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It wasn't meant to be. There were just too many wealthy widows, divorcees and all too many willing married women for me to live quietly.

Besides, I was now twenty-two-years-old and other than my wealth, pussy was always on my mind. Masturbation was not a satisfactory alternative.

There was the Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Ballet and a host of high-end charity events. Dressing appropriately, making significant contributions to charities and buying VIP tickets to these events provided me with access to wealthy, willing women. It had worked in Madrid with Maria Alejandro. I didn't see why it wouldn't work here.

At one charity ball, "Mr. O'Reilly, I'm surprised a handsome man like yourself is unaccompanied," a woman perhaps in her mid-sixties asked as she suggested we dance.

Her name was Lillian Windsor. The Windsors were among the first English residents of Manhattan and still owned significant property in the city and had a huge estate in the Hamptons. You might think that the Windsors were slum lords, but the properties they owned in the city overlooked Central Park and brought in millions and millions in rents.

"Mrs. Windsor, I'm relatively new here. Until recently I lived in Dublin. This is one of my first opportunities to get out and meet people."

"This is the right place, and if I do say so, I can introduce you to the right people."

I smiled, thinking of young, beautiful, willing women sharing my bed.

It didn't happen exactly like that.

We danced and listened to the music for a few minutes. "Mr. O'Reilly, I hope you don't think I'm too forward, but I find you fascinating, but this event boring. Can I interest you in something a little more exciting?" In the low lighting on the dance floor, Mrs. Windsor slid a hand across my crotch.

"Ummmm ma'am, that's a very tempting offer, but what about Mr. Windsor?"

She laughed, "he'll be jealous that I bedded you before he did? I'm sure he'll find a willing, young man with a big cock to satisfy him tonight." She was still rubbing her hand across my crotch. "It seems, Mr. O'Reilly that you have the kind of big cock I crave. Are you ready to leave?'

I was, and it wasn't the significant cleavage her gown revealed that had me interested. It was the diamond necklace that hung almost into that cleavage. I just couldn't help myself.

In her brownstone overlooking Central Park, "Mr. O'Reilly . . ."

"Please call me Eamon."

"Okay, Eamon, and I'm Lillian, but my first husband called me another name that a lady shouldn't use in polite company, but let me show you."

Lillian Windsor got on her knees and for the next hour stayed that way.

It was as good a blowjob as I'd ever received. Not even Olga Semenova, the semen lover, sucked like Lillian.

She didn't let me cum. "Eamon, I'm much too old for the rigors of fucking, but I'd like to continue. My bed will be much more comfortable on my knees. Why don't you finished getting undressed, and I'll join you momentarily?"

I was under the covers when she came out of her dressing room, not bathroom, wearing an elegant sheer negligee. That diamond necklace was gone, but her cleavage and more were clearly visible.

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