WHEN WE WERE BOTH in back in high school, Wanda Wilson was at the very top of the social structure. She was a tallish blonde girl with a very pretty face and a lingerie model body. Wanda had the clothes and the style to go with the looks. She was considered to be the most desirable date in the school and if you came to call, you had better be the President of the student body, the Captain of the football team or the guy with the biggest, flashiest convertible in town.
Of course, Wanda was more than just a pretty face. Her father, Walter Wilson was the richest man in town. Walter didn't get to be the richest guy in town because he was a really nice man. If you crossed Walter, you had footprints on your face.
Jim Smith was at the opposite end of the social spectrum from Wanda Wilson. Jim was a poor boy whose parents had died in an automobile accident with a drunken, uninsured motorist. Jim lived with an aunt and an uncle. Jim was tolerated by the aunt and uncle only because of the Social Security money that came in every month. When the Social Security money ran out, Jim was run out by the aunt and uncle.
Unfortunately, I'm Jim Smith. Despite a lot of planning on my part, I find myself standing on a corner with my grubby little suitcase that contains all of my worldly possessions. I'm waiting for the bus that will take me out to the Wilson's house. (Yeah, the house where the famous Wanda Wilson lives.)
I worked hard back in school and at whatever jobs I could find back then. For the last couple of years I've worked at the Downtown Gym. I sell memberships, instruct the newcomers, set up workout and nutrition plans and that sort of thing. In order to work at the gym I have to look the part. I have always been large and strong. I use the equipment down at the gym and get even larger, even stronger and quite a bit more defined. I have been told that I'm handsome, although handsome and no money really doesn't amount to much.
I had planned to work at the gym after I graduated from high school, at least until I could find something better paying. Unfortunately, the gym is now closed and I can't find a job anywhere in town.
The last day of school, I get a phone call from a woman who tells me she's Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Wilson wants to interview me about a job.
I tell her that I'm very interested in finding a job. (Hell, I don't have to have a job; I can always starve to death in an alley somewhere.)
I catch the bus out to where the Wilsons live. I have to walk at least a mile from the closest approach of the bus to the Wilson's house. I finally arrive at the front door and I knock.
A woman answers the door. She looks like an older, somewhat less attractive version of Wanda Wilson.
I tell the woman, "I'm Jim Smith and I've come for my interview."
The woman eyes me. She sees my thrift shop clothes and frowns. She then appears to really look at the man under the clothes and my face and then gives me a very tiny smile. She tells me only, "Come in."
I follow the woman into a large, fancy living room. There's a man sitting on a couch at one side of the room. The man eyes me as if I'm a piece of trash that the wind blew in.
The woman introduces me to Walter Wilson and then she tells me, "I'm Wilma Wilson, Walter's wife."
I say, "I'm very pleased to meet you."
Walter asks me, "Why are you here?"
I tell him, "I talked to Mrs. Wilson on the telephone and she wanted me to come for an interview."
Mr. Wilson says, "Oh yes."
Mrs. Wilson says, "Jim Smith was an outstanding student at the high school. He would like to go to college however, he has no money. I thought we should talk to him."
(Now, Mrs. Wilson called me at school. Realistically, she didn't call me unless her husband knew about it. It's no secret around town that I'm a poor orphan who's just turned eighteen and has nothing, not even a place to live. The Wilsons are toying with me. I wonder what sort of unpleasant thing they have to offer me. However, I have no choice but to wait.)
Mr. Wilson asks me, "Jim, do you like to go to school?"
(What an asshole question! Of course I like to work for no pay. Also, I like to study subjects that have a cut off just below where there could be a monetary payoff or things get interesting.) I say, "I like to learn things. I hope to get an education where the things that I learn will lead to the kind of good job that'll support me."
"Well a college education will certainly get you where you want to go."
(No shit, Dick Tracy, that never really occurred to a poor, dumb boy like me.) Yes sir. However, it costs money to go to college and I have no money at all."
Mrs. Wilson asks, "Do you know my daughter Wanda?"
(I'm poor, not stupid. Every guy back in high school knew of Wanda Wilson. Hell, I maybe even said hello two or three times through all of high school.) I just say, "Yes ma'am, a very pretty girl."
Mr. Wilson says, "Yes, Wanda is pretty, however she hasn't been much of a student. However, we want Wanda to go to college. In fact, it's essential that Wanda go to college."
(I wonder if Mr. Wilson wants me to frog march Wanda to class each day and then stand over her nights while she does her homework. The rumour around town is that Wanda likes parties and hates school.)
Mr. Wilson chimes in, "You could be a good example for Wanda. You work hard in school and that's what Wanda needs to do."
Hope begins to grow in me. Clearly the Wilsons want a good example for Wanda to follow. Maybe they have a job, like gardener or something, that'll support me while I go to school and serve as a good example for Wanda. (Okay, it's unlikely, but I'm only hours from finding a bridge to sleep under.) I say cautiously, "I would be pleased to serve as a good example for Wanda, but I must have a job to live."
Mr. Wilson says, "We can take care of your room, board, tuition, transportation, clothes, medical and incidentals. However, we'll need a four year commitment from you."
(I don't believe what I'm hearing. The Wilsons are going to offer me some sort of job that'll pay for my college so that I can serve as a good example for Wanda. The one thing that bothers me is the word incidentals. My wages will have to cover incidentals. What the hell is he talking about?) I say, "I'm willing to do what's needed to earn the money to go to college. However, I'm somewhat in the dark as to exactly what it is that you want me to do."
The next fifteen minutes are pure bullshit. The Wilsons talk to me about this and that. However, each time we get close to the subject of what it is that they want me to do in exchange for living my dream of a college education; they cause us to veer off into another subject.
Since I have no choice, I play the maddening little game. I answer each question with a polite little fib and wait for them to get to the point.
Finally, Mr. Wilson asks me the stupidest question yet. "Did you ever want to date my daughter Wanda?"
(I manage to avoid telling the man how stupid his question is.) Instead I say, "Sir, if I asked your daughter out for a soda, I would first have to get a loan at the bank. However, they don't loan money to my kind down at the bank."
The Wilsons chuckle and glance at one another.
Mr. Wilson asks, "Supposing that you had the money, would you want to date my daughter Wanda?"
"Sir, if I had the money, the clothes, the knowledge of what sort of entertainment was playing where and the time, I still couldn't date your daughter, because I'm not on her level socially, or at least I wasn't back in high school. In fact, I doubt that Wanda even knows me."
Mrs. Wilson chuckles and says, "You don't need to worry about that. Wanda knows who you are and is even interested in you."
"I'm amazed. I have, perhaps, spoken to Wanda a half dozen times though all of high school and that was mostly just to say hello."
Mr. Wilson grows impatient. "Yes, well she does know you. What we need here is someone who can pull the reins in on Wanda and be a good example to her. We think you can do it and we're willing to pay all of your expenses for four years, if you'll sign a contract."
Mrs. Wilson glares at Mr. Wilson. She then gives me a big, fake smile. She says, "If you'll take the job, I know you can be the kind of influence that Wanda needs."
I say, "Pardon me for asking, but exactly what is it you want me to do."
Mr. Wilson fixes me with a steely glare. "Wanda has wasted high school. We're determined that she won't waste college. We want you to move in and use your authority with Wanda to get her through college."
"Pardon me, Mr. Wilson, but I have no authority over Wanda and never have had such authority."
"As her husband, you will have a certain authority over Wanda. With our money we have a certain authority over Wanda. Together we can use that authority to get her through college."
(I damn near fall off the chair I'm sitting on.) I manage to say, in a seemingly calm voice, "I've barely even met Wanda and yet you speak of me as her husband?"
Mrs. Wilson asks, "Would you like to be the husband of a pretty girl like Wanda?"
(I have walked into the middle of a play. The other people have a script. Unfortunately, I have no script. My head is spinning.) "Of course I would like to have a pretty girl like Wanda for my wife, if I could afford a wife. However, there's also the matter of Wanda wanting to be my wife."
Mrs. Wilson says, "We have already taken care of the matter of Wanda. She's willing to be your wife."
(I can see, in my mind, Wanda strapped to a table with her parents holding a pan of boiling oil over their daughter and cackling, "Okay, me pretty, do you want Jim Smith for a husband or do you want boiling oil to forever scar your face? Which will it be?) I say, "Shouldn't I at least talk to Wanda before we make such a critical decision?"
Mrs. Wilson says, "We have already talked to Wanda. We don't have time for more delay."
Mr. Wilson produces a contract. It's a long, nasty contract. In the contract I agree to be Wanda Wilson's husband for four years. I'll do all in my power to urge Wanda to complete her college education. In exchange, I'll get room, board, etc. while I remain married to Wanda. I also agree to an annulment of the marriage after four years. The request for annulment is a separate document, to be signed separately. (I don't have to give up my soul here; all they want is my mind and body. Well, I'm not completely sure about the soul thing, I'm not a lawyer.)
I say, "Are you serious?"
The Wilsons look at each other. Mrs. Wilson says, "Never more serious."
(I have thirty seven cents in the whole world. I have a battered old suitcase with a few thrift store clothes and a shaving kit. If the Wilson's are crazy enough to offer me their daughter, who am I to refuse?") I sign both documents (ink only, not in blood, for a wonder.)
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson also sign the documents.
The Wilsons call Wanda from her room and we all get in their car and drive to a tailor shop. I get measured for clothes. I get enough ready to wear clothes, with just a few nips and tucks, to make me look presentable. We then fly to Las Vegas. Wanda and I get married in some sort of roadside chapel affair. We then fly home. We drive back to the Wilson's big house and we walk into the big living room.
Mrs. Wilson says, "Well, I know you two are anxious to start your married life."
With that, Wanda tugs at me and then leads me into her bedroom.
We sit on a big bed. Wanda looks at me and asks, "How much do you know about girls?"
"My parents died when I was ten years old. I have lived with my aunt and uncle since then. My aunt and uncle grudgingly let me live with them for the Social Security money. I've never had a spare dime since I was ten years old. I've never even dated a girl. I know absolutely nothing."
Wanda buries her face in her hands. Then she looks up and says, with a wan smile, "At least you won't have any bad habits to overcome!"
Wanda takes off her blouse and tells me to take off my shirt. We both take it off. The sight of my very muscular chest seems to cheer Wanda up a bit. Wanda then takes off her bra, poses her tits and tells me, "These are going to be a lot of fun for you."
I may be young and dumb, but my cock somehow already knows what Wanda just told me.
Wanda then tells me to take of my slacks and prepares to take off her skirt.
I take off my shoes and socks. I then slip off my slacks as Wanda slips off her skirt.
The best looking, most popular girl in school is standing in front of me wearing nothing but fancy pantyhose. I'm wearing just a pair of under shorts.
Wanda giggles and says, "Are you glad to see me or is that a banana in your shorts?"
I say, "I can't afford a banana."
Wanda giggles and slides her hand down her pantyhose and begins to rub her crotch area. "Since I signed up for it, I'm gonna take you on a trip into my tunnel of love. You're really gonna like it." With that, Wanda kicks off her shoes, strips off her pantyhose and stands nude in front of me.
I strip off my under shorts, with only a vague understanding of what I'm about to do. My big erection pops out.
Wanda gasps with pleasure. "All of that for me?"
She grabs my raging hard on and leads me to the bed. Wanda climbs on the bed and tells me to follow.
I get on the bed and lie next to Wanda.
Wanda grabs my raging hard on and kind of drags me on top of her and then leads me to the slit in her crotch that my fingers discover and spread slightly at Wanda's command.
I slide my big cock into Wanda's tunnel of love and discover that I don't need to be told what to do, I want to pump my cock deep into Wanda and she wants my cock deep inside her.
I can feel Wanda's pussy all around me and it's the best feeling I've ever had! Not only do I get to fuck Wanda's tunnel of love, she moves a bit under me as I fuck and the feeling is incredible.
I want it to last forever, but all too soon I feel an incredible excitement and I shoot my cum inside Wanda's pussy over several strokes. I then roll off her.
Wanda isn't too pleased. After she gets her breath back she says, "You were way too quick. I didn't climax and I'm really hung up here."
I have never thought about the idea of a girl climaxing. I just assumed that when I climaxed, she would too. However, I get an idea.
I begin to caress Wanda's breast with my fingers. I explore the whole breast but find that Wanda really starts to respond when I work around her nipple.
Wanda says, "Not your fingers, use your mouth!"
I try to please her. I begin to lick her breast.
Wanda tells me to suck the nipple.
I do that and she gets very excited.
Wanda then tells me to bite her breast.
What the hell? However, I try a very light bite.
Wanda says, "Bite harder, and make me feel it!"
I try a little more and she says, "Harder! And bite the other one too!"
By now, Wanda is excited, I'm excited and I can feel my cock hard again. I reach down and feel Wanda's pussy. It's wet and slick and I decide that the time has come again!
I mount Wanda and slide my cock into her wet pussy once again.
Once again I can feel Wanda's pussy all around me and it's the same incredible feeling as last time. I take my time and stroke slowly into Wanda's pussy.
Wanda wants it harder and deeper.
I begin to shove my big cock deeper into her pussy and I move a bit more strongly. I hold back quite a bit as I thrust as I don't want to hurt Wanda.
Wanda tells me to shove it in harder and deeper.
I begin to do both, but I find that I'm quickly in her up to my balls. Deeper is out, however, harder I can do.
Wanda again tries to tell me to shove it in harder and deeper. By now what she says is mostly moan, but I get the message. I continue to fuck her harder and she moves a bit under me as I fuck her and the feeling is incredible.
I can't make it last forever, but this time I do manage to last until I feel Wanda get very excited and then she climaxes. I'm dragged along by Wanda's climax and I feel an incredible excitement, then I again shoot my cum inside Wanda's pussy.
It takes me several strokes to empty all my cum inside Wanda and meanwhile something incredible happens. Wanda appears to climax again, with each new pumping stroke. I then roll off her.
Wanda sighs deeply and cuddles to me after our second fuck. It appears that she got what she wanted this time.
I tell Wanda, "You were fantastic and I can't believe that it was so good."
Wanda says, "You still have a lot to learn, but you're getting there!"
"I'll have some time to get it right."
"Do you think you're gonna give me shit about going to school?"
"When I arrive at your front door, I have thirty seven cents in the whole world. I also have a battered suitcase full of thrift shop clothes. Your parents hire me to see that you get through college. What do you think?"
"Okay, my mother won't give me money for anything unless I go to school and do well. I hate school."
"I don't like school either. However, I get a college degree or I stock shelves at a discount store for minimum wage. What would you do in my place?"
I'm not in your place and I plan to marry a rich boy."
"Probably, but your plan really won't work, not without at least close to a college degree. You have it all and can attract a boy. However, it's hard for a boy you want to argue with another hot looking babe who's going to college with him and is by his side all the time."
"You know, if you always carefully think things through like that, it's gonna negatively affect your popularity."
"Probably."
