Brewster's Brood - Part 11

Part Eleven

Mrs. Churchill – 3/7/2017 – Tuesday – 11:22 pm

“Okay ladies, it looks like the mark is in bed and asleep, and that marks a wrap for our first full day on the Brand Game,” Mrs. Churchill said as Jacinda was passing out glasses of incredibly expensive wine to the gathered crew. “I think most of you know Carmen,” she said, gesturing to the Hispanic woman in the corner. “As always, she'll be our graveyard shift eyes and ears, making sure nothing gets too hectic while I expect all of you to be getting a good night's rest.”

“Thirty hours in, and I think we're already ahead of expectations,” Jacinda said, taking the last glass of wine for herself, standing next to the bottles, ready to refill at a moment's notice. “That's a good start, and getting this up and off the ground without any major hiccups, that's something we should all be proud of.”

“Doctor Williamson seems to think Max's health is fine, barring a bit of expected exhaustion, and that we don't have too much to worry about moving forward,” Mrs. Churchill said, nodding towards the good doctor.

“Yes, exhaustion and overexertion are the two things we will need to be on the lookout for,” Doctor Williamson said, “but Max has a strong heart, and despite his rather paunchy physique, he seems like he'll be able to manage the stress impact with minimal disruptions, as long as he's staying hydrated and getting a solid eight hours of sleep a night. I know I stressed this before, but it bears repeating – Max getting a good night's sleep each and every night is paramount to this working, and the better we can stick to a consistent sleep schedule, the better off he's going to be, not just for his sake, but for all of our sake. I know there's going to be a temptation to let the girls run him into the ground, so let me assure you that it would be counterproductive to our goals to let them do so, and that we should strive to ensure whatever existing schedule Max already has is one we are fitting into, instead of disrupting heavily. Nobody likes to be the responsible adult at the party, but we all want to get our bonus out of this, so all of us should invest as much time as we are able in ensuring Max is healthy.”

“Well said, Doctor,” Mrs. Churchill said. “So keep that in mind, ladies, that the last thing any of us want is Max tapping out in the middle of this because we let those crazy bitches overtax him. If we have to give him a few days off, that's a massive undertaking, one that I don't want to have to manage, because of the sheer logistics involved in it.”

“The subscribers would probably throw a shitfit,” Maia said, “assuming we could even pull it off, and I'm not entirely certain we could.”

“Getting away from the majority of the girls would be doable,” Jacinda said. “We have contingency plans for that sort of thing, should we get that far into the weeds, but all of them massively increase the risk of Max catching on to what we're doing.”

“He's going to figure out something is going on by the end of this,” Lynne said. “Boy's not that stupid, and with the amount of trim being tossed his way...

“As long as he doesn't figure out the specifics of it, that's not entirely our problem, Lynne,” Mrs. Churchill said, taking a sip from her wine.  “Let him think the whole world's gone crazy. Let him think there's some mad experiment going on to see what happens when a man gets too much sex. Let him think it's all an elaborate prank show. Hell, he can even continue to think it's some sort of con game if he wants, as long as he's still knocking up our girls. Whatever he thinks, as long as it's not 'this is a game to have me try and get as many girls pregnant as I can,' then I literally don't give a shit.”

“Doc, are you ready to start testing the girls soon?”

“As I've told you repeatedly, Jacinda,” Doctor Williamson said, “the earliest we would get results would about a week after their first event. Any earlier than that is pointless. They're welcome to keep trying, hoping it might increase their odds, or if they simply want to wait, they can do that as well. That's up to them.”

“I suspect all of them are going to want to keep on trying,” Mrs. Churchill said.

“Most of them, sure,” Jacinda agreed, “but not all of them. Some of them, like Cara for example, want to minimize the amount of time they spend with Max to the bare minimum.”

“That's fine by me,” she replied. “This is a lot of attention for an attention-starved man to be getting all at once, and there's always a risk of overload. Jenny's seemed like a good stabilizing influence on him, so I may reach out to her and offer her my thanks, but I also don't want to be seen as picking sides in this.”

Jacinda shrugged. “It's Max's decision at the end who he keeps and it's way too early for there to be any odds on favorites, so you're probably fine, boss. Nothing in the rules that says we can't nudge, push and pull a bit while the game's in play.”

Mrs. Churchill nodded. “That's true. In fact, we're actively encouraged to do whatever it takes for us to keep the machinery moving. Remember that, ladies. While I don't want you to get too friendly with these women, you can interact with them from time to time if and when you need to. The game above all else, so as long as it's in the game's best interest, you go for it. Speaking of getting friendly, how's Danny doing?”

“He and Liane are in the rental house just down the block from Max's above garage apartment, and he's got his usual graveyard shift person, Heather Bickers, keeping overwatch for the times when he's getting his rest in,” Jacinda said.

“Heather's worked with us on a couple of gags before, so some of you probably remember hearing her name bandied about, but she tends to make sure that when principles are supposed to be sleeping, everything in the world lets them,” Mrs. Churchill said. “Danny figured we didn't need her for night one, but now that we're on night two, there's too many women in play to just be trusting about it, so expect to hear Heather's name mentioned regularly, just so you don't forget she's around, but if all goes well, it'll justbe as a regular check in, and not Heather calling one of us to circle the wagons.”

“Although I'm betting we'll get at least one or two of those nights, considering this bunch,” Maia grumbled.

“Oh, they aren't that bad,” Mrs. Churchill said.

“Isabella is,” Jacinda countered.

“Okay, they mostly aren't that bad,” Mrs. Churchill chuckled. “And the occasional double shot of crazy just spices things up now and then.”

“You seem genuinely nervous about this Isabella chick, Jac,” Lynne said.

“Just you wait.”

“She's still over a week out, so let's not panic too much yet, ladies,” Mrs. Churchill cautioned. “For now, focus on the task at hand, and keep the girls we do have in play in line, and don't worry too much about the ones we don't have yet. Hell, start looking to Charlie group, figuring out which of them you want to be worried about and which ones you don't, because they're going to get spicier the further we go, and that's not even taking into account how all the girls in play who haven't had a chance yet are going to react.”

“I loved watching Kelly take Blake down a few pegs,” Jacinda said with a grin. “What time you want everyone back here, Mrs. Churchill?”

“Based on Max's habits, I think as everyone's rolling into the office by 8, 8:30, we should be okay. The cleaning crew will come through a little after midnight, Carmen, so don't freak out when the doors open.”

“Hell, I could just clean while I'm here,” Carmen grumbled. “It's not like they're gonna be doing much other than sleeping.”

“No, because I also need you to put together the day's highlight reel and splice it together into something serviceable,” Mrs. Churchill said. “Jacinda's got a log with time starts and stops so you should just be able to pick out the great bits, but we want about an hour-long highlight reel of each day, as per the terms of the game Mr. Brand set forth at the onset.”

“I thought I heard you say the streams were self-deleting at the onset,” Doctor Williamson said.

“For the spectators, sure,” Mrs. Churchill said with a laugh. “But for us, we've got it all on tape. Some of the investors don't want to watch the streams all day – they just want the juicy bits, so each day, they have a one-and-done highlights reel they can watch of the previous day. At the end of the game, we're going to delete all the old data except for the highlight reels, because the terms of the game are that we provide Max with all of those, so he'll have basically a hundred hours of him having sex on tape to watch any time he wants.”

“We expect he's also going to use those to help make the decision on who he wants to keep in his life afterwards, if any of them,” Jacinda added.

“Do you really think he's going to pick a wife out of all this bunch?” the good doctor asked.

“I think he has to,” Mrs. Churchill said.

“How so?”

“He's gonna be angry when it's all over, no doubt, but once he gets past the anger, the reality is going to set in on him. He'll have dozens of children out in the world who carry his genetic lineage, and he's going to need someone who can help him wrap his head around all of it, in addition to being able to handle it herself. Someone who's been through the game is the perfect match, because they're going to immediately know what he's been through without him having to explain it all. She'll be able to relate to the weirdness of him knowing that his bloodline is out there, running through too many people for him to be able to safely keep tabs on, and that he basically just has to trust in the administration program that his grandfather set up to keep them all cared for.”

“You don't think he's going to want to reach out to some of the kids?” Jacinda asked.

“Sure, maybe,” Mrs. Churchill admitted. “But which ones? How often? Especially when the majority of these women have made it clear to us that they don't want the father involved in their raising of the kids. I imagine he'll have regular contact with a few of them, but nearly as many as I think you suspect he will.”

“And you think he'll be able to get past the whole game thing to build a life with one of these women?”

“I do, but it'll take a week or two for him to get over the shock of it all. Maybe even a couple of months. But he'll remember all of this, and he'll have a list of names of women who at the end of it won't mind if he reaches out to them. And they'll get it. So yeah, he's gonna pick a wifey out of the endless pussy parade we're trotting out for him. It's just a question of which one it is. Once we have all of them in the pool, we'll open betting for who's gonna get the gig.”

“What if none of us bet correctly?” Lynne said.

“Then we'll give everyone their money back, Jesus, Lynne, must you take the fun out of everything?”

“I'm just sayin' that even with all of us picking a girl, tha's only like a 10% chance of any of us picking correctly, and them ain't great odds.”

“Have fun with it, and don't worry about it. We've got loads of other things more important to worry about.” Mrs. Churchill finished off her glass of wine. “You ladies are welcome to hang around a bit longer and finish off this second bottle if you want, but I expect to see each and every one of you back here in the office by 8:30 tomorrow morning with your game faces on. Carmen, tomorrow morning you and I can go over the highlight reel and I'll have some notes on it. After a couple of days that won't be necessary, but for the first few, it doesn't hurt to be thorough.”

“Yeah, okay,” Carmen said. “Anyway, shoo, shoo. You all desperately look like you need sleep. Go and rest up while I watch what craziness Max got up to today.”

The women began to file out one by one, and Mrs. Churchill was the last to leave, waiting in the doorway a moment, looking at Carmen with a wry grin on her face. “Oh, and Car?”

“Yeah boss?”

“If you feel the need to get off while you're in here, and I wouldn't blame you if you do, having to watch all this footage, make sure you lock the door before you do, huh?”

Carmen blushed a little but grinned back and nodded. “Gotcha, boss.”

Max Brewster – 3/8/2017 – Wednesday – 8:22 am

When he woke up the next morning, Max was astonished he wasn't more sore than he was. He'd filled a water bottle before crawling into bed, and at a couple of points in the middle of the night, he'd woken up to take a pull off that bottle, his body yearning to be rehydrated, even if it meant constantly chugging water for a while. He awoke feeling a bit stiff, his joints protesting movement at first, but giving way to easing up as he went through a handful of morning exercises and stretches.

Jenny had crashed with him, and thankfully, she'd basically slept through the night, not waking up even the once. After the day he'd had yesterday, he was fairly certain if she'd tried to get any nookie from him in the middle of the night, his heart would've simply given out, and despite the handful of water breaks throughout the night, it had been very peaceful and effective rest.

He thought he heard her stirring when he turned on the shower, and sure enough, she joined him a few minutes later, greeting him with a soft kiss but nothing else, as if she knew he still wasn't ready to get back into action yet.

Having lots of sex all at once wasn't something he was totally unfamiliar with. Whenever he got into new relationships, he found there tended to be large bursts of sexual activity all bunched up right at the start. Two, three, four, sometimes even five or six times a day, but that was always with the same person. Yesterday he'd done that but never had sex with the same person twice. That just felt odd.

Max knew he needed to go back up to Ironwood again today, this time to do an inspection and to set up a list of things he would need from the house, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it, simply because he suspected it could easily turn into another out of hand day, although he had to admit, it didn't seem fair to complain about too much sex, especially after the drought he'd just come out of.

He and Jenny headed down to another food truck where they bought breakfast burritos and shared an early morning meal together. Max felt like Jenny was making sure he wasn't too flipped out by his experiences at club, telling him that her first few months there had been similar, where it felt like she was always having sex all the time, but eventually it would level off and stabilize into something more manageable. She also stressed that he should enjoy the ride while it lasted, because when something was new, that was when it was the most stimulating.

Max told her that he had to go up there again today, and asked if she wanted to join him, but was surprised when she told him that she needed to go to the conference today, having a handful of seminars that she simply couldn't miss, but would like to meet up again with him in the evening, or tomorrow, if either worked for him, and he agreed they'd try to connect in the evening, since tomorrow would be his first day running the food truck from Ironwood, and he wasn't entirely sure what to expect from that.

After breakfast, Jenny called herself an Uber and for the first time in two days, he had a couple of minutes just to himself. It was his equivalent of a Sunday, and usually he spent most of those days unwinding, decompressing from the rush of the food truck life. He did a little bit of yoga, watched a bit of television in his apartment and then got onto his motorcycle and headed up to Ironwood once more. The time by himself definitely helped recharge his batteries, although he did have the strangest feeling that he was being watched the entire time.

He decided before he headed up to Ironwood to check in on the Hernandez brothers and make sure that his food truck was doing well. Generally, he didn't feel the need to check up on them, but with the last few days, all bets were off on anything being business as usual.

The truck was stationed in Jack London Square in Oakland, so it wasn't a far drive, and when he got close, he could see business was doing well. There were a handful of food trucks there – Grillaz Gone Wild, All Things Bacon, Koja, usual solid cohorts – and most of them were doing okay traffic, but Constant Rotation had a line around the corner and more were already lining up.

Carlos and Joey were managing the crowd well, and while it looked like most of the regulars were there, Max also saw there were a number of good looking women in the line he'd never seen before. He was starting to wonder if maybe it was some kind of a curse he was under, where beautiful women surrounded him until he was fucked to death.

(It wouldn't be the worst way to go, but death was still death. It reminded him a little bit of that old Monty Python bit about a man being allowed to choose the method of his death.)

The women in line weren't so plentiful that it was absurd, but there were certainly at least two or three women he was certain he definitely would've noticed had they come to the food truck before. When he was cooking, he didn't spend too much time looking at the patrons, but he always made a point of handing people the food himself, which let him get a momentary glance into who his clientele were. Mostly they were business people in their thirties (or older), but he definitely saw a stripe of college students, depending on the location they were in for the moment. What he wasn't accustomed to seeing was a handful of people who looked like they were ready to step out onto the catwalk, dressed in the latest fashion, makeup completely on point, setting out to make the absolute best first impression that they could. And yet he saw two different women who looked like that in line at Constant Rotation as he checked in on the truck, being sure to keep his distance so that he didn't get spotted, his motorcycle helmet still on to obscure his identity.

He had considered going over and talking to Carlos, but the line was still too long for him to distract them, and Max suspected if he went over there, he was going to get approached by people, so for the moment, he was happy just to have a few minutes of anonymity again.

Max drove up towards Ironwood Estates but pulled off onto a side street about a mile away, parking his bike in a little cul-de-sac as he took his phone from his pocket and decided to do a little web research. The term “Ironwood Estates” pulled up what seemed like a litany of various apartment complexes across the country in his first Google search, but nothing about any sex club, not that he felt like it should've been at the top of the list, if it even appeared at all. Searching for the address also returned no results other than 'private club,' which made Max wonder if there was some zoning permit they had been forced to file.

The next thing he thought to search was the woman who'd introduced herself as the owner of the local chapter of Ironwood Estates, Dana Weismann. That, it turned out, was a far more fruitful search to do, because there was a glut of information on the woman. She was a powerful Bay Area investor, a real estate magnate who owned several dozen businesses and buildings, and yet still remained something of a mid-level player in the industry, although it seemed from one of the articles that he read that it was by design rather than poor business acumen. She had come from money, and also married into further money, but her husband had died very young a few years back after only a couple of years of wedded bliss.

He felt like he could be reading up on Dana all day if he wanted, considering how many various articles had either been written about her or had cited her in explaining some of the various moves made in terms of corporate housing. She'd made a killing on scooping up land before the Levi's Stadium had been built, then turning around and selling it to residential developers, so those stories tended to overwhelm everything else. He did, however, find one profile piece on her in FastCompany, where she was described as “someone to keep an eye on.”

That was something he was most definitely going to do.

He closed the tab on his phone and tucked it back into his jacket before pulling his helmet back on, restarted his bike, and headed up to Ironwood, hoping maybe he could get in and out quietly without too much fuss. It was a Wednesday morning, so most people should be at work or class or anywhere other than the club, he figured.

He hoped, anyway.

Esme Santiago – 3/8/2017 – Wednesday – 11:15 am

As it turned out, when Max wasn't at Ironwood, there wasn't a whole lot to do, so Esme had turned to making sure the place's story would hold up to inspection, and that meant it needed to be treated like a real sex club might be. While Dana had taken care of most of the structural things, there had been loads of little things the woman had just never considered, like towels. Esme felt a club like this would need a massive amount of towels, and so she'd made a run to the local Bed Bath & Beyond and picked up a giant bundle of towels, then immediately set out to washing them, so they didn't seem like new towels.

While it had been shared that Max would be coming up to the club midday with all of Alpha and Beta group, Dana had stressed that anyone who was just hanging around the club on a Wednesday would need a sufficiently good cover story that Max would buy it. Some of the girls had argued that he wouldn't be asking them about such things, but Dana had stood firm on the point, saying she'd talked with him almost as much as anyone, and Jenny had chimed in around 9:30 am, after she'd split from Max and finally gotten to be able to check in. So while it wasn't utterly packed with women, there were still a handful of them who wanted to be sure and be visible and available.

Anya, Yael and Kelly were hanging out around the pool, working on their tan, and Zelda was in the lounge with Mai, sharing a nice brunch together. Of course, Zelda and Kelly had made a point of saying they'd see Max today when they parted yesterday, so their presence didn't come as a shock to Esme in any way. Dana wasn't on-site, as she needed to tend to some of her business interests, but had told Esme that she intended to get a crack at Max at some point in the next few days, and that she should do the same, before the field turned into an ocean.

She'd decided she was going to make a play for him almost as soon as he arrived at Ironwood, and had two possible paths of attack to get him into bed with her. Going after a man wasn't something she'd really had to do much back home in Doss, Texas, but she'd gone through most of the local boys and hadn't found anyone worth spending more than a couple of hours with at best. Max was a little old for her, but with his age came a wisdom and approachability. She'd never understood why she'd seen stories of younger women going after older men so commonly before, but now, having shared a meal with a guy like Max, she got it. They weren't pussy hounds on the hunt – they were people eager to have actual conversations. (Of course, that was a real pain in the ass for the game's designs, but that wasn't a huge concern to her.)

Dana had insisted that the front gate remain closed at all times, and Esme had respected that, even though she thought it was silly. So she almost missed when Max was buzzing at the gate, because she was tidying up the lounge, but out of the corner of her ear, she heard it, and sprinted over, seeing Max was holding up his keychain to the camera, and so she buzzed it open long enough for him to get his motorcycle through before closing it again.

She wasn't wearing anything fancy, because she figured during low traffic hours, the manager of a sex club would lean towards utility over style, expecting to do, well, what she'd been doing when he'd arrived – cleaning. She had on jeans and a big baggy “Everything's bigger in Texas!” t-shirt that hung down almost to her knees, her hair done up in a bun, as she smiled and met him at the door. “Heya Max,” she said. “Thanks for coming up. We're all very excited to have a real chef on-site soon, especially with your level of cooking skill. So what do we need to get set up for you for tomorrow?”

For the next hour or so, Max was all business, making sure there was a good parking space for the truck that would still allow him to have some room to step out the back, and to keep a large trash can behind them for wrappers and litter, as well as one in front for paper plates and containers. Dana had given Esme some basic information on how the mass orders would work, and how they would be staggered throughout the day, so that Max could do them in batches, and delivery people would come by every thirty minutes or so, rather than the gate constantly being opened and closed and opened and closed. Max seemed a little doubtful that would result in the food being warm when it got to its destination, but Dana assured him it would be just like catering, and that she would handle it.

He even went so far as to draw with chalk some placement lines, marking off where the truck would sit in the large driveway circle the manor had. Max told her that it might make it a little more difficult for cars to get in and out, but that he didn't see any way he could get around that, and Esme told him it would be fine, there was nothing for him to worry about.

The more time she spent with him, the more Esme realized why Max had likely been single as long as he had. The man had an almost uncanny laser-like sense of focus, and when he was working, that was allhe was doing, and he was immune to noticing almost anything outside of that particular circle of influence. She'd tried flirting a little with him while he was inspecting the extension cord they were going to use to connect the truck to the house's power, and it wasn't like he was being rude but more like he simply wasn't aware of it, like it had somehow just passed on by without him noticing it. It was something she intended to convey to the rest of the women via the message board when she had a chance, but for now, it meant she needed to turn the heat up.

“Okay, that should just about do it,” Max said. “I think that covers everything I need, and the plan sounds solid enough. If we run into mishaps along the way, are you going to be here tomorrow for me to talk to?”

Esme nodded. “Of course, Max. I'm usually not here on Mondays and Tuesdays, and my assistant manager runs the place on those days for me, but she needed yesterday off, so I was covering for her.  Whatever you need, you just need to ask me, and I'll make sure it happens. And people here ordering in between those big orders won't be too much a problem?”

Max waved a hand dismissively. “Not at all. In fact, they'll probably be easier to manage than the big ones, so don't feel bad about ordering whenever or whatever you want. Hell, you personally can even have lunch on the house.”

“Max, you don't have to do that,” Esme said with a smile.

“One free meal ain't gonna kill me,” he laughed. “I should probably see about getting some lunch, though.”

“Oh! Jenny sent me a text message to tell you that she was having Ike's sent up here for you for lunch, as a way of paying you back for buying her breakfast.”

“That's kind of her,” Max admitted. “And now I know why she was asking what I typically ordered from there.”

“It'll be here in about half an hour, so you've got a bit of time to kill before it arrives. You want to take a dip in the pool?”

He grinned at her, shrugging. “I didn't bring my swimsuit.”

Esme rolled her eyes back at him. “Like that's necessary. Didn't you notice most people are sunbathing topless or nude out there? You can swim in the buff any time you want.”

“Yeah, well, I'm certainly not ready for that,” he chuckled. “Not yet anyway.”

She stepped in a bit closer, placing a hand on his arm, trying to be a bit more direct now, since the man had seemingly missed all of the flirting signals she'd sent at him during his site inspection. “Also, Max, just in case I wasn't being clear before, I'm not just the manager here, I'm also a member, so I'd definitely like to spend a bit of time with you.” She looked down, faking shyness, almost as if she was embarrassed by how direct she'd just been. “But I know I'm just the hired help, so if not, I get it...”

The guilt trip was clearly working, because Max sputtered for a second. “Esme, you're absolutely gorgeous, but I'm sure you have good looking men coming in here all the time, and you can do so much better than me.”

She clung to his arm a bit more firmly. “I don't want 'better than you,' Max,” she whispered quietly. “I want you. Most of the guys who come in here, they're all 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' and take off as soon as they've gotten their rocks off, but you made Jenny happy, and I have known that girl for a couple of years now, and she always thinks the guys are pump-and-dump chumps, but she was glowing about you. Hell, she brought you here, meaning either she's showing you off and wants everyone to see how proud she is she hooked up with you, or she's spreading the wealth, and she wants everyone to have a taste.”

Max shifted a bit nervously, as they walked into the manor proper, and Esme was steering them towards the stairs leading upwards. “Jenny and I just met Monday night...”

“She's a very smart woman,” Esme said. “But Kelly spent a bit of time last night after you left talking to me about what a good sport you were, and I kinda want that.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, her fingertips stroking against his chest through his shirt. “Can I have a turn? Please?” She tried to keep her voice as soft and gentle as she could, as if he might think it was an imposition as she threw herself at him.

“I am never going to get used to this,” Max said, as he let Esme lead him up the stairs and down the hall. Of the bedrooms, Esme decided to choose the one that was the most elegantly decorated, even though she knew she'd be the one to have to straighten it up anyway. “I'm still kind of wobbly from the day I had yesterday,” he pleaded.

“Don't worry then,” Esme said. “Let me do all the work for you. You just lay back and enjoy it, okay?” She led him over to the bed, pulling his shirt up and over his head, setting it aside on the bed before undoing his shoes, sliding them off, followed by his pants and boxers, folding them atop of his shirt. She then pushed him back onto his back atop of the comforter of the bed, not even pulling the covers back. “You don't have to lift a finger.”

“Esme, I–”

“Shhhhh,” she said, touching one of her fingers to his lips. “Let me care for you.” She pulled her hand back and then lifted her shirt up and over her head, not having bothered to put a bra on earlier, knowing it would've just been one more thing to take off. “I know they're a bit smaller than some men like,” she said, looking down at her handful sized breasts, “but I think they look good on me, and I can't really afford to get them enlarged.”

“You don't need to,” Max said. “They're perfect.”

Esme found herself genuinely blushing, because the way he'd said it made it clear that it wasn't just him telling her what she wanted to hear, but how he genuinely felt. “Thanks, Max.” She kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled them down her hips, along with her panties, folding them and setting them next to Max's.

Despite the fact that man had literally had women throwing themselves at him for the last 36 hours, he still looked at her as though he was the luckiest man alive, and Esme bit her bottom lip. It was nice to feel desirable, and his cock had swollen at the sight of her. She hadn't even touched him yet.

She slowly brought one knee up onto the bed and crawled up and over him, rubbing her shaven pussy over his cock slowly, letting him slide along that slit without pushing inside of her, as she leaned down and kissed him for the first time.

It was a lot more intimate than she'd been expecting, soft and kind, not at all like the boys back in Texas who'd been frantic and rushed.

Esme ground her body back and forth, her hips pressed down, keeping his cock pinned between them, letting them both feel the mass of it wedged against their bodies, before finally she couldn't help herself, and lifted her hips up, reaching down with one hand to grab his shaft and get it lined up before sliding slowly down onto it, a sultry groan of delight escaping her lips before she even knew she was making it.

Her position on her knees gave her some leverage, and she placed both of her hands on Max's chest, using her arms to press her tits together, giving him a fine view of them as she rocked up then slid back down onto his cock once more, pushing it good and deep inside of her cunt.

“Fuck you feel nice,” Esme muttered.

Max was about to say something, but Esme put her finger over his lips once more. “Just enjoy this. Enjoy it.”

He nodded quietly, as she started to rock her hips, pushing her ass down against the tops of his thighs each time she bucked in his lap. It was a little like riding a horse, she thought to herself, as it dawned on her that this was the first time she'd ever been allowed to be on top with a man before. All the boys back in Texas had always insisted on missionary or doggie style, but for one brief moment in her life, Esme was in the driver's seat.

And she loved it.

She wanted it to go on forever, but the longer she took, the greater the odds that someone else in the house would come up and interrupt them and she would miss her chance, so she started riding faster, spreading her thighs wider to make her drop down harder into his lap, making his belly wobble when she did.

She wanted to talk to him, say more to him, but the moment was too intense to spoil with words, and her brown eyes held his gaze as she continued to whip her hips down, both of them starting to breath faster and faster.

She could see nervousness in his eyes, but she nodded, leaning down to press her lips to his as her calloused fingertips clung to his shoulders, her hips mostly just grinding now, clenching his cock until she felt it, and the minute he started to cum, she was dumbstruck to realize that she was cumming with him.

She'd never cum during sex before.

It was glorious, feeling her body immersed in the ocean of pleasure while he was spurting his seed up inside of her, and in the daze of the orgasm, she found herself realizing that if she had to give this five or six tries with this man before it took, well, that would actually be pretty nice.

'Dammit, Esme,' she thought to herself, 'falling for the guy was not the plan...'