by Amy Brent
Brock almost turned around three times coming over here, but decided that he couldn’t let her think that he was standing her up. He could have dinner with her, but that was, as far as it was going to go. He believed that, until the door opened and he was faced with a dilemma. He could either compliment her outfit, or he could stare like some cartoon figure with his eyes bulging out of his head. Unfortunately, his surprise at seeing her dressed like that had gotten the best of him. He really couldn’t say anything. Staring open mouthed made him look like he was a complete fool. He finally shook his head and presented her with a gift that was not anything like flowers or candy.
She tore into the packaging and what greeted her eyes was something that not even she was expecting. It was a signed autographed book by Hemingway. The old man and the sea was one of her favorites. It almost brought a tear to her eye, but this was not a night for sentimentality. This was a night of seduction and to do anything less would be a damn shame.
“I really don’t know what to say…MMMPPHHHHH.” She didn’t have to say anything and once again she found his mouth plastered over hers. Her breasts were pressed up into his own chest. There was no doubt that he could feel those pointy little pebbles making a presence of their own. They hadn’t even crossed the threshold and they were already all over each other. There was that heat between them and the only way to douse those flames was to use the big hose between his legs.
They finally separated, but it was a forced decision by the both of them. “I appreciate the gift, but trust me it wasn’t necessary. You should’ve saved it for a special occasion.”
Brock looked around her and saw what she had done. The candlelight and the champagne was a good way to make him forget everything that he was not going to do. “I would say the same thing for the champagne. It’s not just girls that feel that it tickles their nose.” He looked back and seeing her from behind was almost, as good as seeing her from the front. The dress stretched to accommodate her girth, but in a way that made him almost want to get down and worship.
“Brock, I know that you’re worried about my uncle the coach finding out about us. I don’t think that it should matter. What our family’s think is their problem. My mother may not like this and we may not speak for some time, but eventually she’ll realize that I’m happy. It’s the only thing that has ever mattered to her and to my father. My uncle might make your life a living hell, but it’s going to be up to you to decide if it’s worth the risk. Let’s start with dinner and then we’ll see how things go from there.”
She could see him walking around the kitchen and taking in the fragrance of each individual morsel that was in his honor.
“You really didn’t have to go to this much trouble. I am pretty much a steak and potatoes kind of guy, but I can never say no to lobster.” Brock walked over to the table and sat down with her standing behind him.
“I could easily turn down the stove.” The implications of her seductive and whispered tone were clear. It hung in the air like a Damocles sword over his head.
Pulling her into his lap, he showed her exactly the excitement that had been burning in his loins from the moment that she left him on the field. “I think that you can feel for yourself that I am more than ready. I do think that it might be best that we cool things down. We may need the protein to keep us going for some time. Let’s satisfy our appetite for food, before we satisfy our appetite for each other.” He almost lost all conscious thought, as she grinded around in a circle.
It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing panties and the feel of her hot little snatch rubbing up and down his pants was more than enough to make him want to bend her over right here at the table.
“You do make a hard bargain. I’m going get supper served and maybe then you can serve me dessert.” Her attempt at seduction was working better than she thought it would. Her long legs were one of her best features, except that her ass came into the room long after she did. “I made sure to make some of your favorites. The Internet is your friend these days. All I had to do was look up your name and before long there were several articles about those things that you liked and disliked. One of those things that you disliked makes me cock an eyebrow. It says that you don’t like women that show any kind of initiative. You want to be the one to make the first move, but I think that for the two of us it’s a matter of give and take.”
Leslie made sure to bend over and let her dress ride up over her healthy posterior. She heard the gasp of approval and turned to see that he was looking up at the ceiling and whistling a tune. If he thought that he was fooling anybody, then he was sadly mistaken. She took every effort to turn up the heat, including turning up the heat in the apartment to make it almost unbearable. It was meant to sweat him out of his clothes, but it was also having the side effect of making her feel the heat from underneath her dress.
She thought for a moment that she could keep her condition to herself, but the trickle of sweetness down the inside of her thigh was making Brock’s eyes come alive like never before. She served him, while his fingers grazed along that wetness and followed it up to its source.
She moaned and closed her eyes. She was this close to spilling the ladle of freshly steamed summer vegetables into his lap. She managed to compose herself long enough to put everything on the plate and then she sat back down.
“Is it hot in here, or is it you?” Brock pulled at his collar. He dug into the lobster with his bare hands cracking the shell. He ate like a man that hadn’t had anything in his stomach for a long time. He continually watched Leslie and saw the droplet of sweat between her cleavage. He swallowed hard and then his foot began to play along her ankles and up onto her knee.
“If you continue to do that, then we’re never going to get to dessert.” They finished the meal and then they stared at each other for a moment. The electricity between them made them forget everything, but each other.
Chapter six
Leaving the dishes where they were, they became a whirlwind of passion down the hallway. Their clothes were flying everywhere. By the time they entered into the bedroom, they were practically naked, except for their undergarments.
He easily unsnapped her bra and looked down to see her shaven mound unencumbered by the presence of any frilly lingerie. “I find it fucking hot that you were going commander tonight.” She was shaved there and there was no way for him to know that her natural color was blond. She only changed, because it gave the misconception that she had no intellect to speak of.
“I don’t think that you’ll need these anymore.” With those words, she stripped him of the final obstacle. They stood there completely naked taking in everything with their more than eager eyes. Brock pushed her up against the bed and she fell back with her legs dangling over the side. She felt her kiss her ankles and suck each individual toe into his mouth like that of some kind of fetish gone wild.
He continued to surprise, taking the long scenic route up to the sweet pink that had caught his attention. She was already soaking wet and he sank two of his fingers deep inside to stir up her excitement to another level. “I love how tight you are. You must have men begging on their knees to be with you. I know that from the moment that I saw you that I wanted more than just lip service.” The lip service that she had given him had certainly made him come to her with no mind of his own.
“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 into 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.
