Roomies with Benefits: A Brother's Best Friend Baby Romance

by Amy Brent

  “You want to know what the best part about being me is, Mrs. Chambers?” he asked.

  I cooed with my nose pressed to his.

  “What, Mr. Chambers?”

  “The time I get to spend with you.”

  “Aw…” I put my hands on his cheeks and gave him a long kiss.

  “And,” he added. “The pussy.”

  We both said it at the same time.

  “Duh!”

  THE END

  That was HOT & FILTHY!

  Wanna read another bonus sex scene. Trust me, it’s super super HOT!

  Turn the page for an extra steamy sex scene between Denny and Serena.

  Warning: Panties at the door please!

  Super Steamy Deleted Bonus Scene

  We were sitting at a corner table having a late dinner at the Four Seasons when the night got very interesting. It started with a simple question, one that I had never been asked before.

  Denny was casually carving his filet mignon and without looking up, asked, “Have you ever fucked in a public restroom?”

  I had just taken a large bite of salmon and nearly sprayed it across the table. I took a quick sip of water and wiped my lips on the napkin. I leaned in and grinned at him. “How did we go from talking about my work to talking about fucking in a public restroom?”

  Denny stuck a bite of steak in his mouth and smiled as he chewed. “Isn’t fucking a much more interesting topic than work?”

  “Well, I suppose.” I leaned back in the booth and looked around the restaurant. It was after nine on Friday night, but the place was still crowded with people eating their hundred-dollar steaks and two-hundred-dollar lobsters and drinking thousand-dollar bottles of wine. When my eyes came back around to Denny, he was licking his lips and smiling at me.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking that I really need to use the restroom,” I said, sliding out of the booth. I leaned down and took his earlobe between my teeth. “If I’m not back in one minute, you had better come find me.”

  * * *

  I was sitting on the toilet in the last stall of the ladies’ room when I heard the door open. My panties were already off and tucked away safely in my purse. I was wearing a little black dress with no bra. I unzipped the back and let it slide down my arms to expose my big titties. Denny loved my big titties. I knew that if I didn’t have them out and ready he might just rip off the dress to get to them. I stood up and carefully took off the dress and hung it on the back of the door. By the time Denny tapped lightly on the door to the stall, I was naked except for a pair of five-inch stilettos and ready to fuck his brains out.

  “Hmmm…” he said as I let him into the tiny stall and closed the door behind him. We barely had enough room to stand up, so I sat on the toilet as I undid Denny’s belt and pushed his pants and boxers to the floor. His nine-inch cock immediately sprang to life, hard and ready, girthy with thick veins running down the shaft to the bulbous head.

  “Wow, happy to see me?” I asked, wrapping my fingers around his cock and lowering my lips to the head, which looked like a red water balloon ready to pop. Denny braced his arms on the side walls as I took his cock into my mouth and gave him the best public restroom blowjob of his life.

  “Fuck… don’t make me cum…” he said as my tongue swirled around the underside of the head, teasing the little bundle of nerves there. “I want you… your pussy… now…”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Chambers,” I said, standing up with my hand still pumping my cock. I pressed the tip to my stomach and rubbed it around, leaving a little trail of Denny juice. “How would you like to fuck me?”

  “Climb on,” Denny said, sliding his hands around my ass and easily lifting me up. My legs went around his waist and without help, his cock impaled my pussy, sliding in easily, stopping only when the tip hit my cervix. It made me gasp because I was already seconds away from cumming.

  “Hang on,” Denny said, digging his fingers into my ass cheeks. He started swinging me in and out, my pussy sliding over his thick cock, in and out and back again. I laced my fingers together behind his neck and tried not to scream. I could feel his cock everywhere, in my pussy, in my chest, in my throat. With each hard thrust the air rushed from my lungs and I gasped to take more in. It was like being on the most amazing ride at the amusement park. I had to force myself not to scream for joy at the top of my lungs.

  “Fuck… your pussy… is… so… fucking… tight…” Denny moaned, arching his back and thrusting out his hips to go in even deeper. His grunts and groans echoed off the metal stall and drifted out into the restroom. We both knew someone could come in at any moment, but neither of us cared. We were the only two people on earth as far as we were concerned. And we were having a fucking great time.

  “Shit… I’m gonna… oh.. Denny… I’m… fuck... cumming…”

  I gritted my teeth and moaned. Denny’s cock slamming into my cunt had ignited every nerve in my body. I felt my toes curl as the orgasms started coming in waves, one after another, my pussy gushing like Niagara Falls. The stall filled with the tangy scent of my juices. I was squirting, covering Denny’s cock and balls with my cum.

  Denny grunted loudly, like a wild animal growling at the moon. He shoved his cock in as far as it would go and shot his load, filling me with his hot seed, the heat of it radiating throughout my body. I came again as he did, my body shuddering against him, the cries of pleasure escaping my lips despite my best efforts to be quiet.

  A moment later, we were done.

  We had fucked in a public restroom.

  Guess I could mark that one off my list.

  Denny cleaned off his cock and put himself back together, then gave me a long kiss and said he’d see me back at the table. I used half a roll of toilet paper to mop up the mess we’d made between my legs, then put my dress and panties back on and stepped out to wash my hands.

  “That sounded like fun!” a breathy voice called from behind me. I was so startled I nearly drew the lipstick across my cheek. I turned around to see a pair of high heels beneath the door of the stall next to the one where Denny and I had just fucked.

  “Oh shit,” I said. “I’m so sorry. We had no idea anyone else was here.”

  “Don’t be sorry, dear,” she said, her voice echoing. “I rather enjoyed it. First time fucking in a restroom?”

  I grinned because I had the feeling a kindred spirit was sitting on the toilet behind that stall door.

  “Yes,” I said, gathering up my purse and moving toward the door.

  “Well, sweetie, don’t let it be your last. He sounded like one hell of a ride.”

  “I won’t,” I said with a grin. I was blushing like a teenager caught with her boyfriend hidden in the closet. “And he is.”

  “Enjoy your dinner, sweetie.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  Wanna read Sammy and Andrea’s story?

  Shhh…..don’t tell anyone but this one will need some secluded place, with your spouse if you want, toys, and of course, no panties. And….don’t forget the Kleenex.

  Turn the page to experience the HOTNESS!

  BOOK 3: DEEP INSIDE

  When you’re a six-foot-six-inch, former football player with a nickname like Sammy the Sausage, most women run screaming when they see how that nickname was earned. Even though I’m also a Silicon Valley billionaire who doesn’t mind spreading the wealth around, I’m way more man than most women can take.

  Then there’s Andrea, the former women’s college volleyball star and fitness model who stands nearly six-feet tall and looks like she’s been chiseled out of bronze. Gorgeous, with flaming red hair and a personality that walks the line between confident and abrasive.

  She’s smoking hot, no denying, but I have a rule about not sleeping with women who looked like they could kick my ass in a fair fight. Then again, her body—and the things I imagine her doing with it—is what makes her so damn appealing.

  Has Sammy the Sausage f
inally met his match? There was only one way to find out, and that was to just go all in – deep inside.

  Chapter 1: Sammy Branniff

  “You okay… baby? Sammy… ooh… okay… there he is… ooh... yes… you are… more than okay…”

  The words left Carina’s sweet lips on gusts of hot breath, pushed from her lungs each time she lowered herself another inch down the shaft of my fat, foot-long cock. They didn’t call me Sammy the Sausage for nothing.

  There probably wasn’t a woman on earth who could take my full length inside them. If there was, she either had to have an abnormally deep pussy or had been fucked so much she was just about worn out. Either way, I didn’t want to meet her, no pun intended.

  I know, I know… it was a stupid thing to be thinking, especially while my monster cock was impaling one of the most beautiful women on the planet with one of the tightest, most talented pussies.

  Carina Coracova was the Russian-born Star Attraction at Club Votre Desire—Club D—the high-end brothel secretly owned by me and my two best friends and business partners, Isaac Hanson and Denny Chambers.

  Carina and me had gotten tight over the years (again, no pun intended) and she always saved her last appointment on Sunday night for me. That way, we could fuck our brains out, sleep like babies in my private suite, wake up tangled in each other’s arms and legs, fuck ourselves awake, take a shower, fuck some more, take another shower, and eat breakfast on the veranda before heading back to the city on Monday afternoon. And we’d usually fuck on the ride home.

  And it only cost me twenty-five-grand for the privilege of having Carina share my bed and my limo. And brothers and sisters, I am here to testify… that was the best fucking money I spent all week. Okay, that pun was intended.

  Hanging with Carina was always the highlight of my week. Hell, sometimes it was the only thing that got me through the week, looking forward to burying my nose in her juicy, pink twat or watching her big titties bounce around as she rode my cock like bucking bronc at a Texas rodeo.

  Usually, this was my favorite time of the week. Lying here with Carina wedging herself onto me. Usually it was. Tonight, for some reason, my head was totally somewhere else. Fortunately for me, my cock could perform very well on its own.

  “When the blood rushes to Sammy’s sausage,” Carina liked to say, “the rest of him just hangs on for the ride.”

  I don’t know why I was thinking about Isaac and Denny at that particular moment. I mean, Carina was doing her best to keep me occupied, squeezing her cunt muscles around my long schlong as she slowly slid up and down, but my mind kept wandering.

  Maybe it was because Isaac and Denny didn’t come to Club D to hang out anymore, not since meeting “their soul mates” Amy Rossetti and Serena Diaz.

  I couldn’t really blame them. Amy and Serena were drop-dead gorgeous, smoking hot, sexy as fuck, super smart, but Jeez Louise, Carina—and the other girls who serviced the wealthy members at Club D—were off the freakin’ charts.

  Forget 10s. These girls were 15s and 20s!

  Between us, me, Isaac and Denny were worth close to ten-billion dollars, thanks to Internet Data Systems (IDS), the online data storage company we started in college fifteen years ago. Isaac was the computer nerd who had the original idea, Denny was the marketing genius who sold it to the world, and I was the business brain who ran the show, which last year did revenues of almost six-billion dollars.

  And just to think it all started out as something fun to do when we were too broke to chase pussy. Hell, we even named the company after ourselves. IDS really stood for Isaac, Denny, and Sammy, even though the rest of the world thought it stood for Internet Data Systems.

  But sometimes, believe it or not, being a famous billionaire was about as much fun as being stalked by a serial killer.

  Freakin’ paparazzi followed us everywhere we went.

  TMZ hung out in the bushes to see which Victoria’s Secret model was leaving my house at 8 AM, or which porn star Denny was getting a blow job from in the pool (goddamn drones), or buying surveillance footage of Isaac cornholing his assistant in the elevator between floors.

  Or I’d get shitfaced at a strip joint in Vegas and end up on Entertainment Tonight or the cover of Hustler with my ass hanging out and my monster cock in some chick’s mouth.

  After a while, it got to where we were afraid to go outside. And staying inside wasn’t any fun, no matter how many girls you packed into the place. So, we decided we needed our own little private getaway and the idea for Club D was born.

  We opened Club D—Club Votre Désire —a few years ago on a secluded estate in the mountains north of San Jose so we’d have a private place to unwind, drink, fuck beautiful women, and make fools of ourselves without worrying about TV cameras and photographers.

  Then we decided to let our rich pals join if they were willing to cough up a cool million for charity every year for dues and pay outrageous fees for the pussy. Within a week, we had rich fuckers standing in line begging us to join.

  Club D was legendary, mysterious, like Atlantis or Camelot. Lots of people heard about it, but only the select hundred or so members actually knew the place existed. And even they had no clue where it was. Club D was located on a hundred-fifty-year-old estate tucked in the mountains north of San Jose. The main house sat a quarter of a mile from the winding road that led up the mountain. And in the summer the house was barely visible through the thick rows of trees that lined the narrow drive.

  There was a large stone and iron gate at the road that was always manned by armed guards that no one in their right mind would dare fuck with. Big old boys, mean looking sons of bitches, with big shoulders and thick necks, wearing black, tactical gear like our own private SWAT team.

  They looked like a band of killer mercenaries from a Stallone movie, but, they were all former football buddies of mine who moonlighted as guards and security personnel. Those big lugs wouldn’t hurt a fly… unless I told them to.

  The tight security was required to keep the public out and the members safe. When you had senators and congressmen and a vice president and other politicians and world leaders hanging around, the security had to be the best money could buy.

  There were some weekends where we had the Secret Service, the FBI, MI6, and Interpol patrolling the grounds around the estate with attack dogs and automatic weapons. They weren’t allowed to come into the main house, but trust me, you knew they were always close by.

  The manor house sat on fifty wooded acres and stood four stories tall. It had once been a grand hotel built by some rich fucker from New York in the late 1800s, with 55,000 square feet of indoor space, divided into 30 luxury suites on the top three floors. The bottom floor housed a 5-star restaurant, a huge bar/disco, a bunch of meeting rooms, and a giant banquet hall, which was the length and width of a football field.

  Out back, there was a 10,000-square foot guest house with thirty or so double rooms for the employees who came to stay each weekend: waitresses, servers, bartenders, chefs, housekeeping, hostesses, admins, etc. The place was like a small, self-contained city. All you had to do was ask for it, and it could be found at Club Votre Désire.

  We treated the place like a fortress because that’s exactly what it was: a fortress that housed the deepest, darkest secrets of some of the country’s most powerful people, myself included. I was not just an owner. I was an active participant.

  “Sam… Sammy… oh… shit…”

  “Huh?”

  “Pay attention!” she ordered, digging her sharp fingernails into my hairy chest deep enough to hurt, but in a good way. She had impaled herself on the first five or six inches of my cock and that was as far inside her as I could get.

  “Sorry,” I said, putting my hands on her tits and giving her long nipples a squeeze. She giggled and wiggled her ass against me.

  “You wanna think or you wanna fuck?” she asked, stopping the motion of her hips long enough to give me a steely look. “Choose. I get paid either way.”
r />   “I wanna fuck,” I said with a smile. “Please?”

  “That’s better,” she said with a sigh. She tried to lower herself onto another inch, but I was already at her cervix and she was stretching to accommodate me. My cock wasn’t just long. It was girthy, with a head as round as a golf ball and a shaft hard as a lead pipe.

  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.