The Truth at the End of the Day

I've been told that I was born with a silver spoon. What exactly does that mean? Am I one of the privileged few? If this means having money, then I'm guilty. But don't admire or condemn me too quickly, as you haven't walked that proverbial mile in my shoes.

I can say with some certainty that although I may not have earned what I have, I paid the price. I continue to pay for the sins of my parents. I won't try to mislead you, I am not saying my parents were the only reason I am who I am, but that doesn't absolve them either.

My grandfather made his money the old fashioned way, with backbreaking labor and sweat. If only the sweat were his own he may have been respected. He became rich riding the backs of poor and unprotected labor. He paid a man half of what he was worth, and twice what he would have liked.

This leads us to my father, a man forced to do the bidding of my tyrannical granddad. He was treated as an employee rather than a son. He did work hard long hours, but he had a carrot on a string so to speak. He would inherit his father's millions.

His handicap was a new generation, the generation of union workers and employee rights. His hard work and abilities led to his success in business. He learned how to handle the unions and the company prospered.

Me, well I simply don't worry about my grandfathers business. I have others do it for me. There is an entire staff of highly trained and qualified managers to keep stuffing money in my pockets. The industry is booming, and we rake in more than our share. I will honestly concede the company thrives in spite of my lackluster efforts.

You might think me a rich spoiled child, despite my thirty some years. You could be right, but it simply makes no difference what you think. I lead my life the way I see fit, your opinion of me is not my concern. I have become numb to the expectations of those around me. This as you will see, was not caused by my fortune. The cause was brought on by those closest to me in my life. Yes, my father, my mother and later my wife.

My life began thirty eight years ago. I was brought onto this earth kicking and screaming, on a cold winter day. My father Robert Jr. christened me Robert III, for my grandfather Robert Sr. By the time I was born, Sr. had long since passed, leaving his business and fortune to my father to carry on.

My "dad" worked hard to build his reputation as a hard-nosed businessman. He only married when he heard his biological clock ticking. The sole reason for his nuptial union with my mother would be me, an heir, to perpetuate the family name. My father married late in life at forty four, my mother was twenty.

There was no room in fathers' life for me other than in name. He worked long hours, and I don't even really remember him. If you thought of your childhood memories, you probably will see many pictures of your father. Mental images of him at the beach or a picnic, perhaps at your graduation. I have no such memories.

I learned many years after his death that his life was his business and the many mistresses he kept. My mother was for breeding only, a young wife to raise his child. She no doubt had loved him, but the love was never returned.

My birth meant and end to romance for her. After a few years of trying to unsuccessfully persuade Robert Jr. to become a real husband to her, she let the alcohol and depressants comfort her.

I was raised by a nanny, paid to see to my physical requirements. I was treated more as a possession than a loved member of the family. As I grew old enough, I was sent to the finest boarding schools. I went to, and was expelled from the best institutions money could buy.

Military school was where I learned to accept what I was. I was an out cast, not wanted by my family. Not wanted in any way, but by the school for the money I could bring them. They were paid handsomely to keep me. I was disciplined to the point of conformity. They would not let me leave, nor let me act like the child that was thrown out of every other school on the East Coast. If they failed the school would lose their largest benefactor, my father.

I saw life as it truly was. I was not to be valued for any contribution on a human level, but rather my worth was to be assessed by those that could profit financially from our relationship.

I heard of my parent's death while in college. The facts were hidden from me at the time, but I would later discover the horrible truth. My parents died on the same day, in two seemingly unrelated events. The official cause of death, given at the time, for my father was heart failure. My mother's was listed as a motor vehicle accident.

I would learn years later that a 9mm slug had caused my dads' heart to fail, and coincidentally my mother was in the room at the time. I would also find out that one of dads' many mistresses had also met with an untimely demise in the same bed, at the same time.

My mother's death would prove mysterious as well. The speed of her Porsche was estimated at over 130 mph when it collided with a power pole. It would seem her blood alcohol level was a shade under the lethal dosage.

Would your world have been shattered upon learning of your parent's death? Well, to be truthful it was very nearly the same as hearing two strangers had died. The spin control my fathers company launched made the event appear as two wholly unrelated tragic accidents. At the time no one questioned it, and to this day it is really of no consequence to me how they lived or died.

Are you asking yourself, how anyone can be this heartless? I don't perceive myself as uncaring, simply indifferent. Do you cry when a stranger's death occurs thousands of miles from you? I think not. Certainly if a child dies through the actions of others you or I may shed a tear. But a cheating husband and a drunk driver will go almost unnoticed.

At the young age of twenty, I was forced into the world of high finance. In military school I learned two valuable lessons. Loyalty and diligence will be rewarded, and poor performance and betrayal deserve severe punishment. These small bits of knowledge have served me well.

The top-level administrators of my fathers company, no make that my company now, were ineffective and indecisive. A change was in order, so I made that change. I've trusted one man in my life, and only one. He was military, he was loyal and he always told me what I needed to hear not what I wanted to hear. He was the math teacher at the academy. John Miller was as close to a father as I had known.

I had to beg to convince John to work for me. He had no use for industry, or the type of people that occupied the top positions. John was certain he would be in over his head, as he didn't know the business world. When I reminded him a General didn't need to know how to fire a rifle, but send the soldier who does to the correct location, he capitulated.

Within six months he had things running like a well-oiled machine. The deadwood was hewn away, and the best of the best hired. John had succeeded and the business flourished. I was not really needed, but I continued to work. I needed a reason to get out of bed everyday.

In spite of my lack of experience and aptitude, I did learn the inner-workings of my company, though I hardly needed to. I can't remember a time I had to make a decision in the presence of a subordinate. For all appearances I was merely a lame duck or limp dick, which ever you prefer. John made things happen, so I didn't interfere.

In my first year after my parent's death, I was on my own, a totally new way of life, no nanny, no school and no direction. Left to my devices, I fell to despair. Like my mother, alcohol became my drug of choice. I drank to remember, and I drank to forget. Jack on the rocks became my only true friend.

My friendship was a commodity others vied for, but Whisky Jack was the only one that asked nothing of me. I had little to do with the ass-kissers. Well the ladies, now that is a different story. Women threw themselves at my feet, so I gladly accepted the offer of their company.

Sex was all I ever saw in these women, they had their agenda's and I had mine. To them, I was a penis attached to a checkbook. To me, they were little more than whores to be used and cast aside. It was a rare woman indeed that could hold my attention for more than one night.

As I became recognized as the very rich young eligible bachelor about town, it was funny to watch the scurry of gold-diggers as I would enter a bar or restaurant. The flirting ritual would begin with a simple look, and soon progress to a full court press. I have never had to approach a woman, they are happy to do all the work for me.

On many an occasion, more than one young beautiful lady claimed a spot in my bed at the same time. More than a few were willing to share, rather than leave me alone with another vixen. I was always willing to go to my bed alone, but rarely did. These nymphs were all willing, so why look a gift horse in the mouth?

In school I was never more than an average student, but my studies at the University of Fornication would earn me a master's degree with honors. I applied my body and mind to the course work with unwavering diligence. Sadly though, it was the act I loved not the participant.

Through the years of my twenties, I had scores of women try to get me to the altar. I had no desire to make that commitment. I was simply not interested in leading that lifestyle. Women had begged me, promised to overlook any tryst, for the opportunity to be my wife. It amazed me to think that a person would do that out of love, so I knew in the end it was money they sought.

Shortly after my thirty-first birthday I met a woman that would change my views on marriage. She certainly was not the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but there was something I could not identify that attracted me to her. There was a presence about her that held my attention, we had met, not at my usual haunts, but in small deli. For the first time in my life, I was forced to make the first move.

Sitting at a window table eating her lunch, I was compelled to approach her. She invited me to join her as all the other tables were full. We shared a little conversation with our lunch, Chris, in fact worked for me, though I wasn't aware of it. As I've told you, I spent little time there and probably less time meeting the people that work for me.

She knew who I was, though. Chris didn't have to tell me she thought very little of me, but it was evident. We finished our lunches with some inane dialogue and she excused herself to return to work.

Try as I might, I couldn't get her out of my head. Chris intrigued me, a woman that didn't beg to fuck me seemed like a breath of fresh air. From what little I had learned of her, she was intelligent and independent. I vowed to find out more, I had a need to see her again.

I returned to the deli everyday for a week, but she was never there. I made inquiries at work and found what department she was in. The next day just before noon I was at her desk. I asked her to join me for lunch. Chris declined my advance, she'd told me she just didn't have time that day. I walked away with out a word and returned minutes later with a bag of sandwiches from the deli.

"I guess you don't take no for an answer." She said as she shook her head with the slightest smile.

"That is my most endearing quality." I replied.

"The way I hear it, you have few qualities outside the bedroom."

"Well, a man must have a hobby."

"Get it straight mister, I'm no one's hobby." She spat.

"I am truly sorry for that remark, I suppose that I am not much at humor as well. Would you give me the chance to make amends?"

"I doubt that would be a good idea."

"Please, just dinner, I ask no more."

"You are not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

We made a date for dinner the following Friday. I would like to tell you we fell in love and lived happily ever after. We dated for months, but found little in common. I did find something in Chris, I found someone to talk to, very open and honestly. I had also slowed my drinking from a few bottles a week to a few glasses.

Our dates became more like psychoanalysis than romance. We discussed what she wanted from life and just how fucked up I had become. Chris wanted a very normal life, career, love, marriage and kids. We would sometimes sit near my pool in the dark, stare at the stars and talk. I think we both saw that a romantic relationship would never come to us.

One very clear night, while stargazing, Chris asked me a question that stunned me.

"Rob, is it true what the girls say about you?"

"Well, that depends on what they say, I suppose."

"Are you that good in bed?"

"Chris, I don't know how to answer that. I mean, how do I know how good any other man is? I guess you are going to have to take their word for it. Why Chris, does it matter how much experience I have?"

"Well, I talked to a few girls at work. They all say nobody does it better than you. I was wondering Rob, could you teach me."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No Rob, I've only been with one man. He was a boy, more accurately. So I'd like my next time to be with a man I trust, and knows how to make me feel special."

"This really doesn't sound like you Chris."

"The truth is Rob, my sister saved herself until her wedding night. She was so disappointed after waiting so long. She dreamed of Prince Charming and she feels like she shouldn't have gotten married now. I talked to her last week and she told me she was having an affair. Rob, she plans on getting a divorce. I just need to know for myself, I don't want to end up like her."

"Chris, I love you, I love you like a sister I guess. Is it normal for someone to fuck their sister?"

We both saw the idiocy of my statement and burst out in laughter.

"Well Rob, you are at least getting better at humor. But seriously, would you make love to me?"

"If you're sure this is what you want, Chris? I'd do almost anything for you, but the last thing I want to do is screw up our relationship any more than it already is. You must know that after the first few dates I never have expected us to end up in bed together. I value our time together, you're the only woman that expects nothing of me,"

"Rob, I really do want to. Like you said you don't expect me to sleep with you, which is why I trust you. We will go to bed with eyes wide open, with no commitments. I know you well enough to know in my own mind that I won't be another of your conquests. I also won't assume any emotional obligation on your part."

"Ok Chris, please pack a bag, we'll leave Friday after work."

"Why? Where? Rob I didn't..."

"Chris, for you I want this to be special. Please pack for the weekend."

Friday afternoon, Chris was terribly apprehensive. We flew to Lake Tahoe. I had arranged a lovely Chalet with a fabulous view, very romantic indeed. She is an extraordinary woman, I would bring my "A game" for Chris, and hopefully she would remember this weekend forever.

We enjoyed a candlelit supper by the fireplace, a few glasses of chilled wine to set the mood. I took her to bathroom and bathed Chris very carefully, running my hands over her lovely skin, testing for her weak spots. I massaged her neck slowly and tenderly, alternating my fingers and lips. Moving down to her arms, I gently kissed the silky skin inside her elbow down to her wrist. I took it very slowly, as not to spoil the moment.

My actions were making her coo and murmur. I continued now, reassured that she was pleased. Ever so gently I ran my finger tips to the small of her back, her low moans indicating a major erotic area for her. Chris had her eyes closed savoring each touch. She reached for my shaft, I gently moved her hand away. "Not yet Baby, this is about you now." I whispered in her ear, lightly caressing the lobe with my tongue.

I worked my magic on her thighs, tenderly and lovingly. The softest of kisses downward to her knees, while lightly stroking her ankles and feet. Her anticipation was at its peak, she uttered low soft words of pleasure as I carried her to the bed. I took my time drying the wetness from her skin, taking great care as I moved the towel. Her eyes were begging me for release.

I responded by lying next to her and pulled her body tight to mine. I covered her mouth with mine, kissing her with passion and urgency. Our tongues danced, she clutched me to her body. The fever was building as I stroked her breasts. My mouth circled her erect nipples, my tongue flicking lightly across the sensitive tissue.

I moved slowly to her navel, kissing and gently biting her taut skin. Her breathing was deep and ragged, she was close to orgasm as my mouth trailed to her center. Her flower was in full bloom, swollen and red. Chris' bud was engorged and waiting to be plucked. The short fine hairs of her sex, glistened with her moisture.

Slowly I kissed the outer lips, savoring her scent. My tongue ran from her puckered hole to little clit, moving in a spiral motion as my hands clasped her thighs. Chris called out my name over and over. "Oh Rob, Oh Rob, yes, yes, OH Rob," and she convulsed with spasm after spasm. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my face tightly to her beautiful sex.

Chris laid relaxing and regaining her breath. I slid in close and held her to me. Without a word I let her drift off to sleep, secure in my arms. The day had been long and tiring for us both, but I didn't sleep right away. I watched Chris in wonder, admiring this special woman next to me.

I awoke early to find Chris sleeping peacefully at my side. I prepared some coffee and returned with two mugs. She was lying nude, stretching as a cat would as I walked through the door.

"Did you sleep well, Baby?" I asked

"I wish I could sleep like that every night." She yawned, and then she smiled.

I handed her the mug and bent to kiss her forehead. I slipped into bed with Chris and enjoyed our closeness. The thought of being with Chris every day made me smile, but I would not tell her. I know she has hopes and dreams that I don't fit into. I really could not let on that I was now hoping for more from her.

"What's that silly smile for, Rob?"

" I'm just enjoying my coffee." I lied.

Chris slid next to me and started running her fingers through the hair on my chest and stomach. She put her lips to my left nipple and circled it with her tongue, making it painfully stiff. She pulled back and blew cold air where her lips had been, with the increased sensation my nipple grew more erect. My cock grew to its full length and girth, I was as hard as I ever remembered.

Chris then straddled my waist, her wet pussy in contact with my hardness. I pulled her body to me and we kissed, our lips and tongues exploring. She rocked her hips, my shaft gliding across her open slit. Slowly at first with the rhythm building, my hands roaming her lower back down her ass to her drenched sex.

Minute after minute the tempo increased. I had two fingers buried deep in her now, massaging her G spot. Chris was dripping wet by now. I could feel her liquid spreading across my pelvis. I pulled my fingers to our mouths, both of us now tasting her essence. The taste fueled her desire as my fingers returned to her tight pussy. I gathered some lubricant from her sex and rubbed it on her anus, pushing gently in with my finger. Both of my hands now inflaming her passion as they probed her center.

I rolled Chris to her back, and positioned myself on my knees between her spread legs. With one thrust I was buried to her cervix. With the next she started to climax. By the third stroke Chris was experiencing he first orgasm by penetration. She growled like an animal as her finger nails pierced my skin. Wave after wave as I continued my pounding. I pulled out as my seed boiled from the end of my cock, shooting ropes of creamy fluid onto her body. There were lines of sperm radiating from her mound to her chin.