Sex Lives of the Super Wealthy - Sex Stories

Sex Lives of the Super Wealthy

... road. We had just passed a cluster of stately looking mansions when Ryan started slowing down. On the right was a turn off, he turned in coming to a stop in front of a huge wrought iron gate. Massive stone work at least eight-foot high adorned the edges. The stone wall trailed off into the woods along each side. Ryan honked twice, and almost instantly the gate jolted to life and began opening. I was watching for a first glimpse of the house but saw nothing. We started down a paved drive that wound though what looked like a golf course. The grass was manicured and the vegetation lush. We must have driven at least mile before we crested a hill. The view ahead stunned me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I remember a chill went through me and goose bumps popped up on my arms. My eyes locked on a structure maybe a half mile ahead at the crest of the next hill. It wasn’t just a house or a mansion it was a more liked a damned English castle. “Stop the car Ryan!” I pleaded. “What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, slowing the car to a crawl. “Wait please stop!” I repeated. I must have stared at that view for a minute. Ryan finally touched my arm and asked if I was ok. “Ryan, you said they were well-off, but you never said anything about this.” This was beyond my wildest imagination. “Ryan, are you telling me this is your home?” I asked, staring at him. Ryan rather sheepishly he admitted “Yes”. He was acting almost embarrassed by the grandiose display in front of us. The car started ...

... moving again. I remember thinking over and over the phrase, “The one percent.” This was the super wealthy, the “One percent” that everyone talks bad about at parties. I was petrified, and wanted to just turn around and go back. Ryan blew this off and said, “You’ll do just fine.” As the car approached a stone courtyard out in front, an “honest to god” butler appeared at the front door. He welcomed us both, then escorted us through the most awesome foyer toward an adjoining room. Ryan’s parents were there awaiting our arrival. His mother put down a book and stood as we entered. She warmly received a hug from him. I walked over nervously and received the same. To this day, I can vividly recall my first impression of Simon. Ryan’s father was standing right in the column of a brilliant beam of sunlight pouring through a series of two story glass windows. The stiff and proper posture he held, reminded me of some ancient nobleman receiving visitors. Simon extended his hand politely, and greeted Ryan like a guest instead of his son. Simon was wearing an impeccably tailored Armonti suit which probably cost at least ten to twenty-thousand dollars. His “Forzier” Italian leather shoes were spot-on the latest style. His watch of course, was “Cartier.” All told, he was probably wearing one hundred thousand dollars in fashion, and yes he was probably the most distinguished man I had ever laid eyes on. He was maybe fifty, with just a touch of grey hair at the temples. I felt like he was sizing ...