(Chapter 1) Inheritance and Betrayal

Samantha Cherry Ewing was my real name (born illegitimate) but my stage name was Cherry Delicious. I was a twenty-two-year-old university graduate. I had a degree in Business Administration ‘with distinction’ and ‘departmental honors in business administration’. But damn, even with my impressive academic honors, the economy made it impossible to find a job!

I had been stripping for nearly two years, now. It was a well-paying job and I was good at it. I was ‘very good’ at it! Men liked blonde-headed, long-legged girls. I had an advantage over some of the other strippers in the Pussy Galore Club. Well, you might call it an advantage, but to be truthful, it was a birth defect which had affected my body for twenty-two years now.

As with most females, I was born with no pubic hair. When I passed through puberty, my young female vagina refused to produce pubic hair. My legs and underarms grew no hair. Yet, my head grew an abundance of silky long curls. To this day I have hair only on my head.

Lordy day, men love hairless pussy just like a child loves candy! Perhaps this love is a reminder of years past when the joys of sex were first discovered. Well, for whatever the reason, I was the biggest draw at Pussy Galore. I was averaging over a grand an evening in wages and tips. A backroom, private showing could net me an additional $5,000 a night. I was one ‘hot number’! I knew it, my boss knew it, and my men knew it.

Yet, not many people knew that my net worth was a cool one million dollars. My dad taught me how to play cards. He was a very good instructor and I was now an adept smoky-room card shark. Too bad my dad’s talents and financial genius were now being wasted on drink and honkytonk women. Last month, I had petitioned the court to make myself Dad’s guardian and power of attorney. I was granted these powers under the same conditions as he held them. Dad’s $250 million dollar inheritance was held in a trust controlled by his three sisters. He could not touch a cent, beyond a small monthly allowance, without my three aunt’s consent.

At one time, my father, Samuel Ewing, was a big-shot force to be reckoned with in the state of Texas. As a wildcat oilman, Dad made and lost several oil fortunes. Yet, it was my grandfather, Samson Ewing, who had swindled Dad out of his last and greatest fortune. On his deathbed, Dad’s dad had learned of a family secret which would have destroyed the family name. He bequeathed his (Dad’s) fortune to Dad and his three sisters equally, with the sisters in charge. The billion dollar estate was stolen from Dad all because of a bit of reckless, youthful behavior.

What was the oh-so-terrible secret that Dad had? I found out one dark and drunken night. I was a bit younger than I am now. Dad liked, or better ‘loved’, young pussy. Most men do. Dad tried to rape me! I guess I couldn’t blame him because I was young and ripe! This was perhaps Dad’s oldest addiction. He had raped each of his sisters, each in their turn. So, in the end, the three blackmailing bitches helped steal Dad’s fortune; just because they could!

(Chapter 2) She Devils’ Secrets

Speak of the she devils! In through the door of the strip club came, Aunt Agnes, Aunt Beatrice, and Aunt Clara. These Southern Belles of Texas had demeaned themselves so far as to be seen in a house of ill repute. These ladies were not dressed in finery, they wore no jewels, and they were accompanied by no security detail. So, I’ll be damned, they were out on the town, wishing to be incognito, and also wanting to see some pussy at a pussy club!

I was just finishing my pole dance and the crowd was going wild with applause, hoots, hollers, and cat-whistles. My three aunts were even joining in. Carl, one of our bouncers, came to me with a crisp one-hundred dollar bill and a message that the ladies near the stage would like to talk with me.

Oh shit, it was my three aunts! Of course these women didn’t know me from Adam or Eve. They had made no effort to meet their brother’s bastard child. Dad had taken me to the horse races last year (I paid) where I had seen the haughty, beguiling, high & mighty daughters of Samson Ewing. Wealthy bitches they may be, but with Dad’s guidance, he and I won a bit over $100,000 in cash.

I sailed off the stripping stage and landed at the requesting table. My three aunts could see that I had not one stitch of clothing on; I had no bra to cover my 34D breasts and not even a G-string to hide my pulsating pussy. “May I help you, ladies?” I asked in a polite, cat-after-a-mouse voice.
“My, my, aren’t you a delicious young thing!” Aunt Agnes declared rhetorically.

“Oh she is the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen!” Aunt Beatrice agreed.

“The young cunt looks good enough to eat!” Aunt Clara asserted.

To say that I was surprised by the lady/lesbian words would be an understatement. These oh-so-proper women were secretive perverts. Hell, not that I minded; some of best paying voyeurs were lesbian women and older aged girls! I decided that this unexpected encounter with my three aunts might somehow work to my advantage.

Aunt Agnes laid a $100 greenback bill on the table. Aunt Beatrice and Aunt Clara each did the same. Aunt Agnes spoke for the trio, “Sweetie, these bills are yours if you will spread your puffy pussy lips apart and show us your clitoris.”

It was a fair offer. But damnit, when had any of these three aunts ever been fair to my dad! “Sorry, but my going rate is $1,000…each” I said in a mercenary tone.

Three thousand dollars appeared on the table. I suppose money grew on trees for these women. In accordance with our agreement, I spread my vaginal folds and revealed my clit. It wasn’t yet stiffened or wet.

“Finger it and make it swell, and then get some juice from your hole and make that sweet piece of meat wet,” ordered Aunt Agnes.

I wasn’t exactly in shock, but I didn’t move. My hesitation was taken as a demand for additional money. Another $3,000 was laid on the table. In response, I began fingering my meaty clit. I drew moisture from my pussy and coated my clit making it swell into an erect, hot, wet vaginal protrusion.

“How much to touch it?” echoing voices queried.

Dare I do it, dare I say it, and dare I charge it! “Ten grand…each!” I insisted.

I thanked goodness my three aunts’ table was near a corner in the smoke-filled room. A quick glance revealed that this table was not being observed. A pretty Asian girl called “Kimmy Kat” was nude pole dancing.

I wouldn’t have believed that any women would go out in public with that much spending money. Yet, $30,000 in cash was dug out of purses and pushed towards me. Another $20,000 joined it. “That’s for fingering your hole!” stipulated Aunt Clara.

My body stood frozen (like the movie) while the evil queens began touching, and playing with my clit. I felt the fingers of Dad’s wicked sisters finger-fucking my vagina. As rhythmic carnal desires increased in tempo, shy Aunt Beatrice spoke for the hard-breathing trio, “Is there a place we can go and suck you? We will double the money on the table!”

I think it was Kenny Rogers who sang “you never count your money while sitting at the table.” Yet the business woman in me counted every cent. The total, so far, was $56,000. By doubling that figure I would have $112,000 by the end of this. It was not my highest nightly total, but it was close.

Whispering for my three aunts to follow, I led them to a small back bedroom. It was an immaculately clean pink and white copy of a teen girl’s room. Hoping to get this ordeal over with soon, I hopped onto the fluffy, oversized bed. I was already naked, but my three aunts were dressed.

They quickly rectified the situation. The three women were in their upper-thirties in age. They undressed and I was surprised by the well-toned bodies I saw. I was not a whore! I very rarely spent any paid sex time with a man…and even more rarely with a woman. I love sex, yet by my definition I was not a whore. If I were to be truthful with myself, I guess I should say I was a borderline whore in the very least.

My three nude aunts jumped into bed with me. Each in their turn by age and alphabet sucked my clit. Oh did they suck. As a starving calf suckled a tit-full of its mother cow’s milk, these women suckled my clit and invaded my vagina with their fingers and tongues.

I didn’t want to do it, but I was close to cumming. I hated my three aunts yet I loved the money they could give me. Money, money, money repeated in my mind. Over one hundred grand was mine to keep. Money, money, money, oh god I began cumming, cumming, cumming! My spraying female cum squirted and spurted into the face of the cunt aunt who happened to be sucking my clit.

Opening my eyes just for a second, I saw that it was Aunt Agnes who was suckling, licking, and lapping all my female juices. Oh shit, it would be her; it would be the biggest bitch of the bunch!

“Do us now, Sweetheart,” Aunt Agnes pleaded. “We will double our money again!”

Oh my god, double would make my night’s take be $224.000! Yet, could I do it? Could I suck my three aunts’ cunts? For that kind of money, I would, I could, and I did. They really weren’t all that old as ladies go. They were clean and their vaginas were wet and slippery. I took each one after the other. They were already hot and horny so it didn’t take long to make them cum. They each screamed and writhed on the bed while glorious orgasms made them content.

(Chapter 3) The Rancher’s Charm

True to their word, my three aunts paid their due. My net worth was increased by $224,000 cash money. I had been preparing myself for betrayal or theft, yet neither happened. I supposed that the three ladies might have hopes for another visit to see me.

After I showered and dressed in some highfalutin street cloths, I exited the strip club and walked down the street. The time was a bit after midnight. I ran into a man, an old time card-playing acquaintance. He was one of your stereotypical Texans complete with a Stetson hat and Justin boots. “Hey Sam,” my card-playing, big-time rancher friend said. “Whoopee, ain’t you dressed to kill! Clear the streets folks ‘cause the sexiest lady in Texas’ is on the prowl!”

Friends such as this man called me “Sam” as short for Samantha and as an honor to my father. “Now Reece Thompson, you quit that flirting,” I said in pretend indignation. “You are old enough to be my…”

“Bedmate!” Reece exclaimed. “How about it, Sam? Throw me a bone. Give an old fella a ‘mercy’ fuck?”

Old fella? Well, I reckon that Reece was about sixty. He was a very distinguished looking man sort of like the J. R. Ewing character. Reece was just as rich and powerful as the wealthiest Ewing. He could buy all the pussy and fucks he wanted.

Yet, Reece wanted me; for free! In truth, I was honored. After being with my three aunts, I was the one needing a mercy fuck by a man. Many a ruthless word had been said about Reece Thompson, yet no one had ever questioned his manhood. “Sure Reece, I’ll throw you a bone…if you’ll throw me a good-sized boner,” I teased.

Reece owned one of the most expensive penthouse suites in the city. I was very impressed by the apartment and the man, so much so that I bypassed the bar and the living room. I needed no small-talk. I found the bedroom and led my lion to his lair. I was a professional stripper, yet for some reason, I wanted to slowly undress as a lover would for her love.

Reece caught and held his breath several times. I smiled, went to him, and unhurriedly removed his clothing. After looking at three cunts, Reece’s large cock was like a drink of cold water on a hot Texas day. I dropped to my knees and attempted to drink from the over-sized spigot. No cold drink came from this faucet. Reece’s cock was so hot that the heft and length burned my lips, mouth, and throat. But, oh what joy I had giving this man’s cock pleasure and myself joy.

There is a dilemma a woman faces when giving a blowjob to a very young man or an older gentleman; these men are easily excitable, therefore, if a cocksucking woman is not careful, these men can release their cum too soon. I suppose I was lucky that Reece had held onto his juices while I kissed, and licked, and bit, and sucked his meaty erection for so long. Not wanting to push my luck, I pulled the stiffened penile rod out of my mouth. I stood, and then rapidly moved, and then climbed into the king-sized bed slipping in under a silk coverlet.

Reece voiced disapproval, “Hell Samantha Ewing! You’re not lying in my bed all covered up!” The infuriated man jerked the silk coverlet down to the foot of the bed. I was lying on my stomach. Reece smacked my ass repeatedly and then he commanded, “Sam, turn over so I can enjoy the view of your hairless pussy!”

I did as I was told even though my ass was stinging like fire. Reece climbed in bed and began fingering and kissing my pussy. I was so glad that I had taken a scrub bath before going out for the night. I was giving this man a fresh, yet female smelling and tasting vagina. Reece kissed the valleys between my upper thighs and my pussy. He kissed my twin swollen, split pussy halves.
I swooned with passion as my pussy lips were spread and a man’s tongue licked my clit. He licked, and licked, and then licked more as my lusts grew evermore hot-blooded and demanding. When Reece’s mouth sucked my clit, I cried tears of joy. His tongue explored the depths of the pathway to my uterus and womb causing me to scream, “Oh God Reece Thompson, please fuck me, please fuck me now!”

This rancher man mounted me in a way that one of his prized Herford bulls would mount a champion heifer. Reece’s huge cock kissed my pussy wings and went on into my steaming wet penile receptacle. Cockflesh poked my vagina in a circular motion, in a slow rhythmic speed, and then in a faster tempo. I was going crazy and needed orgasmic relief.

Reece’s lips kissed my face, his hands played with my breasts, and his cock fucked me faster and faster. My orgasmic relief began. I screamed, I whimpered, and I cried as orgasm after orgasm consumed my very soul with blazing fires.

I laid in bed with this man for an entire hour. There is a saying in South for an older man like Reece; “he is not too old to cut the mustard!” His fucking was as good, or better, as any I’d ever had. I lay with him in the smoldering afterglow of extreme passion.

(Chapter 4) The Card Game

Out of the blue, Reece asked, “Up for a card game?”

“I am,” was my answer.

We two bathed and dressed. Soon we were in Reece’s limo heading for a high stakes card game. In the dingy basement of the “Old Dixie Hotel” we found a private game of luck already in full swing.
“How’s it hanging,” Reece was asked. “That’s a mighty fine piece of Eye-Candy you are sporting on your arm!”

“Hey Sam,” a raspy voice asked. “What are you doing on the arms of that old reprobate?”

“Boys, I came to play cards and Reece gave me a ride,” I replied. “Think you can handle me?”
The dealer, a local banker, allowed his head to drop. He muttered, “Regretfully Sam, the buy in for this game is one-hundred thousand dollars. That may be a little steep for you!”
More than one man offered to loan me the money. Peter, my attorney, offered; Brad, my stockbroker, offered; and Carlton, my banker, offered. Gentleman Reece offered to give me the money.

When I pulled the $100,000 out of my purse, every eye in the room rose in surprise. This was one of the key moments in my life. Not many twenty-two-year-old young women could so cavalierly pull a small fortune out of their purse. I suppose the daughters of the multimillionaires card players setting here at the table could pull out the money; unless they had already spent it on expensive jewelry or fancy doodads.

Card playing resumed. By 3:00 AM, a pot of more than $1,000,000 was on the card table. My original $100,000 was part of the pot plus another $200,000 I had previously won. The rules we were playing by were ‘table’ stakes. If you could not match a raise, then you lost.
I raised $100,000. This was a bold move for an innocent-looking young woman to be making. Of course no one man at the table believed that I was innocent. The men knew that I good reason for bluffing. I had not one cent on the table before me! If you cannot back up a bet in this game, you lost. Yet, if I took the pot, I wouldn’t have to back up my bet. In order to further confuse my opponents I goaded, “Do you feel lucky punks, well DO YOU?”

My manly opponents dropped out one by one. I heard whispered comments; “Hell, the bitch just might have it! I fold.”; “Shit, I just came from the strip club and I know she doesn’t make that much money! I fold”; “She’s got it, but does she have it with her is the question! I fold.”; “I don’t care much either way but I wouldn’t put it past her to have another hundred grand in her purse! I fold.”
So, without backing my bet or showing my cards, I won the million dollar pot. Reece, Brad, and Peter asked in unison, “Could you back it up?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I teasingly replied. Carlton, my banker asked me no
questions. He knew that I already had one million dollars in his bank. He was not surprised by my winning of another million.

Carlton inquired, “Sam, I have a couple of armed bodyguards, would you like for us to escort you and the money down to the bank?”

My answer was a quick “Yes.” I scooped the million into my purse and off we went. The remaining men were burning with curiosity as to whether or not I had left a winning hand on the table. They broke one of the cardinal rules of card playing. Just before Carlton and I exited the room, one man asked for all, “Sam, may we look at your hand?”

I scowled, yet I gave an affirmative answer. My card hand was turned over showing a 2 of clubs, a 4 of hearts, a 10 of spades, a 3 of diamonds, and a 9 of clubs. It was shit; it was a bluff, it was a goddamned ball-buster! And, every man knew it. The sting of defeat burned painfully.

Carlton and his guards escorted me to the bank. The banker added my million to my account. I kept my other $124,000 as walking-around money. As I pocketed my deposit slip, Carlton slipped his arm around my waist. The bank clock read 4:25 AM.

My banker and friend raised the hem of my skirt all the way up to my bellybutton. My panties were still soaking back at Reece’s penthouse. Carlton found no impediment when his groping hands closed over my pussy mound. His breathing became labored as he lay his cock against the crack of my ass. The horny financier walked me over to his paper-covered private desk and bent me over it. Without asking for permission, consent, or authorization, Carlton’s bareback cock slipped between my thighs and found the backdoor entrance to my vagina. Without further ado, he fucked me. He fucked me quick and hard.

I didn’t mind. I was already excited by my million dollar win, so why not celebrate with a good hard fuck? This ‘quickie’ was fantastic, it was fun, and it was very orgasmic. I was hoping that the documents on Carlton’s desk were not too important because our drippy female cum and male cum was wetting them.

(Chapter 5) The Capitol and the Courtroom

After a morning nap, I drove to the Texas capitol in Austin. My Jaguar F-Type coupe sped down the highway, its 340 horsepower V6 screamed on the open road and growled in the city. I parked and then made my way to the Oil & Mineral archives. With the help of the head archivist, who had been working on my search for weeks, we found the documents I sought.

One week later my attorney, Peter Sexton, and I presented a case in the Texas Supreme Court. My first order of business was to deliver to my three Aunts three envelopes containing high definition photos of their nude liaison with a young woman at a strip club. Their sexual antics were plain to see.

Peter called Samuel Ewing to be questioned. Justice Taylor asked, “According to these mineral & oil documents, you were the original discoverer of the Ewing Roundtop oil fields? Why was the Ewing Roundtop Oil Company subsequently shared with your sisters?”

“Yes sir, I made the discovery and started my billion dollar company,” was Dad’s answer. “Sir, my own son-of-a-bitch of a father, Samson Ewing, swindled me out of my company and then on his deathbed he bequeathed ‘MY’ fortune to me and my sisters equally! You may wonder why; well, Sir there was supposedly a family ‘skeleton in the closet’ involving an indiscretion among my sisters! I ask the court to question my sisters about this. Thank you.”

Justice Roan questioned each sister in turn. Although represented by counsel, each woman answered for herself. Clutching handbags filled with incriminating photos, each replied, “Sir, I have no knowledge of any such indiscretion.”

Peter stood to address the court again, “Mr. and Ms. Justices, Mr. Samuel Ewing and his Power Of Attorney daughter have come here today to correct a long overdue wrong. If there were no ‘indiscretions’, then there was no reason for the Ewing Oil company to be dissolved or divided among any relatives without the original owner’s consent! We ask that all possessions of the Ewing Roundtop Oil Company be returned to Sam Ewing.”

The court announced that after a thorough review of the documents and the testimonies, a ruling would be made. Court adjourned.

In the subsequent weeks, the following happened:

1. The Texas Supreme Court ruled in Samuel Ewing’s favor.

2. Dad told me that he was tired of the entire long fight. He only wanted his allowance doubled; any more that this would kill him. He wanted Samantha Ewing to become the chairman of the board of the Ewing Roundtop Oil Company. He wished for me to remain his guardian and Power of Attorney. He made a will leaving all his worldly possessions to me.

3. I became the board chairman. In effect, I controlled a billion dollar fortune. I named Peter, Brad, Carlton, and Reece to the board of directors. I also named my dad and my three aunts to the board. My aunts didn’t suffer for money, but I made them move out of the Ewing Mansion and Estate. I moved in.

4. As an investment, I bought the Pussy Galore strip club. My persona, Cherry Delicious, still occasionally danced there.

5. I became a frequent bedmate of Peter, Brad, Carlton, and Reece. I can’t count how many pairs of panties I lost, forgot, or had torn off me at these men’s homes.

Someone’s cock was in me now. It was Brad’s. I knew each man by the shape of his cock and the things he did to me with it. Brad’s cock was a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am pussy fucker. A woman needs a quickie now and again.

I think I can truthfully say that I love more than one of these men. Yet, I pursue no permanent relationships with any. You see, I’m a rich bitch whore and I love it like the Devil!