Brother's Best Friend for Christmas: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance

by Amy Brent

  Denny had dubbed me “Sammy the Sausage” in high school, when the sight of my schlong caused every guy in the football locker room to point and stare. Sure, I displayed the damn thing proudly, walking from the showers, swinging it side to side, letting it dangle half way down my thighs. Coach Battle looked at me once and told me to put the damn thing away before I killed someone with it.

  Isaac called me “The Hammer” because he said I could drive spikes into railroad ties when my cock was hard. It didn’t bother me that my best friends had given my cock a nickname. Hell, me, Isaac and Denny had gangbanged a lot of girls and had seen each other naked plenty of time. And they were no slouches when it came to big cocks, but they had little wieners compared to my kielbasa. They always insisted on going first because they said I’d stretch a pussy out so much they couldn’t get traction.

  “Hey, are you with me?” Carina dug her nails in again until I yelped.

  “Fuck, yes, stop that,” I said, grabbing her by the waist as she pommeled up and down on the end of my cock.

  “What… are… you… thinking… about?” she asked, leaning her head down until our noses were an inch apart. “You’re… a million… miles… away…”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes… you are.”

  “For Pete sake, Carina, just shuddup and fuck me.”

  “You will pay for that one,” she said, pressing her teeth into her lower lip until her eyes went dreamy. “Later…”

  I wanted to deny it, maybe blame it on all the booze I’d drank since Friday night or the pot I’d smoked, but she was right. My cock was happy sliding in and out of Carina’s tight pink box, but my brain was a thousand miles away.

  If I told you what I was thinking about you’d probably call me a pussy and then I’d have to kill you, so I won’t say.

  Not yet.

  Focus, Sammy.

  Bring this baby home.

  I cupped Carina’s bouncing tits in my palms and gave them a squeeze between my fingers. She closed her eyes and moaned, happy that I was finally taking part. Her hips moved back and forth, then up and down, impaling herself on my moist meat until the head slammed her inner wall, then back out and in again.

  Carina was amazing. She should have been for five-thousand dollars an hour, making hers one of the most expensive pussies on the planet.

  And well worth every penny.

  Millionaires and billionaires came from around the world to spend time with Carina, because there was no other woman like her. It would be hard to understand unless you were a dude, but when you were fucking Carina you knew you were fucking the best, kind of like driving a $1.3M Venom GT Spyder or a $1.8M Lambo Centenaro, both of which I had in my underground garage back in San Jose.

  That was the allure of Club D: rich fuckers like me could experience things they never could experience anywhere else, no matter how much money they had in the back. You could fill a suite in Vegas with a hundred hot girls and they wouldn’t come close to the girls at Club D. There were lots of hot girls in the world, but very few like Carina and the girls who made Club D the special place that it was.

  Mega-millionaires and billionaires gladly ponied up a million dollar a year just to become a member of Club D. And that was just the dues. Everything else, the food, the booze, the pussy, the rooms, the service, was extra, automatically charged to their Black American Express or sucked right out of their bank accounts if they were afraid their wives would find out.

  Since me and my boys didn’t need the money, every penny that came in the doors went right back out to our charitable trust. In the three years that Club D had been open, we had raised twenty-three-point-two-million dollars that had been disbursed to a variety of worthy causes around the country.

  As Denny liked to say, “Man, that’s a lot of pussy.”

  Every employee at Club D except for Mr. Lemon, the director, and the security force, was a smoking hot babe, from the hostesses to the waitresses to the bartenders to the chefs to the maids, all beautiful women, every one drop-dead gorgeous. And the most gorgeous of all were the women who kept the members happy and coming back for more: the Escorts and the Specialists.

  An Escort would take you upstairs and fuck and suck your brains out until you begged them to stop. A Specialist, like Carina, could show you things and do things to you that you could only imagine in your wildest dreams. That’s what made them special. And very expensive.

  I’d seen Carina take on five guys at once; one in her cunt, one in her ass, one in her mouth, and one in each hand. And somehow—somehow—she made all five guys come at once like a fucking cum sprinkler. I know, it sounds gross as fuck and the mess she made was just that, but it was downright fascinating to watch. Carina simply smiled and licked the cum from her lips and wiped her sticky hands down her breasts and did the math in her head.

  She pocketed a cool $170,000 for her trouble, I mean, if she’d had pockets.

  You want the breakdown?

  Fine, here it is: one cock in each hand: $10,000 x 2 = $20,000… one cock in her mouth: $25,000… one cock in her pussy: $50,000… one cock in her ass: $75,000.

  Do you need a calculator to add that up?

  I know, amazing, huh.

  She would later tell me it was the easiest hundred-seventy grand she’d ever made. And she got to keep every penny. See, Club D makes money from what we call “dues and booze”.

  The Escorts and the Specialists get to keep every penny they make.

  Carina grossed around two-million bucks last year.

  Not too shabby for a working girl from Russia, huh.

  * * *

  “Sammy… fuck…” Carina was riding me hard now, her pussy gushing hot juices over my long shaft, lubing it up, smashing it into her pussy each time she came down.

  I held on to her hips to steady her. Carina was a wild fuck. She loved riding my cock because it was so big, but sometimes she lost control and just bucked right off the damn things before I could pump a gallon of goo into her.

  And sometimes she came down at an angle and bent the damn thing. You talk about hurting like a bitch. You think that’s funny? Slam your forearm in a car door a few times and you’ll get an idea of how that feels.

  “That’s… it… yes…” I curled my toes as the orgasm started building in my balls. The muscles in my legs tightened. I arched my back and held on to her hips.

  “Fuck… yes… Sammy… god... your... monster… cock… I can… feel it… in my… throat…” Carina’s fingernails dug into my chest and drew blood, but I didn’t care. I always had the best orgasms with Carina because she wasn’t afraid of my cock. She jackhammered down on it and milked it dry.

  “Cum with me, baby…” I said, every muscle in my body tensing as I felt her pussy literally starting to milk my shaft, like a thousand little fingers tugging up and down.

  I told you Carina was a goddamn marvel, the best at what she did.

  She tossed back her head and howled at the ceiling and gushed out the salty juices, squirting with my cock buried deep inside her, covering me in what felt like hot oil.

  I came immediately, shoving my cock as deep into her as it would go and filling her until my cum washed back out and over me. When it was done, we were both a sticky mess, sweating, smiling, panting like dogs.

  Too bad Carina wasn’t the type of girl you’d take home to mom.

  Nor did she want to be.

  She had made it clear early on when I was majorly crushing on her that we could be friends and fuck buddies, but never anything more.

  Carina preferred girls.

  It was probably a good thing.

  My mom would have had a coronary.

  Chapter 2: Sammy

  “You wanna tell me what you were thinking about?” Carina asked, leaning forward to offer me a hit of the joint she held between her thumb and index finger. I held up a soapy hand to wave her away. She settled back on her end of the giant soaker tub and pulled the bubbles over her tits. As I usually did to
end a long weekend at Club D, I was in the tub in the bathroom of her private suite. Club D was open from midnight Friday night till midnight Sunday night. The Escorts had their own rooms on the second floor. Carina and the other Specialists all enjoyed luxury suites on the third floor with me, Isaac, and Denny.

  “I wasn’t thinking about anything,” I said with a sigh, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

  “You certainly weren’t thinking about fucking me,” she said. She stretched out her foot and dug her goes into my side. “Come on, you can tell me. What’s up with you?”

  I pushed my wet hands back through my hair, then down my cheeks. I said, “I don’t know. You’ll probably think it’s stupid.”

  She cut her blue eyes at me. “Sammy, how long have we known each other?”

  I shrugged with my eyes. “Three years.”

  “And during that time haven’t we become good friends?” She shook a bubbly finger at me. “Not just fuck buddies, but good friends?”

  “We have.”

  “And haven’t I told you practically everything about my life? I’ve told you about bringing my entire family from Russia. About my son. The men in my life?”

  “Yes, though I don’t really like hearing about the other men in your life,” I said with a smile. “But yes, you share everything with me.”

  “And do you know why I do that?”

  “So, I’ll let you ride my monster cock?”

  She huffed at me. “I can ride all the monster cocks I want,” she said. “Yours is big, Sammy the Sausage, but I’ve seen bigger.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your business,” she said with a smile. “So, tell me, what’s bugging you because I can tell something is? If I’m fucking a man’s brains out and he’s thinking about other things, I want to know what’s more interesting at that moment than my pussy on his cock.”

  “Fine,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I guess I’m just wondering if this is all there is to life.”

  “This?” Carina gave me a funny look. She sucked on the joint and held the smoke for a moment, then blew a plume toward the ceiling and waved her hands in the air. “I’m sorry, Mr. Billionaire with the big cock. Define this?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, Sammy, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

  “I mean, my life is great,” I said, trying not to whine. “I have money, influence, lots of cool stuff… but is that all there is to life? Amassing money and stuff?”

  Carina narrowed her blue eyes at me for a moment, then smiled. “Oh my god… You’re lonely.”

  Lonely?

  Me?

  No way.

  I was Sammy Branniff, COO of one of the largest companies in the world, heralded by many to be one of the great business minds of the internet age. I was a former college and NFL star and had women lined up around the block to sleep with me. I owned houses, cars, boats, airplanes—even a fucking island in the South Pacific. How the hell could I be lonely?

  Carina gently rubbed the heel of her foot against my cock and balls. “Is it because Isaac and Denny have found their soul mates? Are you feeling a little left behind, my little monster cock?”

  I took her foot between my hands and lifted it out of the water. I rubbed it against my cheek. “You know me too well,” I said. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in becoming Mrs. Branniff?”

  She huffed and pulled her foot away, splashing me with bubbles. “Like that would last,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve told a hundred times. I like girls.”

  “I know,” I said, resting my arms on the side of the tub and wiggling my fingers at her. “I can still dream though.”

  “Besides me, who do you dream of?” she asked.

  “Besides you? No one.”

  “Bullshit. Who?”

  Who did I dream of? One name, one face, came to mind.

  “Well, there is this woman at the office that I find very attractive,” I said. “Her name is Andrea Nichols. She is Denny’s new marketing assistant.”

  Carina gave me a devilish look. Beneath the bubbles, she cupped my flaccid cock between her feet and started teasing me. My cock responded immediately, getting rock hard between her feet. She started to slowly slide her feet up and down the shaft.

  “Tell me about her,” Carina said in a whisper. “Pretend it’s her milking your cock.”

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “She’s beautiful. Amazonian. She’s nearly six feet tall. Was a volleyball star at UCLA.” I swallowed hard as my cock swelled between Carina’s feet.

  “Tell me what she looks like,” Carina said.

  “She’s Irish… fair complexion… long red hair… beautiful green eyes…”

  “Tell me about her body.”

  “Like I said… tall… lean… muscular… nice tits… not too big… but… nice… round… long legs… muscular… saw her at the company gym… she was doing Cross Fit... her nipples were hard… they stuck out like… thimbles…”

  “Do you think she shaves her pussy?” Carina asked. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know that she was fingering her clit and pussy as she was jacking me off with her feet. Carina loved women as much as I did.

  “Yes, I think she shaves… her pussy…”

  “Her clit… is it long… hard…”

  “Yes…” I hissed the words. I grabbed onto the sides of the tub and held on as Carina’s feet worked their magic. I could hear her breathing getting heavy as she worked her fingers inside her pussy.

  “Pull back her clit hood…” Carina said, nearly moaning now. “Do you see her clit… The little pink nub… hard… moist... aching for your lips…”

  “Yes… I see it…”

  “Taste it,” Carina said, panting now. “Flick her clit with your tongue… take it between your lips… suck it like a tiny cock…”

  “Yes…”

  “Her pussy lips… are they pink and moist…”

  “Yes…” I was breathing harder now. My cock felt as if it might pop right out of the water. “Her pussy is hot… pink… it tastes salty on my tongue…”

  “She’s moaning now,” Carina said, breathless. “Stick your tongue in her hole... lick her sweet juices… hold her pussy lips open with your fingers… lick her… taste her…”

  My tongue darted across my lips. I could taste Andrea’s pussy… I could feel her hot juices on my lips… in my mouth… swallowing…

  “She’s going to cum…” Carina said, her feet expertly pumping my cock as both her hands worked her pussy and ass. We were splashing the water over the side of the tub, but neither of us cared.

  “Fuck… Carina…”

  “No… Andrea… I am Andrea…”

  “Fuck… Andrea…”

  “Cum for me my darling,” she said, the breath hitching in her throat. “Oh… fuck… cum with me… now…”

  I grunted as I shot my load into the hot water. Carina squealed and mashed my cock head between her feet. She spasmed for a moment. I grabbed her feet to keep them still as I finished cumming.

  When I opened my eyes, Andrea was not there, but Carina was, looking at me, smiling devilishly. She got to her knees and crawled to me, then stretched out to lay on top of me with our noses touching.

  “Andrea is a lucky girl to have someone like you fantasizing about her,” she said, giving me a pick on the lips. “Why don’t you make your fantasies come true?”

  “You think I should talk to her?”

  She smiled. “Sammy Branniff, since when are you so shy?”

  “I’m not shy,” I said, cupping her slick ass in my hands to grind her against my flaccid cock and balls. “It’s different out there than it is in here.”

  “The only difference is out there you use your brain. In here you use your cock.” She kissed me again, then leaned her forehead to mine. “It’s been fun, Sammy, but I think it’s time for you to grow up.”

  “I don’t want to grow up,” I said, playfully tweaking her nipples be
tween my fingers.

  She pushed herself up and gave me a sad smile.

  “I know, Sammy baby, but it’s time. And I will miss you.”

  Chapter 3: Andrea Nichols

  If you think being a six-foot-tall red head is cool, well, you’re partly right. Yes, I love being taller than most women and some mean, and yes, I love my long, flowing fiery hair (thank you mom).

  I love it when short guys look up at me from tit-level like I’m some sort of Amazon woman from space. Their mouths droop open and their eyes go wide and their tongued sort of flop out of their mouths like a Bassett Hound that’s run a mile.

  They crane their necks up and down the length of my body: my long legs, flat stomach, round hips, nice firm tits, long neck, fair complexion, blue eyes, and of course, the hair.

  And I know what they’re thinking.

  They’re not thinking, “My, that’s a striking young woman.”

  No.

  They’re thinking, “Wow, I wonder what it would be to tap that ass?”

  Most of them would need a foot stool for their little dicks to even reach my ass. Guys actually gawk at me when I walk by or enter a room, even at Internet Data Systems, where I’ve worked for three months now as the Assistant Director of Marketing for founder Denny Chambers, the one guy who has never made a derogatory remark about my height; at least to my face.