Archer's Beneficiary Part 1

Watson Archer leaves his nephew Stephen Fox, money, his company, and much more.

I sat back in my executive chair, gazing up at the ceiling. I absorbed the hazy light, watching the fan spin in my brand new personal office –- my very own company. In my lap, already fallen asleep, my secretary that I just hired yesterday. My eyes took a trip down her body and found my juices still dripping from her fully fashioned stockings as she lay, her head cradled upon my chest. How did this happen? This was not the way I wanted to run my Uncle’s business.

About six days ago I received word that my Uncle, the man who practically raised me, had died unexpectedly. The man who was all about appearances and meeting expectations always made sure he was in top shape. He went to the gym, conformed to a healthy diet, and made sure that if he had to take any form of medication, it was absolutely necessary. Sometimes his childhood doctor had to strong arm him to take certain prescriptions to keep him from being sick.

My Uncle, Watson Archer – informally, just Arche – was always there for me. He taught me how to be a man; how to treat friends, colleagues, as well as competitors. The term ‘enemy’ was not of his vernacular. They were called competitors. Every acquaintance was strictly a competitor until they met certain requirements that made them a friend or colleague. Life, as explained to me, was one long business venture. Profit wasn’t always money; it was resources and relationships that would define success. In contrast, my Uncle was not greedy nor self centered. Often, he would’ve slipped you a hundred and a smile, offering to treat you to a nice dinner or dessert.

When I received the news of him passing away, my world shattered. My Mother was the one who called to tell me. She was in tears and it had taken about half an hour for her to tell me what had happened. I kept my composure on the phone; that’s what my Uncle would’ve wanted me to do. After an hour long conversation, she told me about the funeral date and time, as well as where it would be. I marked all the information down and just as I had prepared myself to end the call, she delivered another piece of news. After the funeral there will be a reading of the will at the home of my Uncle’s business lawyer, Mr. Livingston. This was not particularly surprising, as my Uncle hated loose ends and he made sure that nothing was ever up in the air. I knew he was the type of man to have prepared a will, but for myself to be expected to turn up at the meeting struck me as odd.

As much as I had wished away the reality, the day of the funeral came. I wore the very first suit he bought me in honor of him. Tears were shed by many; I didn’t recognize most of these people. I felt a pang in my heart as I realized what a great man all of us had gathered to celebrate. The eulogy had moved me; I was taken aback by the incredible amount of people who had elected to speak. I sat there in the fifth row, right next to the aisle, listening to each somber word said. The church had been absolutely filled to the brim with people. I pondered if any of these people were his competitors.

There was one person who caught my attention more than others. I had admittedly looked her up and down a few times. She brushed up against me as she walked down the center aisle up to the pulpit after her name was called. As she made her way up, it was impossible not to stare at her swaying hips as she walked within her very tight black pencil dress. Her fully fashioned black back seamed stockings rubbing against each other with each step mesmerized me. I felt that carnal desire very early on, as she made her way to the stand.

At first, I couldn’t see her eyes as she was wiping the tears away. A couple of minutes later, she suddenly looked up to address the crowd and that was it: I found myself fixated on the most amazing eyes I have ever seen. It was as if I was staring up at the sky on a clear summer day. Then she spoke and I felt everything in my body begin to melt. The way she conveyed her grievances to my Uncle was as soothing as Yo Yo Ma playing Bach Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major. I sat there listening to every word. Every time she sniffled, the same wave of emotion hit me. I’d never experienced such a personal connection. I was mesmerized by her. After she had finished, she walked back towards the pews. Without missing a beat, she placed her silk gloved hand on my shoulder, letting out a squeeze before continuing to her seat.

My mind raced through the rest of the service. Thoughts of my Uncle were clouded and no longer at the forefront of my mind. Discreetly, I panned over and over again for the enchanting Ms. Roberts, as she called herself. I exited the church, perhaps lost in my own desire, determined to find her. I had to know who she was. There was no way she could have been a relative of mine, as no member of my immediate family mingled with her. If she had been a hot, older cousin of mine, believe me, I’d have known. A short time passed; I was looking a little suspect waiting outside by myself for so long, and I couldn’t find Ms. Roberts anywhere. The priest made his exit and, to my surprise, shut and locked the church doors behind him. I asked if she had seen Ms. Roberts leave. He couldn’t tell me if had or had not as he didn’t remember everyone’s name. My heart dropped, but I knew that finding someone like that was too good to be true. Alas, she probably was already with someone. Someone who is way more attractive than I could be or has way more money than I could imagine.

I looked down at my watch and found that I would be a little late for the ‘Reading of the Will’. However, I didn’t care. The drive over to Livingston & Associates was uneventful. The traffic in downtown was miserable and finding a parking spot was finding a needle in a haystack. After battling the busy streets of Providence, I found myself sitting with my Mother, two of my Aunts, my Great Grandfather, and Mr. Livingston.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Fox. I hope the commute wasn’t too difficult for you.” Mr. Livingston addressed me with hostility. I didn’t say anything as I shifted in my seat, heat rushing to my cheeks. My Uncle had a saying when it came to meetings–“To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late.” I was very late.

My Livingston picked up a few sheets of paper which seemed to be my Uncle’s Will. He proceeded to read from it; it was akin to a bad narration of a sub par documentary.

“This is the Last Will and Testament of Me, Watson Archer of 17 Broadway Ave, Providence. I hereby revoke all testamentary dispositions herein before made by me. I hereby appoint my Attorney Mr. Arthur Livingston to use his discretion in appointing a reliable executor and administrator as he may deem fit in the circumstances of this my will. I hereby device and bequeath to my two sisters, Judy Belle and Stacey Ryan my residence lying, situated at No 17 Broadway Ave in Providence Connecticut. To my other sister Beverly Archer, the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, in my Barclay’s Bank account. I hereby give to the orphanage of at risk youth the sum of fifty thousand dollars. Last and not least, I leave the rest of my estate, my corporation that I built from the ground up, the sum of five million dollars, to my nephew Steven Fox.” Mr. Livingston paused and directed his eyes right at me. Studying me. Then, he reads: “For it is he who I consider my only son.”

As soon as I heard my name and what I was a beneficiary for, my mouth dropped open. Everyone in the room stared at me. Some gave me the evil glare while others, like my mother, had a look of bewilderment. She did a double take, then smiled at me. Silence fell onto the room before it was broken by Mr. Livingston.

“Well, it seems Mr. Fox is now the head of Archer Enterprise. I will make sure the transition goes smoothly by attending the first board meeting tomorrow at 9 AM. In the mean time, there is paperwork to be signed by each and every one of you. My secretary will be contacting you all in the next few days to iron out any of the details.”

We all left the small office and headed back to our cars. My Aunts, though happy to be getting my Uncle’s huge house, were unhappy with what I was receiving from my Uncle. My sweet Mother immediately supported me, although she received a good sum as well. I, on the other hand, didn’t know what to think. Sure, I had always wanted to follow in my Uncle’s footsteps, and he was my idol, but I’m just a recent graduate of Stanford. This morning my worries were about losing a father figure and figuring out how to pay my college loans back. Funny how life changes. At this point, I have so much money that I could buy a college if I wanted to. I arrived home to my small one bedroom apartment and shook my head, laughing, as I looked at my surroundings. My mind raced as I laid down in bed; five million dollars, owner of Archer Enterprises, beneficiary of a huge estate. Despite this, as I sunk deeper into my mattress, the image of Ms. Roberts’ delicate legs swarmed my brain.

My eyes began to close and I quickly felt myself fall asleep.

“Mr. Fox?”

“Mr. Fox,” cooed a soft voice. I felt my body being shaken as the voice continued to call me. My eyes remained closed, as I still felt too tired to get up; never mind that somebody had entered my apartment. The voice paused and was followed by a short zipping sound and a tug of my pants. Now frozen by sheer confusion, my eyes remained shut until I felt the most amazing sensation perforate my whole body. Instantly, I understood this was not a dream and I found myself looking into her deep blue eyes. It was her, bobbing up and down lap. It was Ms. Roberts.

My first, actual reaction was to remove myself from the situation. My adrenaline kicked in and I tried to pull away. Where did she come from? How long has she been in here, and why?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Fox. I’m here to service you. I’m here to take care of all your needs.” Her voice, softly spoken before hot breath on my hard member, sent a bolt of electricity through my body. I wanted to enjoy this moment but it wasn’t right. I tried to free myself again, but she pulled me closer and I found myself sliding back into her mouth. Such an inviting mouth; I felt myself surrender. I couldn’t believe what I was feeling. Her tongue danced around the spongy tip as she continued to suck me. I watched her pretty little cheeks sink in. I could physically feel my cock extending by the second until the head poked the slick walls of her throat. After a few more exquisite mouth-strokes, she stood upright on her knees revealing the tight pencil dress she wore at the funeral. I watched her smile as she reached behind her; she unzipped her dress, letting it fall to her knees.

A wave of disbelief came over me, but I quickly shoved it aside. If this was really happening, I can’t let myself ruin it. The petite frame of this woman I’d only known for a few hours was enough to set me on fire. I couldn’t help but lick my lips. She had curves in all the right places. Her breast were melon size; my brain made sure to go over the size in comparison to her small waist. Ms. Roberts’ hips so delectably curved outwards. My cock ached the longer I looked upon her. The red shear bra and panties did nothing to hide how excited she was. Her nipples were trying to break through her bra, and her panties had an obvious damp spot. I went to reach up to see how turned on she was but she grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. The smile she gave was mischievous. I began to think she more devious than angelic. Lowering her head, she used the tip of her tongue to dance around the bell of my cock. Slowly, that tongue moved all the way down my shaft till the tip danced across my balls, going lower ever slightly. Each flick of her tongue make me squirm and each time she pressed it flat against me made me moan a little loader. She was playing me like a fiddle, giving me pleasure that I thought I could never reach.

With both hands pinning my wrists, she slid her tongue back up to the top of the bell before devouring my whole cock. Making sure she swallowed all of it, I could feel myself touch the back of her throat. I took in the view of her hanging breasts and mouth full of cock. My entire soul and body seemed to swirl in utter pleasure. I physically felt my cock pulse six times; my eyes rolled back as I lay, spurting. After coming down, I watched as cum dripped out over her lips all over my stomach. She pulled away and swallowed what she could with the continuing mischievous smile. I almost emitted a low growl as her tongue cleaned up the mess upon my stomach. Her eyes never left mine as she licked me up. I tried to keep focus on the blue eyes staring back at me but I found myself falling back asleep. My mind was telling me to keep watching but my body had other plans.

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