Stepbrother for Christmas

by Amy Brent

  “Do you want to fuck me?” she asked.

  “Yes…” I moaned. “Yes…”

  Without releasing my cock, she climbed on top of me, centered her hole over my rigid shaft, then lowered herself until I felt her hot, wet pussy open up and take in the head of my cock.

  My body was suddenly on fire.

  My toes curled.

  My top teeth dig into my bottom lip.

  I strained again against the bonds that kept my hands in place.

  She impaled herself onto me until I felt my cock reach her innermost wall. She gasped and braced her palms on my chest and dug her fingernails into my flesh.

  “I love your cock, Denny…” she said, her voice deep and husky. It tickled my ear like a whisper. She leaned forward as her hips slid back and forth over the full length of my shaft. Her warm breath washed over my face. “So long… so hard…”

  My hands were suddenly free. I brought them immediately to her round tits, fleshy, full, the nipples like hard thimbles under my thumb. She moaned as I massaged her fleshy globes, her pussy sliding over my cock, making a squishing sound as her hot juices gushed over my cock and balls.

  I opened my eyes.

  Her hair covered her face.

  I tried to reach up and brush her hair back so I could see her face, but she wrapped her fingers around my wrists and forced my hands back over my head.

  “Close… getting… close…” she moaned as her hips started to move faster. I was close, too. I could feel the heat rising inside my balls. Sweat covered our bodies like oil. I arched my back to drive deeper into her. The orgasm began as a tingle in my balls and built to a crescendo that literally spewed jizz from my cock into her tight cunt.

  “Fuck…” I sighed, eyes closed, teeth clenched. “I’m cumming… fuck… I’m….”

  I exploded with such force that she had to dig her fingernails deeper into my chest to hang on. I felt searing pain from her nails tearing at my skin, but didn’t care. I bucked like a bronco as the orgasm shuddered through my body and into hers.

  I heard her suck in a deep breath as her body tensed and the motion of her hips increased. She slammed her pussy up and down on my cock and screamed my name.

  “Dude? Dude? DUDE!”

  Startled, I opened my eyes to find Sammy staring at me from the other side of the car. He had an amused smirk on his face. He held up his bottle and nodded toward my crotch. I glanced down. The Corona bottle was between my legs. I had my fingers wrapped around the long neck. My hand was sliding up and down.

  “You okay, man?” he asked, grinning now with the bottle at his lips.

  “I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat, squirming to sit up straight. “Just dozed off for a minute.”

  He was grinning like the fucking Cheshire Cat.

  “Dude, you were dreaming about Serena Diaz.”

  “I was not.”

  “You were, too. You were moaning, ‘Serena… Serena…’”

  “Fuck you, asshole!” I growled. “I was not.”

  “And you were jacking off your beer bottle.”

  “Will you give me a fucking break?”

  “Will you admit that you were thinking about her?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about anybody.”

  “Okay, have it your way.” He leaned over to nudge me with his elbow. “Just tell me one thing, bro… Was it good for you?”

  “Fuck you,” I growled, shifting in the seat as my plump cock pushed against my jeans.

  I drained the bottle, tossed it over my shoulder into the rear seat, and plucked another Corona from the minifridge as Sammy continued to smirk at me.

  I settled in with my eyes glued to the window and my legs crossed for rest of the ride, hoping that Sammy would drop the subject of Serena Diaz, and hoping that she would be working this weekend at Club D.

  Chapter 6: Serena

  When I was in the eleventh grade, my BFF, Lois Rigsby, told me that Bradley Boles, the junior varsity starting quarterback, had asked her about me. Having Bradley Boles ask about you was like getting the USDA Seal of Approval in my school. Even if he wasn’t truly interested, it boosted your credibility—and appeal—in the eyes of every other boy in Bradley’s sphere of influence, which included all the football players and the cool kids. It was a high point of my high school experience.

  I was sitting in the cafeteria munching on a burger that I would have sworn contained sawdust when Lois came rushing over, all giggles and sharp elbows, and said, “OMG, Serena, Bradley Boles just asked if you were dating anybody!”

  I think my mouth probably dropped open because Bradly Boles was the hottest guy in school and all the girls slobbered over him. He was tall and gorgeous, broad shouldered, like a young Brad Pitt, with the perfect smile and the perfect body chiseled out of lean muscle that he loved to show off at the public pool on weekends. Bradley was mature for his age, at least physically, and only dated cheerleaders and majorettes, or so I thought. Why in the world would he be asking about me?

  “What did you say?” I asked, breathless, a lump of burger hung in my throat like a ball of grease caught in a trap. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. The sound of it pounded in my ears like a bass drum.

  “I told him that you were not dating anyone and would love to go out with him!”

  I gawked at her. I swallowed so hard it made my throat hurt. “How could you tell him that? I’ve never said anything about going out with him!”

  She cut her green eyes at me. “So, you wouldn’t go out with him?”

  I bit my lip and glanced across the cafeteria. Bradley was holding court at a table full of jocks and cool kids. There was a blonde with big tits on either side of him like fleshy bookends. Bradley could have any girl he liked, even a senior. Why would he be interested in me? I remembered him looking my way. Our eyes met for just a second. He smiled, then looked away, being all cool about it.

  “So?” Lois bumped me with her elbow again. “What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Tell him…yes… I’d love to go out with him.”

  And she did.

  And I spent the entire eleventh grade waiting for Bradley to give me the time of day.

  I turned down offers of dates from a dozen other boys.

  I went to the junior prom with Lois and her boyfriend.

  I waited.

  And I waited.

  And I kept on waiting for Bradley to ask me out.

  And he never did.

  He never said a single word to me or looked my way again.

  Ever.

  Fuck you, Bradley Boles.

  And fuck you, Lois, for getting my hopes up!

  That was why I didn’t get too excited when Rosalie told me that Denny Chambers had asked about me. I’d had a lot of boys ask about me. Rarely did one of them actually give me the time of day.

  Bradly Boles, a shit head eleventh grade Romeo wasn’t really interested I me, so why should Denny Chambers, a handsome billionaire who had women lined up to fuck his brains out at the snap of his fingers be interested?

  Rosalie must have misunderstood.

  Or Denny was just making idle chit-chat between trips up to slide his cock into one of Carina’s magic holes.

  Or they were both just fucking with me.

  Grrr… stop it, Serena… Just block him from your mind…

  But that was the problem. I couldn’t stop thinking about Denny Chambers no matter how hard I tried. Rosalie had inadvertently opened a Pandora’s Box that I kept hidden in the darkest recesses of my brain.

  I had always had the hots for Denny Chambers, but had never said a word to him or anyone else about it. I had a good thing going at Club D. I wasn’t gonna screw that up just for a quick fuck with the boss, no matter how incredible that fuck might be.

  I had filthy thoughts about him when I was pleasuring myself.

  I had even filthier dreams about him when I closed my eyes to sleep.

  We fucked a lot in my dreams.

  And did o
ther things that would probably make even Carina blush.

  I had never been within a foot of the man, but I thought he was the sexiest thing alive.

  That handsome face… dark eyes… sly little smile… the way his lean muscles pushed against his tight t-shirts and the way his cock bulged in the front of his skinny jeans…

  Sigh…

  Waterworks on please…

  If I had been the slut I was in my dreams, I would have fucked Denny Chambers’ brains out a long time ago.

  That was the thought that had been running through my head for hours. And it was refusing to go away no matter how hard I tried to force it out of my brain.

  I wanted to fuck Denny Chambers.

  There. I said it. Now go away.

  I wanted to fuck his brains out.

  Over and over and over again.

  I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and hang on for dear life as he slammed his cock into my cunt like a jackhammer.

  I wanted to sink my teeth into his big shoulders and have him scream my name as he blasts his load deep inside me.

  I wanted to take him into my mouth and…

  Fuck…

  Here comes reality…

  I wanted to fuck Denny, but he was probably just fucking with me.

  So, fuck you, Denny Chambers.

  And fuck you, Rosalie, for getting my hopes up and making me stain a perfectly good pair of panties.

  * * *

  After the bus dropped us off at the guest house that was located across a wide stone patio behind the manor house, we all got ready quickly and headed for the main hall where the fun would start exactly at 10 PM. I put on my slutty French maid costume and stiletto heels, which were a motherfucker to work in for eight hours, doublechecked my hair and makeup, and was in the main hall racking glasses behind the bar when I heard a voice.

  “Hey, do you need a hand?”

  I had my back to the bar when I heard his deep voice. I was looking up, sliding the stems of wine glasses into an overhead rack. It was not strenuous work that I needed help with, so either he thought I was in distress or he was just making conversation. Either way, Denny Chambers was talking to me. To me!!! Holy wet dreams…

  I was holding a glass in each hand when I turned to look at him. He was sitting at the bar with a bottle of Corona rolling between his palms. He was smiling at me, the way Bradley Boles smiled at me from across the cafeteria years ago. Asshole.

  “Uh, no, I think I can manage,” I said, trying not to trip over my words. I slid the glasses into the rack and picked up a bar rag to wipe my hands. “Did you need another beer?”

  “No, I’m good,” he said, holding up the bottle. “Just trying to be helpful.”

  He smiled. I felt a tingle in my chest that quickly dropped to my crotch. I’d been around Denny Chambers many times, but had never engaged with him.

  I was a tiny moon revolving around his big, red planet (red because it was so hot, duh).

  Nothing more.

  He’d never looked at me directly with his deep-set blue eyes.

  He’d never smiled at me with his perfect lips and teeth.

  He’d never let his eyes drift down to my cleavage and linger there long enough for me to feel the heat of his gaze.

  I heard myself sigh.

  Fucking Denny Chambers was talking to me.

  Fuck you, Bradley Boles!

  I tried to give him a casual look, taking stock of him with my eyes as he lifted the Corona and smiled with the bottle at his lips. He wore a tight, black t-shirt that showed off his lean, muscular physique. His dark hair was buzzed short on the sides, thicker on top. He had a five o’clock shadow that made him look a little dangerous, like the guy on the old Miami Vice TV show my dad watched on cable every night. He licked his lips and let his eyes drift down to my cleavage again. For the first time ever, I was glad the French maid outfit was lowcut and the wonder bra from hell pushed my big boobs up and together, creating a deep line of cleavage that Denny could get lost in. I began to tingle anew. Moist heat started building between my legs.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m all done now,” I finally managed to say. I neatly folded the rag and set it aside as I glanced at the clock behind the bar. It was a quarter to ten. The members would be arriving soon and I still had to get my station ready. For the next eight hours or so I’d be on my feet, serving drinks to billionaires and celebrities and hopefully collecting enough tips to make the soreness in my feet and back worthwhile.

  He held up the bottle with his index finger pointed at me. He said, “You’re Serena Diaz. Right?”

  “I am,” I said, mustering up a nervous smile. “And you’re Denny Chambers.”

  “I am.” He extended his hand across the bar. When I took his hand, and felt his fingers close tightly around mine, little sparks of electricity webbed up my arm and across my breasts, as if I had touched an electric fence. My nipples snapped to attention like good little pink soldiers on high alert.

  “You introduced Isaac to Amy,” he said, lingering for a moment before letting go of my hand. “I just wanted to thank you on his behalf. I’ve never seen him happier.”

  “That’s great to hear,” I said, pulling my hand back slowly. I put my hands behind my back and held them there because I suddenly didn’t know what else to do with them. I was smiling like a village idiot. My brain tried to send words to my mouth. My lips tried to speak the words. I stumbled over them. “Amy is um… well… I mean... she’s very happy, too.”

  “Isaac is a lucky guy,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips again and eyeing me as he drank. He licked his lips and arched his eyebrows. “How about you? Who is the lucky guy in your life?”

  “Um, no lucky guy at the moment,” I said, trying to sound casual rather than tragic. “I’m pretty busy. I don’t really have time to date or see anyone... I mean…”

  Shit, Serena, way to go.

  Thanks for talking to me, you handsome billionaire, but I don’t have time for you. Sorry. Fuck off. Leave me alone.

  “Isaac told me you were in school,” he said with a respectful nod. The neon lights from behind the bar danced in his eyes. “Masters in Physics, was it? Very impressive.”

  “Yes, Masters in Physics with a Minor in Microbiology,” I said proudly. I picked up the rag again and started wiping the bar with it, even though the bar was already clean. “I want to do cancer research.”

  “That’s awesome,” he said, lifting his arms so I could swipe the bar in front of him. “You must be incredibly smart.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he patronizing me or genuinely interested in what I had going on. My suspicious mind said it was the first. The warm feeling between my legs hoped it was the latter.

  Before I could respond, he picked up the beer and waved it around. “Is that why you’re working here at Club D?”

  “It is,” I said, sighing without meaning to. I noticed his bottle was empty, so I reached for it and he handed it across the bar. I put the bottle in a rack under the bar and got him another Corona from the cooler. I twisted off the cap and wiped the condensation from the bottle with the rag, then set it on the bar.

  I said, “Grad school is expensive. This job has been a lifesaver.”

  “That’s awesome,” he said, his head bobbing. “So, back to your love life…”

  I arched one eyebrow and cocked my head to stare at him. “Mr. Chambers…”

  “Denny,” he said.

  “Denny, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really kind of busy.” I tapped a finger to my wrist even though I was not wearing a watch. “We open soon. I need to get my station ready.”

  “I understand,” he said, holding up his hands. “I was just wondering if you’d like to have breakfast with me in the morning. Or maybe lunch later in the day.”

  “Breakfast?” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My shift begins at ten and I don’t get off until six in the morning. I’m not sure I’ll feel like having breakfast. I usual
ly sleep all day on Saturday.”

  “Right, right,” he said, still smiling. “How about a late lunch or an early dinner? I can have the kitchen set something up for us anytime in the dining room, or even in my suite.”

  I braced my palms on the bar and took a deep breath. “Denny, what is it you want?”

  He blinked at me. “I’m sorry?”

  “What is it you want?” I gestured at the room behind him, where several dozen girls in various stages of undress were getting ready to open the club. “If you’re just looking to get laid, there are lots of girls who would love to spend time with you.”

  His smiled faded a little, but the sparkle in his eyes held firm. “And you wouldn’t like to spend time with me?”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “No. I’m not looking to get laid. I ‘m here to work, period. So please, find someone else to play with and just let me do my job.”

  He held up his hands like I had a gun pointed at him. “Whoa, that’s not what I meant…”

  “I have to work now, Mr. Chambers,” I said, glaring at him as I picked up a round tray and held it in front of me like a shield. “I’m not interested in going upstairs with you.”