by Casey Grant
Brie looked down again at her cleavage and decided that she needed to share more of it with the clientele. She tore downwards again, further and further, the front of her bodysuit splitting into a V, revealing half of her firm abdomen, her nipples were only millimeters from being revealed. She was loaded for bear and the detonator was armed. Arms reached up and hands grabbed at her boots, trying to trip her. Someone finally succeeded and Brie fell to her knees. Arms and hands converged upon her, grabbing her ass, her waist, her hips, hands running along her back, along her front, squeezing her breasts. This wasn't as sexy as she thought it would be. The space now between her legs was not some moist embarrassment but instead other glands kicked in— fight or flight! The room's desire had turned dark.
She struggled to stand up, her breasts not yet completely exposed. A chant was raging across the room. “Brie! Brie! Brie!” followed by “More!” More!” More!”. She gazed at the men's faces looking up at her along the bar. Worship was starting to go the wrong direction, towards entitlement. And it was here where Brie became scared.
“Brie! Brie! Over here!” Brie looked to the end of the bar and saw Brad and Dan standing there next to each other. Dan was holding her clothes and baton. These guys know each other? Oh, right— Brad just hired Dan to coach her through her SAT's. But she didn't want to take SAT's. She didn't want to leave Trestle. But those two guys at the end of the bar looked like the most welcome sight she had laid eyes on in her short life. Those two hunks were here to save her. Was she worthy? No, but she was good enough.
Another hand grabbed her boot. It had a good grip on her, pulling her leg forward. If she fell down she knew that this time she would not be getting up. They would have her, one after the other, or maybe all at once. She had lit the fuse that propriety had ditched. “Brie! Brie! Brie!”
Brie kicked the hand off her boot violently. She ran down the bar-top, knocking off glasses and stepping on the hands that tried to block her way. When she reached the end of the bar she didn't slow down. She leapt into Brad's arms, her momentum pushing even his robust frame backwards into the wall. Cradling her in his arms, Dan ran interference in front of them. “Coming through, coming through...” pushing through the mass of people with his massive arms like a bulldozer and holding the baton, ready to strike.
They burst through side door and were blinded by the outdoor light. Brad's Audi A-8 was parked just outside. Dan opened the rear door and tossed Brie into the big backseat, jumping in with her. Brad started the car, putting it in gear and tore out of the dirt parking lot. Brie looked through the rear window waiting for the throng to appear outside shaking their fists in rage at their escape, but Brie kept watching and none appeared. She turned around and faced Dan. Alcohol and adrenaline conspired, kicking Brie's inhibitions to the curb. She pounced on Dan, pushing her mouth to his, tugging on his shirt wanting to see that chest. Dan cupped her breasts, grabbing the tear that ran down the middle of her leotard, making the V even bigger and exposing her nipples. Dan's mouth bit down on her as she tore open the buttons on his shirt. Dan was startled by her strength as she pushed him back against the seat, his mouth detaching from her nipples, her mouth and tongue sliding over his pecs, biting him gently up and down his chest. She could see the massive bulge in his pants. When her kisses reached his abdominals she tugged on the top button of his jeans, yanked down on his fly, reaching in and hungrily fishing for what was inside. What she pulled out was a foot long piece of swollen meat. She felt it grow in her hand, caressing it, wanting it so much to be in her mouth. She licked the swollen head and heard Dan let out an “ugh”. She squeezed it, seeing a dribble of pre-cum form along the top that she licked off. God, she wanted it. He was bigger than Brad even. Dan's hand was on the back of her head pushing down and she knew he wanted it as much as she did.
Brie drove her head downwards, her mouth stretched open to the limit but she was getting used to that. The problem was that she getting less than half-way down his length. She accepted her limitations and kept bobbing up and down on the shaft, but soon she wasn't satisfied; she wanted more, she demanded more. Brie relaxed her throat and found another inch, then another, then another until she was engulfing all of Dan's cock, save for the last two inches. “Oh fucking God, Dan exclaimed as her creamy throat had him surrounded.
The car came to a stop. Where they were, she didn't know— or care. She could hear the front door open and shut, followed by the rear door opening. Brad crawled into the back seat greeted by the spectacular sight of Brie’s ass bent forward, her head buried in Dan's lap. Her leotard-wrapped ass was gently bobbing and swaying back and forth. He reached around to her front and grabbed both sides of her torn leotard, pulling it further apart. It split easily now, down across her abdomen, across her pubis and finally separating along her pussy. Brad sat back behind her splayed bottom and extended the tear from the front and onto the back, revealing the back-side of her vulva, splitting it further upwards revealing her anus. The split went higher and higher until it reached the small of her back where the material ended. The plum leotard was now split entirely in half and fell to each side. Her underside was completely wide-open, her vulva and anus beguiling him with their folds and circles, surrounded by the half-moons of her ass cheeks. Brad reached down licked along the entire length of her channel. Brie squealed with pleasure, muffled by Dan's cock in her mouth. Brad licked her anus and she felt a burst of electric current, biting down on Dan.
“Ouch!”
Brie lifted her head off of Dan's shaft, breathless, “Sorry, sorry... Dan—Brad, what are you doing—” She yelped again. “Oh God...” Brie was feeling nerve endings she never knew she had.
“Don't... don't do that...” said Dan, either to Brad or Brie, impossible to know for sure.
Brad lowered his tongue downward to her mound, sliding his tongue over and around her lips. “OOOoooo,” Brie exhaled.
Dan, starting to feel a little left out, grabbed and started to stroke his cock. “I need you to finish, okay?”
“Sorry, Dan,” said Brie regaining her composure from Brad's ministrations, impaling her mouth on Dan's cock once again. Brad's tongue was on her pussy and his finger on her anus, gently, but insistently, pushed inward. Brad reached down on the floorboards and grabbed the baton. He looked at the rubber end and determined that it wasn't much bigger than him. He licked the end, covering it in saliva and pushed it against her opening. The lips parted and the baton went in. First an inch, then another, and another... Brie felt her loins opening, filling with the surrogate cock. She squealed as a torrent of pleasure broadcast throughout her body, Brad pushing the baton further and further inside her. What had earlier twirled so provocatively was now sliding in and out of her. Brad was gentle, making sure not to hurt her, moving the baton slowly, this talisman of perky energy giving Brie pleasure.
Dan's moans were growing louder as Brie tried to concentrate on his pleasure while wrestling with her own impending orgasm. Brad had his finger in her ass now, showing no interest in coming himself, seemingly content to skip his own satisfaction for hers. His finger was up to his knuckle and Brie liked the fullness she felt in her ass even though it was her pussy that was shouting out the loudest. The baton was moving in and out of her with increasing speed.
Dan yelled out as Brie felt a thick, rapid-fire stream of cum down the back of her throat, gagging her. She yanked her head off of his cock as a blast of jism hit her in the face, as her own loins ignited and detonated. She moved her face away of Dan's geysering pole, clutching it for dear life as it spurted up and onto his belly, covering her hand while Brad's baton jackhammer was causing her to wail as the burn of orgasm burrowed through her belly.
Drained, Dan fell backwards just as Brie collapsed on his stomach.
Suddenly, there was the sound of knuckles wrapping against the glass. Startled, Brie sat up and looked out the window. Finally she could see that the car was parked in the Merle's driveway. Standing outside the car was Tamera in a white bikini top and sar
ong. Brad reached forward and rolled down the window. “Hi Hun.”
“What are you guys doing?” said Tamera. “Dan Jennings will be here any minute to help Brie with her SAT's.”
“I'm already here, Tamera,” said Dan, closing his shirt.
“Oh. Well, good to see you, Dan.”
“Hi Tamera,” said Brie, surprised at how happy she was to see her again. Tamera leaned into the window, smiling wide.
“Hi sweetheart—we'll catch up later,” Tamera said, giving Brie a quick peck on the lips. She slid her head out of the car and walked back into the house.
Brad wrapped his arms around Brie's waist and kissed her on her neck. “You didn't get to come,” Brie said to Brad.
“I don't have to have come all the time, but you do,” said Brad.
Dan pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Brie. “You can't walk into the house naked.”
“I still have my boots and hat on,” said Brie. She looked at the two powerful men either side of her. How did she get so lucky? It didn't matter—she deserved it.
Thank you for reading this book! If you enjoyed this Smashwords title discover other Casey Grant titles:
Play Date
Summer Girl
Check out the first two chapters of "Play Date"
Bobby’s Dad
Lena Harris walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The door opened and she was face to face with the gorgeous (and single!) Shane Evans.
“Well, was my Ryan good today?” Lena said, trying not to get lost in his brown eyes, dark hair and wrestler's physique.
“I took Ryan and Bobbie for ice skating and got ice cream,” said Bobby’s dad.
“Oh! What do I owe you for the skate rental and ice cream?” Lena said, fumbling for her purse.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Shane. Her son, Ryan and his boy, Bobby appeared behind him.
“Ready to go home, Honey?” Lena said to her son, kneeling down to eye level.
“No!” Ryan yelled as an embarrassed Lena grabbed Ryan, pulling him down the sidewalk and waving good-bye to Shane and Bobby.
Shane never asked Lena to stay for coffee (or a drink) and never had time to chat in the doorway. Whether Shane was picking Bobby up at Lena's house—or Lena was picking Ryan up at Shane's— pleasantries would be exchanged and then— zoom, off he would go.
“Oh— Lena, one second...” said Shane disappearing from the doorway.
Lena became excited. He must have tickets for something (and if he did, he wouldn't ask you). Seconds later Shane ran out to the sideway, handing a card to Lena. “Here—I wanted to give this to you.”
“What is it?” said Lena, opening the envelope.
“Bobby's birthday party invitation. We hope you can come.”
“Oh. Of course. Sure,” said Lena trying not to show her disappointment.
“You might want to stop hiding behind that mop of hair and those poor-fitting clothes, “said Danielle, sitting at Lena's kitchen counter, sipping a Mojito. “I know you’re still grieving over Roger, but you need to start living again. You’re only twenty-nine, you’re too young to be a widow.”
Danielle was right. It had been over a year since Lena’s husband had been killed in that canoeing accident. It was time to start living again. Thanks to a generous life insurance policy and an excellent series of investments, Lena was able to continue living in their upscale, master-planned community of Plush Run. But she had indeed let herself go, paying little care to her appearance. Lena knew she needed to get active again, start dating, and maybe fire-up that real estate license.
“There's a beautiful girl under those SteinMart clothes,” said Danielle.
“What's wrong with SteinMart,” said Lena.
“Its for women who've given up.” said Danielle, her phone beeping. Danielle pulled the phone out of her purse. “Hey! Check this one out, 'Plush Run Casino Night'! They need volunteers to man the blackjack tables and serve drinks. 'Help the ‘Plush Run Chorale’ raise money for the Pee-Wee soccer team's trip to Sweden.'”
“Ugh,” thought Lena, grimly. “Sounds like hell.”
“You’re going,” said Danielle.
“No, I’m not.
“It’s for your son's soccer team!” said Danielle. “—And Cory's too. We HAVE to volunteer! This is a great chance for you to get back in the swing of things.”
“Too soon,” said Lena.
“Don't you want our boys to go to Europe? What an opportunity!”
“They're a little young,” said Lena. “I don't think they'll get much out of it.”
“Travel broadens the mind, said Danielle, “This fundraiser will be fun and you need fun.”
The next day they met at the Fox and Hen bar in Old Town Plush Run. It was Danielle’s idea to get a drink before the meeting. Lena and Danielle both ordered Mojitos and chips. Lena was slightly jealous of her lovely friend who was also a bit younger. Danielle had gotten a big divorce settlement from her restaurant owner husband after catching him in bed with his eighteen year-old hostesses. Danielle now spent her days working on her degree in Circadian Studies at nearby East-Central Lancaster State. She prowled the campus, looking irresistible in her short-shorts, tank top and reading glasses, all the while having casual affairs with a different grad student each week. “The boys are cute,” Danielle would say, “But since I’m the only grad student with a million dollar home, I always end up feeling like a mom— paying for everything.”
“It could be worth it,” said Lena.
“When was the last time you were at the stylist?” asked Danielle, looking great today in a tight-fitting long-waisted top with yoga pants.
“June,” said Lena.
“That recently?” said Danielle
“Of last year.”
“Yep. I can tell. I’m making an appointment for you tomorrow. You’ve got to get that mess blown, trimmed and straightened.”
“I’m fine,” said Lena.
“No you’re not.”
“What do you know about Shane Evans?” Lena said, changing the subject, leaning forward, her voice low.
“Oh no,” said Danielle.
“’Oh no’, what?” said Lena. “Is he gay?”
“No. But he's out of your league. Don’t do that to yourself. Every woman in Plush Run is after Shane Evans.”
“Including you?” said Lena.
“Even the married ones,” said Danielle, “Especially the married ones.”
“You're not being supportive.”
“Give it up, Lena.”
“But I see him twice a week! Our kids play together! We’ve bonded.”
“He doesn’t know you exist,” said Danielle.
“Like you'd know,” said Lena.
“He’s divorced, loaded and gorgeous,” said Danielle. “Just understand what a big bull’s-eye that is. His playing field is HUGE.”
“Oh shit,” said Lena, looking off to the side.
“What?”
“That’s Brett Crater over there. Ryan got written up at Fuzzy Pals for throwing blocks at his daughter. We both got called into a conference. He's a total dickhead. Threatened to press charges.”
“Press charges against a four year-old?” said Danielle.
Brett was in his mid-thirties with a shaved head and beard. A general contractor before the housing collapse, he now spent his days happily unencumbered thanks to his well-paid corporate lawyer wife. It was also the reason he was sitting at the bar mid-afternoon on a Wednesday. He caught sight of the two ladies.
“Oh great…” mumbled Danielle, “He’s coming over.
Brett was good looking with a solid build and a chiseled face that, along with the trimmed beard, made him look rugged and a little older than he was.
“Hello ladies,” he said with what looked like a sneer.
“Hi Brett, said Danielle. “Wife out of town?”
“Sure is, honey” replied Brett. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Cleaning,” said D
anielle, cringing.
“Uh huh,” said Brett as he looked down at Lena staring out the window. “I’m glad to see your boy hasn’t been beating up my daughter this week.”
“He wasn’t beating up on your daughter,” said Lena still not making eye contact. “He threw a block at her.”
“In the interests of keeping the peace, I’ll ignore that comment and wish you ladies a good day,” Brett said walking out the front door.
“He’s got a nice ass,” said Danielle.
“Ewe,” said Lena.
“And he’s hung. Did you see that bulge?”
“Oh, God, please, don’t tell me you have thing for him,” said Lena.
“Sure. If I had no self-worth or had a tumor growing out of my head, I’d be totally hot for him— Oh no! We’re late!” said Danielle glancing at the clock on the wall.
Lena and Danielle arrived to the community center as the Casino Night volunteer meeting was winding down. Walking up to a table at the center of the room, Meg Stauffer, the event coordinator, told them that the only jobs still available were cocktail waitresses.