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© Copyright 2017, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved
NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
A Note on This Collection: 5 Tales of (Very Naughty) Blackmail! collects the first six books in the Blackmail! series. These books include: Blackmail! My Girlfriend's Busty Sister (Volumes 1 & 2), Blackmail! My Husband's Horny Twin, Blackmail! My Boyfriend's Hunky Father, Blackmail! My Roommate's Slutty Asian Girlfriend, and Blackmailed! By My Husband's Kinky Father.
Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content and is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are over the age of 18. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
EXTRA SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: This is a work of erotic fiction. The sexual situations depicted in this collection are all about men and women engaging in dirty, dirty deeds with reluctant partners. In real life, consent is never an option. That's why I've written these stories down, so we can enjoy being naughty together in the privacy and comfort of our minds. Now, with that said, thank you for partaking in my smut, and please remember to bump uglies responsibly.
Cover design by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo / Bialasiewicz.
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Volumes 1 & 2
Joe's girlfriend Tara is a sweet and sophisticated girl, but her busty sister Courtney is the subject of his sweatiest fantasies. When Courtney steals $2,000 from her grandmother, she begs Joe to hide it. He will, but if she wants the money back, she's going to have to submit to his every lewd desire. Nothing like a little blackmail to bring people together!
© Copyright 2016, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved
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I met my girlfriend Tara about midway through college and we've been together ever since. I love her. She's an amazing person and she's easily the smartest girl I've ever dated. When we first met there was the usual hot and passionate hookups. I'd call her up at 2 in the morning while I was taking the El back from downtown Chicago and she'd meet me at the Purple line and take me home. We'd fuck each other's brains out and that would be that. The next morning I went to Davis and she took the train to Columbia.
It was not the greatest sex I've ever had. Again, I say this with full love in my heart for her, but it's one of those things that sooner or later in the relationship you have to confront. It wasn't that she wasn't eager to learn or as horny as I was. We were just coming from different sexual backgrounds. Tara and I settled into a fairly regular sleeping/fucking pattern after we moved in together our Senior year and, to be completely honest, it wasn't that bad. It wasn't ever exciting, but it wasn't bad.
So I was faced with a dilemma that Senior year: do I stay with Tara and get another apartment with her after college, or do I end the relationship and pull up stakes? We both had job offers in the city and things were looking really good. I loved Tara and I could see myself marrying her. She read four or five different newspapers every morning, she was a journalism major with a social policy minor, she had a great sense of humor. There were few annoying quirks or neuroses but it was your usual gender nonsense. But the one thing I had to grow to love were her breasts.
Obviously Tara was not my first. The girls that made up my pantheon of exes ranged in personality from the frigid and uptight to the wild and nymphomaniac. I've been lucky to know all of them and each of them taught me something new, whether about myself or women in general. Their bodies ranged as diversely as their personalities and one thing I learned--that movies and imagination had never taught me--was that all women are built differently. Not even vaginas look or behave the same. And when it comes to breasts women are the practically snowflakes. Large breasts do not always equal better breasts, sacrilegious as it seems. For example, I was once falling over myself to get this beautiful dark-skinned girl into my freshman dorm. She had breasts that looked like they were ready to burst from her bra. And once we got into bed and the clothes came off, I saw that they were. But as large as they were, her breasts had no real shape, reached for her knees, and were covered with stretch marks. Don't get me wrong--they were fascinating. But not what I'd fantasized about.
I love boobs. It sounds basic, but there it is. I love legs, I love a tight ass, freckles, an unconscious smile, I love women. But there is no comparison to having a perfect nipple pressed against your palm and your fingers happily squeezing a woman in the throes of lust. Or naughtily in an abandoned parking lot. Or surreptitiously while the two of you are waiting in line. You get what I'm saying.
Tara had very small breasts. At first I was into them just for their novelty. They weren't so small that she was flat-chested. She was at least half a cup size away from that. But they were smaller breasts than I'd ever encountered before and left, unfortunately, much to be desired while we were going at it. If they'd been a little rounder, or maybe a little fuller, this would be a different story. But instead they sort of just stood out from her chest, beautiful in their own way but, well, not the locus of my erotic fantasies.
We had a great time together nonetheless and there were very few complaints on this end.
Enter Tara's younger sister, Courtney. Courtney was almost the opposite of her big sister in nearly every way. Their faces look strikingly similar. In the right light they could be fraternal twins. Tara in most ways was more delicate. She was petite, several inches shorter than Courtney. Courtney was only a few inches shorter than me. She had very dark skin compared to Tara's "Chicago tan," she talked a lot more but had a lot less to say. Courtney had opted out of going to college and instead had her and Tara's parents put up the money for her to become a beautician or something, I was never very clear. She swore frequently but tried to curb it around her family. The girl was boisterous, loud, and petulant. So what am I getting at?
Courtney had amazing breasts. She was only a little taller than Tara but the similarities in their faces made her sometimes look like a trashier, sluttier version of her sister. You can see where I'm going with this... Where Tara dressed in her own style, Courtney always dressed predictably and provocatively. How do I know her tits were top-class? Because she never failed to wear shirts that ensured any passerby could get drunk on her cleavage. Courtney did tanning booths all the time and those puppies were as unconvincingly brown as the rest of her. Tara's younger sister had the kind of breasts that you can practically taste. I haven't been a teenager for at least five years but catching a glimpse of Courtney abusing a shirt that was never meant to withstand such springy sweetness felt unfair in a way that bounded and resounded from my brain to my balls and back again. It brought back the same dire longing that hormones extrude from a kid just trying to do his homework and ignore the erection waiting for just the slightest provocation from the outside world. Watching the way Courtney moved, the way she'd reach across the table, a man could get a sense of how soft she was, yet how firm and pliant she might be. And, yes, she did catch me more than once following the several dangling necklaces she wore down into the warm recesses of her body. She was never amused.
As for the rest of her, she wore skintight black pants one afternoon to her sister's graduation that showed with a few extra inches comes a luscious bottom. Whenever I was alone enough to fantasize, Courtney was never far from my mind. Yet I wanted to be with Tara. She was my girl and we had gladly decided to get another apartment together after college. Her sister was just some physical fantasy. But there it was: the fantasy. In the darkest places of my mind I imagined what it would be like to sneak into Courtney's room during one of her frequent visits and have my way with her anonymously. That was patently ridiculous. Yet being in a steady relationship with Tara meant close contact with her family, and having those succulent globes so near at hand was a maddening thing.
But I tried to put it out of my mind.
One Saturday night, about a year after Tara and I had graduated college, I was roaming the apartment looking for something to do. We'd gone out with friends that evening to celebrate something--somebody getting married or a promotion or maybe it was just an average night of indulgence--and come back on the El pleasantly drunk. Tara made an omelette and then fell asleep before she could eat it. I turned the burner off and helped her get her shoes off. Then I returned to the kitchen, ate the omelette, and retired to the living room. The doorbell rang.
I got up and checked the clock. It was 2:20 AM. Curious, I went to the door and sidled up to the peephole. Courtney was standing outside the door in ripped jeans and a tank top. I took a moment to admire her small but upturned nose with its light sprinkle of freckles. I unlocked the door and greeted her. But before I could get "Hey, how's it going?" out of my mouth Courtney had pushed past me and made a beeline for our kitchen. I hastily locked up and followed her, just in time to see her bend over our sink and heave. Several of my lustful fantasies were given a sharp kick in the groin. While I stood awkwardly in the hall Courtney raised her arm and waved at me angrily.
"Get over here," she muttered.
I let out a dumb, "What?"
"Hold my hair back!" she hissed.
Right. I came up behind Courtney and grabbed the bunched hair she had gathered in her right hand. I turned on the faucet and let it run. Courtney seemed to react to the sound of running water and sighed, bending over the sink and pushing her ass into my crotch.
"If you think you can make it," I said, ignoring the warmth of her behind, "I can take you to the bathroom. I don't want you to clog the sink."
She gave an annoyed groan.
"Fine then," I said, sweeping more of her dark hair behind her ears as we both leaned over the sink and waited for her to get sick again. "Busy night?" I asked.
"Oh fuck you," she grumbled, putting her hands on the rim of the sink and relaxing a little.
"I didn't know you were back in town," I said. A few months earlier Courtney had moved to Indiana to finish her training in a salon.
"Stop talking," she grunted. I realized that Courtney was drunk, and it probably took as long as it did for me to realize it because I was slowly sobering up. I realized, however, that she was probably more drunk than I'd thought and I reminded myself not to let her fall asleep with us in this precariously impolitic position. Courtney heaved. The strain on her body drove her ass backward into my groin and forced me to reach out to keep from tipping off my feet. I grabbed, unsurprisingly, at the most prominent curve of her anatomy, her right breast.
Courtney must have been too drunk to be bothered because she didn't shrug me off. I used the handhold to get myself back on my feet but then, failing to be slapped, I kept my hand where it was. Courtney just leaned over the sink, ass straight out, and groaned. I realized too late that I was unapologetically copping a feel. Was it worth it? I could hardly fit the whole thing into my palm. It reacted against my fingers with a springy vitality, its swollen roundness so elegantly pronounced on so inelegant a woman. I squeezed. Here this poor girl was trying to barf in my sink and I groped her like any drunken frat boy. I regret nothing.
I gave one more tentative squeeze before she slapped my hand away. My dick stirred in my pants and I hoped that she didn't feel it, or was too far gone to care. "I'm fine!" she barked. She must have thought I was trying to keep her on her feet. "Keep your hands off my tits," she told me. Maybe not.
"It was an accident."
"Yeah," she said with a smirk. We waited together for her to vomit again but after fifteen minutes she finally asked to be sat down in the kitchen and given a glass of water. I had brought her a blanket and was all set to retire when she grabbed my wrist and told me to get her her purse. She had left it on the kitchen table when she smashed into the kitchen. I picked it up, handed it to her.
I sat down next to her on the couch and watched her cross her legs. There were so many holes and rips in the jeans that I could easily see the muscles in her thighs flex against each other. She was wearing black topless shoes that flopped limply from her toes. She searched for something inside the purse and I saw no harm in taking the opportunity to stare right down her cleavage while she had her head bowed. I had never had such an unobstructed view of her chest and after leaning over the sink for so long her breasts were now fully in view. I imagined that her left nipple was just a quarter of an inch from peeking over her halter top. But I was satisfied with the sight before me, her chest expanding greatly as she regained her breath from the awkward crush of bending over the sink.
Courtney pulled her hand away from her purse and pressed something against my forearms. I fumbled to collect it and immediately found a wad of several hundred dollars in my hands.
It was a fat fold of bills. "What is this?" I asked.
"It's money, stupid," she said.
Of course. Courtney snapped her purse closed and put it on the ground at her feet. She kicked off her shoes. Then she laid her fingers over her bare knees and finally looked up at me. Clearly the girl was pissed, but she wanted me to see her anger, not the fear behind it. I saw both and was curious, not to mention still buzzed enough to want to take my new mental images with me to the bathroom.
"I need you to hold this for me," she said.
She gave me an annoyed grimace. "Are you fucking retarded?"
"Hey," I said, handing the money back, "if that's the way you want to be."
She shoved her hands against mine. I was instantly aware of how hot her skin was. It was the first time our fingers had ever touched. "No, sorry, God. Just take the money."
"Don't!" she hissed. She looked scared now. "Don't let Tara know. Put it someplace she won't find."
"Um," I said, trying to put my thoughts into words. "I don't--"
"Please," she said. That was new.
"OK," I said, more from exhaustion than common sense.
"And I won't tell Tara you touched my tit."
I laughed. "That was an accident."
"Whatever. You stare at them all the time."
I made sounds of protest.
"Whatever," she repeated.
We left it at that and Courtney curled up on the sofa. I took the money and hid it in the same panel of my toolbox where I hide my cigarettes. The next morning Courtney was gone. According to Tara she was staying with their parents for a few days. I actually forgot about the money for a few weeks until I tried to sneak a cigarette the next month and was shocked to find two-thousand dollars in cash. Courtney called her sister a few weeks after that to invite us to her new place in Indianapolis.
We drove over during the long Presidents Day weekend. Tara hardly spoke the whole time and I realized that she'd actually been fairly distant for the last week. I asked if there was something the matter.
After some cajoling she told me that a few weeks back several hundred dollars were stolen from her grandmother's house. The money had been saved for a rainy day. Instantly I thought of the cache of bills stashed in my toolbox. "Do they know who took it?" I asked.
Tara shook her head. "Nothing else was taken so whoever stole it must have known it was there. It was in a little box in the linen closet." She stopped talking for a moment. "So that means it must have been someone in the family." Tara was visibly shaken.
I wondered if I should say something but decided to hear the rest first. "Who?" I asked.
Tara sighed. "They're not sure. The last time they had anyone over was weeks ago and they just realized the money was missing this week."
It had to have been Courtney. I wasn't sure for what, and I definitely didn't know why she thought she could get away with stealing something so conspicuous, but there it was. Yet a shred of doubt clung to my mind. Maybe it was a complete coincidence. Maybe last month Courtney had just come into a fortuitous quantity of money and wanted to unload it somewhere without telling her sister. Yeah... Right.
We were on our way up to Courtney's apartment when Tara suddenly stopped. "I forgot the champagne," she said.
I myself had forgotten we were here to celebrate Courtney's birthday.
"I'll go," I said. "Just tell me what to get."
"No, no," Tara was already putting a list together in her head. "I also need to get a card and that chocolate she likes."
"Alright, well, let's go." I started heading back towards the car.
"No," she said. "Stay here. I think Courtney's setting up for the party later."
I didn't relish the idea of spending time alone with Courtney. She had never been my biggest fan. But it might give me a chance to find out what was going on with the enigmatic cash. After Tara gave me a quick kiss and sprinted back to the car, I walked up the slightly damp stairs to Courtney's place.
When she opened the door she was beaming. She really was a cute girl, upturned button nose, broad smile (bigger mouth overall than Tara's cute, demure lips), shining eyes. But the smile vanished when Courtney saw it was me alone. "Where's Tara?" she said flatly.
"Had to go pick up some things. She asked me to help you set up." I followed her into the apartment.
"Everything's already set up," Courtney said distractedly. As she crossed to the kitchen I got a look at her swiveling bottom. The party was not for several hours and she had yet to get fully dressed. Courtney was wearing gray gym shorts and a thick blue cotton top. She trod barefoot through the small but welcoming apartment. Banners and streamers hung from the ceiling and a table stacked neatly with cups and an assortment of alcohol was pushed against the wall. When I closed the door behind me Courtney was all business.
"Do you still have the money?"
"Uh--" I started. "Yeah."
"Is it with you?" she asked.
"Why would I have it with me?"
Courtney rolled her eyes as if somehow it was her great misfortune to be partnered with so inept a criminal companion. Her lips, which were pressed together in a firm arc of disapproval, were a deep red. She began to speak again but I volleyed first.
"Say, Courtney, where'd you get that money anyway?"
She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands coolly on her hips. Even half-dressed she was a knockout. The prickliness of her character made it impossible to like the girl but that worked in its own devious way. Her black hair was a little longer than shoulder length and straight and shiny as leaking oil. Her skin was darkened by frequent use of a tanning bed (which looks ridiculous anywhere but especially in Indiana in the middle of January). And while this did give her a slightly burned out appearance, it made the stark paleness of her teeth and eyes pop with a vibrancy that drew your gaze to her long lashes and full lips. Then of course there was her chest, amply stacked below her round shoulders and giving that blue cotton top a helluva job to do. Courtney's painted nails tapped against her hips, probably wider than she liked but undeniably curvaceous. She had thighs that looked like they could wrap around a man's back with dire consequences.
"Before you ask if that's my business," I said, raising a finger to staunch her bubbling protest, "bear in mind you did leave the money in my care."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" she spat. "'Bear in mind,' 'in my care,' who the hell talks like that?"
"Are you angry because I'm choosing my words carefully or because you're trying to figure out an excuse?"
Courtney gave me an icy glare. "It's just money," she said. "I started a new bank account when I got to Indianapolis and I hadn't withdrawn all the cash from my old one. I didn't want to be walking the street with that much on me so I wanted Tara to hold it for me."
I regarded Courtney for a moment or two. "But you told me not to tell Tara."
Courtney's lips twitched.
"You were a little drunk, maybe you don't remember."
"I didn't want Tara to see me drunk," she said quickly. "That's all I meant. You could have told her about the money."
"Should I tell her when she gets back?"
Courtney swallowed hard. I could see the gears working overtime behind the sharp white of her eyes. I wanted to see how much Courtney would admit to before I brought up their burglarized grandmother.
"No," she said slowly. Then, "Where is it?"
"The money?" I asked.
Courtney nodded. A few strands of bangs fell over her eyes fetchingly. I couldn't help notice her breasts jiggle slightly too. She wasn't wearing a bra.
"It's...safe," I said. A strange but powerful notion peeked from within the dark recesses of my brain.
Courtney wiped the hair back from her face and bit her lower lip. We were standing roughly ten feet apart from each other, she at the counter of her kitchen and I very close to the front door.
"It's not my money," she said.
She narrowed her eyes again. "You prick."
I held up my hands. "Hey, I didn't take the money. And I'm pretty sure I know where you got it from."
This shook her. "What do you mean?"
"It's your grandmother's, isn't it?"
"How did you know that?" was out of poor Courtney's beautiful mouth before she knew how to reattach her poker face. She winced and brought her palm to her face. "My sister..."
"Yes, your older sister is really upset about the money you stole."
"Does she know?" she said frantically.
"Not yet, no."
Courtney sighed. She leaned her head to one shoulder. "Okay. So, what?"
"You tell me."
"Are you going to give me the money?"
"I don't think so. I feel pretty bad about your grandmother."
"She can spare it," she said acidly. "Do you want to know what I need it for?"
I thought about that but I realized I didn't really care. "No," I said simply.
This pissed her off. "God, you're so fucking smug. Fine! Let's just sit here until Tara gets back so you can tell her all about it!" Courtney began to tromp out of sight, into the bedroom, when I raised my alternative.
"Who said I was going to tell Tara?"
Courtney stopped. "You're not?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet. You need the money, I guess, but I don't know if that makes it right to keep it."
"If you give it back to Tara she'll ask where it came from."
"True," I replied.
"So...what?" Courtney asked, frowning and looking at me over an open mouth. "You're gonna give me the money?"
"I could be persuaded," I said.
What was I thinking? Well, to be absolutely frank, I was thinking of Courtney's tits. I loved her sister and I wanted to be with her, a girl who was so loving and kind and who gave far more than she received, especially from her family. But Tara was a compassionate rather than a passionate lover, something the last few years had turned into a comforting rather than an irritating thing. But I have, deep down, baser urges than that. I saw in this fortunate moment a chance to fulfill one seemingly irreconcilable fantasy: one sister's body and the other's continued bliss.
"What do you mean?" Courtney asked. "You want a cut?"
I grinned. "No." My eyes were unapologetically lingering on Courtney's cleavage.
Courtney actually followed my gaze to her own chest. When she looked up she had rage in her eyes.
"You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking."
I crossed my arms. "What am I thinking, Courtney?"
"You're a fucking scumbag," she said. "I'm telling Tara."
"Tell her what? That I stared at your chest because you stole two thousand dollars from your grandmother?"
"Fuck," Courtney said quietly. She stared at the ground for a half second before looking up at me from under her dark fringe of hair. "What do you...want?" she asked.
"Well let's get one thing out of the way first. What do you want?"
It took longer than it should have for Courtney to realize we were making a transaction. But she got it eventually. "I want..." she stopped herself and cleared her throat. "The money. I want you to bring it to me."
"Okay," I said. "You took it for your own reasons. I wash my hands of that. One day maybe you can square it with your family."
"What do you want?" Courtney asked apprehensively. There was a note of tension that eased into an uncertain fear.
"Um," I said. "Take off your shirt."
Courtney looked offended but also surprised. "That's it?"
I grinned again. "No. But that's the start."
Courtney seemed to weigh herself on either foot. She glanced at the door. "If... Tara will be back soon."
"Don't worry about it," I said. Outside I tried to project a cool control. Inside I was equal parts giddy, excited, fearful. Part of me was given over entirely to the lustful query of how far this could possibly go. I knew exactly what I wanted to do... But part of me didn't see how Courtney could submit to it. She must have really needed that money.
"You want to see my tits?" Courtney said. The way she referred to them, how casually the word 'tit' rolled off her tongue, I could tell Courtney's 'tits' were a popular request from her guy friends and almost a tired topic to her. Of course I wanted to see her take her shirt off, she must have thought. Who didn't? I was glad to be in the majority. "If I take my shirt off," she said doubtfully, "you'll give me the money."
"Well that and a little more," I said.
"I'm not going to fuck you."
I smiled. "Courtney, I don't want to have sex with you--"
"How about a titjob?"
Courtney made a face. "Ugh. You're disgusting."
I shrugged happily. "Okay. I'll give Tara the money when we get back to Chicago and you and I can just sit here on our hands until she gets back."
"There's no way I'm letting your dick anywhere near me."
I looked over at the chairs arranged by the door and sat down. I hooked my ankle over my knee and sat back, arms folded.
"You scumbag..." Courtney growled. Then she took three steps forward and crossed her arms over her taut belly. Her fingers grasped the thin fabric of her shirt and she pulled up.
I was so excited I almost forgot to say, "Slowly..."
Courtney grumbled from somewhere in her shirt but that sound was swallowed by the smooth glide of fabric rushing against her bare skin. Courtney pulled up with her lithe arms and then all of a sudden the swollen undersides of her tan breasts dripped from underneath, sprung from the cotton like fat dewdrops. I saw the first and then the second dark nipple peek from the blue top and then sink down with its sister, falling solidly against Courtney's chest and giving a beautiful trembling quiver. Courtney must have been glaring at me as she balled up her shirt and tossed it onto the drink table. But I was enraptured. I drank in just the sight of Courtney's full, exposed breasts. They stood out from her chest, the chocolate nipples pointed not at me but at my forehead, almost the ceiling. The areolas were smaller than I imagined but that made the slope of Courtney's unfettered bosom so much sweeter somehow, delicate when it was so voluptuous. That, ultimately, was the defining attraction to Courtney's breasts. They were the budded fruit of all her womanly sweetness, a blossomed youth that was sexual and feminine in, sadly, all the ways her sister's ample love could not fulfill. This was a once in a lifetime blackmail opportunity.
Courtney crossed over to me. She stopped when she was standing only about three feet away and crossed her arms under her boobs and tried to look bored. "Okay," she said. "Let's--"
"No," I said.
"The less you talk the easier this will be to explain." Courtney was furious. But half naked. So the effect was diminished. I was horny as hell and my dick was doing everything it could to grow hands and undo my zipper itself. "Squeeze yourself," I said.
Courtney grabbed her tits in either hand and squeezed, quickly, and dropped them. She gave an evil grin.
"Do it better than that," I said.
She sighed and raised her hands.
"Scoop them into your palms," I told her. Commanding her was getting easier. Courtney obediently slipped her upraised hands to her breasts, her thumbs brushing her nipples. "Lift," I said. Her fingers held each breast in hand like a plump water balloon. "Squeeze," I said and my dick strained against my pants. Courtney squeezed herself, closing her eyes to either avoid my hungry gaze or for some reason I would be a fool to guess at.
"You've just been fucking waiting for this day, haven't you?" she sneered.
"Oh yes, ma'am," I replied cheerfully.
"What's the matter? My sister's tits not big enough?"
"Bigger than your bankroll, apparently. Squeeze again. Rub your nipples."
"You fucking freak..." she mumbled as she drew her index fingers across her dark red buttons.
"Spit on your hand," I said.
Her eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Spit on your hand and rub it on your tits. Rub it all over."
Courtney licked her hand defiantly and smeared it over her left breast.
"Spit on it, Courtney."
The skin on her nose wrinkled. It looked like she was ready to hurl another insult but glanced fretfully at the door for an illuminated realization that if her sister walked into the door she'd have both tits in her hands, presenting them to her boyfriend in lustful supplication. Courtney brought her palm up to her chin and spat in it, glaring at me.
"Rub it on your chin."
"I'm serious, Courtney."
She rubbed it on her chin like it had a rash. When she pulled her hand away a white bubbly trail led from her pouted lower lip to a growing trickle at her neck.
"Spit on your hand again." This time Courtney did it without protest.
"Where do you want this one?" she snapped.
"Rub it on your left tit."
Courtney rubbed her saliva into her skin. "Do it again," I commanded. "Ugh," she said. She spat again and rubbed it over her breast. It was beautiful. The smooth sheen of her tan was now glistening under her apartment lights. I told her to repeat the same for her right tit.
"Lick your palms." Courtney licked her palms and ran them over her breasts. She ran her hands down her chest, to her belly. I made her do it several more times.
After a minute both of Courtney's breasts were coated in the sticky lather of her saliva. I couldn't hold back anymore. I reached down to my pants and yanked down the zipper. I'd barely unhooked the button before my dick popped out of my boxers and stuck straight out at Courtney. She actually jerked back at the sight of it.
"Holy shit!" she stammered, looking a little ridiculous, her cheeks shiny from the excess moisture of her spit. "Oh my god," she moaned. "I can't believe you're going to do this. This is so fucking gross."
I kicked off my shoes and pulled my boxers down with my jeans. I stood up to hook them off my ankles and faced Courtney. Separated by less space than we'd ever shared, I gazed down into her muddy brown eyes. "Your dick is poking into my stomach," she said through gritted teeth.
"Spit on your hand again." I smiled as she glared up at me and spat what she had left into her palm and rubbed. A wet smacking sound of sticky skin arose between us and I gently pried her hands away and laid my hands on her tits.
I let Courtney go on glaring as I ran my fingers over her wet chest and weighed each breast in my hand. Her skin yielded to me. After two years of Tara's petite A cups in my palms it was almost too much to suddenly be holding her sister's heavy C's. I leaned down and sniffed the spit on her chest and ignored Courtney as she slapped ineffectually at my shoulders. I gave her nipples two very welcoming kisses and she pushed me away.
I sat down heavily in the chair, dick sticking straight as a flag pole. I asked Courtney to squeeze herself a few more times before commanding her to get on her knees. Surprisingly she did this without comment.
Courtney was now sitting with her head and neck more or less aligned with my lap. Her raven hair trailed down over her shoulders. She stared at my penis as it wagged before her nose. Her tits were inches from brushing against my balls. "Let's get this over with," she said.
I was happy to. I moved forward on the chair and took her left shoulder in my right hand. Courtney sat up. Clearly versed in how this was done, she reached for my dick tentatively (it twitched and wriggled in her tense but longed for grasp). Grimacing, she placed it in the valley of her bosom and gathered her breasts in either hand. With my palms gripping both of her shoulders and her head trained down at my cock, she pushed her tits together and ran them slowly down my shaft.
I let out an appreciative groan.
Courtney didn't answer. She just leaned in and rubbed her palm over the top of my cock, pressing it hard against her chest. "Is that what you want?" she murmured.
"That's what I want, Courtney."
"You want me to rub my fat fucking titties over your dick, you shit?"
"Harder," I commanded her, and she complied. I stroked the back of her neck and humped forward to rub my balls against the sticky surface of her slick stomach.
"Ugh," Courtney said.
"You don't like my balls rubbing against you, Court?"
"No," she groaned.
"You don't mind that dick though, do you? You want that money."
"I want the fucking money," she said.
I couldn't help myself. I figured if she was willing to go this far she couldn't protest to a little dirty talk. "You're a little whore, huh?"
Courtney knew what I was doing. She kept her eyes trained down at my cock peeking up through the tops of her breasts and bent low until it almost hit her neck. Then she flexed and came up again, my swollen dick disappearing down her cleavage and leaving a slimier trail of precum on her tanned brown skin. "Yeah I'm a little whore," she replied. "You like getting off on your girlfriend's sister? That get you hot, asshole?"
"Yes," I said. I grabbed her shoulders and ordered her to squeeze her tits together harder. "Harder," I told her.
"You want to fuck these tits harder?" she spat. That gave me an idea.
"Spit on it," I told her.
"You know what."
A long white trail of spit left Courtney's lips and dribbled over the slit in my cockhead.
"No," Courtney said. She didn't look up. Her raven black hair framed her hands wrapped around my cock.
"Spit on it again."
A thin line of saliva left her big, angry mouth and missed my cock. It hit the wet surface of her breasts and she shook her chin to separate it from her mouth, finally using her hand to wipe it off her lips.
"Don't bother," I said. "Spit on it again."
"I can't," she said. "I'm out of spit."
"Then use your mouth."
Courtney continued to minister to my penis with her breasts squished together. She looked up at me defiantly.
"Use your mouth, Courtney. I want my dick wet."
"That wasn't what you said you wanted..."
I pulled her hands away. Courtney stayed on her knees and wiped at the streaks of spittle on her chest. I cupped her heavy boobs in my hands and squashed them over my dick. "What am I doing to you right now, Courtney?"
"You're fucking my tits."
I leaned forward in the chair. I felt like my entire lower body was on fire. I arched my pelvis up, up higher, higher until it trailed her own saliva over her chin. "What is this, Courtney?"
"It's your fucking dick," she snarled.
"Good girls don't let boys rub their dicks all over their tits."
"Stop," she said.
"You said I could. Say it. Tell me you're a good girl." I grabbed her hands and pressed them to her breasts. Together we squeezed my dick in and out of her sticky cleavage. Courtney had to arch her back and sit straight while on her knees to let me fuck her tits. She tilted her neck back to keep my dick from banging her face. I wrapped my hands around her bare shoulder blades and drew her close. "Say you're a good girl, Courtney."
"I'm not a--"
"Then say you're a bad girl."
She glared. "I'm a bad girl," she muttered.
"Tell me how slutty you are."
"I'm a slut."
"How slutty are you, Courtney?"
"I fucking hate you," she said. I wiped some dry spit from her cheek. She almost bit me.
I leaned back, bringing Courtney with me. I still had my hands on her shoulders. "Tell me what you're doing, Courtney."
"I'm giving my sister's boyfriend a titjob."
"Do you let lots of boys cum on your breasts?"
"Is that what you want?" she said.
"I want you to say it."
Clearly no one had ordered her around this way before. Her anger was close to being spent and now she just looked incredulous. "I let boys cum on my breasts," she said flatly. She kept my gaze the entire time, her tits rubbing up and down, up and down, the precum oozing from my dick starting to leave a thick, sudsy trail down her skin. I watched it ooze down her chest and groaned appreciatively.
"You let boys cum on you, Courtney?"
"All the time," she said. "Do you cum on my sister?"
"What do you think?" I said.
"Does she let you cum inside her?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? Say you're a slut."
"I'm a slut, fucker," Courtney repeated.
"Say you're my slut."
"I'm your fucking slut," she said.
"So put your mouth on my fucking cock," I demanded. Courtney's eyes widened. She stopped rubbing her tits against me. For a moment she looked, instead of angry, perplexed. Then she looked down at my dick as if she'd forgotten what she'd been squeezing her tits against for the past five minutes. "Can you spit?" I said.
"No..." she said, still staring down at my cock. It was red and a little chafed but damn it it was worth it.
"Open your mouth, Courtney."
Her hair fell forward over her forehead as she leaned down. Careful not to let my dick escape her tits, she bent over until my balls were smothered in her breasts and she could breathe over my cock. "Agh," she said. "God, I can smell your dick." I leaned up and felt Courtney's puckered lips suck my head.
"Yes," I said, running my fingers through her hair. I reached down and pulled my dick from Courtney's mouth. Mid-suck, I pulled a string of saliva and cum from off her tongue. "How does it taste?"
"Horrible," she said. "How long were you in the car?"
I pushed forward. Courtney tumbled backward onto the carpet. Her strong thighs widened to let me follow her down. I was suddenly intensely aware of how close I was to fucking a pussy that was not my girlfriend's. Then again, I'd just had my dick in her sister's mouth. I crouched over Courtney and pinned both of her hands with my own, my dick almost balanced on her chin. Courtney stared at it as if it would bite her.
"You don't deserve my sister," she hissed.
I stroked her hair over her forehead and gazed into her burning eyes. "Do it for the money," I told her. I rubbed the head of my cock over her flushed lips. "Do it for your sister."
"No..." she said.
"Use your mouth, Courtney. Make it wet. Just use your tongue. I'm keeping the money until you make me cum."
"Agh," she groaned. I rubbed the underside of my dick all over her mouth, precum sticking to her upper lip and nose. I grinned and pushed my member into her nostrils.
"Stop! Stop!" she said. "Okay, I'll do it. Back up."
Courtney shut her eyes and parted her lips, silently allowing me to slide my shaft across her open mouth. From underneath she stuck out her tongue. I popped my cock back and forth along her mouth, dragging my balls against her lips and pressing my shaft against her high cheekbone, and Courtney dutifully licked it each time it entered her mouth. "Say you're a whore," I said.
My dick retreated from her face. "I'm a whore," she repeated. I slipped my dick back over her mouth.
"Say it again," I said.
"m'a whore," she mumbled as I entered her.
I pulled out of her lips and trailed my dick down her cheek and neck until it was resting on the buoyant sphere of her breast. "Put me back in," I told her. Courtney grabbed my dick and slid it into her cleavage. My hands pressed into the carpet around her head and I rubbed against her as she pumped my cock between her slimy tits.
"You're fucking scum," she hissed.
"Fair enough," I groaned against her.
"I hope my sister comes home right now and sees you jerking off on me."
"I'd fucking love it." Clear precum was oozing out of my cock and pooling in the hollow of Courtney's neck.
"What about when I tell her what you did to me?"
I trailed my dick down her stomach and rested the base of my shaft against her clit. An expected tremor radiated out of her every limb and her protests were silenced by my mouth over hers. I slid my dick back up her stomach and watched the sticky mess it made of her curvaceous body. "I just needed to get you out of my system," I told her. "I'm going to cum."
"Where?" she asked.
"Where don't you want me to cum?" I asked.
"Don't cum on my face," she said. "Don't you dare," she threatened softly. In her eyes was the spark of defiant seduction. "Don't you dare cum on my fucking face," she spat. "You dirty motherfucker."
I held my shaft over her neck and made her grab me. As soon as her fingers slipped over my cock she started jerking me like mad.
"Don't you dare cum," she spat as she tried to point my cock away from her. "Don't you fucking cum on my face."
The heels of my palms dug into the carpet and I felt everything between the nape of my neck and my heels seize up. I drove my knees into the carpet beneath her shoulders.
"Jerk me off, Courtney. I'm gonna fucking cum."
Courtney pulled at my cock until I ejaculated over her mouth. She shut her eyes as thick ropes of jizz blasted out over her nose and hair. She cried out and let go. I snatched my dick away from her and continued to stroke myself, cumming down her chin, her neck and finally grabbing each breast so that I could squeeze my spunk over her tits. Two very frustrated years were suddenly drained in a torrent over my girlfriend's sister's body.
"Do you like cumming on me?" Courtney gasped. I watched my jizz stretch over her opened lips and immediately squirted again over her neck. "Is this how you fuck my sister?"
"Never," I huffed. It was true. It was never that intense. Courtney lay on the floor and let me rub my dick over her boobs until every string of sperm had escaped. When I was done I sat down hard beside her and gathered myself. Courtney sat up beside me. I reached above us and pulled down a kitchen towel and handed it to her. She took it wordlessly and wiped at her face and breasts.
"You're nasty," she said quietly.
"Yeah, well," I breathed, "you're a thief."
Courtney stared down at her hanging breasts and smirked. "You really wanted to fuck my tits..."
It was weird to see her smile. I sort of just nodded, my body still zinging from the emptied balls beneath me.
"Okay so do I get my money now or do I have to perform some other depraved sex act on you before you give it up?"
I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Regardless, I was spent and knew in the back of my mind I had to get cleaned up--that Courtney had to get cleaned up--before her sister got back.
"I don't know if that titfuck was worth two thousand dollars," I said. "But yeah, I'll get the money to you." After Courtney got up I said, "And happy birthday."
Courtney rolled her eyes. "Don't even think about following me into the shower to try to exact more payment from me. I know you haven't given me the money yet... But that would just be wrong." She crossed the carpet and disappeared into her room, her breasts swinging like smooth mocha. The word "wrong" echoed in my brain like thunder, the image of her wet smile like the lightning bright behind it.
Tara and I were making love. It was a Thursday night and about a month since I'd cum all over her sister's face and tits. My blackmail had worked in a faithless and uninterrupted way and by the time Tara had returned from the grocery store Courtney and I had both cleaned up and pretended like nothing had happened (Courtney did spend the rest of the weekend glaring at me when her sister wasn't looking, but that was normal). I had promised Courtney I'd return her ill-gotten money the next time she visited, and I'd meant it. Four weeks later Courtney was coming to visit us in Chicago, ostensibly to see the family who hadn't been able to make it to Indianapolis for her birthday.
Where was I? Tara and I were going at it. It was loving and comfortable, the way it always is. When we'd first hooked up the sex was a little more hot and heavy (and I've always been a bigger fan of rough stuff) but now that we were in love, the fucking had turned into love making and became a lot more dependable. And a lot less spontaneous.
Tara planted an adoring kiss on my mouth and shifted in the bed. I turned her over gently and pulled out. She scooted forward and laid her head on the pillow, raising her slim bottom to me. I got up, planted my hands on her waist, not looking, and prodded forward enthusiastically. A sudden "Yow!" alerted me that I'd mistakenly jabbed a sensitive place.
"Wrong hole," Tara said, and giggled.
"Sorry," I replied, and grabbed my offending member. Tara reached between her legs and helped guide me into her body. When my head rubbed against her slit she gave an appreciative moan and we continued our previous motion.
Later, sitting in bed together, spent but not really sleepy, I willed myself to ignore the urge to smoke. Tara thought I'd quit a year ago.
My girlfriend was curled around my arm and rubbing her fingers over my chest. She kissed my bicep and murmured something.
"What?" I asked, looking down.
"You were going to deflower my butt," she teased. Tara grinned at me from my elbow. I smiled and stroked her hair.
"Never," I said.
She looked puzzled. "Would you ever want to?"
I thought about how best to answer this. Tara might not have remembered, but one night early in our relationship we'd actually become almost startlingly drunk together and proceeded to try anal sex. It didn't go very well and I'd managed to get my half limp dick about an inch into her bottom before she pulled away and made me swear never to ask her to try that again. Then one of us got sick--I'm not altogether sure which one.
"I dunno," I said casually.
Tara grinned at me. "I bet you've thought about it."
I laughed. Well, truth be told, I had, but I never thought of asking Tara to submit to something so degrading. At least not sober.
"Why, do you want to?" I asked.
Tara wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Yuck. Like I really want your dick--or any dick--up my ass. No, honey, my behind is for one thing and you know very well that that's something girls don't do."
I smiled. "That's right. When you go to the bathroom it's just to brush your hair for ten minutes."
Tara pinched my sides. "That's right." She settled into me and laughed. "I have a few girlfriends who've done it. Most of them hated it."
"Most of them?"
"Don't get any thoughts, mister. Actually there was only one who said it wasn't that bad."
"Who?" I asked.
Tara shook her head.
"Oh come on."
She got defensive. "Why are you so interested?"
"I'm just curious," I said. And I was. Had I told Tara that I'd tried it with past girlfriends? That it usually precipitated the end of a relationship that had nothing left going for it but an experimental fuck? In any case, that time in my life was over. I was happily committed to Tara.
"It was Courtney," she said.
My dick gave a throb of longing. My skin prickled at the memory of Courtney's juicy breasts squeezing my cock. Tara continued unaware. "She's always getting together with these loser guys and she says she does it every now and then. She says it's different."
"Does she like it?" I asked, trying not to sound weird.
Tara grabbed a pillow and smacked me. "Don't tell her I told you! God, she'd kill me."
I laughed and pulled the pillow away. We fell into a groping, tickling match and that was the last time we discussed Courtney's backdoor proclivities.
The next day Courtney showed up early. I was washing the dishes in the sink and Tara was getting ready for work. I listened to Tara go to the door of our apartment and squeal with delight. She and her sister immediately fell to talking over each other and laughing. The rush of the faucet blotted out most of the ensuing mania.
As I scrubbed the dishes clean I listened to them clatter over our hardwood floor in their heels, commenting on new pieces of furniture or the mirror Tara had just purchased from an old woman four blocks down. They quieted for a moment and I figured they were either whispering about one or another family members or boyfriends or preening themselves in the mirror. I tried not to think too hard about what Courtney might be wearing. Unconsciously, my crotch did the thinking for me.
A few hardy knocks on the wood and Tara was at my cheek with a quick kiss and a smile. "I have to make the express today or they'll kill me. I told Courtney she could stay here and gave her the spare key. You're leaving at eleven?"
I nodded. "I don't think they've figured out how to get the electricity back yet. I'll call Mitch in an hour to see what's up." A week earlier my office had been host to a thrilling blackout caused by either a cunning cyber terrorist or some asshole drunk driver who plowed his car into a telephone pole. As you'd imagine, working in tech support amounts to pretty much nothing when all of the computers are down and there is no tech to support. Still, the power were touch and go and they'd been bringing the team in on alternating days to work the phones. I lead a fascinating life.
"I told her not to touch your desk."
I grabbed Tara's fingers with my soapy hand and kissed her soft knuckles. "Thanks, babe." She smiled that gorgeous smile and strode out of the kitchen. She and her sister exited the apartment together, their voices echoing down the three flights of stairs to the street. Then there was silence broken only by the door to our apartment building swinging open and shut. The old staircase made new protest at the swift stomping back up to the top. I heard each creak over the gushing water. I heard the apartment door swing open and shut. Then silence.
I rinsed off a glass and wiped it dry. As I set it on the rack I noticed my hand was shaking. I was excited. My adrenaline was up and foraging around my body for something to play with.
Courtney's heels went clack on the hardwood five or six times until the final step emptied out into the kitchen. I turned around.
Courtney was standing with her arms crossed and her long legs planted in black, open-toed heels. She had on a plain black skirt that cut off at about the mid-thigh and a white blouse that was fairly conservative except for a long loose dé