Knocked Up by Brother's Best Friend: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance

by Amy Brent

  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…”

  “Yes…”

  “Her pussy lips… are they pink and moist…”

  “Yes…” I was breathing harder now. My co
ck felt as if it might pop right out of the water. “Her pussy is hot… pink… it tastes salty on my tongue…”

  “She’s moaning now,” Carina said, breathless. “Stick your tongue in her hole... lick her sweet juices… hold her pussy lips open with your fingers… lick her… taste her…”

  My tongue darted across my lips. I could taste Andrea’s pussy… I could feel her hot juices on my lips… in my mouth… swallowing…

  “She’s going to cum…” Carina said, her feet expertly pumping my cock as both her hands worked her pussy and ass. We were splashing the water over the side of the tub, but neither of us cared.

  “Fuck… Carina…”

  “No… Andrea… I am Andrea…”

  “Fuck… Andrea…”

  “Cum for me my darling,” she said, the breath hitching in her throat. “Oh… fuck… cum with me… now…”

  I grunted as I shot my load into the hot water. Carina squealed and mashed my cock head between her feet. She spasmed for a moment. I grabbed her feet to keep them still as I finished cumming.

  When I opened my eyes, Andrea was not there, but Carina was, looking at me, smiling devilishly. She got to her knees and crawled to me, then stretched out to lay on top of me with our noses touching.

  “Andrea is a lucky girl to have someone like you fantasizing about her,” she said, giving me a pick on the lips. “Why don’t you make your fantasies come true?”

  “You think I should talk to her?”

  She smiled. “Sammy Branniff, since when are you so shy?”

  “I’m not shy,” I said, cupping her slick ass in my hands to grind her against my flaccid cock and balls. “It’s different out there than it is in here.”

  “The only difference is out there you use your brain. In here you use your cock.” She kissed me again, then leaned her forehead to mine. “It’s been fun, Sammy, but I think it’s time for you to grow up.”

  “I don’t want to grow up,” I said, playfully tweaking her nipples between my fingers.

  She pushed herself up and gave me a sad smile.

  “I know, Sammy baby, but it’s time. And I will miss you.”

  Chapter 3: Andrea Nichols

  If you think being a six-foot-tall red head is cool, well, you’re partly right. Yes, I love being taller than most women and some mean, and yes, I love my long, flowing fiery hair (thank you mom).

  I love it when short guys look up at me from tit-level like I’m some sort of Amazon woman from space. Their mouths droop open and their eyes go wide and their tongued sort of flop out of their mouths like a Bassett Hound that’s run a mile.

  They crane their necks up and down the length of my body: my long legs, flat stomach, round hips, nice firm tits, long neck, fair complexion, blue eyes, and of course, the hair.

  And I know what they’re thinking.

  They’re not thinking, “My, that’s a striking young woman.”

  No.

  They’re thinking, “Wow, I wonder what it would be to tap that ass?”

  Most of them would need a foot stool for their little dicks to even reach my ass. Guys actually gawk at me when I walk by or enter a room, even at Internet Data Systems, where I’ve worked for three months now as the Assistant Director of Marketing for founder Denny Chambers, the one guy who has never made a derogatory remark about my height; at least to my face.

  I hear the bastards whispering about me. I mean, I’m tall, I’m not fucking deaf, for petesake.

  “Damn, look at her…”

  “Wow, wish I had a stepladder so I could climb up it to fuck her…”

  “Holy shit, her pussy is level with my chin…”

  Fuckers. I guess I should consider their comments as compliments. I mean, most women would die for the attention that I get. I just wished the attention came for something other than my height and my hair. It would be great to be recognized for my brains, my creativity, my contributions to the team. I mean, work is great and I get tons of credit and praise for my work. I just get tired of being gawked at like Bigfoot in high heels.

  It had been that way since junior high school, when I suddenly grew from a skinny girl of just five-feet-two to nearly six-feet over the summer break before ninth grade.

  Puberty hit in full force that summer. I got tits and plump nipples, curly red hair between my legs and under my arms, height, muscle, and I discovered my vagina. I mean, I had always known it was there (duh), but not in the way I did after puberty when I started getting little tingles that would entice me to explore myself with my fingers in the bath. My first orgasm came at the age of fourteen while soaking in a hot tub after volleyball practice, long fingers deep inside me, other hand stroking my fat clit, biting down hard on a wet cloth to keep my mom from hearing me scream.

  So, yeah, that part of becoming a woman I really liked.

  Everything else, not so much.

  The awkward stares of the high school boys, their snide comments, their lips hanging, drooling, openly wondering what it would be like to fuck a girl like me.

  “Damn, baby, let me climb up your leg and take a nap in those red pubes!”

  “Oooweee, look at you, red… Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  Those assholes who would never have a chance in hell of finding out what it was like to have sex with a girl like me opted to mock and make fun rather than befriend me. I came home from school may days crying my eyes out.

  Boys could be especially hateful, until they had a reason not to. Boys are like dogs; give them just a little attention and they’ll turn into puppies who’ll follow you everywhere.

  But girls on the other hand…

  As hateful as the boys could be, it was always the girls who were the worst bullies. The cheerleaders, the dance team, the nerds, and the sluts, they all looked at girls like me with a mixture of envy and disdain.

  When you’re a sixteen-year-old redheaded bombshell who towered over every other girl on the volleyball team, I guess it was to be expected.

  Their bullying never really bothered me, not like the boys who often made me cry. The girls just pissed me off. Honestly, I could have mopped up the cafeteria with all of the girls and most of the boys if I had wanted to. I chose to take the high road, as my mom advised. I would simply lift my chin and ignore them, then cry myself to sleep once I was in bed alone.

  The one saving grace for me in high school was Coach Dennis—Allison Dennis—my 12th grade history teacher and varsity volleyball coach. Allison, as I’d come to call her, wasn’t much older than me, just in her early twenties. She was almost as tall and athletically-built as me, a former star player on the USC women’s volleyball team the year they won the Nationals.

  Allison was gorgeous without makeup or fancy clothes. Naturally pretty, with dark hair she kept short and soft features and blue eyes. She looked like a pixie or an elfin goddess from Lord of the Rings.

  Being a coach, she normally dressed in a baggy running suit with a white t-shirt underneath. Like me, she had long legs and a high ass and small tits. I can still remember those times when she’d peel off the running suit to reveal the tight t-shirt and volleyball shorts underneath.

  Her legs were long and bronze, toned with muscle that rippled when she walked. You could hear erections popping out like turkey timers from the boys and male coaches gathered on the other side of the gym to stare at Allison before PE.

  She knew they watched her and did her best to tease them on a little, bending over to tie her shoe so her ass would hang out a little in the back, lying on the floor stretching her legs far apart so they could catch a glimpse of her white cotton panties.

  She loved teasing them.

  I know because she told me so.

  “Those boys would kill just to get a glimpse of your naked body,” she would whisper in my ear on those nights we’d be together at her apartment or after practice in her car. I’d be crying, lamenting the teasing, and she’d cup my chin in her palm and look me in the eye.

  “Make them want your body
, Andrea,” she said, rubbing her thumb across my bottom lip as the tears streamed down my cheeks. “Then make them respect your mind.”

  She put on a show for them every day before practice. Sitting with one leg on the floor and the other leg extended high as she pulled on the knee pads. She’d point her toe and flex her leg so the muscles flexed like steel. I watched her. I learned from her.

  Allison was the one who taught me that being a six-foot-tall woman meant that I had the power. Especially over men, who would climb over each other’s dead bodies just to sniff my dirty panties.

  Allison taught me a lot of things my senior year, especially during those out of town tournaments when she’d sneak into my room and crawl naked into bed with me.

  I never considered myself a lesbian back then or now.

  Then, I liked boys, even though most were too afraid to even approach me. Allison was my teacher, my comfort, my friend. I never thought of her as my lover.

  Now, a decade later, I still loved men, even though most of them looked at me like I was Godzilla stomping through Tokyo.

  The big difference between then and now is that I have the confidence to call them out for being morons.