Seduce Me and
After You Seduce Me
Brandon Mitchell stood 6’2” tall and weighted 195 pounds. All muscle. His short, jet black hair accented his dark Armani suit. His piercing blue eyes were captivating beyond belief. He had a solid chin and delectable lips. They sat on a perfectly proportioned face that was handsome in a classic leading man sort of way.
It was for these reasons that a number of leading pop culture magazines had named Brandon Mitchell the sexiest man alive. In their selection, they had described him as: The Perfect Specimen of a Man, a Modern Day Adonis, and the Body of a Greek god. Okay, some creative hyperbole. But not off the mark.
What added to his allure was that he was the 28 year old CEO of Davenport Media. Brandon Mitchell was also a bit of a playboy. Often seen with beautiful actresses, super models, and even royalty. But never more than a few times with the same woman.
And Brandon Mitchell did not limit himself to the rich and famous. If you were beautiful, were able to meet him, and accepted his terms, then you had a chance. Some women found themselves on a regular weekly rotation.
“Jessica, come here,” said Brandon as he pulled her close.
She was wearing nothing but sheer black lace lingerie. It was enticing as Brandon could see through it to Jessica’s voluptuous breasts and perfectly trimmed patch of her sex.
“Oh, Brandon. Please fuck me hard tonight,” Jessica begged.
She liked it hard. She loved the feel of Brandon’s massive manhood buried deep inside of her. Stretching and filling her like no one else ever had.
Jessica was one of many women. She knew that. She accepted it. And she longed for her night with him each week.
“You look stunning. As usual,” said Brandon as he looked Jessica up and down.
She moved back toward Brandon and slid his suit jacket off before she unceremoniously threw it onto the bedside chair.
“Careful. That’s a $2,000 suit,” said Brandon.
“What’s under the suit is far more valuable,” said Jessica as she undid Brandon’s tie.
She tossed it aside without regard for how much it cost or where it landed. She methodically and seductively unbuttoned Brandon’s shirt. As Jessica removed his shirt, she could see the outline of his muscled chest and abs through his tight-fitting t-shirt. She preceded to pull the t-shirt over his head.
His perfectly sculpted front glistened with his bronze skin.
Jessica unbuckled Brandon’s expensive leather belt. She unbuttoned and lowered the zipper on the lower half of his $2,000 suit. She pulled his pants to the floor and got on her knees in front of him. His boxer briefs pulsed with his erect manhood.
She reached up and swiftly pulled his underwear down. Brandon’s huge penis popped out and stared her right in the face. She grabbed hold of his long shaft and pulled his cock toward her open mouth. She rolled her tongue around the large crown. She licked at the pre-cum with delight.
Brandon steadied himself for Jessica’s lips around his throbbing penis. She lowered her head closer and engulfed his rod with her mouth. She took as much of him into her mouth as would fit. She sucked hard and took him deep to the back of her throat. As Jessica sucked his cock, she reached up and caressed his sack in her hand. She massaged his balls and quickened the movement of her head with her lips firmly wrapped around Brandon’s penis.
Brandon let out a guttural moan. Jessica could feel the blood rushing through his enlarged manhood. It pulsed and throbbed with delight. Brandon began to thrust his hips with Jessica’s sucking motion. He was building toward eruption.
Performing oral sex on Brandon made Jessica wet between her legs. Brandon and Jessica moved faster and harder in unison.
“Baby, I’m about to come,” Brandon panted as a warning.
Jessica didn’t mind. She had taken his seed in her mouth before and was ready to again. Brandon erupted and the salty liquid of his ejaculation shot down Jessica’s throat. She pulled her lips up his shaft as she moved her head back. She released his penis from her mouth and panted as she knelt before his anaconda-sized piece of equipment.
“Was that good for you, baby?” asked Jessica as she stood.
“Couldn’t you tell?” he replied with a smile.
“Now,” said Jessica as she removed her lacy lingerie, “come give it to me.”
“With pleasure,” said Brandon as moved Jessica onto the bed.
He put on a condom from his stash in the bedside drawer. Jessica spread eagle in anticipation of taking him into her dripping wet pussy. Brandon pushed her knees up. He moved in between her spread legs and slid his massive cock into her slit. She expanded to accommodate his girth, but it still felt a bit tight. It was that way with every woman Brandon fucked.
Jessica let out a loud cry as Brandon pushed deeper and began to thrust. He reached as deep down into Jessica as she could physically take. He began pumping his hips rapidly.
“Oh yes! Yes, yes, fuck me harder!” moaned Jessica as she was filled with the pleasure of Brandon’s manhood.
Brandon accommodated her desire. He grabbed onto Jessica’s waist and he thrust harder and faster.
“Oh baby, so wet for me,” Brandon moaned as he pressed his crown deep into Jessica.
She moaned with shear delight. Jessica was reaching dizzying heights of pure pleasure. She was in a trance. Their excitement grew in intensity until they both came with great force. Jessica floated back from ecstasy.
Brandon withdrew. He gave Jessica a kiss.
“You’re welcome to stay here in the guest room,” he said as he gathered his clothes.
“Stay. Just this once,” pleaded Jessica.
“Jessica, you know the rules. It’s only sex. Amazing sex, but you know that I don’t actually sleep with women.”
“Rules are made to be broken,” said Jessica as she sat up on the bed.
“Not for me. Again, you’re welcome to stay here if you wish.”
Brandon walked out of the guest room and down the hall to his master bedroom. He went in and closed the door and locked it.
Why did she even ask? he thought. They all knew what it was. And what it wasn’t. Brandon showered and slipped into his bed, alone, and drifted off to sleep.
Brandon woke, showered again, and dressed. He headed downstairs to his dining room where breakfast was waiting for him. His personal chef, Davet, asked if he needed anything else. Brandon said that everything looked wonderful and began to eat his breakfast. He was gazing out the window at his penthouse view of Central Park.
“Do you have enough for two?” asked Jacqueline Davenport as she entered the dining room.
“Hello, Grandmother,” said Brandon as he got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Yes, of course. I’ll have Davet fix you a plate.”
“Splendid,” she said as they both sat at the glass and steel dining table.
Everything about Brandon’s penthouse was modern and sleek. Glass, steel, and black leather. His office was furnished in a similar manner.
The color in his home and office came from modern art paintings that adorned the walls. Paintings and framed New York Yankees memorabilia.
Brandon was a collector of art and Yankees items. He was a fan of both and had the means to acquire whatever he desired in art and baseball collections.
Davet placed breakfast in front of Mrs. Davenport, poured her a cup of her favorite coffee blend, and then returned to the kitchen.
“He is such a marvelous chef,” she said as she took a sip of her coffee.
“Indeed. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” Brandon asked.
“Do I need a reason to have breakfast with my grandson?”
“Of course not. But you rarely pop in unless you have something you wish to discuss with me. Besides, we’ll see each other at the office in less than an hour.”
“Well, since you brought it up,” she said, “I did want to discuss this latest article in the society section of the newspaper.”
“Which article is that?” asked Brandon as he reached for the paper.
“The one about your tryst with that Italian actress. Followed by your sighting the following day with a French model. And you rounded out your weekend being spotted in a night club with another woman. I don’t believe she was famous. But she was just as attractive as the other two.”
Brandon tossed the paper onto the table. He took a sip of his orange juice.
“Grandmother, with all due respect . . .”
“That is just my point, Brandon,” she interjected. “I don’t think you are showing due respect. Not to the Davenport family name nor to the company. Your father is a Mitchell. All well and good. But you are also a Davenport. You are the CEO of Davenport Media and the magazine which I founded and bears my name.”
“Yes, Grandmother. I’m aware of my heritage and my résumé.”
“Don’t be a smart ass. You may be a grown man and perfectly fit, but that won’t stop me from smacking some sense into you.”
“Yes. I am sorry.”
“Brandon, darling. You are almost 30 years old. You need to think about your future. You need to think about the company’s image. As a grandmother, I want to see you find a nice girl who you can settle down with. As the President of Davenport Media and Jacqueline magazine, I don’t like all the talk of my playboy grandson. It is unbecoming of the CEO of my company.”
“I understand how you and Mother feel about all of this. Personally, I would love nothing more than to be able to trust someone enough to have a real relationship. I just don’t see that right now. From a business perspective, we are more profitable than ever. Once we establish a digital media strategy for the magazine, which is my top priority, Jacqueline will secure its position as the preeminent fashion media outlet in the world.”
“Your business sense is never in question, dear. It is the image you project that concerns me. I want you to seriously consider what I am saying to you. I never liked your sleeping around. I tolerated it when you were younger. I figured it was just a phase. Sowing your wild oats. Now. . . well, let’s just say that it is time to grow up and get serious about one woman.”
“Alright. I’ll think about what you have said.”
“See that you do. I’m not getting any younger, you know. All you grand kids are grown now. I’d love great grandchildren that I can spoil.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do,” Brandon said with a warm smile.
Brandon loved his grandmother. She was an amazing women whom he had always looked up to. As much as he had grown accustom to his lifestyle with a variety of beautiful women, he did desire a relationship with one special women. The problem was that he had no idea who that might be. Until that person became clear to him, he doubted that he could just stop the way he went about seducing women. No matter how much it meant to his grandmother, the company, or even himself.
“Stephen Mills is in my International Marketing course,” said Phil as we sat down to eat at Mario’s Pizzeria. We were celebrating the start of our Senior Year of college at Santa Barbara University. Phil Reed had been my boyfriend since spring semester of our Junior Year. Stephen Mills had been my boyfriend before Phil. Stephen and Phil did not particularly like each other.
“I assume you won’t be doing any projects together,” I said as I took a bite of my anchovy pizza.
“Got that right. He’s such a pussy. I can’t believe you ever dated that guy.”
“Phillip Reed! Is that really necessary?”
“Just calling it like I see it,” he responded as he took a bite of his pepperoni pizza.
We always did half pepperoni and half anchovy. Phil hated anchovies and I wasn’t fond of pepperoni. I guess relationships are all about compromise. Although Phil did little of that. It was a bone of contention in our relationship. At the moment, I was trying to avoid any confrontation and just enjoy the start of our last year in college.
I had started dating Stephen our Freshman year. He was actually the first guy I ever slept with. We dated until the end of our Sophomore year when he broke up with me for a girl he met while doing a semester abroad in Italy.
“Well, he left me for his Italian girlfriend and you don’t see me calling him names.”
“Whatever. You like it when I say ‘pussy’ in bed.”
“That’s different. Can we change the subject, please?”
“Sure. Tell me again how you can eat anchovies?” Phil said in disgust as I polished off my first slice of pizza. “They are so disgusting.”
“I’ve always liked them. You really should try one,” I said as I plucked an anchovy off my side of the pizza and dangled it in front of Phil.
“Oh, gross! Get that away from me,” he said as he turned his head and pushed my hand away.
“Fine. Just more for me. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’m good. But a few strayed onto my side of the pizza. They’ve contaminated that slice.”
“So I get an extra slice, then?” I said with a smile.
“All yours,” Phil replied.
“Hey kids,” called my best friend Chelsea as she walked into Mario’s and headed toward our booth.
“Hey, Chels,” I said as I slid over to make room for her to sit next to me.
“Nice outfit,” Phil said.
Chelsea was wearing a tight-fitting tank top with her daisy duke shorts. Phil was always commenting on Chelsea’s appearance. Most every guy did.
Chelsea is 5’10”, about 125 pounds, curves in all the right places, and has a killer ass. Her 35c breasts are spectacular. She has long, light brown hair that always looks fabulous. Her light green eyes sparkle amidst a flawless face. She could be a super model.
“Oh, this? It’s my running errands outfit,” she said with a smile. “Of course, I’m sure you noticed that Ash looks like a million bucks,” she added for good measure.
Chelsea was not overly fond of Phil and she was protective of me. I stand 5’5” tall with a slender frame. I have long brown hair and brown eyes. I don’t have a huge chest, but my b-cup breasts are perky. I’ve been told I have a cute ass. Most consider me pretty in the girl-next-door sort of way.
“She knows how hot I think she is. Proved it to her last night. Hoping to show her again tonight,” Phil responded with a smile. Phil and I had our issues, but the sex was pretty amazing.
“Just don’t ever forget it or I’ll hunt you down and do unspeakably painful things to your balls,” Chelsea said as she grinned at Phil.
Phil was a bad boy and pretty tough, but he was afraid of Chelsea. As sweet as Chelsea was, she could be equally ferocious. She was going to make a great lawyer. She was the top economics student at Santa Barbara University and was applying to Columbia University Law School.
“Alright children, let’s not make a federal case out of this,” I said, trying to defuse what could get ugly fast.
Both Phil and Chelsea knew enough to just move on. They had me in common so they did try to tolerate each other. Most of the time.
Chelsea looked in disgust at my anchovy pizza. “Yuk. I’ll never get you liking anchovies.”
“I know, right?” agreed Phil.
“The pep looks good though,” hinted Chelsea.
“Knock yourself out. There’s one that has barely been touched by anchovy,” said Phil with a smirk.
“I’m not touching that one. It’s infected,” said Chelsea turning up her nose at the slice.
“I’ll take this one,” she said as she picked a slice of pepperoni pizza as far away from an anchovies as possible.
She took a big bite. “Mmm, delicious. Mario makes the best pizza!”
“So, how were your classes today?” I asked Chelsea.
“Pretty good. Advanced Econometrics will be interesting. I’m excited about the pre-law classes. How was your first day?”
“Great. I already have a jump on my senior thesis. I’m going to examine the use of digital and social media in the fashion industry. It should round out my portfolio nicely. I want to use it when recruiters for Jacqueline magazine come to campus in the spring,” I said.
I was majoring in Fashion Media. My dream job was to work in media relations at a top fashion magazine. My first choice was Jacqueline. They were headquartered in Manhattan. A bonus to landing a job at Jacqueline is that Chelsea would be in New York at Columbia. Well, I was assuming. Chelsea was pretty much a lock on getting into Columbia Law School.
“Awesome,” said Chelsea. “Hey, isn’t the school having a big fundraiser later in the year? You should volunteer.”
“Already have,” I replied. “I wouldn’t have been able to attend college without a scholarship, so I want to help. Plus it might help me stand out in applying for a job at Jacqueline.”
Jacqueline was part of Davenport Media. Both were founded by Jacqueline Davenport, the namesake of, and biggest donor to, Davenport School of the Arts at Santa Barbara University. Davenport School of the Arts housed the Fashion Media program.
“It also doesn’t hurt that Mr. Sexy CEO is rumored to make an appearance at the fundraiser,” Chelsea teased.
Mr. Sexy CEO, as Chelsea referred to him, was Brandon Mitchell, the CEO of Davenport Media. He was the billionaire grandson of Jacqueline Davenport. He was also one of the sexiest men alive. Literally. He had been named that by several magazines. That only confirmed what pretty much every woman alive already knew. I had an innocent crush on him.
“My day was pretty good, too,” said Phil.
“Jealous much?” asked Chelsea.
“Of Brandon Mitchell? No. What does he have that I don’t?” asked Phil defiantly.
“You really want to go there?” asked Chelsea.
“Why don’t we finish our pizza and head over to Big Scoops for some ice cream?” I asked, trying to stave off more conflict.
“Great idea,” said Chelsea.
Ashley Sullivan, peacemaker.
We finished our pizza and headed to Big Scoops for dessert. I had Cookie Dough, Chelsea had Mint Chocolate Chip, and Phil had Chocolate. When we finished, Chelsea headed back to our apartment to study.
Phil and I had spent the afternoon getting our work done so we could spend the evening together. Sex always served as a nice reward.
Chelsea and I shared a small two bedroom apartment in an off-campus complex for upperclassman. It was right next to campus, so a short bike ride or drive to Phil’s. He lived in a frat house on campus. Most of his frat brothers were jerks. I didn’t like staying in his room, but I wanted to give Chelsea some peace and quite at our place.
Phil and I dropped Chelsea off at the apartment. I grabbed some clothes and the books I needed for the morning. Phil and I then headed over to his place. As we pulled up in front of the frat house there was already a party going on.
“Seriously? Already?” I said.
“Hey, my brothers worked hard today. They deserve to let loose a little.”
“Worked hard? Today was the first day of classes.”
“So? They’re celebrating the start of a new academic year,” Phil said with a grin as he opened his car door.
“Any excuse to get wasted,” I said with disdain as I got out of the car. I knew not to wait for Phil to open the door for me. We were long past that.
Actually, it lasted all of two dates. Why was I with Phil? Oh yeah, irresistible bad boy that offers pretty amazing sex. I doubted that Phil and I had much of a future together, but our relationship worked well enough for college. Well, most of the time it had. Lately, he had become less interested in spending time together. Maybe I had as well.
We didn’t have a ton in common. I think we were getting bored of each other. Except for the sex. The sex, as I have noted, was pretty amazing. At least compared to Stephen. Which was my only point of reference.
I was a virgin until my Freshman year in college when I gave my cherry to Stephen. Phil lost his virginity at sixteen and got a lot of practice from that moment on. He had an edge to him that was attractive after my break up with Stephen. I’ll admit that it didn’t hurt that Phil is a really nice looking guy.
He is nearly six feet tall with an athletic build. He has short, dirty blond hair and green eyes that are cool, and at the same time, sexy and inviting. He’s a star pitcher for the university baseball team. He’s good enough that he will probably be drafted by a minor league team.
I took his right hand in my left as we walked up the front path to the house. His right arm was his pitching arm, so he had a very firm grip. It came in handy in the bedroom.
He knew how to expertly handle a baseball and, surprisingly, he was able to translate that into fondling my breasts. He liked to say that my perky b-cup breasts were softer, fleshier, versions of a baseball. Sounds strange, I know, but from him it was a compliment of the highest order.
“Hey bro,” said one of Phil’s asshole frat brothers, already three-sheets to the wind.
“Bro,” replied Phil with a nod.
As we walked into the house, the living room was filled with a bunch of Phil’s beer swilling frat buddies and an assortment of girls. A few of the girls were already stripped down to their bra and panties as they stumbled around the room looking to get laid. There were plenty of willing guys fighting over who would do the honor. I knew some of the girls and I suspected they had enough to go around.
“Let’s get upstairs before this turns into a drunken orgy,” said Phil.
He may have been a bit of a bad-ass, and certainly liked to party, but Phil wasn’t into plowing drunk chicks or group sex. That put him above the majority of his frat brothers.
We made our way past a crowd on the stairs and down the hall to Phil’s bedroom. Fortunately it was at the end of the hallway, so the noise of the party was somewhat muted. Phil locked the door so a drunken couple wouldn’t stumble in looking for a bed to have sex on. We had already claimed his bed for that. The sex part anyway.
I had to admit, Phil looked good. Better than good. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged him perfectly. He had on a Santa Barbara University Baseball t-shirt that formed nicely to his build. He kicked off his sneakers and plopped onto the bed.
“Say Ash?” he asked.
“Yeah?” I said.
“You really think that Brandon Mitchell is so hot?” Phil asked with a hint of jealousy in his voice.
It was unusual for Phil to express jealousy. He seemed mostly indifferent to my innocent little crush.
“Are you seriously jealous?”
“Jealous is probably too strong a word. I just don’t like the idea of you thinking about some other guy.”
“Phillip, it’s just a silly little celebrity crush. I mean, he is rather a celebrity seeing as how he dates all those actresses and super models.”
“I suppose,” Phil offered, half shrugging his shoulders.
“You mean to tell me you don’t have the hots for any gorgeous celebrity women?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. Who is it?”
“Alright, I get it. Stupid, meaningless, celebrity crush. I’ll drop it,” he said.
“You’re right. It is a meaningless celebrity crush. But, now I’m curious about who your crush is. Fess up, Mr. Reed,” I said as I playfully smacked his arm.
“Hey, watch it! Can’t mess up the golden arm,” he teased.
There were certainly lighter moments with Phil. I guess that is what kept us together. That, and the sex. Have I mentioned the pretty amazing sex yet? Don’t get the wrong impression of me. I’m not particularly experienced and I’ve only ever had fairly vanilla sex. But I enjoyed it with Phil.
“Megan Fox is pretty hot,” Phil finally stated.
“So, does thinking Megan Fox is hot detract from how you look at me?”
“No. Of course not. You can be pretty sexy when you want to be.”
“When I want to be?” I asked with a grin.
“You know what I mean. Ash, you are really pretty. You can turn on the sexy with the best of them. You just don’t fully realize it.”
“Better answer,” I said.
“Well, I don’t want to risk my pitching arm to your wrath.”
“It’s not my wrath you need to be concerned about,” I replied.
“Chelsea,” we both said and then laughed.
“For such a babe, she can be scary,” Phil added.
“Very true. And pay no mind to what a babe Chelsea is. Concentrate on the chick that is sitting on your bed.”
“Don’t I always?” he asked as he leaned in to kiss me.
“You better. Or Chelsea Richards will hunt you down and do unspeakably painful things to your balls,” I said with a giggle.
“Yes. And I prefer what you do to my balls.”
We shared a deep and long kiss. I noticed that the front of Phil’s jeans were beginning to bulge. His firmness meant that it was game on. I liked game night.
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