Natalie Fills In

Natalie watched my hand. "Wow. She really did leave you high and dry tonight." She lolled her head back toward the TV. "How long's it been?"

"Four, five days?" I frowned. She'd had that thing on Monday, that career fair nonsense, and then she had classes almost every night. "No. Six." My dick was fat now, lying across my thigh like a beached whale.

"Jesus. No wonder you're jerking off over there." She wasn't mocking me, for once. Natalie is even more of a sex fiend than I am. "I try not to go more than three days, tops."

"I know, right?" Truthfully, I hadn't even remembered until that afternoon that it was even February 14th. It's not a big holiday in my world; you get two kinds of people involved in serial relationships. One kind, the kind who likes being in love but never wants to settle down, looks forward to Valentine's Day with their florist loyalty cards ready to go and their year's supply of chocolate samplers already purchased. The other kind just likes to fuck a lot. That's Natalie and I, and we don't really get involved in the pink-heart scene.

"Six fucking days..." She buffed her nails again. "I mean, it's wrong that she's not putting out for you," she pointed out as though the thought was self-evident. "I just think that's a rude thing for a bitch to do. A man ought to be able to get off on Valentine's without having to resort to self-service." She was watching me carefully with her dangerous little eyes, and I wasn't sure what to say because I couldn't figure out where she was going. Helpfully, she tipped me off with a shrug. "I mean, I'd take care of your needs myself, but... you know..."

Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick. My cock started its march toward the vertical, without any input from whatever part of my brain was still thinking. I swallowed. "Well, no. Of course you couldn't."

"No way." She was smirking now.

"Uh-uh." I was beginning to feel the need to adjust; she'd see the tent soon, as if she didn't already know. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but under these circumstances, things were different. "I mean, you're my sister."

She blinked, her smirk growing into a broad grin. I'd walked right into it. "Oh, hell no. No, Bart. It has nothing to do with you being my brother." She winked. "I just don't fuck guys with tiny dicks."

I gaped as she erupted into her little high-pitched laugh, flapping her hand in front of her mouth. I felt my face tighten; the bitch. Instinctively, my hand shot to my balls, cupping; I'd show her tiny. Her eyes lit up when she saw where my hand went, and she laughed some more. "Oh, Bart!" She was crying now, as amused as I'd ever seen her. "What, are you actually going to pull it out and show me?"

"Fuck you," I snarled. I don't think I'd ever been harder.

"Shit, you little freak, you're about to show your cock to your sister!" She was still chuckling, though she was never far from being in full control of herself; now she shut off her giggles like a man turning off the shower, her expression as evil as it normally was. She eyed me like I was nothing. "You forget, Bart, you've fucked most of my friends. I've gotten plenty of reports about you." She sniffed. "I don't need to see your piddly little dick."

I was still sullen. She was right about her friends, of course; I'd jammed it into just about all her little buddies, at one time or another. She kept good company, or at least sexy company, but she liked her friends to know their place in the pecking order. I think she liked me fucking them because it gave her something to hold over their heads. Whatever; I just enjoyed slamming their tight little bodies. "Bitch. If your friends have told you I'm small, it's only because they went into an altered state after I fucked them senseless," I muttered. "None of them knew what time zone they were in when I got through with them." Especially Maggie West, that little freak; she'd passed out with my cock in her ass, her limbs folding in like a dead spiders. She'd plummeted from her knees to her stomach on the mattress, nearly pulling my dick off. I scowled and jocked myself automatically. "There's enough here for any pussy, even yours."

She tipped her head sideways; the smirk was back, always a bad sign. It's never wise to give Natalie the upper hand. "So, what are you saying, Bart?" she asked, her voice low. She was sitting up, her body straight and poised as always, arching her back slightly. Her legs were coiled beneath her. "Are you saying you'd like me to take care of your needs? That you want me to fill in for the useless little cunt you're dating?" She was smug now, totally in her element; nothing made Natalie happier than lording it over others. "Are you such a slave to your cock that you don't even care whose vag you shove it into? Like mine's as good as hers?"

I looked up at her from under my eyelids, my penis completely hard in my hand now. "You have no idea what a fucking bitch you are, Natalie."

"Maybe not," she murmured, "but I know my pussy's better than hers." The stud on the TV was shoving his dick into yet another woman, pummeling her from behind, looking like he was three feet thick. Natalie rose slowly to her knees, one of her hands toying with her waistband, taunting me. "I'm about five minutes away from proving it, just to shut your bitch ass up."

My mouth was going dry and I knew I wasn't thinking straight, but I'm not about to take a backseat to any smart-mouthed slut, even if she's my own sister. Hell, especially if she's my own sister. "Big talk," I sneered. "Your pussy? Better than hers? Whatever; a pussy's a pussy. They're all the same. Guys won't tell you that because they're too busy trying to get in there, but that's the big headline for you this evening, Natalie: you're just another hole."

Her eyebrows shot up, a cruel smile growing slowly across her bloodless lips. She drew herself up on her knees, now high above me, looking at me like she was a scientist and I was her specimen. "I'm not the only one talking shit," she observed in that weird, quiet Natalie stillness that always made me look behind myself for the knife in my back. "You're the one whose girlfriend left him jerking his cock in front of a porno with his sister. On Valentine's Day. Great life choices there, Bart." She swung her leg deliberately to the floor and got to her feet with her usual feline grace. She smoothed her shirt over her skinny body. "Want something to drink? I'm going to get a beer."

"Sure." What a bitch, but that's the way we always fought: hot, then cold. She had an amazing ability to control everything around her. Her narrow ass spun and she went striding out of the room, and I was already shoving my hand straight down my sweatpants with my feet perched up on the coffee table. The feel of my hand on my bare cock was a thrilling relief; I was horny beyond belief. I felt like I could jab my dick straight through a steel door. The overworked stud on the screen was just getting ready, at last, to blow his load all over a tattooed lower back when Natalie came back with two frosty bottles. "Thanks, slut."

"No problem, fuckhead." She handed me a bottle and we each drained half before the credits started to roll. "Head on back over to the black-guy channel. I was into that." She made no comment about my hand being down my pants, so I didn't bother moving it. It was already awfully humid down there. She settled in at her end of the couch with her knees drawn up and her lips pursed, and I just couldn't help needling her.

I held my phone screen out toward her with a shit-eating grin. Natalie wasn't interested in tearing her eyes away from the TV, but curiosity eventually got the better of her. She frowned. "What? What is that? You're showing me your clock, dumbass."

"I know," I gloated. "That's five minutes, you liar."

She frowned and shook her head. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"You said you were five minutes away from proving you had a better pussy than Jessica." I smiled innocently. "I'm just pointing out that you're a dirty fucking liar." I put my phone down and made a show of turning back toward the TV, my hand still jerking my dick softly.

She paused, glaring, and most of us who've been around Natalie know that's a bad sign. "Really." She's pathologically incapable of not rising to a challenge, though, which I should have remembered. For a moment or two there was no sound in the room but the bitch on the screen getting reamed by the black dude, but then her phone skittered across the coffee table with a clatter and she was on her feet, glaring hard at me. She stepped out of her ballet slippers. "Your girlfriend," she said, low and vengeful, "is a fucking childish cockteasing bitch." She struck a pose, all hard lines and angles, and without any kind of shame she shoved her tights straight down her legs.

The stinky tights hit my face squarely, kicked there by her toned leg, and by the time I'd shaken them off she was standing there with her legs spread and a look of fury on her face. "I'll call your bluff," she sneered, pulling her shirt up past her belly button, and suddenly there I was with my hand down my pants, staring at my sister's muff.

Funny how these things happen sometimes.

"So, yeah," purred the angry Natalie, her lip curled strangely. "Exactly what's wrong with my pussy, bitch?" And, looking at it with forced calmness, I had to admit: not much. Last time I'd seen it, once when she was stripping off after getting out of the pool maybe seven or eight months ago, she'd had it waxed bare as a cherub's ass. Now she'd cultivated an artful tuft, almost an exclamation point, in soft dark-brown fluff. Her lips were reddish at the moment, slightly swollen, but perfectly symmetrical and without any of that roast-beef shit flopping out of the slit. She looked down at me with her curious mix of wild and calm, like a cornered animal who knows it's going to die and is determined to take you down with it. "Spell it out for me, Bartholomew," she snapped.

I'm not sure I'd ever seen her so pissed. Her thighs were turning red. "Looks can be deceiving, they say," I mocked her. "And, you know, they also say you can't judge a book by its cover." They also say you should keep your fucking mouth shut when you're goading Natalie Cross; she'd broken one of her friends' legs once, just out of spite. But what can I say? I've got selective hearing for what they say. "Any chick can do a little grooming and a kegel or two. I'm not impressed." I leaned off to the side, making a point; she was standing in the way of the TV. "Down in front, Nat."

I think that's the part that really made her seethe. Like she was nothing more than something you'd put in front of the TV; like she was showing herself off for nothing at all. There was nothing she hated worse than being ignored. She started to tremble with rage, and it occurred to me as I looked at her naked lower half that I'd never really noticed before what nice, proportional thighs she had, sloping down from her firm, pinched waist with a smooth, even curve. Nice little bundle, my sister. She took a long step forward, filling more of my view, and flicked one of her legs over mine. Now she was straddling me, that pussy of hers right in front of my eyes, and I was starting to smell her. "Make me move, shithead."

I was a drunk matador, not just flicking a red cape in front of a bull, but doing it blindfolded. And yet I couldn't stop, my hand still reckless in my pants. "Can you at least do me a favor, Nat?" I asked her sweetly. "Can you spin around so that I can check out your ass? I'd appreciate it."

She moved fast. She'd been a soccer player in high school, but I'd never really seen this kind of quickness as she spun around, hopping over my legs with a dancer's precision and a face purple with anger. "The fuck," I groaned, but already she'd backed herself up at me, her narrow asscheeks descending fast toward me, and I glanced up to see an expression of rage twisting her face as she reached behind herself to grab my hair.

"Check it out, then," she grated, and then she was wrenching my head forward and shoving her ass back, and suddenly I found my nose and mouth hard up against her butthole, surrounded on all sides by her muscular flesh. I threw my hands up to push her off me, finding nothing but two fistfuls of her firm ass. She kept coming though, sitting on me as she forced me back into the cushions.

Holy sweet Jesus.

"You like that, shithead?" she spat vengefully, moving herself up and down across my face. "I'm making you my ass-bitch." She stank; I realized immediately that she hadn't taken a shower lately, the thought filtering into my mind as I struggled to breathe. I was pushing hard now, my fingers leaving livid marks on her asscheeks, and after a few seconds I sent her sprawling over my legs, cackling her giddy little laugh.

"Jesus, Natalie!" My nose and mouth were full of the mustiness of her asshole. I couldn't believe she'd done that. "What's the matter with you?" I looked frantically around for something, anything, to wipe my face with, leaving her to curl like a preening cat on the couch next to me. She couldn't stop giggling. "That's absolutely disgusting."

"What?" she chuckled. "Like you're too good a guy to lick my ass?" She stretched out her own bare legs beside mine, propping her feet on the table, still bottomless and not giving a shit. She glanced over at me. "I'll bet your little Chinese bitch likes a good, wet rimjob, huh?"

"Vietnamese," I corrected her absently. No, actually. Jessica was not into that.

"Viet-fucking-whatever," she sang, still giggling. "Bet she likes it. Bet she gives it right back to you, too, shoving her little tongue into your shitter." She had one of her hands down among her pubes now, excited as she'd always been by the display of her power over others. "Does she peg you, Bart, a little strap-on action up that ass of yours? Hmm?"

"Quit assuming everyone else has the same kinks you do, Natalie," I said primly, and that's when I got up to go get a damp towel. "Fucking dirty bitch." Of course, I was standing right in front of her, and of course the boxers were failing spectacularly, and of course the sweatpants were loose anyway. I was tenting out like a motherfucker, and as Natalie's fingers started to stir into her pussy she managed an exaggerated, wide-eyed look of shock.

"Oooh, Bart!" She feigned shock. "I mean, I know you're a kinky little bastard, but tell me you didn't just get hard licking your sister's ass. Tell me." She was laughing again, and I just glared furiously down at her.

"Get your hand out of your snatch and maybe we can talk about it," I grunted. I wanted to look away, but I just couldn't; her legs were smooth and tight, flung carelessly along the couch with her slit weeping into the upholstery.

"What?" She sat up a little. "Dude, are you even watching what's on TV? That's a fine black man dicking down a hot little whore; that's what's got me going. What's your excuse?" She batted her eyelashes up at me. "Unless you're into black guys, too..." she added, smiling venomously.

"Fuck off."

"I mean, I wasn't serious about taking care of your needs earlier," she mused. "I don't really like you, and you're kind of an arrogant prick. But, I mean, you did give me a rimjob..." she trailed off, giggling, loving every minute of this.

"Fuck off." I tried to sound firm about it.

"Maybe Mom and Dad would like to hear about their darling Bart's dirty little secret, that he's lusting after my shithole." She shook her head and sighed. "Imagine how scandalized Grandma would be..."

I looked down at her sourly, the damp towel forgotten. "Better stop, Natalie. And quit it with your fingers." She was slowly starting to drive me crazy; her legs were so impossibly wide, the tendons like cords on her inner thighs. Her skin was slick under fingers moving in a complicated, familiar pattern.

"Or what?" She was masturbating freely now, getting off on my weakness. "I told you earlier, I couldn't give two shits who's in the room when I get off. If you had the balls, you'd just drop your drawers and show me what you've got." She was certainly showing me what she had, sprawled wide across the long couch. "You're already resigned to the fact you'll be jerking off on Valentine's; might as well do it now, and get it overwith."

Goddamn if her smell wasn't starting to make me lightheaded. I heard her scorn, and I thought about my useless girlfriend, and now when I looked at the chick on the couch I didn't really see my sister anymore. I just saw a greedy cunt. "What?" she was mocking me; I heard her distantly. "Maybe you do want me to be the fill-in for that little bitch of yours..." I wasn't even thinking anymore as I fumbled with my drawstring. My sweats slumped to the floor, already reeking of inadequate laundry, ball-sweat, and precum, and I saw Natalie's eyes narrow. "Yup," she said snidely, "just like I thought, a micro-dick." But she didn't mean it. She was staring into my eyes and wondering where this was going to go.

Straight into your twat, bitch, that's where. She'd pushed me way past the point of no return. The air stank like a brothel.

I took off my shirt as an afterthought, not wanting to get it all cummy. Natalie was sprawled on the couch, one leg on the floor and the other up along the back of the cushions, her skinny body spread wide open for her busy fingers. I walked toward her automatically, holding my cock long and thick and weighty in my grasping hand, knowing my face held that same lip-curled look of lustful contempt that I saw on hers. I stopped when I reached the couch, standing over her and jacking my cock, all jiggly balls and streaked precum, waiting on her next move.

Natalie gazed up at me, her eyes hooded like always, then picked her foot off the ground and stretched her leg long and bare across the couch and, at long last, pulled out her fingers. Her raw red gash stared at me, waiting to be filled. "Fuck you," she said quietly, leaning her upper body back against the armrest.

"Whatever," I shrugged, and then I bent my knee and landed it on the couch, straddling her leg. My dick trembled above her lean body, and she watched it curiously while I took hold of her other foot, the one along the back of the couch. I'm not sure either of us was totally sure this was happening, but then I also don't think either of us cared very much. I reached out and grabbed her leg, the one she had over the back of the couch.

I mean, at least I wasn't bored anymore.

Her calf was firm and slender against me as I pulled it to my chest, turning her hips slightly, that inner thigh along the couch a broad road leading straight for her pussy. I was sinking down without even realizing it. Her breaths had gone shallow and quick, and I could see the bottom of her ribcage peeking out of her shirt. "Gonna do it?" she taunted, whispering now.

"Fuck," I murmured back, gripping her led, the head of my cock now just six inches from her labia. She was wide open. "You're the one who offered to fill in."

"Fucking Asian bitch," she agreed, and then she leaned her head back and I knew she didn't give a shit. She licked her fingers and ran them crudely along the sides of her cunt, her eye contact strong the whole time. "You need to find yourself a new woman."

"I think I already have." I could hear my voice, thick and hard and grating, sounding like nothing I'd ever heard from myself before, but by then I was easing downward and there was no going back. Her abs came into sharp focus as she curled her body to watch me enter. My cockhead was a torpedo, dark and smooth and shiny, and I held my breath as it wedged itself into her crack; I'd never seen a pussy so bright red.

"Mmm..." she sighed quietly as I eased in. There was just the slightest resistance in her, just enough to be exciting, just enough to tickle every nerve ending I had down in my shaft. She arched her back slightly, my cock finding more room; shit, she was tight.