by Amy Brent
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.”
“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.
“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 th
at, 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…”
