by Amy Brent
“I have to say that you are not exactly the kind of guy that would be caught in a pair of jeans. You have more class than any other man that I’ve met in my life. Your chocolate skin is like an aphrodisiac and…and. You have to stop doing that or I’m never going to get out what I’m trying to say.” She lost her train of thought, as he made momentary contact with her large clit. “Fuck it…do what you need to do. You’re not going to hear any complaints from this girl.” She pushed her body into the air, holding herself completely still up against his mouth with his tongue now extending to the inside of her.
His tongue darted in and out of the entrance. He had to look down to see that he had something that needed attention. Not bothering to wrap his own hand around it, he was waiting for the moment that he would sink into the velvety softness of her sex.
“You really do have…have the magical touch.” There was no way that she could sit still and she found herself grabbing onto his bald black head and pressing her mound up against him even tighter. This of course pushed his tongue a little bit deeper and made him come that close to something that was considered the G spot. She knew that he was close, but she couldn’t think of any way that she could get him to realize it.
She needn’t have bothered to worry about it. He had inserted his long and agile finger and pulled his tongue free to lap seductively at her clit. He touched on the spot by giving it the come hither motion. She was literally screaming her head off with her eyes closed.
Leslie had no idea that it could be this good. She had been deluded into thinking that men were a necessary evil. Men were only good for a few moments of pleasure. Brock was making every other man that she had been with look bad.
“I think that you should kiss me.” He watched, as her eyes fluttered open and then they made out like a couple of sex crazed teenagers. He easily separated her knees and lifted her legs, so that they were up to her shoulders. He didn’t have to do anything, as his cock had begun to seek out the heat that was emanating from her body.
He saw her eyes go wide, as the plum sized head began to insinuate itself into that constricting opening. It closed around him and caressed every inch, as he slowly thrust forward. He was finally balls deep. He bit her lip, before finally letting her go.
“Don’t fucking move. I just want to lie here and look at you like this. I can feel you inside me and my pussy is screaming for you to fuck me into the mattress. Don’t do anything. Let me start you off, before you jump in.” she moved her body and his cock slid along the slippery walls of her little hole. She had to look down to be amazed by how much she had taken.
“This is your party for now, but it’s not going to remain like that forever.” He grabbed her ass, digging his fingers in and pulling her towards him with an insistence that made her feel wanted. The moans coming from both of their mouths indicated that they were lost in a world of their own sexual making.
“Trust me, I know that you are…ah…ah…a… real man.” She felt the oncoming rush of climax and then her body began to convulse like that of something of a seizure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, as she twisted and turned underneath the thrusts of a muscle-bound black man that knew how to deliver the goods.
At that moment, money meant nothing to Brock and the only thing that did matter was the beautiful woman that was giving him her body. Her climax had reached in between his legs and had literally jolted his semen to the surface. He couldn’t stop it and even as it was happening, he was plainly aware that this woman had taken what she wanted. The jets of hot cream slowly drizzled to a stop. He couldn’t be any deeper and when he slowly pulled out, he loved the look of both of their juices combined on his shaft. He might’ve been down and out for a moment, but looking at her body was more enough to become his own personal Viagra.
She lay there stunned, until he turned her over and started to fuck her from behind. Each time that he slammed down on her, the wet slapping sound was like this fuse that was lit between them. She was biting into the sheet feeling the kind of pleasure that was only reserved for those women that found young men that could go the distance. It was so much better with experience and they had learned to read each other’s bodies like that of a blind man with Braille.
He bounced on her cushioned ass and then spooned her for another 15 minutes with him nuzzling her neck and pulling on her ear lobe with his teeth. Brock finally groaned in submission. She was more than ready to receive him. Her sex gobbled up what was expelled and left him breathing heavy after 4 hours of going at it like a couple of animals.
* * *
Epilogue
When she found out that she was pregnant, he was worried, but they both decided together that they would face this, as a couple. They dropped the bombshell on her uncle and he was livid. He screamed and hollered and stamped his feet, but in the end there was really nothing that he could do. They promised him that this was not a fleeting fancy and that they really did feel for one another like that of star crossed lovers.
She was dead on the mark about her mother. She became silent and walked from the room saying that she had no daughter. It wasn’t, until the baby was born and her mother was there for the birth that she finally started to realize that her daughter had her own life. As long as she was happy, then they would have her and her father’s blessing. They became the godparents and instant babysitters when they wanted to hit the town. The new couple had already married in secret in Las Vegas with an Elvis impersonator performing the service. They were both big fans and found the idea of marrying with Elvis, as something of a lark. They would most likely have a real ceremony back home, but this one was just for them.
This whole thing had humbled Brock. He was no longer ego driven. He was actually better for it on the field. Life was better with love in his heart and for his teammates. All it took was the love of a good woman.
THE END
* * *
STEPBROTHER’S BABY
* * *
“If you want it,” he said as he stood towering over me, “then you're going to have to give me what I want.”
“That's disgusting,” I said, trembling. “It's not right. It's not fair!”
He laughed and shook his head, his eyes roaming my scantily-clad body. I'd dressed this way for him, at his request. My short plaid skirt didn't even come down low enough to cover my panties, my tight white top was unbuttoned, and a thin red necktie hung down between my breasts. It was the sort of outfit some people didn't think a big girl could pull off, but he seemed to like the way it hugged my generous curves. I tried to pull the top closer to hide my near-nakedness, but it strained so much against my breasts that I couldn't even close it all the way.
“Life isn't fair, Anne,” he said. He reached out to run his fingers through my hair. His hands were dirty and greasy. No doubt he'd been out playing mechanic again, fixing up one of his bikes. “But this is just the way it is. My father left everything to me, and only to me. If you want your share, you're going to have to...” He looked down at my body again, biting his lip. “...share.”
I shuddered, but at the same time, my body heated up. Matt had been chasing me for months, and while I'd resisted his every attempt at seduction, the truth was, I loved it. I loved the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel so desired. No one had ever affected me like this before. For a while, it had been a game for me. Letting him get little glimpses of what he wanted, then denying him the prize. I'd only recently admitted to myself that in denying him, I was denying what I really wanted.
“Don't tell me you haven't thought about it,” Matt said, stepping closer. I backed away until I was pinned against the wall. He stood over me, holding me there by his sheer presence. “I've seen the way you look at me. The way you tease. Even when you're not dressed like this,” he pulled at the lapels of my shirt, exposing my firm breasts, “you like to show it off to me. Don't think I haven't noticed.”
“But I can't...” I whispered. My lips trembled. I broke int
o a cold sweat, sweet beads of moisture sliding down my neck and between my breasts.
“Why not?” he asked, leaning close to whisper into my ear. “Why not give in to what we both want?”
“Because,” I whispered, licking my lips, “you're my stepbrother.”
* * *
* * *
* * *
I first met Matt about six months before, at our parents' wedding. I was in a bad mood that day, disgusted with my mother for what she was doing. My whole life, she'd worked in restaurants, waiting tables and dealing with irritable customers in order to make her living. She'd developed a bad back and serious foot problems over the years, but somehow she had still managed to keep her figure.
Which was probably how she managed to seduce the elderly Matthew Partridge Sr. She'd gotten a temp job working for a catering company that served the rich and famous. I'm not sure what she did to catch Mr. Partridge's eye, but one night after a long shift serving wine at an art gala, she'd gone home with him. Three months later, they were engaged.
I stood in the back of the room at the reception, nursing a glass of wine and watching with a scowl as my mom and Mr. Partridge danced for the first time. She didn't love him. I knew she didn't. She'd told me as much. She was a gold digger, plain and simple. Mr. Partridge was old and infirm, and she knew it would only be a few years, at most, before he kicked the bucket and she was left with a sizable fortune to inherit.
I scanned the room, but I didn't see any faces I recognized. Most of the crowd was rich folk and various celebrities. Mom had only invited a few close friends. And since I had no desire to mingle with rich snobs, that left me alone with just my wine glass.
“Not really your sort of party, is this?” a voice said.
I turned to see a rough-looking man approaching me. He had his shirt untucked and his tie was undone and slun haphazardly around his neck. He had a sharp jaw, deeply tanned skin, and deep, dark eyes.
“I prefer something a little more upbeat,” I said, looking out over the quiet, boring crowd. “I mean, no one even did the Chicken Dance.”
Everyone in the room was sitting quietly at their tables, talking and eating. It was all very subdued. Dinner had been even worse. People had glared at me when I used the wrong fork, and a very stiff woman in a tight, binding dress had cleared her throat at me and given me a judgmental stare when I put my elbows on the table.
“You're Anne, right?” the man said.
I eyed him warily, wondering how he knew me. “Yeah. Daughter of the bride, not that I thought I'd ever say that.” My mother had sworn off men when she divorced my father. She hadn't dated anyone in years, and she wasn't remotely the romantic type. She never would have pursued a relationship at all, if not for the prospect of striking it rich.
“Well, then,” he said, extending his hand to me, “looks like we're related.”
“Oh!” I took his hand, forcing a smile. “You'd be Matthew Junior, then.”
“Just Matt.” He chuckled. “The apple fell pretty far from the tree.”
“How far?” I asked, smirking.
“Care to find out?”
I frowned in confusion as he stepped towards the door, gesturing for me to follow. I finished the rest of my wine glass and set it down, then followed him. No one in the room even noticed us leave.
Out in the parking lot, we walked past several limousines and a line of very expensive cars, including Bentleys, a Ferrari, and a few Mercedes. I scanned the parking lot, wondering which of these luxury cars my billionaire stepbrother drove.
He stopped in front of a Harley Davidson, heavy on the chrome. “You're kidding, right?” I said.
He pulled a helmet from a compartment in the back and tossed it to me. I caught it and clutched it against my chest. “You want me to get on that thing?”
“You want to see a real party, don't you?” He straddled the bike and waved me over.
I walked over, looking at the bike, then at my dress. “I'm not really dressed for motorcycle riding.”
While I was putting the helmet on, he grabbed my skirt by the slit near the knee, and ripped it until the slit was all the way up my thigh. “There you go.”
I stared at him in shock. This was the most expensive dress I owned, and even if my mom had married a rich man, I was still dirt poor.
“Oh, don't worry about it,” he said, starting the bike and revving the engine. “I'll buy you a new one.”
I climbed onto the bike behind him. “Don't you need a helmet?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I can afford the best doctors in the world.”
With that he kicked the bike into gear and we tore out of the parking lot, leaving the boring wedding party behind.
We rode for about twenty minutes, with me clinging to Matt as hard as I could to keep from falling off. I was scared out of my mind, but at the same time, it was a rush. The bike vibrated between my legs, the engine roaring like a hungry lion. Matt took sharp turns at high speeds, making me squeal every time, though he had full control over the machine. Still, I was glad that I was the one wearing a helmet.
We finally pulled into the parking lot of a seedy looking bar. We climbed off the bike and Matt put the helmet back into its compartment. He led me inside, and I immediately felt like I was overdressed. I was wearing a shimmering blue dress and high heels. Most of the bar patrons were wearing biker leathers, stained blue jeans, and flannels. The bar smelled of old booze and cigarette smoke. Loud music played from the speakers overhead. A couple of burly men were playing pool in the back, and another group had a card game going with a pile of money in the center of the table.
“Jessup,” Matt said as he entered, “drinks all around. Put it on my tab.”
“Matty boy, my favorite customer,” the bartender said. He grinned, showing off a few missing teeth. “You want the usual?”
“Sure thing.” Matt looked at me and arched an eyebrow. “How about you, Sis? You a drinker?”
I looked around the room, feeling like everyone here would laugh at me if I ordered a wine cooler. “Whatever you're having is fine.”
“Make it two whiskey sours then, Jessup.” Matt grinned at me and led me to a table. He greeted a few people on the way by, patting their backs and shaking hands. The bartender poured our drinks, then started serving a free round to the rest of the bar, courtesy of my rich stepbrother.
I sat down and leaned over to whisper to him, “Do they know who you are?”
“Nah.” He took a sip of his drink. “I told them I won the lottery. No one really asks too many questions, as long as the free drinks keep on coming.”
We had a few drinks, then a few of Matt's bar buddies came over to join us. They all started talking, with one man telling a story about a recent run-in with the law, and another telling the tale of the time he got jumped by five punks at a highway rest stop.
“I had to call an ambulance for the poor fools,” he said at the end, laughing and slapping his knee. “Put all five of them in the hospital.”
“Yeah,” I said, snorting. “Sure. Sure you did.” I rolled my eyes.
He slammed his hand down on the table. “You calling me a liar, girl?”
I cringed and nearly fell back off my chair. Then the man's expression dropped into a grin and he laughed. The rest of the group laughed as well, a few of them clapping me on the back.
“Don't take the boys too seriously, Anne,” Matt said. “It's all in good fun.”
“I'll try to remember that.” I eyed him sidelong, wondering if this sort of place was where he always spent his time.
We spent a few hours at the bar, drinking with the guys and listening to their tall tales. At one point we started doing a line of shots, while a few people took bets on who would last the longest. I was out after three shots, though Matt and a husky, bearded fellow kept going until I was sure one of them was going to kill himself from so much booze.
The bearded fellow eventually fell face-first into the table, to the cheers and applause of
the crowd. Money changed hands, and Matt took another drink in celebration. Then he got up, patting one of his friends on the back, and said, “Well, fellas, the road calls. Take it easy.”
I followed him out the door, my legs wobbly. “Are you sure you're okay to drive?” I asked him.
He pulled out the helmet and handed it to me. “Do you trust me?”
“No.” I pulled the helmet on and strapped it in place. “But I'm too drunk to care.”
He laughed and climbed onto the bike. We tore off through the streets again, the rushing wind helping to clear my head. The street lights flashed by, making me dizzy, and everything started to blur together. Somewhere along the way, I blacked out.
I woke up in an unfamiliar room, laying in an unfamiliar bed. I was stripped down to my bra and panties. The bed was covered in silvery silk sheets. It was the softest and most comfortable bed I'd ever been in. I was freaked out at finding myself there, but the bed was so warm that for a moment, I just hugged the sheets tighter around myself and savored the moment.
Then I turned over and saw my stepbrother sleeping next to me.
“Oh God.” I sat up, pulling the sheets up to cover my nakedness. “God, no. No. We didn't.”
Matt stirred, looking up at me sleepily. “No, we didn't.”
“We didn't?”
He laughed and propped himself up on his elbows, yawning. “No. I'd never take advantage of a drunk girl.” He looked me up and down, watching the way the sheet molded against my ample curves. “Though now that you're sober.”
“Gross,” I said, smacking him in the face with a pillow. “You're my brother. Technically.”
“Stepbrother,” he said, holding up a finger. “It's not like we're related by blood.”
“I don't care. Eww. No.” I climbed out of the bed, wrapping the sheet around myself like a toga. When I pulled the sheet off the bed with me, I saw Matt was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. I saw his bulge straining against it, revealing that he hadn't been joking when he came on to me.