by
My Uncle Jack is a billionaire, and he invites my husband and I onto his private yacht for a party. But when my husband gives him a limp handshake, Uncle Jack concludes he is not a real man, and that it was time I experienced one...
We were now in Uncle Jack’s private quarters, and as with the rest of the yacht, he spared no expense; plush red carpet, crystal chandeliers, and a king sized bed with gold satin sheets.
“You know”, said Uncle Jack, addressing Steve. “I could not help but notice you have an extremely limp handshake man. Now in my line of work, you get to shake plenty of hands, and I have concluded a handshake truly is the measure of a man.
If I was conducting business with you, and you shook my hand like that, I would tell you to get the fuck out of the room straight away. But this is not a business deal, so I am going to ask you to stay and watch as I fuck your wife right in front of you.”
I could barely believe what I have just heard. Had Uncle Jack just said he wanted to fuck me? I should have been horrified, but what I felt was that burst of excitement I had felt on the top deck when he had kissed me on the cheek.
Uncle Jack took a swig of champagne, then picked up a suitcase that was near the bed. He opened it up, then turned it upside down, multiple hundred dollar bills spilling out all over those gold sheets. There must have been…
“One million dollars baby. I'm going to screw you right in front of your little twerp of a husband atop one million dollars.”
