Friends With Extra Benefits

by Luke Young

  Moving her mouth to the bathing suit tie, she clamped down on one end with her teeth and pulled the knot free. She smiled proudly and pushed her face into his abdomen. There, she used her teeth to grip the waistband of his trunks, and she struggled to pull them down. It wasn’t working. She tried again, then once more with no luck before finally giving up and groaning in frustration.

  Bridget flipped around breathlessly then scooted up until her still-secured hands could reach his trunks. After grasping the waistband with her fingers, he moved one way and she moved the other. Working together, they pulled the flexible waistband down. He moaned, relieved as his manhood sprang free. Bridget pulled his trunks down a little more then quickly flipped back and moved into position with her face inches from his groin and her parts just a foot from his lips.

  She took him into her mouth and sucked him enthusiastically, punctuated with a loud groan of delight.

  “Oh, fuck…” he moaned. Glancing up at her pussy, he narrowed his eyes. He moved to her and pressed his lips just over her pubic hair. She got the message and spread her knees apart as best as she could with her ankles still bound. Wedging his head between her legs, he shoved his tongue inside.

  Moaning, she worked her mouth over him as he licked her like he’d never wanted to enjoy anything more. They each kept going and going with what may have been the first-ever bound sixty-nine session in a safe full of almost one billion dollars in gold.

  Suddenly, Bridget was struck mid-lick with an epiphany. Her eyes opened wide as she pulled away from him and asked breathlessly, “How much do you ejaculate?”

  He kept licking her until she repeated, “Hey, Rob! How much do you ejaculate?”

  Pulling his mouth from her, he glanced at her face while wearing an odd expression. “Um, the normal amount, I guess. I’ll tell you before I come, so—”

  “No, that’s not… I want you to come on my wrists.”

  Rob looked at her like she was out of her mind. “I’ve heard ‘come on my tits’ and even ‘my ass,’ but—”

  “Look, we can use it to loosen the ropes. I hope you shoot, like, a gallon.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been giving me blue balls for the entire week, and I haven’t jerked off even once. It should be a lot.”

  “I’m proud of you,” she said with a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go back to work, but you tell me when you’re close. Give me some notice. Then we’ll switch around so I can finish you with my hands, and if everything goes as planned…”

  “Okay, I’d better stop what I’m doing so I can focus, and I don’t… But God, you taste amazing! Just one more…” He plunged his face back between her thighs and licked her wildly. She groaned and let him go on for twenty seconds before she closed her legs and said, “Okay, wow. Just uh, you have to stop, or…”

  Shaking his head in an attempt to focus, he pulled away from her. “Sorry.”

  She slid her lips back over him and started again. He watched her, completely turned on as she appeared to lose herself entirely in the experience.

  After ninety intense more seconds, he moaned, “Oh, fuck. I’m ready.”

  She quickly spun around then backed up until his manhood was pointed right at her wrists. She used both hands to massage him as he pumped his hips back and forth into the makeshift double-handed vagina-like receptacle. Groaning loudly, he flexed every muscle in his body to push out the orgasm. He cried out as he blew a huge load right into her wrists. She moved a few inches away from him until she cradled only the head of his penis in her hands just as shots two, three and four splattered against the ropes. Thrusting his hips, he pushed his erection back to her wrists, letting out one last huge groan.

  Bridget kept on milking his manhood between her aching fingers in an attempt to pull every last drop to her wrists. He made some strange noise before holding perfectly still as he struggled to catch his breath.

  “Are you done?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Bridget rolled onto her stomach to keep the semen from escaping to the floor. She shook her hands while pointing them to the ceiling to drive the liquid freedom where it needed to be. She cringed as the strange feeling of his thick liquid dripping down her arms and wrists and onto the ropes overcame her.

  Once she felt the dripping had stopped, she commanded, “Turn around.” They moved back-to-back again as she added, “Use your fingers to get it in there.”

  Following her instructions, he began to work it in while wearing a disgusted look. He said, “This is gross. I’m telling you right now that I’m not using my tongue to work that in, so don’t even ask.”

  She chuckled as he pushed the semen all over her wrists and under the ropes. He announced proudly, “I think I did shoot a gallon.”

  Bridget said, “Okay, let’s try it.”

  He moved away as she began twisting her wrists back and forth and thrashing on the floor. She called out, “Come on!” He watched her with a hopeful look, then she cried out once more, pulled harder, struggled, and finally pulled one hand free. Grinning, Bridget moved her hands down to her feet. She glanced at him, and they shared a brief smile before she went to work on the knots by her ankles.

  Free from all her ropes she went to him with her lower half completely uncovered and her coiffed landing strip just eighteen inches from his face. His eyes roamed over her body as she worked on the ropes around his wrists. Once his hands were free, she moved to his ankles and untied his feet.

  Lying in front of her with his swim trunks around his ankles, his penis was still nearly hard. She wore only her bikini top, and they stared at each other with a fire burning just below the surface. She moved to him, and he pulled her close, rolling on top of her, their lips slammed together with unbridled passion.

  Rob ran his hands down to her ass and moved to his knees. Then he pulled her up until her legs were wrapped around his back with her hands clutching his neck. They kept kissing as he got to his feet while still holding her, and he searched for a place to put her down. Spotting the waist-high stack of gold bars, he moved toward it.

  He gently rested her spectacular ass on top of the brightly glowing stack. Placing his hands on her bikini top, he pushed it up to expose her breasts. He looked at the twin beauties for the first time, narrowed his eyes, then leaned down and took one of her tiny pink nipples into his mouth.

  He licked and sucked passionately as she ran her fingers through his hair with her eyes tightly closed.

  “Oh, God…” Bridget cried out as he moved to her other nipple.

  Pulling up from her, he stared down hungrily at her tight body. He had to have her. She wanted him badly. All at once, he slipped inside and they fucked for what seemed like forever.

  After they both enjoyed tremendous climaxes, she moved away from him, collapsing to the floor, panting and spent. He slipped down to join her and they lay there curled up together, naked, exhausted, thirsty, and struggling to recover.

  24

  On Friday, January 6th, in the Superior Court of Miami-Dade County, the trial of Brookhart v. Grayson began. At 9:00 a.m. the rigorous process of jury selection kicked off, and it wasn’t until almost two hours later that the pool of more than two hundred was narrowed down to the final twelve. The jury consisted of seven women and five men who ranged in age from twenty-three to sixty-one. After lunch, everyone assembled in the courtroom. Jillian sat at the defense table with her lawyer, Stanley Parrish, and another attorney from his firm. On the plaintiff side, Josh Roth sat next to the conservatively-dressed Natalie Brookhart.

  Behind the defense table, Brian and the not-entirely-conservatively-dressed Victoria Tamer sat with the other spectators. She wanted to show off her newly abundant mid-pregnancy cleavage, and the blouse she chose that morning did the job well.

  Josh Roth moved to the front of the court to deliver his opening statement. He began, “Jillian Grayson is a bestselling author of fifteen novels. Her latest novel, The Le
g Thing, is a breakout success. It’s a story of an older woman who falls in love with a younger man who just happens to be the best friend of her son. Anyone who reads the book and knows the Grayson and Nash families can plainly see that the characters in the novel are based on these real people. And this is fine. What’s not fine is that my client, Miss Natalie Brookhart, is also depicted in the novel completely and wholly without her knowledge. No attempt was made to contact my client to obtain her permission, and for this, she is entitled to damages.”

  Josh moved closer to the jury as he continued, “What’s more, Natalie is reflected in an extremely unflattering light. She’s been defamed and has suffered emotional distress and pain as a result of her unauthorized portrayal in this racy and scandalous work.”

  Next he moved over to a large flip chart and revealed a blown-up image of the book cover. The jury stared at the image of the young, slim, and attractive woman performing that now-famous and difficult ballet move as Josh added, “This is the cover of the book, which depicts a woman in the midst of a complex ballet position. And sure, there are a number of ballerinas who can perform this move, but the novel isn’t based on any of those other ballerinas, because none of those others ever dated both Ms. Grayson’s son and her new husband. Natalie Brookhart can perform this move; Natalie Brookhart dated both Josh Grayson and Brian Nash.”

  Glancing over to the defense table, he continued, “We’re here to prove that this isn’t really a novel at all; it’s actually a memoir based on the life of the defendant and those around her. A true accounting of her recent past, with the lone exception of how Miss Brookhart is portrayed in the story as a manipulative, lying, conniving, scheming woman of loose morals. Ms. Grayson was incredibly jealous of Miss Brookhart and—”

  Jillian scoffed loudly, and all eyes went to her. She returned an apologetic nod, and Stanley leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  Josh said, “Ms. Grayson set out in the book to destroy Miss Brookhart’s character. We will prove that this was done with malice and premeditation, and for these reasons, Miss Brookhart is entitled to punitive damages.”

  Josh returned to his seat.

  Judge Maxwell said, “Mr. Parrish.”

  Stanley moved to stand before the jury and began, “We’re here today because of jealousy all right, but not on the part of Ms. Grayson. We’re here because when Miss Brookhart doesn’t get what she wants, she gets mad. So mad that she’s here today in an attempt to destroy a marriage, purely because she was rejected by Ms. Grayson’s husband, Brian Nash, a young man she tried to manipulate and possess, like she had so many others before.”

  Glancing at Natalie, Stanley shook his head before returning his attention to the jury. “We will prove a pattern of behavior on Miss Brookhart’s part, which clearly shows the type of spoiled, vindictive, manipulative personality she embodies.”

  Natalie glared at him as if she might jump up and rip his face off. She felt a juror’s eyes on her, glanced over, and painted on a smile.

  Stanley continued, “The Leg Thing is a fictional story, based loosely on actual events in Ms. Grayson’s life. There is no malice here. This is a case of a young woman who sees her opportunity to simultaneously get revenge and shamelessly cash in on the success of another.”

  Stanley nodded to the jury before returning to his seat.

  25

  At Wealth Stone, Carl paced nervously around his office. The room was a disaster with stacks of papers on the desk, documents strewn across the floor, and empty soda cans falling out of the overflowing trashcan. He dropped a folder into a box that sat on his desk. Pulling a vial of cocaine from his pocket, he opened it, pushed his pinky inside, and snorted it quickly.

  After rubbing both hands over his chin, Carl lifted a cell phone off the desk to check for any missed calls. He cursed then checked the battery level and the number of bars. He shook his head and cursed again.

  There was a knock at the door. Turning quickly toward it, he ran his hand over his face to wipe away the sweat.

  He cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself. “Yes.”

  Carl’s secretary opened the door. “Carl, the staff meeting’s in five minutes. You wanted me to—”

  “Call it off,” he fired back gruffly. “Actually, cancel everything I have today.”

  The secretary didn’t bat an eyelash, since his erratic behavior was commonplace, and replied, “Yes sir.”

  After she closed the door, he rushed over, locked it, and then sat in front of the desk. He opened a drawer, moved a gun aside, pulled out a vial of cocaine, and took another hit. The cell phone rang. Rubbing his nose, he sniffed, glanced at the phone display, and took a deep breath. He pushed the button before putting the phone to his ear and said, “Mr. Sampson.”

  “Rodgers.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need to move the gold today.” Carl waited for a response and after a few seconds of silence added, “Sampson, I need you to take it today.”

  “I can’t do that. We’re all set for Friday. I don’t even have—”

  “It must be today. There’s no deal if we don’t do it today.”

  Sampson sighed loudly, and Carl could hear his breathing as he again waited for a response. Finally he replied, “Let me get back to you… but Carl, if we do this today, I can’t pay twelve hundred.”

  “Come on Sampson. We had a deal.”

  “Hold on.”

  Carl struggled to listen as inaudible dialog spilled through the phone while Sampson apparently conferred with an associate. He waited and after hearing a few seconds of silence on the other end, Carl began, “Sampson, do we—”

  “A thousand an ounce.”

  “What? It’s worth over seventeen hundred.”

  “A thousand,” Sampson shot back loudly.

  Carl stared out the window, thinking.

  “Rodgers, do we have a deal?”

  “Fuck it. Okay. But it’s got to be today.”

  “Call you back.”

  After tossing the phone onto his desk, he reached once more for the vial of cocaine.

  26

  In the courtroom, Natalie was seated on the witness stand as Josh approached the jury.

  Josh began, “Miss Brookhart, how did you learn about this book?”

  “I was walking past a bookstore, and something caught my eye in the widow. I noticed the cover, since it was very unique and had a picture of the ballet move that was very familiar to me.”

  She smiled sweetly at the jury. “I went into the store and read the jacket. I knew that Rob’s mother wrote as Jaclyn West, that’s her pen name, and then I read the book description.”

  The men in the jury were studying the cute little Natalie as she testified. They wore distant smiles, completely captivated as they hung on her every word.

  “When did you realize that this Rebecca character in the book was based on you?”

  “Still in the store, I read the chapter where Brice meets Rebecca for the first time. He was watching her do this ballet move, and it was exactly the same as how I met Brian for the very first time.”

  “You’re referring to Brian Nash, who is now Jillian Grayson’s husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go on.”

  “So at that point, I realized the Rebecca character seemed to be based on me. I scanned through the book and looked for references to this Rebecca character, and what I found horrified me…” She stopped, covered her mouth with one hand, and looked to be on the verge of tears.

  “Do you need a minute?” Josh asked.

  In the otherwise silent courtroom, Jillian scoffed, and all eyes went to her. She slumped down in her seat.

  “No, I think I can continue.” Natalie took a calming breath and then added softly, “Next I, um, read a part where Rebecca said she was a ‘technical virgin’ and I had no idea what that was so I read more, and the character went on to explain that she only had a certain
kind of sex, a kind, uh, which I find to be utterly appalling.”

  “What kind of sex?” Josh asked in an innocent voice.

  “Natalie glanced at the jury and then hesitantly over to the judge. Her eyes went back to Josh. She paused and then whispered, “Anal.”

  Everyone in the room leaned in and all eyes narrowed as they struggled to hear. The court reporter raised her hand and blurted, “Sorry, Your Honor, but I did not get that.”

  The judge said, “Please repeat that Miss Brookhart.”

  Natalie curled her lip and then took a deep breath. Giving her a sympathetic look, the judge said, “Take your time. Just begin again when you’re ready.”

  Jillian scanned the crowd with dismay. Everyone was staring at Natalie as if they wanted to either comfort her, have sex with her, or both. Jillian’s mouth was wide open as she wore an expression, which screamed, “Can you freaking believe this?”

  “Okay, sorry this is just so…” Natalie moved closer to the microphone and said loud and clear as day, “ANAL SEX.” The words reverberated around the courtroom and were punctuated by loud screeching feedback from the microphone. Then the room fell silent as the men grinned, and the women inaudibly gasped. A moment later, the only sound heard was both Jillian and Victoria chuckling. All eyes went to Jillian; she covered her smile before catching the judge’s disapproving glare.

  After shooting Jillian a dirty look, Natalie returned her sad, pouting face to Josh.

  “Please continue, Miss Brookhart.”

  “I went on to read more, and the book made this Rebecca character out to be a horrible girl who manipulated men and treated them terribly. She’s portrayed basically as a slut, and, um, but mainly what struck me over and over through the entire story was that it seemed to follow exactly my relationship to Jillian Grayson’s son, Rob, and her boyfriend back then, Brian.”

  Jillian stared at the jurors who still appeared to be completely captivated by the loveable Natalie. Shaking her head, she exhaled, defeated, before returning her eyes to the witness.