I married a 22-year-old golddigger named Sarah after my wife died. A lot of people think she’s got the upper hand waiting for a 74-year-old to kick the bucket, but I figure if I don’t have long I might as well spend it up some gorgeous little ass. She’s the one who’s gotta fuck an old guy like me, for Christ’s sake; I’d say the greedy little slut’s earned her inheritance.

She answered an ad I put on Craigslist for a blonde college senior in need of a strict older man. When my limo had pulled up to our arranged meeting place, she hopped in without hesitation and I’d had to put her over my knee straight away for her slutty little outfit. She’d chosen a short, red schoolgirl skirt that didn’t even reach the bottom of her perfect, round ass, and a sheer, white t-shirt tied tightly below her tits. They themselves were modest, but her nipples strained through the fabric quite nicely, and I’d spent much of the car ride home twisting them to make her squeal. She took the spanks, meanwhile, with glee.

By the time we pulled into the winding drive she’d already made a mess of the limo’s leather interior three times over, moaning and writhing in my arms. I correctly guessed she hadn’t been spanked like that for a while. “Not since your father, I imagine?” I asked.

She shook her head. “My mom left him when I was three, so I’ve never really known him.”

“Did she remarry?”

Another shake of the head. “Lots of one-night stands, but none of ‘em stayed.”

“So you’ve never had a father figure at all?” A third shake.

“No wonder you liked those spanks so much,” I chuckled, marveling at this new information.