party. We have the makings right here." She glanced over at Melanie who was grinning and obviously 'in' on the plan for a little fun in the office.

Andy and I looked at each other and I nodded in approval of the idea. Sheila had come back to me, and Melanie went over to Andy and started to make out with him. With little prompting he soon removed the designer t-shirt she'd worn. Mel was topless since she hadn't worn a bra, a point we'd noticed but politely not mentioned.

I helped Sheila off with her scoop neck top, and then we kept going until she was nude and she was working on me. I glanced over and Andy and Melanie were shedding clothes as fast as they could.

When we were all naked, Sheila dropped to her knees and started one of her hallmark blowjobs on me. She was leaning over me from the waist, a posture that raised her ass and left her pussy exposed from the back. Melanie was on her almost immediately, lapping at Sheila's cunt as Andy lapped at hers.

A little rearrangement on the sofa smoothed things out. Sheila laid on her back with her head at one end of my long office sofa. I was feeding her my cock and toying with her breasts. Mel was eating Sheila's pussy and fingering her cunt. Andy was behind Melanie, eating her and then fucking her doggie style as she continued to munch on Sheila. After about five minutes of this, we reversed everything.

And five minutes after that, we were both fucking our beautiful business colleagues side-by-side. Every few minutes we'd trade around. I'd never be able to hold a business meeting in my office again, and certainly not where people sat on my long sofa, that I wouldn't think of this encounter.

Sheila orchestrated a switch after Melanie and she each had an orgasm. I started to fuck Melanie as Andy went to town on Sheila's hot love box. We watched each other, and that added to the levels of arousal we shared.

I found excitement and interest in the swollen labia wrapped around our cocks. Both girls had been thinking about doing this for more than just the last few minutes before our small sex party began. A couple more girl orgasms rolled by for the two of them, so Andy and I swapped partners again.

I realized how casual I felt about trading sex partners. I loved the variety and spiciness of the swap, but amazingly there wasn't a cell in my body that felt guilty or sinful about what we were doing. I knew we were outside the limits of 'normal' society, at least about ninety percent of it. Sheila had researched threesomes and swinging and other multi-partner relationships and found that about fifteen percent of the American adults had been in some kind of 'group' relationship at some time in their lives. Further, the estimate was that two to four percent of the family units were so comprised at any one time.

I operated outside the 'normal' bounds of business too. I used technology where no one else did. I went straight to the end customers when my competitors were using middlemen, and losing margin because of it. I wasn't afraid to spend money in a risky situation to make even more money; I didn't make a killing every time, but I did more often than not, and that put me far ahead of others who were risk averse or anchored in traditional ways to do business.

Melanie drove her tongue deep into my mouth as we french kissed. My mind went back to the task at hand: deliver as many orgasms as I could, because, as in business, they return the favor a thousand fold.

As I felt Mel building to yet another orgasm, I allowed myself to crest right with her. I told her what was happening, and she pulled my bulk into her small form even harder. "Fuck me. Cum in me. Fill my hot little cunt with all your man spunk right here in your OFFICE. God, Mark, I love you so. Fucking in your office is so hot. I'll want to do this five times a day from now on."

Sheila heard her and seconded the motion. She said, "Only five?"

I poured my essence deep into Mel's small body, my cockhead against her cervix. Melanie quaked and quivered as though she'd touched a high-tension wire on a wet night. Her entire pussy started to spasm, and she clamped down on me as she simultaneously screamed her bliss. I about fell on the floor with the intensity I felt from our mating.

I was vaguely aware of similar pronouncements and activities three feet to my left along the same sofa. Andy was gurgling out some praise for Melanie, Sheila, our family, his family, and all women who he got to fuck like this.

The four of us lay there panting and trying to regain control of our bodies and minds. I think I'd had an out of body experience with Melanie. I'd talk to her later about it.

Elsa

Lucas drove us in one of the war wagons that typically led and followed Mark's limousine. Geck and another ninja rode with us. We were all armed. The car was a black Suburban that could carry nine passengers, but there were only six of us. Any similarity to a regular car ended there. The doors contained armor plate, as did the roof and floor. The car could be directly over a hand grenade explosion and drive on unfazed, even with the damaged tires, which could not be flattened. The windows were bulletproof glass and could take a direct hit from an RPG, and the round would just glance off. The car could drive through three or four feet of water.

Also inside was a small armory. Besides the hand weapons Cindy, Lucas, Geck, Ninja, Deke, and I carried, there were seven M14A attack rifles, an RPG launcher, and enough ammo to start a good-size war in the small country of your choice.

To my surprise, about forty-five minutes outside the city, we drove into an abandoned airport. A pair of black limousines were parked where we pulled up in front of a trailer. Two handsome men in their forties sat on the fender of one limo and gave subtle waves as we came to a stop.

Lucas got out and made introductions. Accordingly, Cindy and I met John Cole and Cory Gander. They obviously knew Lucas, and the trio exchanged some pleasantries for a couple of moments.

Lucas turned to Cindy and me, "This is your driving school. You think you know how to drive. Well, you don't. You'll know a little bit more by noon, and after a few more Saturday mornings here, you will know how to drive. I'm actually here for a refresher. Come on, we'll get you set up." A third limousine and driver had pulled up as well.

Cindy and I were both issued crash helmets and driving gloves. We also got an introduction to the black limousines that we were going to drive in our training exercises. It was not really outfitted except to be a training car for defensive driving.

Three hours later, I was tired from my session with John. He'd started by having me drive around the small town just off the old airport boundary for thirty minutes while he evaluated my driving techniques and approach. Cindy had gone with Cory.

After returning to the trailer at the airport, John and Cory took us to a small classroom and critiqued our skills. They talked about evasive techniques and the things we would learn how to do in our course: drifting, J-turns and intentional spins in our own cars, spinning and dumping another car, and right-seat driving. John said our last two classes would cover advanced maneuvers such as jumps, rolls and some other subjects like shooting from a car; however, since Deke was with us, we'd have a demonstration session before the morning ended.

John then took me out on the track; I wore a helmet with a headset in it. He stood on an elevated platform beside the track and talked to me through the headset, usually screaming: "Brake! Turn! Brake! Gas! Floor it! Twist! Reverse! Throttle! Drift! Slide! Turn!" I'm not sure I did any of the exercises well, but by noon I was sure I'd worn an inch of rubber off every tire of my training car. I also was sure I smelled like burning rubber. The odor permeated my nostrils. I'd also destroyed about fifty traffic cones that marked the course I was supposed to drive within.

Deke had ridden with me for the last half hour, and he talked about shooting from a moving vehicle. The bottomline was to save your ammo, because the likelihood of hitting a target ranged from slim to none, unlike the last James Bond movie we'd seen. That said, he did give us some tips and suggested significant targets such as the car engine – a larger target instead of the driver. Once the coolant of a car was gone, the car chasing you would stop, sometimes quite suddenly.

We practiced a little with a target arm on the other limo. Cindy hit the target twice, and I had no successful shots; so much for me becoming Jane Bond.

We left the airport understanding that we'd be back the following week for more maneuvers. A half hour of driving later, we pulled into a nondescript brick building that seemed a mile from any nearest neighbors.

When we went in we met an Englishman named Graham Stevens. He was one of the instructors at what we laughingly called Bomb School. He explained, "Well, you have to know how to make one, in order to understand how to disarm one. I'm proud to say, we've never lost a pupil ... yet." He laughed gaily, as Cindy and I tried to decide whether this guy was for real.

He walked across the large office and lab we were in and picked up two beige golf balls. He tossed me one and the other to Cindy.

In a more serious tone, he said, "That's C-4. You can shape it, drop it, mold it in any shape, but if you add a detonator and fire it off, those little balls will explode like nothing you can imagine. The explosion will propel the material around them away at about 25,000 feet per second – that's also about five miles a second. You do not want to be near one of those when it goes off. It can rip an airplane or a crowded bus in half as we know from past terrorist attacks."

Graham paused, and said, "Come with me. Bring your toys." He gestured to the golf balls.

We went outside and walked about two-hundred yards from building. There was a concrete wall about two feet thick with a berm behind it where we stopped.

Graham took our two golf balls, and pushed them together, molding them into one piece of tan clay. From his pocket he extracted a small cigarette-sized device. He showed it to us. "This is a thermite detonator. When it goes off it creates extreme heat and a shockwave. That's what it takes to get the C-4 to explode.

From behind the wall and berm Graham uncoiled about two hundred feet of wire. He verified no contact at the end where we'd be behind the berm and wall, and then showed us how he just sank the detonator into the core of the C-4 with a simple push. He placed the small ball he'd made from the two golf balls on the ground, and then led us back to our bunker.

Graham produced a small twelve-volt battery pack from his pocket and attached one of the wires to it. He said, "When I put the other wire on the anode, the C-4 will go off. I suggest you keep your heads down. It will rain down dirt here, so be prepared."

We hunkered down, and Graham checked with each of us to be sure we were ready, and then with some fanfare moved to attach the second wire. He yelled, "Fire in the hole. Three. Two. One."

On zero, if there was a zero, the world blew apart. I wondered if there'd been a nuclear detonation instead of the C-4. The noise was so intense I wasn't sure I'd ever hear again. For a second after the blast nothing happened, but then the sky opened up and all sorts of dirt, small rocks, and sod rained down on us for a few seconds.

When the falling debris stopped, Graham yelled, "Clear. It's OK to stand up now."

I stood and looked where the C-4 ball had been. An expanding balloon of smoke drifted away from the blast. A crater had been blown in the earth about eight feet across and three feet deep.

Graham looked at us in a serious way, "Well, you get the idea. Now, let's go and talk about bombs, now that you've seen a sample." He had an air of excitement in his voice.

Graham was an entertaining instructor. He had lots of models of various kinds of bombs. He even had several pipe bombs. Lucas had cued him in that we'd had a hoax car bomb, so we talked about that for a while. We'd barely scratched the surface when we had to go to our weapons class.

Deke put us through the paces again, this time with two .38s – cheap Saturday night specials, he called them – cheap, low quality guns that are easily obtained, concealed, and in frequent use for robbery attempts. He wanted us familiar with other firearms besides the Glock. He noted they also jam easily and can be dangerous when in someone's pocket with the safety off.

We ended the day at Wan Suh's martial arts academy. Cindy and I were jointly attacked by three of Lucas' ninjas. If the battle had been real, we probably wouldn't have survived, particularly after two of the men drew [fake] knives. We did battle heroically, and were sore as hell when we left. We both pledged to spend a half-hour in the hot tub when we got home.

I guess Lucas had tipped off Mark about what we'd be like at the end of the day, because there was a wonderful surprise waiting for us. Two massage tables had been set up in our bedroom and two handsome masseurs were waiting to help us iron out the kinks from the day, especially from our workout.

The two men were dressed in white and very solicitous as they helped us disrobe and lie down naked on our stomachs on the tables. Soft music was playing and scented candles had been set out in the dimly lit room.

I was briefly rubbed down with strong hands and then I felt the massage oil start to be spread over my skin. I couldn't help but note that special attention got paid to my tight little ass. I knew I was still tan from our Mexican trip, so I felt proud of my buff body.

The massage was deep tissue, from the tips of my toes and fingertips right up to my neck. After I rolled over my face was done and into my hair.

My entire body was rubbed down on my front with the oil, and then the deep tissue massage began on that side. I was already a lump of pulsing flesh, but this was wonderful. The masseur paid special attention to my breasts and nipples, bringing them to a highly aroused state.

Once my nipples were pointing to the ceiling and white hot with hope and expectation, I felt his hand move to my mons and then my slit, and then two fingers massaged my slit and slid into my cunt. I was boiling with horniness.

I been fingered a thousand times before, but this guy knew what he was doing. He almost knew The Experience. He sure did know about G-spots, mine especially. He got me soaring around in sex space, and then I exploded into a beautiful orgasm on his fingers, certain that I had ejaculated a significant amount of girl juice.

I got kissed and when I opened my eyes his beautiful cock was there only inches from my face. I devoured the tube of hard flesh as his fingers danced over my slit and clit. I wanted to return the favors he'd done for me, so I ramped up the blowjob.

The cock got pulled away from me, and the next I knew the muscular man was over me and plunged his cock into my spasming pussy. I was still feeling the effects from his G-spot massage when his mammoth cock squirmed inside me. This was pure pleasure on a stick.

We fucked for what seemed like a long time, and then we crested together. He'd read all my signals regarding the impending orgasm, so he came with me. As he extracted the significant length from inside me, I felt the surge of fluids racing to the outside world.

I just lay there panting and enjoying the whole scene – the massage over every nook and cranny of my body, the orgasms, and then the fuck and attendant romance.