John Billionaire Ch. 02

That morning blowjob actually did my body a lot of good. I was up and about and determined to keep moving. The past 10 days had completely turned my life upside down. It had been absolutely crazy in so many ways. And I'd handled everything with relative calm. No massive panic attacks. Really, what did I have to complain about? These recent days had been very, very good to me.

And so I had strode off to meet Kaitlyn for our tennis date. I walked with the cool confidence of a man who'd just blown his wad down the throat of a gorgeous young blonde. And so in this 'Joe Cool' mode, even Kaitlyn's eye-popping attire didn't really distract me.

She wore white tennis shoes with thigh-high white athletic socks. Her tennis skirt fell woefully short of covering up the rest of her legs, and a cropped baby-T didn't do much more to obscure her torso either. She topped off the ensemble with a stylish visor and even dangling earrings, which were still impractical in my opinion for tennis but all the rage on the Women's pro tour.

She was as perky cute as ever, and after several innuendo-laced comments I was rather glad for Cassandra's morning wake up call. I doubt I would have been able to keep myself from getting hard if I hadn't already blown my nut.

But then, after a quick rally, Kaitlyn had to go and bend at the waist to pick up a ball only ten feet away from me. Somehow, her skirt flipped up, revealing a barely-there white thong, simply a couple of strings crossing her ass. It really was the tightest ass I've ever seen in my life. Not a trace of fat anywhere... just firm muscle and perky cheeks. I started salivating the moment she did that, and deep down I knew she could have me if she wanted me.

Some guys are just such slaves to their sex drives. I'm just acknowledging it, not apologizing for it.

Too late, I saw her watching the expression on my face from her vantage point between her legs. She remained in that bent over position, wriggling her ass for me and grinning in her upside-down position next to one knee.

But then it was back to tennis.

I don't think either of us were taking it very seriously. We never actually played competitive points or even suggested starting a set.

Instead, Kaitlyn went out of her way to tease me. Her perfect ass was on display more than once, as well as a good bit of her cleavage. Now in a sports bra instead of the Victoria's Secret push-up, her tits were still rather large for her petite size. Certainly not as big as Cassandra's; but they were still big melons that bounced oh so invitingly as she moved and bent over repeatedly.

After an hour, both of us had worked up a lot of sweat and even more desire for each other's bodies.

And so we found ourselves resting a bit when Kaitlyn wiped her brow and casually mentioned, "Wow, I'm going to need a long shower after that workout."

"Tired already?" I teased.

"Certainly not. I could keep going for hours." Then Kaitlyn rotated her body in some fashion that simultaneously presented her cleavage to full effect while bringing her face close to mine. "I was hoping for a... different... kind of workout to finish the day."

Kaitlyn's grin left no doubt as to her meaning. And while there was a niggling thought it the back of my mind that something wasn't quite right about the whole situation, my erection was making the decision for me. "Well then, why don't we find a convenient shower and then we'll see what kind of workout we can come up with."

She giggled and then took my hand.

A few minutes later we were bursting through the front door of the Reynolds' residence. She was still holding onto my hand as she pulled me along, laughing the whole time. "Come on! My parents won't be home until tonight!"

In two seconds, we were in her bedroom, and the clothes began flying off. I'd gotten my shirt off but then just stood there with a dumb expression on my face as I watched Kaitlyn's top and then sports bra go flying off into far corners of the room.

Unfettered, her breasts were just as big and round as I'd guessed, and as firm as I could ever have dreamed. And on her skinny body, Kaitlyn looked positively top heavy with those large globes unbalancing her and yet not sagging in the slightest. Oh, damn, to have the firmness of youth once again. Capped with delicate pink nipples already standing at attention, her tits seemed to smile at me as she bounced around. The skirt came next, and for a moment Kaitlyn was posed in front of me wearing nothing but a thong and her sneakers.

I, on the other hand, was pretty well dressed. Kaitlyn noticed immediately and then stood with her fist planted against a hip, looking annoyed. "Well?"

I couldn't help but stare at this sexy minx, mesmerized by this stunning creature. She wasn't as voluptuous as Cassandra nor as gorgeous as Taylor. She wasn't even sweet like Nicole. But Kaitlyn conjured up every dirty, nasty fantasy in my head. She was a barely-legal sex kitten brought to life.

I was actually drooling. And so with a more seductive, "Well, well..." she sauntered up to me. With a soft thumb, she wiped my lip and then leaned in, planting a firm, hungry kiss upon me.

I moaned and wrapped up her hot little body in my arms. We were both giggling with excitement and then she was frantically tearing down the rest of my clothes until she'd gotten me undressed. A quick flip of her feet and a short wriggle out of her thong, and then we were both fully naked.

With mouths still attached to one another, we staggered back towards the bedroom. In her lust, Kaitlyn suddenly leaped into my arms, forcing me to catch her with my hands under the tight globes of her ass. She wrapped her feet around my waist and I slammed her back into the wall as we frenched madly.

Her pussy was shaven completely bare, smooth and slick to the touch. Already I could feel her moist slit grinding against my erection, and the turgid rod seemed to be working of its own accord, trying to guide itself inside of this blonde nymph.

But just when it seemed that I was about to slip inside of her, she untangled her legs, forcing me to gently set her on her feet. "Come on, we'll never get clean at this rate."

"Who wants to be clean? I'd rather be dirty..." I leered as she giggled and headed into the walk-in shower. I followed soon after and was already groping at her body while she fiddled with the controls to adjust the temperature.

Not that I cared about the water. I was too busy stroking every square millimeter of Kaitlyn's nubile body, with her perfect skin aglow with heat and arousal and her dynamite body still taut and firm with youthful vigor.

I was so revved up; I knew I would enjoy this.

Which is exactly why what came next was SUCH a disappointment.

Kaitlyn sank to her knees, my cock at the ready. And then her hand was wrapped around my shaft while she leaned in and took my crown into her hot mouth. She began sucking powerfully while jacking me quickly, as if I was about to spurt right then and there.

The only problem was, I didn't. And still Kaitlyn just jerked me off quickly and powerfully, without any variation or delicacy. After a minute, she seemed surprised that I hadn't popped off yet and just bore down even harder, with no finesse. My poor cock didn't actually like the abuse.

Here I was, standing naked in the shower of a beautiful 18-year-old blonde vixen with a great body and loads of sex appeal, and I could feel my erection starting to fade. I couldn't help but be dismayed at just how little I was getting out of this blowjob. She simply didn't compare to Taylor or Cassandra.

Now perhaps her rapid-fire jerking and sucking worked fine on whatever teenagers or older men she'd blown before. But I'd had the best and this, my friends, was not the best. Even Nicole, giving her first blowjob, at least had the good sense to be gentle.

Kaitlyn seemed to notice me losing rigidity and I was getting rather tense everywhere else from trying to endure the mild pain. It was like getting a massage that was just TOO strong, where it tenses you up instead of relaxing you.

I guess this is why I didn't date teenagers anymore.

So with a sigh, I pulled her off my cock, only half-hard. "Sorry, princess. I don't think this is going to work."

"Why the fuck not!" she pouted at my crotch, eyeing it as if not recognizing the damn thing. "What's wrong with you?" she looked up at me accusingly.

"Hey, I don't think anything's wrong with me. I had no problem cumming this morning. But I think you need to work on your technique at that. I just kinda hurts after a while."

"Well, I've never had to do it for that long. Usually the guy just grunts and then shoots his stuff into my mouth."

I had to chuckle at that. "Well, I'm not most guys. I've got a little more staying power than that. But that's okay. Maybe we can try again some other time."

"What? Don't you want me anymore?" Now she was whining like a four-year old.

"Kaitlyn, sweetie. You are a doll." I couldn't help but condescend somewhat. "But maybe you're just not ready for me. Stick to the young guys."

She stood up and glared at me. "I don't want the young guys. They're all such dorks. I've seen what you can do. You're a MAN."

Now I was annoyed. "You're right. And I need a WOMAN. Call me back when you've grown up and learned something." It was the wrong thing to say.

"Fuck, I AM a woman! I'm eighteen!" she cried indignantly, her pride wounded. "Get out of here!" she yelled. She pointed at my penis, now limp despite the beautiful naked girl shaking in front of me. "Go back to your big-titted personal assistant and get her to assist you with that!"

So I dried off and left, and I was just getting out of my sweaty tennis clothes in the comfort of my own bedroom upstairs when I stopped to think: When she said "I've seen what you can do", what did she mean by that?

***

I stood alone on my balcony, enjoying the view of a clear New York day over Central Park. I was on top of the world, in a kind of Zen state of mind where I could demand only the best and expect to receive it. The best service, the best furnishings, and even the best women.

I could turn down nubile 18-year-old sex goddesses if their blowjobs didn't measure up.

But just when I felt my ego starting to get out of control, one thing held me back. Rather, one person held me back. And as hard as I tried to force her out of my head, I knew she would always be there until I at least made the effort. So I turned to go back inside and find my phone.

On the third ring, the line picked up. Some part of me, maybe the only part of me that still wanted to be the old Jonathan Kwong, leap for joy. Just for a brief moment. She had answered. In this day and age of caller ID, just the fact that she picked up the phone was monumental progress to me.

"Hello?" Her voice was still sweet, but tinged with a bitterness that was palpable.

"Nicole? It's me." I said.

"I know..." There was a long pause... "Please stop calling." And then the triple beep told me the call had ended.

That part of me that still loved Nicole seemed to fade. Now rising to take a more prominent role in my psyche was the giddy boy inside me that screamed, 'Fuck, yeah! I'm a billionaire!' and wanted to enjoy it. The last real string holding me here seemed to have been severed forever.

I grabbed my phone again, this time calling Cassandra. She'd been out for most of the day running business errands for me. I didn't have a clue what she was actually doing, but as long as the bank statement balances kept climbing, I didn't really care what was going on. She knew my portfolio better than I did.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello, sir."

I paused... waiting... then she said "Hello, Jonathan." It was the sweet, bedroom voice I remembered from this morning.

"Hello, Cassandra. I need you to make arrangements for us. You and I are going to Paris. Tonight."

"Right on it, sir." This time, even though she was calling me 'sir', the bedroom silkiness was still in her tone. And then I swear I could hear her smile over the line. "And should I find out where Miss Brynn is staying, sir?"

I was delighted Cassandra could sense my intent without seeming jealous in the slightest. She really was the perfect assistant. "Yes, please."

"My pleasure, sir."

"And if you keep saying 'sir' in that voice... I may actually start to like it."

"Absolutely... sir..." she purred into the phone. And then I hit END.

***

Limos? Who needs limos? I've got a chopper. And I'm not talking about a motorcycle. So from the helipad on top of our apartment building, Cassandra and I watched the city descend beneath us as we turned for the short trip to Kennedy Airport. It felt rather cool to be flying to get TO the airport.

After landing (no more parking garages or baggage claim curbs for me), we went straight into the First Class International Lounge. Twenty minutes later, we were reclining in luxurious bucket seats on Air France flight AF007 direct to Charles de Gaulle Airport. And after catching a movie, I fully reclined the seat into a bed.

Just before I fell asleep, I made a mental note. Despite what had happened to Jonathan Kendall, I wanted to get that new Lear jet. My private airfield was still waiting.

***

***TUESDAY***

After a restful trip across the pond, we arrived at 9am local time. Just a short few hours ago, I was at home with no plans on what to do with my day in New York City. Now, in the blink of an eye, I was cruising by the Eiffel tower.

We checked into the Imperial Suite at a posh Parisian hotel. By design, it was the same hotel where Fashion Forward Magazine was putting up Taylor and by coincidence, her suite was just down the hallway from mine. But after spending five minutes acquainting myself with our accommodations and then changing into a fresh set of clothes, I left Cassandra to handle the details of unpacking while I took the limo to find Taylor and her photo shoot.

Cassandra had worked her magic once again and I'd already been given the full itinerary of Fashion Forward's photo schedule. They'd only begun yesterday afternoon with some interior shots and were now planning to hop from Parisian landmark to landmark in a collage of fashion travels. And if the crew was on schedule, I would be meeting them shortly outside the Louvre museum.

When we arrived, the limo driver spotted the small photo crew immediately. I hopped out and after only a few moments glancing around, my gaze locked in on Taylor.

She was resplendent in a gorgeous blue dress, form-fitting to her lithe body and electric against the blue sky. The skirt was short and flowing at the same time, hugging the curves of her upper legs with every motion. It was rather couture and yet just practical enough for me to believe she might be wearing it on a day out. Her short, dark hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, her long bangs flashing over her eyes. And as the satiny material draped around her I was reminded just how lucky I had been to be friends with such a gorgeous creature.

In fact, I was so wrapped up in seeing my beautiful friend I didn't even notice the guy also posing in the shot next to her. At least, I didn't notice him until Taylor reached out and held his hand.

She was posed on the sidewalk with the Louvre's glass pyramid directly behind her and the palace building just further away in the distance, as if out for a casual walk. The male model beside her was similarly in a walking position, holding her hand intimately and yet his head was turned away towards the museum so that one couldn't see his face. Clearly, the star of the photograph was Taylor, the male model just another accessory in the shot.

Now I never would have minded Taylor holding another man's hand. After all, we were friends, sometimes fuck buddies, but we held no chains preventing each other from seeing other people. But this male model was half-Asian, and he had my haircut. And as I looked closer, he sort of had my physical build. If I didn't know any better, it would have almost looked like she was out for a visit to the Louvre... with ME.

So without another word, I walked in a straight line for Taylor.

Two production assistants saw me, but instead of stopping me, they just stepped back and gasped in shock. Clearly, they knew who I was. Perhaps I was already on their minds as they observed the shoot. And so I had an unimpeded path to walk right into the production.

Like a good model, all of Taylor's attention was on the photographer muttering new directions every three seconds and snapping like crazy. Other staff were on either side of Taylor and her pseudo-me, holding various reflectors and shades to properly light the scene. Their focus wasn't quite as sharp as Taylor's and when they saw me walk right up behind the photographer, suddenly the reflectors were no longer in proper position as they stood and moved in surprise.

The photographer was just turning around to see what was up when Taylor saw me and gasped.

As smooth as I could make it and grinning with my own inside joke, I said, "Wouldn't the shot be easier if it were actually ME in that scene?"

The photographer's mouth just hung, slack-jawed and moving slightly as he tried to come up with something to say. Taylor reacted rather more quickly, reaching an arm out to me. "Come on Johnny. You can stand here and make me look even more beautiful."

***

After a quick visit with the makeup artist, I soon found myself sitting down on a bench, my back to the camera, with Taylor in my lap. Her feet were together on my right side with her arms around me, looking into the camera over my left shoulder while I gazed at her face, the better half of her face. Most of her photos were taken on that side. And while I was no male model, having half my face in the picture seemed to be the idea for selling more magazines as well.

This time we were situated with the Arc de Triomphe behind us and framing our two bodies. With the slight hint of vengeful anger in my mind, I knew that Nicole would have no doubt I was with Taylor in Paris after this issue hit the newsstands.

Despite my slightly awkward position supporting Taylor as she bent into a form that I was sure looked pretty, even if it was impractically uncomfortable, I felt my muscles relaxing. In fact, I felt my whole body relaxing. Being in close contact with Taylor felt like slipping underneath an old, comfortable blanket. It was a connection to my previous life, ironically in the middle of a situation I never would have found myself in if it weren't for the recent events of my new life.

And in vintage Taylor fashion, despite our very public setting, she was getting aroused. I could feel the heat radiating from her crotch as she sat in my lap, and even though a very big camera lens was always pointed in her direction, she paused every now and again to nip at my neck or play with my face in between takes. She kept grinding her ass down against my dick, knowingly causing me to get rather hard within my jeans.

To any observer, it was clear we were comfortably intimate with each other. And we were about to become a whole lot more intimate.

After another frame was snapped, Taylor pivoted in my lap, kicking one leg over me so that she was straddling me. "Let's do it this way," she suggested to the photographer, a warped grin creasing her mouth as her eyes danced. "A little more naughty, perhaps."

She took a moment to adjust her skirt so that it flowed around us as we sat almost face to face, her knees on either side of my hips as she positioned herself. And at a moment where she may have thought no one was looking, she slipped on hand underneath the skirt while obviously using her other hand to smooth out an edge.

"Very... naughty..." she husked, her eyes now a brilliant violet in the sunlight.