Big Daddy

“Hello big daddy,” the tanned blond woman in a white bikini sad as she walked by. Her pink lipstick matched her shoes. The brunette next to her giggled, turned around and blew a kiss towards him. Gérard smiled as he watched them wiggling their asses from balancing on their ridiculously high heels. As far as he could see, there were women, except in the pool. Young women. Models. White was still the color to wear when it comes to bikinis and the fabric barely covered what they needed to, Gérard noticed. It’s been like that for as long as he could remember. These parties were all about being seen. If you weren’t invited, it meant you had to work harder to be noticed. Some of these women did that back at the studio, others volunteered to be waitresses here at the party.

Gérard’s eyes wandered to a group of people under one of the canopies. A man, the only other one around and maybe thirty years his junior, was on the white bed. Five beautiful young women sat on the bed around him, appropriately saying ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ when they thought they had to. As they talked, their hands touched him, trying to draw and hold the boss’s attention. The younger man seemed bored, his eyes scanning the guests. Gérard followed his gaze.

The redhead balanced a tray professionally on the tips of her fingers as she walked from guest to guest to offer them hors d’oeuvres. Conversation stopped when people saw her and excitedly started again when she walked away. She wore a black and white apron. Her nipples and sex were barely covered by the front of the apron. Her backside was bare, decorated only with a big black bow just above her bottom. Stockings and high heels completed the picture. Surely she had misunderstood the dress code for the waitresses? Where was the rest of her uniform?

Something stirred In Gérard’s pants. He smiled at the thought that these young women never seized to excite him, no matter his age. It wasn’t so long ago that he was the boss; that he was the one on the bed, surrounded by young women who wanted only one thing – to be his favorite. Nowadays he was an honorary member of this elite group. His smile broadened and his dick thickened when the redhead bent over to offer the boss a hors d’oeuvre. Her pussy was clearly visible between her thighs and Gérard could swear that some wetness glistened in the sun. The five women around the boss stared at her, their mouths open, but quickly moved away when the boss waved them away.

The chatter around the pool stopped. Everyone watched as the boss of the biggest porn firm in town grabbed the apron in his fist and pulled the redhead onto the bed. She was on her knees, sitting back on her feet, her legs spread. Gérard cupped his growing erection as the young man ran his hands over the redhead’s breasts and slipped his hand between her legs.

If only those were my hands, Gérard thought, but watching gave him almost as much pleasure.

The young boss took the hand of the half-naked waitress and put it on his erection, while his fingers fucked the wetness between her legs. The redhead threw her head back, moaning her orgasm. Everyone stayed still and watched how the boss pulled her on top of him and pushed his dick deep into her wet pussy.

Gérard slipped his hand in his pants and grabbed his rigid cock. He wanked himself to the rhythm of their fucking. No one paid him any attention. He remembered his days as the boss; his encounters with young and sexy models and in his mind’s eye he saw himself fucking them while everyone watched. Those were the days, he thought and his hand moved faster. On the bed orgasms were close. Gérard echoed that.

But, his mind wandered on in a different rhythm than his hand, it’s time for the younger generation to carry on where I have stopped. I am but a vintage playboy.

© Rebel’s Notes


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