Under the Billionaire's Shelter - Jamie Knight Page 0,68
his cock in to half length, Tobias eased to a stop, leading me in slow breathing exercises like a particularly erotic yoga lesson.
When I was ready, he started to rock his hips, working his cock in and out of me by increments as I gladly gave him my anal virginity. Leaning down to kiss the back of my neck, which he had already worked out that I really liked, he picked things up a bit. Easing into a regular rhythm.
“You okay, Pumpkin?”
“Fuck yes!” I screamed emphatically.
It had hurt a bit at the beginning when he was first pushing in. His cock was even bigger than the butt plug. But that soon subsided, and I was left with the most intense pleasure as he fucked my asshole.
Tobias took my hand and squeezed it gently as I came hard. His load blasting inside me in the same moment. It was the strongest orgasm I had ever had in my life and I was very much looking forward to having many, many more.
“This feels amazing, husband,” I told him, as we cuddled up together in the large bed.
“Good, wife. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I told him, excited for the rest of our future together as husband, wife and parents.
I was debating whether to break out a pink of ice cream or take a bubble bath when my best friend Morgan plopped down beside me. I’d always loved this relaxing part of the evening, in which I could have fun for an hour or two now that the responsibilities of single motherhood were done for the day, before I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
“Have you heard about this show called Who Wants to Lock Down with a Billionaire?” Astrid asked, pulling up the site on her laptop.
We had made a large meatloaf dinner, working together to threaten the plot of the evil oven trying to throw us off, and then put my daughter to bed, which was another team effort. I hadn’t known if she was going to head home or join me where I’d lazily collapsed on the surprisingly comfortable couch in my tiny living room. It really was amazing what you could find on the curb side if you were willing to look for it.
Astrid didn’t live with Freya and me, but she might as well have. She was constantly over and often spent the night.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said, as a timid answer to her question about the show.
All these reality TV shows sounded alike to me, and it was hard to keep track of them. But this one was new and was being done virtual style, due to the pandemic, so that was a unique twist that made it stand out a bit more from the others.
“It’s really wild!” Astrid continued. “There’s like this super rich guy and women apply to go with him to this luxury compound he has set up for a two-week lockdown! The only catch is that they have to agree in advance that if they win, they’ll be his ‘pet,’ like a sex slave or whatever, and he’s really into the whole dominance thing. Like spanking and stuff!”
I tried to keep myself from giggling at the way she was phrasing things. Astrid had been raised Dutch Orthodox and was a bit sheltered. She didn’t really know what sex was until her late teens and didn’t lose her virginity until college.
I had shown her some amateur porn just to give her a clear idea of what might happen. She nearly fainted. For her, anal sex was the height of taboo kink. There were some ways in which I envied her innocence.
The idea behind the show wasn’t the worst one I’d ever heard, for this sort of thing. Reality TV had always carried a slight varnish of sleaze, going all the way back to the first seasons of Lost and Big Brother.
Sex and betrayal were major themes of the shows and a big part of the attraction. They were Shakespearian tragedies without the writing or performances, something the tabloids, then and now, did their very best to run with.
The more devastating the news, the better. After a while they just dropped the pretense and innuendo all together and came out with shows like Naked Attraction, which is basically what it sounds like.