The Taming of Natalie Ch. 05

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Doggy Style

It started off as a tiny pinprick of discomfort, and grew throughout the night.

Charlie’s was the same as always. A darkened bar with TV sets mounted high and always tuned to games no one watched. The clamor of people chatting loud over one another. Unnaturally vivid green pool tables felt bathed in fluorescent light. The smack of pool balls striking and the constant dinging of the pinball machines in the back. Heavy air, scented with beer and cigarette smoke, hung over everything.

The five of us snagged a booth near the back and ordered pitchers of cheap beer. We played darts, pinball and pool. We bantered and joked. Lacking the motivation or courage to forge out into the unknown, we stayed within our comfortable little clique. Outside the five of us, there be dragons. We got drunk, all of us except for Martin who was our designated driver, and a good time was had by all. Everyone except me. The discomfort grew.

For those who can’t imagine my internal struggles, I’ll spell it out for you.

Wanting to fuck your sister is wrong. Even when she’s your step-sister. Even when it looks like she wants to fuck you. Even when it feels like the most ‘right’ thing there’s ever been. That’s the root of it.

That, of course, led to a very important question. Why did it feel so right? Why did I need Natalie so badly? I had impulse control and had denied myself things I’ve wanted in the past. So, why? Because it was sex—’the temptation of the flesh’? I wouldn’t be the trillionth human being to experience that failing. But I could tell lust from love. I didn’t spend hours analyzing every little thing a girl does when I simply lusted after her. Natalie had gotten under my skin and burrowed her way into my heart while I fantasized about her body.

So if it’s wrong to want to fuck Natalie. Is it even more wrong to love her and want to fuck her? Or is it more acceptable that way? Does the degree of ‘wrongness’ matter? Everyone’s a judge, whether they admit it or not, with or without evidence and testimony.

Guilt is a terrible, recursive process. There was a part of my mind that kept telling me what I was feeling was very wrong. I wanted to shut that part down. Yank out the cords, cut the power to it, and cram it in a closet so far back that I’d forget it ever existed. That would be convenient … peaceful, but I hadn’t yet, and didn’t know how. Worse, I knew I wanted to and the desire for self-deception soured my stomach. Guilt grew in such lush environs.

Then there was the jealousy. I shouldn’t feel so possessive of a girl I had no right to claim. It wasn’t just that I wanted to fuck my step-sister’s brains out on a daily basis, or that my heart yearned for her—I wanted her to be mine and no one else’s. I’ll say it, though it sounds ugly. I wanted to own her.

Natalie had said, straight to my face, that Cal wasn’t her type. That should be enough. That should be more than enough. But somehow it wasn’t. They got along, that much was plain and Cal wasn’t related to her. If they wanted to date, they wouldn’t need to hide anything. If they started having sex, they could tell anyone at any time.

It didn’t have to be Cal either. Cal wasn’t her type, but other men were. What if Natalie started dating someone else? A handsome guy with an office job, blue eyes and a nice smile. What if he showed up at the house to pick her up? What if she introduced him to me? What if she snuck him up to her room and they fucked—and I could hear them through the thin enclosure between our closets.

Natalie could have a normal open relationship, including sex, with any single man except me. If we continued on, exploring down the path I wanted to travel, Natalie and I would always need to keep our relations on the down low. It’d always be a dirty, shameful secret. The taboo would stain what he had, even if we loved one another.

And there it was. I didn’t know if she had the same feelings for me as I did for her.

I’d be a real chump if I dumped all these emotions on her and she turned to me with a smile and a raised eyebrow, and said, “We were just playing around. It doesn’t mean anything. I thought you knew.”

Or worse, if her expression was sad and pitying. “Oh, Josh, that’s so sweet, but I don’t think of you like that.”

The thought of my feelings being one-sided sent an awful spike of discomfort through me, hollowing my stomach.

My fuzzy, drunk mind couldn’t handle the thought of it, rearing like a panicked steed. Worst case scenarios are easy for me to imagine and the most difficult to wipe from my mind.

I couldn’t let her meet someone else without first presenting my case, without showing her what we could be. Our potential hovered around the two of us just waiting to be taken. Between the meaningless games of pool and darts, I convinced myself Natalie and I could overcome the difficulties imposed by a clandestine relationship.

By midnight I was making slurry excuses. I wanted to go home. Just wanted to go home. But there was one car and Martin was driving. So if I left, we’d all have to leave. A half hour gaziantep escort kadın later the five of us exited Charlie’s, stumbling and bumping into one another through the parking lot. Martin herded us like a sheep dog, and never once complained.

Martin offered to do things for us just because he liked us. He was a good guy and I didn’t say it enough. So, I told him on the way out to his car. It wasn’t an ‘I love you, man’ but it was close.

It occurred to me that I could head trouble off at the pass by telling Cal he wasn’t Natalie’s type. Only a drunken mind would consider such a ham-fisted, self-destructive comment. Fortunately, I chickened out.

We packed into Martin’s Lexus. It was a new car and smelled it. Smooth plastic and firm seats held us in its mute embrace for the ride home, and we fogged the windows with our beer-soaked breath. Martin dropped Cal off first—which was a relief because the guy let out farts that could kill vegetation—and then pulled into my development. I said my goodbyes, waved as they pulled away, and staggered up the walkway to my parent’s front door.


It’s embarrassing coming home drunk to your parent’s house when you’re an adult. I’m twenty-two, responsible, and home for the summer. I can drink if I want. But there’s always that little niggling voice in the back of your head saying that you’re taking advantage of your parent’s hospitality and you should get your own place.

My father and Doris lazed on the couch, watching TV when I entered. I tried to act calm and sober. Drunks never understand that there’s nothing more obvious than an inebriated person imitating a sober one.

“Have a good time with your friends?” my father asked. The glow from the TV screen accentuated every line on his oval face.

“I did. Tired, though. I should get to bed,” I said in my best sober voice.

The two of them chuckled at me. “Drink some water before you do, honey,” Doris said.

“Night.” I actually waved to them as I passed through.

Back in my room, I stripped down to T-shirt and boxers, and listened at my closet but heard nothing. Swallowing hard, I gathered my courage and slipped out of my room, closing the door behind me. I crept down the hall, hoping the floorboard wouldn’t creak and provide some evidence to my parents downstairs.

I didn’t knock, I just opened Natalie’s door, slunk in without looking and closed it behind me. After a moment’s pause, I locked it and stood in the dark, letting my eyes adjust. My heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and fear. I was doing this, I was really doing it.

Pale, silvery light washed in through the window on the opposite wall. Natalie lay under her covers, on her side facing away from me, hair spilled on her pillow. I crept to her bed, pulled up the covers and slipped underneath. In moments I was pressed up against her back, my erection nestling between her firm butt cheeks. She stirred, mumbling something incoherent, when I cupped a breast with my hand. It was warm and pliant. I massaged it through her nightshirt, and when that wasn’t enough slipped my hand underneath to caress the bare skin.

She let out a cute little moan, tensed and rotated her body toward me. In a sleepy voice she asked, “Josh?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said and kissed her neck.

I didn’t get a response other than her quickened breath, so I continued to feather kisses along her outstretched neck and fondle her breast. Her nipple rose and poked at my palm, while her body wriggled against me.

Natalie bit her lower lip. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a far-away voice.

The question sounded ridiculous, even drunk. “What’s it feel like?”

Natalie’s nightshirt was loose and thin. I slid it up over her breasts, delighting in the view of her pale curves in the dim light. I kissed down the swell of a breast and circled an areola with the tip of my tongue. At the same time, my palm grazed silky skin down to her taut stomach. She moaned, her entire body shuddering. Taking that as approval, I repeated the circle several more times before placing my lips over the hardened nipple. Gentle tugs preceded playful flicks of my tongue.

She whimpered and thin fingers ran through my hair. “Oh God … Josh … “

Overcome by lust, I let my hand slide down over her abdomen, expecting to encounter the waistband of her panties. She wasn’t wearing any. The thrill of discovery emboldened me, and I ventured further south to comb through her pubic hair with my fingers. Her hips rose up, pressing her mound against my hand. My middle finger found her slit and pressed in. Warm and lightly damp, her outer folds seemed to suck at my finger as I drew it up in a slow tease. Her clit was another puffy little nub under a small, protective hood of silken flesh. I grazed over it repeatedly.

Natalie’s soft cries of pleasure made my cock throb.

After my fourth trip down and up her hot, wet slit, I added a second finger, stretching her labia apart a bit more. She reacted escort gaziantep kadın by gyrating her hips against my fingers and jamming the nearest pillow into her face, muffling her moans.

I wanted, suddenly, to tell her how much I wanted her, how much I cared for her. A sober man would know that my actions stated that quite clearly, but my mind was still fuzzy. When I tried to tell her, her hand tensed on the back of my head, pushing my lips back onto her nipple.

Her smooth entrance beckoned my fingers. At first I only teased it, circling it with pressure, but when Natalie pushed her hips up again, two fingers found their way inside her. Immediately, I felt her walls squeeze against the intrusion, relax and squeeze again. It felt heavenly, even on my fingers. I pushed them into her slowly, up past the first knuckle, and then curled them on the way out. I repeated this over and over, her body quivering each time I pulled out. Then I added my thumb to her clit, just because I could.

Her legs spread wide for me, knees skimming the bed sheets to either side, heels touching, and toes curling. Muffled moans came faster from behind Natalie’s pillow. Her pleasure exhilarated me. I couldn’t get enough and lost track of time.

My fingers made quiet squishing noises as I manipulated Natalie’s sodden pussy. Her buried moans intensified. Finally, she peeked her head from behind the pillow and said in a shaky voice, “Oh … oh, Josh … going to … make me cum.”

Moments later, she released an enticing, whimpery cry into her pillow. Her vaginal muscles spasmed against my fingers, pussy bathing my digits in her hot juice. It lasted a long time, her body rippling against me. She kicked her covers off, her toes still curled. I continued to play with her until her orgasm subsided. When it finally ended, her entire body relaxed, melting against me.

I lifted my mouth from her nipple and propped my head up on an elbow, satisfied with what I had done. It felt like a staked claim.

Natalie shifted the pillow off her face and reached up to stroke my stubbled cheek with a trembling hand. Her adoring gaze made me smile.

For the second time that day, I licked her wetness off my fingers as she watched.

The sight of her mostly nude body had my cock painfully erect. My balls ached.

No, this couldn’t be wrong. Nothing that felt this good, this perfect, could possibly be wrong.

“I’ve never cum that hard before,” she whispered and then giggled. She pulled my head closer, and her lips sought mine. She sucked on my lower lip, then on the upper as we kissed. Our tongues flirted with one another, and my hand once again found a breast. Our breathing quickened as we made out.

I climbed between her spread legs and managed to free my straining cock from my boxers before she stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“We can’t,” she whispered, tears in her voice.

“Can’t what? We just did,” I replied in a hushed voice.

“I want you inside me, I really do—”

“I’ve got condoms.”

“I’m on the pill, Josh.” She swallowed a tiny sob. “I mean, I just can’t. We’re related.”

“By a piece of paper, Nat.”

“If we fuck, what does that make me?”

“My lover.” I leaned down to her and kissed her again. She must have liked my response because she kissed back, her tongue sliding between my welcoming lips.

Also, it makes you mine, I thought.

Natalie wrapped a hand around my freed cock. Her palm was warm and smooth, but moved with a deliberate firmness, stroking up and down. A delicious friction built up along the head and shaft of my cock. My head swam, the sensation almost too much to bear. Natalie’s urgent pumping felt better than I expected, better than my feeble motions ever had—conjuring a wild thrumming heat throughout my lower body.

My need to orgasm rose. I broke away from our kisses and tried to stop her. If I came, I’d need time before I could become hard again, and that meant we’d have to wait. In that time, she could have second thoughts or the mood could be lost. More importantly, I wanted, more than anything, to feel the head of my cock push into her warm depths. Anything delaying that had to be avoided.

But Natalie had other ideas and wouldn’t let me stop her. Each time her fingers slid over the head of my cock a rush of ecstasy hit me. My rapture swelled, pouring through me. Before long, I found myself right on the edge, little pinpricks of iridescent light popping in my vision.

“Cum on me, Josh,” she begged. “Please.”

So I did and the release was exquisite. My cock pulsed beneath her hand, shooting a stream of semen into the air. She pulled my shaft down so the rest splattered against her stomach and breasts. I watched her guide my spurts, my mind foggy from the euphoria flooding me. She pumped me dry, her mouth hanging open in delighted wonder.

When it was all over, I groaned and let myself slump off to the side.

Natalie licked her lips, ran manicured fingers through my cum and sampled gaziantep kadın escort me. She hummed her approval, and went back for seconds.

“Ten. Fifteen minutes max,” I said in desperation.

Natalie rolled to face me. “No, Josh … we can’t. Not like this.” My seed dripped lasciviously down her creamy skin.

She couldn’t be serious. After that? A spark of anger bloomed in my chest, but I knew arguing would be futile and apt to destroy what we had just built.

“How?” I didn’t like the whiny sound of my own voice.

“I’ve thought this over and—”

“and what?” Here it comes, I thought. I braced myself for the hammer blow. She had been thinking about our future and knew it couldn’t be.

“I’ve always had this fantasy …” she trailed off, staring into my eyes. Her expression seemed fragile, even in the dim light. It made me want her all the more, if that was even possible. “Maybe you could bring it to life.”

Relief flowed through me. “Anything,” I said and meant it.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if … you know … you made me.”

“What? I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t—”

Natalie put a finger against my lips. “If you tied me up and I was helpless. You could do anything you wanted to me, and it wouldn’t be my fault.” Her smile turned mischievous.

“Nat, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve—”

Again her finger tapped my lips. “Shut up, Josh. I’m telling you that you can tie me up and have your way with me.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked quietly, trying to wrap my head around her purposeful self-deception.

“Yes.” She bit her lip, looking younger than her nineteen years. “It makes me hot just thinking about it.”

“But if you want it, isn’t that—” She arched an eyebrow and I knew I would be better off letting it go. “I’ll find something to tie you up.”

“Not now, you idiot,” she hissed. “We can’t with our parents downstairs. I want to be as loud as I need, and not have to stuff a pillow in my face each time you make me cum.” Both our smiles widened at the use of the word ‘each’. “And you too. You were too noisy before. We have to wait until they’re gone.”

There weren’t many times when the two of us were alone in the house together. Doris had settled into the role of a homemaker and my father’s hours were wildly irregular. Natalie and I had summer jobs, which kept us out of the house for most of the day, though they’d be ending soon with September fast approaching.

There was one obvious exception.

“Their honeymoon week,” I whispered.

“Mmmhmmm,” she hummed. “I’ve always fantasized about being owned by a lusty, handsome boy. Controlled, toyed with, used.” She leaned in and kissed me tenderly, her lips soft and wet. “Like you did today. Could you do that to me for a whole week?”

I knew I could. It had been a reoccurring daydream of mine over these past months, and today I had gone further than I thought possible. “Yes,” I said, nodding slowly, but I began to wonder which of us would turn out to be the owner by week’s end.

Natalie reached down and caressed my limp cock. It responded immediately, hardening as her fingers played along my elongating shaft. The familiar velvety sensation shot a sensual thrill up my body, and I groaned again. She broke eye contact to watch my member respond to her touch. The sensitive head brushed her bare thigh, an inch or less from her wet pussy, like a torpedo just missing its intended target.

“Less than ten minutes, it appears,” she said, obviously pleased. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with this.”

“We can be quiet, I swear.”

Natalie shook her head, dashing my hopes. “Too risky. I’ll be yours, Josh. You just have to wait until our parents go on their honeymoon.”

The thought of playing bondage games with Natalie, alone in the house for an entire week, made me tremble in anticipation. “They leave in six days.”

“I know. Now get back to your room without them seeing you.”

I kissed her, before sliding off the bed. After pulling my boxers back up around my hips, I glanced back at her from the door and was again awestruck at her beauty. She lay almost naked, pale-skinned, her nightshirt shoved up to bunch above her breasts. The dark patch of her pussy drew my eyes. She followed my gaze, and coyly put a delicate hand over it, feigning modesty. It drew a groan from me. How was I going to last six days?

I unlocked her door, cracked it to peek out, and then slipped into the empty hallway. When I passed by our parents room, and their closed door, I heard my father snoring inside. Fear gripped me. Our parents must have come upstairs and went to bed without either Natalie or I knowing. What if they had heard us? What if Doris had wanted to check up on Natalie? Or if either of them had peered into my room to see if I was OK after my night of drinking only to find me gone? If any of those things had happened, Natalie and I would have known about it. It would have been a complete disaster. It would have ruined all our lives.

Do you ever feel weak in the knees considering something terrible that didn’t happen, but nearly had? The worst case ‘what if’? I did, standing there in the hall, and the sudden need to throw up hit me. I turned back and dashed into the bathroom. I spent five minutes, dizzy and panting, over an open toilet waiting for the contents of my stomach to boil up. They didn’t, and eventually I made my way back to my room.

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