NONE RICHER THAN I–Part 1

“None Richer than I”—the sequel to “The Third Richest Man in the World.” The story will be posted in three parts.

I had so much fun writing “The Third Richest Man in the World” way back in the summer of 2014 that I thought it merited a sequel—what happened with my impish “wives” once our relationship became public knowledge and they were exposed to high society in New York. There have been a few interruptions for other stories so I’ve worked on it off and on for almost a year.

Although this is a continuation of “The Third Richest Man in the World,” it can be read as a stand-alone story if you wish. Either way, I hope you enjoy. For those of you who don’t want to read the earlier story or who don’t remember the story very well, here’s a list of the main characters. Sr. Longo.

John Scott Philips—the “hero;” the third richest man in the world.
Sheena and Bianca—John’s wives.
Alonzo—John’s personal assistant and confidant.
Champ, Sheila, Sid, and Amanda—members of John’s security team.
Jack and Beth—general manager of one of John’s companies and Sheena’s Mum, now married.
Dr. Thad—surgeon in Honolulu who enhanced Sheena’s and Bianca’s breasts.



CHAPTER 1

When one has great wealth everything one does brings a reaction. When one is the third richest man in the world, well…as you can imagine, the reaction is all that much greater. I was deluged with requests for interviews and photos when the story of my two wives became public knowledge. In truth, even I had grossly underestimated the reaction.

I’ve always thought that the New York Morning Star was a real rag—the worst newspaper in the city– and it’s owner/publisher Robert Manning an irresponsible sensationalist so I wasn’t at all surprised to see a huge headline, “BILLIONAIRE BIGAMIST!” printed in a 100-point font above my face. Worse, page three showed my front and side photos photo shopped in front of a background used by police to show one’s height in mug shots. I could have demanded a retraction, but that would be ridiculous. They’d print a tiny paragraph on page fifty, but the damage would be done. Instead, I sued—for two hundred million dollars–charging libel, defamation, and a host of other charges only lawyers could dream up; I had more than fifty working for my corporations and a slew of personal attorneys, too. Even better, I had the story leaked to the N.Y. Times and the Daily News, the Star’s biggest competitors.

Paparazzi had gathered on the street outside the gate in front of the house and initially my mother and my wives were extremely nervous and intimidated so I decided to take the bull by the horns. Taking Sheena and Bianca by the hand we walked with Alonzo and Janet, my cook, to the front gate one morning. Alonzo carried a big urn of hot coffee; Janet carried a silver tray of pastries along with some milk and sugar. I had a stack of Styrofoam cups and a trash bag tucked under my arm. Sheena carried napkins and Bianca a roll of paper towels. The gate slid open automatically as we approached and we stepped cautiously through.

“I guess you’d like some shots of us, eh guys? Have some coffee and a bite to eat then we’ll pose for you and even answer some questions. Before that, though, I want to be sure that nobody’s from the Star.” They laughed like crazy.

“We might sell an occasional photo to them, but Manning’s ordered them not to print anything—not even a single word. He’s really pissed about your lawsuit.” I already knew that. I had a spy on their staff, someone on my payroll, just as I had people in almost every news organization who would feed me information before it became public.
Sheena and Bianca were really getting into the idea of posing. There was one shot of them kissing me—one on each cheek while I grinned like a madman–and another of them on their knees “proposing” to me. “Honest, guys—I proposed to them.”

“Why two, Mr. Philips?”

“Well…take a look at them–they’re gorgeous, sexy as hell, and I love both of them completely. As much as I tried I couldn’t put one above the other.”

“What about…you know?”

“You mean sex,” Sheena jumped in. “We do everything together. Isn’t that every man’s dream—a threesome? We have threesomes every day—emphasis on the plural. Personally, I don’t understand all the commotion. What about Hugh Hefner? He’s had multiple girlfriends for years.” I leaned over to give her a little kiss, but that never happened with Sheena. She gripped my head, pushed her tongue into my mouth and held the kiss for more than a minute. I could see the photographers’ flashes through my closed eyes until she broke it.

“See what kind of distractions I have to put up with?” Everyone laughed, especially Sheena and Bianca. I was ready to go in until Bianca stopped me.

“I think you owe me one, John.” I turned to her, a smile on my face, as she imitated my other wife kissing me deeply for more than a minute before breaking it.

I was about to ask if anyone wanted more coffee or another pastry when one of the reporters commented, “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Philips. I’ll bet you’re the envy of every man in the country…maybe even the world.”

Now I laughed. “No bet! I completely agree with you.” Taking my lovers’ hands in mine we returned to the house. “See? Was that so bad?”

“No, John—most of them seem like regular people.”

“That’s because—my little Scottish darling—they are. They’re married and have families just like everyone else. They can be persistent and even annoying because they have to be to get some photos in order to earn a living. But, by going out and posing, the value of ours will drop like a rock. They won’t like it, but we’re in control this way—not them. They make their money by getting the photos that people want, but nobody can get. Follow me?”

“Everywhere, John.”

Even Bianca laughed then she added, “I know where I’d like to follow you now.”

“Again? Didn’t we just get up an hour or so ago?”

“That’s ancient history, John. I agree with Bianca. I think we should take a vote.”

“Nothing doing,” I said with a chuckle. “I know a losing proposition when I see one. Okay…I guess I have no choice.”

Bianca grabbed my left arm and Sheena my right as they whispered simultaneously, “No, you don’t.”

“Poor Celeste will just have to make the bed again,” Bianca continued. We went up the curved grand staircase on the right side of the entrance hall and were almost at the top when Celeste emerged on her way down the opposite side. “Sorry, Celeste—we’re going to mess up the bed again. We’ll make sure that John gives you a bit extra this week.”

“That’s quite all right, Miss Bianca. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Then she laughed her way down to the first floor even as I was led to our bedroom. It was by far the biggest room on the second floor. My closet was a hundred square feet, bigger than some bedrooms in many houses. Bianca’s and Sheena’s combined closet was more than twice as large; I had it constructed from one of the nearby bedrooms. The room itself was exactly five hundred square feet—twenty feet by twenty-five. It was dominated by the king bed with four massive posts at the corners. I had an armoire for underwear and socks and what-not. Each of my women had a triple dresser with a mirror, but then they had a lot more underwear than I did—panties, bras, negligees, peignoirs, stockings, garter belts, and…well, you get the idea. I’d spent more than a hundred thousand each on their clothes and even more on their jewelry; I’d gladly spend a hundred times more.

There were lamps on the night stands and one on each triple dresser. I also had dimmable recessed lighting in strategic parts of the ceiling. The wall opposite the bed held a huge flat screen TV—an eighty-five inch Sony that set me back $25,000, but the picture was fantastic. Sheena especially loved it. Her mum had only had a tiny set in her flat. Now that was history. Jack had sent me a video of the house they wanted to buy. It was 500,000 pounds—roughly $800,000—but I would have spent double knowing how pleased Sheena would be.

The pride of the master suite was the bathroom which was fashioned from yet another bedroom. Like the bedroom itself it was huge. There was a long vanity with two large basins and a long enough space between them to accommodate two stools which Bianca and Sheena loved to use when applying their makeup or doing their hair. The mirror was glued to the wall and it was twelve feet long by four feet high. I had a big Jacuzzi at one end and a commode room at the other. The wall opposite the vanity led to the shower. It was one of the new ones without a door and shower heads on all four walls—some at waist height and some at seven feet. All told there were twenty-two heads and they were all thermostatically controlled. We skipped the shower for now, heading instead for the massive bed.

Bianca and Sheena stripped me with much practiced efficiency and just as much delight as they had exhibited on the island. In return I was pleased to remove their clothes, kissing every inch of their incredible bodies. Bianca’s abdomen was just beginning to swell; she was almost five months into her term. If anything, she looked even more beautiful than she had before and it was only mid-June.

Sheena, ever impatient to make love, ripped the comforter from the bed as she and Bianca pulled, pushed, and physically overwhelmed me with their breasts, arms, legs, and every other body part at their disposal as we all laughed hysterically. Before I knew it I was flat on my back with Sheena’s hard nipple in my mouth. Recalling what she had said to Dr. Thad in Honolulu I asked, “Am I sucking on them enough now?”

Sheena giggled, “No, John—it’s just not possible for you to suck on them enough, unless, of course, you want to do it 24/7.” She gave me her pixie smile just before leaning down for another long searing kiss. She broke it to tell her best friend, “Your turn, Bianca. Why don’t I get you wet so you and John can make love?” She kissed Bianca briefly before moving down between her legs to lick Bianca’s cunt.

Sheena had indeed learned to share. Knowing that Bianca’s opportunities to fuck were numbered—her doctor estimated that she’d have to stop during the seventh month of her pregnancy—Sheena often deferred. Now Bianca groaned with rapture as her lips first met mine. We kissed for more than a minute while Sheena worked her cunt furiously.

Sheena actively denied any lesbian tendencies, but that never stopped her from licking Bianca or even nibbling her clit. Her face was covered in Bianca’s goo when I broke the kiss. I laughed even as I lowered Bianca onto my pole. I was savoring her warm wetness when I pulled Sheena to me. “Anyone who would do that for a friend deserves a reward.” Lifting her tiny body I spread her legs and gently lowered her to my mouth. I was just about to lick when she jumped up to spin around. A second later as I began to kiss her thighs and gently lick her outer labia Sheena kissed Bianca and rolled her nipples, twisting and pulling them.

I was moving with Bianca as she ground her clit into me. I could feel her as she arched her back to increase her ecstasy. I knew she was rubbing Sheena’s tits and pinching her nipples between her fingernails. I’d seen her do it before and I knew how much Sheena loved it.

Bianca suddenly increased the speed of her movements, bucking at twice the speed we’d begun at. I moved my tongue into Sheena’s tight little tunnel. This delightful triad was coming to a swift climax—no pun intended.

I moved to Sheena’s clit, sucking it between my teeth and causing the most powerful and enduring orgasm. Sheena shook as her body was wracked with spasm. Only my hands on her body prevented her from falling. I lay her gently on the bed next to us. Now I was able to concentrate on my other love; she was rutting like an animal. This was all for her. They had fucked me until I couldn’t move only three hours earlier and, contrary to reports, I wasn’t Superman. I was through cumming until tonight, at least—maybe even later. These two could really wear me out.

Gripping Bianca’s hips for leverage I drove into her deeply with every thrust, exactly the way she loved it. When she arched her back again I bit her nipple. It was as though I had lit her fuse. She hesitated for about three seconds then screamed for all she was worth as her orgasm reigned over her body. Completely sated, Bianca collapsed onto my chest. I was running my fingers through her lustrous hair when she whispered, “I’ll never tire of that, John. Thank you. I love you so very much.” I kissed her cheek then moved her to the opposite side of my body. I pulled Sheena to me as she pulled the blanket over us. It was time for another nap.

I had never napped before meeting and “marrying” Sheena and Bianca. Of course, I had never cum as often or as strongly as I did with them either. My times on the island were usually spread out a month or more with the interims filled by business and occasional masturbation. I had rarely dated. Either I was too busy or I just wasn’t interested. Now I was cumming daily—usually more than once. We often made love early in the morning followed by a short nap and again in mid-afternoon, napping until it was time to clean up and dress for dinner. This one was short; Alonzo phoned just thirty minutes later. My attorneys needed to conference with me.

I dressed and sat before my computer where I could see as well as hear Steven Young, my personal attorney. “Morning, John—the Star has suggested a settlement.”

“What a surprise! I’m shocked!”

Steven continued once he had stopped laughing. “They’re offering a page five retraction and one million. I think we should tell them to shove it. Do you want to make a counter offer?”

“I agree—no deal, but I’m not yet willing to negotiate. Let me know when they offer page three and ten million. Meanwhile, leak the story to the Times and the Daily News. That’ll really infuriate Manning. Anything else?” I signed off once he said he was done.

I met with Alonzo about tomorrow night’s trip to the city. “As you requested I’ve purchased six tickets. Best I could do was row K on the aisle, center section—seats 101 to 106.”

“Champ and Sheila ready?” I always took Champ and his wife. They were both registered and licensed to carry in New York and they actually enjoyed the opera which Sid and Amanda hated. “Okay, I think we should leave here around 4:30 which should give us an hour to get to The Post House. Then I figure ninety minutes for dinner and a half hour to get us to the theater by 7:30.” Alonzo knew these instructions by heart. We must have done the same itinerary fifty times, but this was our first time with Bianca and Sheena. Bianca, especially, was thrilled to see “La Traviata,” Verdi’s masterpiece. She’d spent a week explaining the opera to Sheena.

We left on time the following day—no small feat considering we had four women–pausing to wave and pose for a few photos in the limo—me in my best tux and my women in formal gowns with some of their finest jewelry.