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(Emma)
Life was awful until I met Henry. I was failing most of my classes. My mom kept telling me I had to try harder in school, but I was no good at it. She said I needed to find a job and a place to live by graduation. We were poor and she couldn’t support me anymore. I got fired from five part-time jobs by the time I was 18. I dated six different girls and eight or nine guys, but none of them wanted to marry me, or even live with me.
I was lucky to get gonorrhea when I did. They gave me a shot and pills for it, then I met my husband Henry on my way out of the clinic. At first he seemed kind of creepy, staring at my butt as I walked across the parking lot. I stood at the bus stop and he walked over near me. He was my grandfather’s age, but generous and quite friendly. He offered me a ride so I wouldn’t need to take the bus. We stopped for a nice lunch on the way. After some yummy burritos, I sucked him off while he drove me home. We went on six dates in only a week, then he gave me an engagement ring and an appointment for breast implants.
My friends thought it was gross I married a guy over three times my age, but Henry was great to me. He wasn't hot or anything, but he was the first person I dated that cared about my feelings, if my family was okay, and if I got all the sex I wanted or not. It didn't hurt that he was rich, too.
He didn’t mind that I closed my eyes and imagined other people when we made love. He even took me to sex parties and let me have tons of fun with other men and women. I love dick, but probably like women more than guys. They understand what other girls like. They’re usually more caring and patient, too.
I was very happy Henry adopted my little sister Claire when our Mom passed away. Henry lets me smoke in the house, but Claire doesn’t like the smell and stays in her room a lot. Her best friend Veronica’s parents let her sleep over often, so we can have lots of swinger's parties and orgies at home. When Claire's home, I usually visit the Joelsen's for an hour or two before bed. They have an open marriage like we do, and only live four blocks down.
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(Henry)
I was disappointed the pain in my legs and other health issues prevented me from standing much or walking more than a dozen steps. My lack of sexual function was even more of a depressing letdown. Still, my voyeuristic side greatly enjoyed watching my lusty trophy wife in action. She’d dropped out of high school, and wasn’t clever or coordinated enough to drive. She often nicked or burned her fingers when she tried to cook, and she left even more messes around the house than I did.
Despite her deficiencies, she was a very kind and sweet girl who loved me. She was also a true savant at her single specialty, sex. It seemed that she could immediately sense what aroused others, and which erotic activities they enjoyed. She was also great at providing them. If sex were a sport, she’d win Olympic medals. She wouldn’t mind if a stadium full of people watched, either.
I sadly considered what I would put in my will. I had many casual friends, a beautiful home, large investments and plump bank accounts, even a small private island. My sons followed in my footsteps, becoming plastic surgeons with a thriving private practice. I was equally proud of my daughter, who’d just been appointed an appeals court judge.
I knew I’d lived a good life, no, actually a great one; but it was coming to an end. My prognosis was bleak, with my three potentially lethal health conditions. I knew I only had a couple of months left, possibly four with some luck. I needed to assure that my beauty and her younger sister would be well cared for after I was gone.
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Our personal chef Cornelius took two racks of ribs from the wood-fired smoker and carried them to the kitchen. Emma was lying supine on a backless sofa in the living room. Allora, a short and chesty brunette in her early thirties, straddled Emma’s face while her husband played with her chest. When she sat up occasionally, I could briefly witness my wife’s expert cunnilingus skills in action. The few times I’d enjoyed Allora’s body at sex parties had been quite nice, but not even in the same category of wonderful as all the sweet and euphoric love my breasty and beautiful wife and I shared over the three years we’d been married.
By our third date it was clear she needed more orgasms than I could provide. Average women in their twenties want sex two to four times per week, but her libido demanded at least that much daily. On our fourth date, I brought along a few vibrators and porn movies. She was happy to get me off with her magnificent mouth and perfect pussy, then let me watch as she pleasured herself for another hour. I woke up next to her, as Emma stuffed a vibrating toy into herself. We screwed after breakfast, but she was horny again by supper time. Even with attending an orgy or two a week, I could barely handle her needs, but knew she’d be a dream wife for most men a third my age.
My bachelor party involved sharing a very nice bottle of cognac with friends as we played cards. I was asleep by ten o’clock. Emma’s bachelorette party started with a six-girl lesbian orgy that lasted half the night. She was kind enough to record it on video and watched it with me on our honeymoon. The next evening, the second half of her party was a five-man, one-Emma gangbang. I wanted her to have the best of everything, even if I wasn’t the one licking or riding her.
I looked at Allora’s hands squeezing Emma’s bouncy big breasts, and was reminded the hundreds of hours and half million dollars I’d spent rebuilding my wife into a shapely and exquisite sex goddess were absolutely worth it. Allora’s husband Bill finished pumping Emma’s pussy, leaving a trail of semen leaking onto the sofa cushion’s pleather surface. I was glad all the dark brown furniture in the living room was easy to clean. I’d created many messes there myself, until my final erection a month ago. I stared at Emma’s bountiful, beautiful bottom when she led them to the bathroom for a shower. Our housekeeper Rosalie sighed and shook her head slowly, then cleaned the sofa for the third time of the day.
I sat in my usual overstuffed wingback chair near the front door and greeted our new friends. “Hello Ken. There are drinks at the bar and appetizers in the dining room. Make yourself at home. It’s nice to see you again, Valery. Welcome.” She held a covered bowl in front of her and said, “I brought a dessert. Thanks for inviting us. We love barbeque.” I replied, “As do we. Please, have a drink and meet everyone while the chef finishes things up.”
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