“She said yes,” announces Evan. “The girls have gone to talk to Charity, and they’ve both told her that they want to stay.”
I nod.
“That’s good. I mean, Ava and I have already gotten up to no good.”
Evan chuckles deep in his throat and slaps me on the back.
“You serious buddy? You didn’t go slow? I thought the girls we selected this time were innocent ones. You know, young and sweet with pink-lipped smiles.”
I shrug.
“Yeah, we picked innocent ones this time around, but trust me, mine isn’t that innocent. I caught her doing the you-know-what.”
Evan’s blue eyes practically bug out of his head.
“You’re shitting me,” he says in a low drawl before whistling. “Right after they arrived? That soon? Damn.”
I shrug.
“Yeah. The girls were supposed to be getting unpacked before dinner, but mine was doing the badump-a-dump with her big pink friend. And let me tell you, she was able to go deep. I was surprised because I thought for sure I was going to need to warm her up, but my little lady had that friend absolutely buried inside.”
Evan lets out a whistle, and I nod. I feel a little bad even telling Evan this much because what happened between Ava and I was private. It was nasty and dirty, but also meant only for the two of us, and somehow, I feel like I’m betraying her a bit by even saying this much.
Meanwhile, my buddy whistles again, sizing me up with an appreciative gaze.
“Holy shit, my man. You are in for the ride of your life.”
He claps me on the back, chortling and then pours another glass for each of us.
“More vino, buddy? You look like you need it.”
The truth is that I do, and I take the wine and quaff it like a dying man.
“Hold on!” my friend says with sipping at his glass. “You’re acting like a mountain man downing a stein of lager. What’s going on? This shit is vintage stuff, so what’s with the two-gulps-and-it’s-gone?”
I shrug.
“My girl is gorgeous,” I mutter. “What can I say? I need to cool down a little.”
Evan giggles like a little girl then. It’s ridiculous because both of us are powerful alpha males. He’s probably six two to my six three, but we both have tall, athletic builds and piercing blue eyes. His are more sky blue while mine are an intense cobalt, but I’ve seen plenty of women throw themselves at my friend begging for attention.
And Evan likes it too. He lives to party pretty hard, which is why I’m surprised he selected Amelia this time around. It was unexpected, to be sure.
After all, we’ve gone through the selection process before. The Billionaires Club is an artificial Eden for men of means, and choosing a beautiful, ripe girl for your pleasure isn’t that uncommon. There are many ways you can purchase the rights to a woman, whether through auction; looking at her profile on-line; or being set up by an old-fashioned matchmaker. These are all services the Club provides.
But for our stay at Maruba, we decided to do it old school. We requested files from Human Resources, and were handed physical folders about an inch-thick each. They were literal dossiers on available girls, complete with photos, a short professional biography, health statistics, and even some candid snapshots taken when they were unawares.
The three of us, Evan, Brett and I, sat down at a table with a bottle of gin and began flipping through the folders. I figured Evan would go for someone hoochy and flirty because that’s what he usually likes. But instead, he’d been unusually thoughtful, paging through the files slowly. Then he’d happened upon one dossier, and carefully studied it before holding up a photo and announcing, “I got dibs.”
I’d rolled my eyes while our other friend Brett snorted.
“Are you in middle school? No dibs necessary,” said Brett.
Evan shrugged, totally unoffended.
“No, I’m just saying, this cute little chickadee has “virgin” written all over her. Is there some way we can verify that? Aren’t they examined before they come to the island?”
His question was good because the girls who are selected to work for us usually go through a battery of tests, including ones for mental and physical fitness, as well as a financial screen. We live in an exclusive world, and we want to keep the crazies out.
As a result, our ladies see the doctor first to make sure they’re in tip top shape and to prescribe birth control as necessary. After all, the girls are here to please actual billionaires, and we don’t necessarily want to be daddies by the end. We just want to have a good time and get some much-needed stress relief without worrying that she’ll be expecting in a matter of months.
But Evan’s choice had me intrigued. The girl in the photo had long brown ringlets, pink pouty lips and a generous figure.
“She’s cute,” I agreed. “Curvy. I like ‘em like that too. And yeah, they usually get examined by the doc. Isn’t her virginity report in there?”
Evan flips through the papers, making a face.
“No, I don’t see it.”
I shrug.
“They must have forgotten then. No worries, a girl like that isn’t going to have been with a team of football players. Come on, she’s got a face like an angel. She’d never hole up in the locker room for messed up play.”
Evan nodded happily hearing my words as Brett cackled. Brett is a great guy, but he’s got depraved tastes, and unfortunately, being a billionaire brings out the worst in him. Often, the man likes multiples, meaning two or three girls at once, if not more, so the football team scenario was a possibility when it came to him.
But to each his own. Currently, Brett was looking over the files on a set of blonde triplets, who if you asked me, looked eerie with their vacant expressions and big, obviously fake tits. But Brett was already licking his lips in anticipation while sizing up their physical measurements.
“Oh yeah,” he cackled again, the frosted tips of his blonde hair spiky like a porcupine. “They’ve got Double Ds but also only weigh a hundred pounds each. How does that even work?”
I shrug.
“The Double Ds are at least five pounds per boob,” I say. “That means you should subtract ten pounds from each girls’ final weight, leaving you with ninety pounds of female flesh.”
Evan cackled again, his blue eyes lighting up.
“Yeah, but they come as a team so altogether, that’s two hundred and seventy pounds. Fuck man, it sounds good.”
I rolled my eyes. This guy was so depraved it was a little disturbing, to be honest. Some of my fellow club members really need to go to training just to appear normal, otherwise they come off as sociopaths. It comes with having too much money and power.
But then Evan looked up, scoffing a bit.
“There’s no correlation between a woman’s face and her hymen, my friend. The girls who look slutty are usually unbroken inside whereas the ones with the ugliest doggy features are the ones who love it the most. They’re the ones who are total beasts between the sheets.”
I grimaced. The way Evan talked was so crude it was unnecessary. But who was I to say anything? Sometimes, I get down and dirty too, so there was no sense in calling out my bud.
Meanwhile, Evan continued to stare at the photo of the beautiful Amelia.
“I’m going to request her,” he breathes while scanning her file again. “I love these huge tits. They always get me going when they float in the water.”
I rolled my eyes.
“That’s because only fake tits float. Real tits will bobble naturally without acting like buoys.”
Evan shrugged.
“Real, fake, it’s all good to me. I just like ‘em big.”
And he had a point there. I like girls with generous figures as well, and the woman whose dossier I was flipping through was as perfect as they come. Huge, swinging Double D breasts. A narrow waist which flared out to wide hips and a generous ass to boot. Not only that, but she had wild, curly chestnut hair with sparkling brown eyes and the sweetest pout ever. I’d love to see that mouth wrapped around my hard pole as I pulsed my ecstasy down her throat. That would be a good look for her, definitely.
“Yeah, I think I’m done too. I’ll take this one,” I said, snapping the file shut. “She’s real cute.”
“And I’ll take these,” leered Brett at the photo of the triplets. “Shit, I can feel my dick getting stiff already. Candy, Mandy and Tandy. What parents name their daughters stupid-ass shit like that? I’m going to give them new names after they get here.”
I grinned.
“Okay buddy. Do whatever you like. But I’ll put our requests in and see how long it takes for the Club to transport the ladies here. I’d think the end of the week, at the latest.”
Brett merely grinned, already getting up.
“Yeah, maybe they’ll be here tomorrow,” he hypothesized, striding towards the door. “Why not? We pay through the nose for the best service, so why can’t we get this particular delivery of girls asap? I’m sure Charity can manage it.”
I thought to our middle-aged handler and nodded.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” I mused. “Charity is good with logistics and I’m sure our orders will be here in no time. It’s almost like Uber, come to think of it.”
My friends laughed because the Club recently invested in a few different ride-sharing companies, and with their recent IPOs, we were flush in cash. As if we didn’t have enough already.
But to our disappointment, the girls didn’t arrive the next day; instead, they arrived three days later. But that was no problem because Brett, Evan and I got to enjoy the accommodations, which we pretty much had to ourselves. The other club members were likely at other locations, indulging in their own sordid games.
Now, we were chatting at the bar of the compound, which was done up like a luxurious tiki lounge. Gentle flames flickered in tea lights, and the long mahogany bar sparkled as we were served colorful drinks with paper umbrellas sticking out of them.
“Thank you, honey,” growled Evan as our waitress placed our cocktails on the table. She nodded and flushed a bit, leaning over low. At that moment, her breasts were bare and golden with caramel-tipped nipples that swung delightfully. Of course, Brett used that moment to caress a hard nipple, pulling it gently as she squealed.
“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he growled as she straightened and blushed. “What’s your name again?”
“Mirabel,” she whispers shyly. “I’m happy to serve,” she says before turning and mincing away, her hips swinging in her tiny skirt with the drink tray tucked under one arm.
“Man, I love this place,” Brett groans as he watches her leave. She stops at the bar and turns, flipping a lock of chestnut hair over one slim shoulder before smiling at him. He literally growls.
“Yeah, it’s good stuff,” agrees Evan, taking a sip of his drink. “This place rocks. I love how our servers wear nothing but tiny skirts and high heels. Who knew? Topless is definitely the way to go.”
I grunt, looking out over the sunset. It’s true. The Billionaires Club requires its female staff to go topless at all times, and as a result, we were fully dressed men surrounded by bevies of beautiful, bare and willing women. Even the ladies who worked at the gym or in the sauna were topless at all times. In fact, some of them were even bottomless upon request, and happy to climb on your pole with only a little bit of coaxing.
But at the moment, I could only think about Ava, and how gorgeous she looked this afternoon on her hands and knees with her pussy crammed full and her breasts swinging as she moaned lustily. My girl has what it takes and I couldn’t wait to take her for a spin.
But then Brett interrupts my thoughts, spoiling the gorgeous view of the sunset. The reds, pinks and yellows were ruined when he inserted his ugly mien into my field of vision. Okay, so he’s actually a good-looking guy with blonde hair, a deep tan, and strong, patrician features. But still, nothing compares to the glorious rays of the setting sun, except maybe Ava’s sweet smile.
“I want to propose a challenge,” he leers.
I lift an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” I drawl. “What kind of a challenge?”
He shrugs while sipping at his drink.
“A fun one. You know, to liven things up around here.”
Evan squints at Brett.
“Yo, my man, we just got a delivery of girls. What kind of challenge do you need? We have our hands full with an armful of fillies. I mean, you literally were just deposited three beautiful triplets. Why would you need a challenge now?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. I get bored easily I guess. So what do you guys say? You up for it?”
My friend is being ridiculous as he leans back with one strong arm on the back of the sofa, a blonde eyebrow quirked. Brett is acting like he’s the king of the world, but I know something’s gotten him ticking. His finger taps the rattan frame of the couch impatiently, even as he tries to look as cool as a cucumber.
“Sure, I’ll bite,” I say smoothly. “What did you have in mind?”
He winks.
“A depths test.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay yeah. And what is that? Or am I supposed to figure it out using my psychic abilities?”
He merely shrugs and shoots me a shit-eating grin.
“A depths test for women,” he continues smoothly. “You know, to see how deep they are.”
Evan and I stare at him. Evan speaks first.
“I’m sorry to break it to you my man, but do you mean the girls that we just imported today? Because I can assure you that your triplets are not going to fare well on any sort of profound depths test thing. In fact, I doubt they even know what the word “profound” means.”
“Yeah,” I add sardonically. “Didn’t you say their names were Mandy, Candy and Tandy? I’m no genius but girls with names like that don’t usually do well on any type of IQ test, much less any type of “depths” test.”
Evan sits up, stretching languorously, although I know it’s all an act.
“First of all, you guys are prejudiced motherfuckers, you know that? You’ve never met Mandy, Tandy, and Candy, so how would you know how smart they are? Besides, those are just their names. Maybe they had grandmas named Mandy, Tandy and Candy, and their parents gave them those names to honor their ancestors. You’re so swayed by something that’s out of their control. I mean, did you pick the name Carver for yourself? How would you like it if everyone thought you were a butcher because of your name?”
He had a point there. I nod and squint.
“Yeah, but didn’t that dossier give their real names? And weren’t their real names something like Jessica, Jane and June?”
Evan chimes in now too.
“Besides, who has three grandmas? So how could Mandy, Tandy and Candy be named after their forebears?”
Brett rolls his eyes.
“That was just an example, you dunce, to demonstrate your stupidity. But never mind because this isn’t an IQ test. Who said anything about intelligence? This is a depths test.”
Evan and I both stare again.
“You mean, like who has the deepest personality?” Evan asks, with disbelief still tingeing his voice. “I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think your girls are going to come out on top in any type of competition like that. After all, one girl’s name is “Candy.” You might as well call her Barbie, unless secretly, she’s got a Ph.D.”
I’m about to say something witty as well but then Brett cuts us off with a snort.
“No, I mean depths test as in ‘down there.’ You know, pussy depth. To see how much they can handle down there.”
This time, both Evan and I gape at him like fish.
“You must be shitting me,” I finally choke out. “You want to see how much a girl can take in her pussy?”
Evan lets out a gurgling sound like he’s getting water in his lungs, but Brett merely grins.
“Yeah, I want to see how much cock she can take. The girl who can take the most cock wins. Get it? Depths test,” he cackles.
I squint at him, shaking my head.
“You are one fucked up motherfucker,” I growl.
Evan nods while staring at our friend, who’s still cackling like he’s won the lottery.
“Seriously messed up,” he agrees. “No way, my girl’s not going to do it. No way. Amelia’s a good one, and besides, she’s innocent. I think she’s a virgin,” he says under his breath.
“Yeah, mine’s not going to do it either,” I say. “Ava’s probably not a virgin,” I begin as pictures of that pink dildo deep within her flash through my mind, “but my girl is definitely really smart, and she’s not going to go for something like this.”
Brett, meanwhile, has stopped howling from laughter and is now drinking some water to calm down. He puts the glass down at us and shakes his head.
“Man, pussy-whipped, both of you. What the hell is wrong with you guys? How did those ladies get you under their thumbs so quick?”
Evan and I both sputter helplessly for words.
“You guys are pathetic losers,” Brett starts again while rolling his eyes. “This isn’t a question of whether they want to. This is a question of whether you want to. You own the island here. You own this property, this resort, hell, even this palm tree,” he says, gesturing to some waving fronds in back of us. “If you want your girl to participate, then she will. Just tell her what’s going down, and then tell her she’s a contestant. Tell her, not ask her.”
Evan shakes his head.
“No man, even if I tell Amelia that we’ll be doing some pussy depths contest, she’ll never agree. She’ll run screaming and probably set her own hair on fire. She’s a virgin, don’t you get it? She’s not going to measure her twat for anyone because it’s never been touched before.”
Brett merely snorts again.
“Yeah, and that’s where you step in. You’ll be the one touching her. You’ll be the one measuring her. You call the shots. What is wrong with that?”
Evan sits back, looking completely shocked as I let the idea run through my head. To be honest, it sounds kind of fun, and seeing how that toy was deeply buried within Ava, I have a feeling we’d win.
“So what does the winner get?” I ask nonchalantly. “I’m not saying that I’m into the idea, I’m just saying I’m interested in what we get as a result.”
Brett starts chuckling again, shooting me a knowing grin.
“Yeah, you like the depraved shit, don’t you? Honestly, I have no idea what the winner would get. I mean, what are we possibly lacking? We’re billionaires with everything at our fingertips: private jets, castles to live in, the hottest women and even a secluded island. So what could we possibly ask for?”
I ponder that question for a moment.
“I have no idea,” is my final answer. “You got me.”
Brett chortles.
“Exactly! There’s nothing that we want, so I guess we’ll just have the say the winner gets the satisfaction of knowing that their girl is the deepest. Does that work for you guys?”
Evan is still staring at us.
“No way, Amelia’s never going to agree. She’s going to go bat shit and beat me over the head if I even suggest it to her.”
Brett shoots him a disgusted look.
“My man, she’s only been here for a day, and you’re already completely pussy whipped. What the hell is wrong with you? Come on, my man. If Carver can do it, then you can do it too.”
My buddy turns to me then with panic in his eyes.
“Are you seriously going to do it, Carver?” he asks under his breath. “Oh shit, oh shit.”
I’m about to say no because there’s no prize at the end, but then again, images of Ava on her hands and knees keep flashing before my eyes. Those luscious curves, those huge tits brushing the mattress, and finally the enormous toy deep in her pussy with only the handle sticking out. How big was that toy? Nine inches? Ten? I have feeling my filly was built to compete and suddenly, the decision’s made.
“Yeah, count me in,” I announce. “I’ll be entering with Ava.”
“Great,” smirks Brett. “How about you, Evan?”
Our friend looks from Brett to me and then back to Brett again.
“Okay,” he says, his voice shaky. “I’ll enter with Amelia. But no promises. And when does the competition take place?”
Brett shrugs.
“How long do the girls have on the island?”
“Three months,” I say.
“Why don’t we have it at the end of the three month run?” he asks with a sly grin. “We’ll have a going-away party of sorts, except that it’ll be incredibly debauched, and we’ll leave the girls something to remember us by as a goodbye gift.”
I think for a moment, and then nod.
“Sure thing. Three months. Let the games begin.”
With that, the three of us clink glasses and then take a drink. What we’ve agreed to is wrong, raunchy and probably criminal, but as I think of Ava’s lovely curves, every nerve-ending begins to burn because I want to win … while sampling those lovely depths myself.