You trot upstairs with a bowl of ice cream in either hand, the cake batter for Winter and the double fudge ripple for yourself. This makes a simple task, like oh say knocking, a bit of a struggle. First you jostle the bowls around, trying to balance one precariously on the crook of an elbow to free up a hand, but this threatens to leave the white hallway carpet badly stained. The last thing you want to do is ruin the beautiful, expensive carpet in a house where you're a guest. So you knock with one of your feet.
"Winter?" You call uncertainly. No response.
You're not sure why you've taken such an interest in her. Learning that she's in some way interested in *you* has made you curious. The realization that her domestic life is about 100 times more fucked than you already figured has softened your feelings, too.
The door handle is the kind that functions as a lever rather than a knob, so that you can -- theoretically -- operate it with an appendage other than a clenched fist. Holding your arms out like a tightrope walker, you stoop and try to pull the handle to the down position by pressing on it with your nose. Turns out your nose is too weak, and only barely budges the handle, so that as you lower yourself past, it springs back up and whangs you in the eyes. "Ow -- fuck!--" you grunt, catching it now with your forehead, and bearing down, to force the handle and push the door ajar with the crown of your head.
Straightening your posture, you find... an empty bedroom.
There's no Winter, and moreover, there's not a whole lot else. This is clearly a guest bedroom, and Winter is still living out of a pair of suitcases that lie open near the far corner. The bed is fitted with plain white bedclothes, the walls are bare, the dresser and nightstand have nothing on top of them. It's as bland and unwelcoming as a motel suite. No wonder she wouldn't come running up here for comfort.
The nightstand drawer is slightly open. Setting the bowls of ice cream down, you peek inside. There's a book in here. Only once you crack it open do you realize it's her diary... and only because you glimpse your own name do you breach her privacy further by actually reading the damn thing. Example:
>September 28
>Summer is talking to Wesley AGAIN. There so gross. I can here them having phone sex from over here. ~(>_<~) GROSS GROSS GROSS I cant beleive Wesley would be into a girl as nasty as Summer. Not like shes any better though. I tried to talk to her today at school and what do I get nothing. She just stares at me like a creep. Like HELLO dont you know how to have a human conversation wacko? But Summer comes over and all suddenly its puppy dog eyes and kisses. Screw them both. Sluts. They dont even ever talk to me so why should I care about there gross nasty relationship? I bet Wesley has diseases anyway. She always stinks and her hair is so greasy YUCK
It goes on like this. You skim only a little of the novella-sized entries she makes. You're not the only thing she writes about, but you take up a lot more mental real estate than you possibly could have suspected.
>September 29
>Summer came back home from homecomeing and she STANK like she was defiantly having sex with Wesley! She was totally dishevelled and sweaty and GROSS and was all laughing when I asked what she did. ~(>_<~) ~(>_<~) ~(>_<~) she even made a remark like Wesley's MOM is cool to??? Wtf is Summer like sme kind of lesbianic milf hunter now? GROSSSSSSSS
Reading Winter's diary is "defiantly" some sort of moral failing on your part. You flip through it a little more, glimpse the words "Ms. Berenstoin" and "PENIS?!" and decide that you should quit. You close the diary and stow it back where you found it. You glance around the dreary little guest room. The ice cream's still melting.
Out in the hall, leaving the ice cream behind, you look this way and that. There's a strange low hum just on the threshold of your range of hearing. It seems to originate in a room kitty-corner from Winter's. You walk up. Put your ear against the door. Clasp a palm to your lips. Is that a...
The door is draped in twin pennants: one for the PAP Shoebills and another for the San Fransisco Giants. This is most "defiantly" Summer's bedroom, and that sound you hear is most "defiantly" a certain type of magic wand Summer bought on your rec. Now there's two options here: Summer, ditz she is, left her toy a-buzzing. Or Winter is doing something a lot more dubious than reading another's diary. Either way, you feel compelled to step in. Literally and metaphorically.
Whoa. Okay. Option B it is, then. Winter is lying on Summer's gaudy pink bedspread, naked below the waist, the vibrator jammed against her darkly tanned pussy. She's using her feet to hold the vibe steady, legs bowed, because both her hands are preoccupied -- pressing a pair of panties to her face. You recognize them. They're yours. Or they used to be, before Summer, pervert she is, asked you for them. Now Winter has them balled up and pressed tightly to her nostrils, huffing their scent, eyes wrenched shut, lost in her own personal masturbatory heaven.
You turn and softly leave the room. You thought you were prepared to see what you just saw, but you weren't -- and you would prefer to forget the whole thing ever happened. You'll even be cool about it and not mention it to Summer. Winter can thank you later... or not, because she didn't notice you...
You start towards the stairs again.
And that's when you feel a pair of hands wrap around your shoulders, yanking you back.
Tottering, arms flailing, you half-hop, half-tumble backwards into the pink wasteland of Summer's bedroom. Stuffies litter the floor, makeup and skin care and hair supplies litter the other available surfaces. It smells like a semi trailer full of vanilla beans jackknifed into a pina colada factory. Winter wheels you through a 180 and punches you in the tummy. You double over and fall to the ground.
"Are you spying on me? You gross little pervert!"
You hack up a wad of spittle and glare at her. "You're -- you're *jacking off* in your sister's bedroom, and you're calling ME the pervert?" (Pot, kettle, black. But Winter doesn't need to know that.)
Winter grits her teeth and lets out a choked "ghh--" of surprise. Looking down, noticing her nakedness for the first time, she covers her pussy with both hands. Too late, of course. You saw all. The little tuft of hair above it, the pristinely smooth labia, the puffy slit between. She's got a nice cunt. She flushes a shade of crimson that shows even through her dark complexion.
Bracing a hand against your knee, you stand again. "Maybe I should tell Summer what you do in here," you say, deciding maybe you shouldn't be so cool about this situation after all.
Winter's eyes get even wider. "It's -- it's not what you think!"
An evil idea strikes you. With a smirk, you say, "isn't it, though? Sitting in here, using her vibrator... sniffing her panties--"
"They're not hers!"
There we go. Her expression turns instantly regretful.
You pretend to be surprised. "They're not Summer's? Huh."
Winter looks away.
"Whose are they, then?"
You walk towards Summer's unmade bed, searching for the panties Winter dropped there. But then Winter's on your back. Literally. She leaps onto you and latches her legs around your midsection, her arms around your chest, like a semipro wrestler in an undercard bout. With balled fists, she beats you about the head and neck. "Get back!" She grunts. "Get out! Stop! Freak!"
Off-kilter, you stumble in an erratic arc around the bedroom with her, grabbing for her while also trying to stay upright. She claws and scratches at you, shouts into your eardrums. Finding some momentum, you ram your back against Summer's trophy case, pinning Winter there and making her body absorb the blow. But other than elicit a shriek of anger and make a whole lifetime's worth of intramural sports awards come raining down like confetti, it has no effect. You stumble forward again with Winter still latched to you, still beating on you. You grope for some part of her you can hurt. You find her wrist -- grab it, put it to your mouth, bite down. You draw blood. She howls. You've gotten her off of you -- she falls backwards -- but her weight drags you down, too. You topple supine to the floor with her. Together then, you and Winter turn and tussle amid Summer's plush teddy bears and discarded laundry. When she's on top, she slaps you in the face and pulls you hair. When you get her turned around and find yourself on top, you lock your elbow and press your palm savagely against her face, forcing her head repeatedly into the carpet. You yell at each other, senseless strings of broken obscenities and half-formed accusations.
Winter gets her knees curled up between you and kicks with force you're not expecting. She nails you right in the family jewels. You fall to the side, wincing and clutching at your cunt, and she regains the advantage, clambering over top of you. You try to rise, but she punches you once, hard, in the sternum, flooring you for good.
With roiling hate in her eyes, Winter takes a handful of your hair and gets her face directly over yours. She brings her jagged breathing under control. Her voice is flat and level: "whose panties do you think they are."
"...Mine..." you wheeze, voice coming out sounding like a geezer's.
"You stink. You're a gross, stinky, weeaboo loser." Her sneer is filled with malice and her glare could strike you dead.
Your voice is still raspy, but it's coming back to normal: "Then why were you smelling my panties? Seems like you were getting off to gross, stinky, weeaboo loser me--" Winter tugs hard on your hair. You tilt your head back, trying to relieve the pressure. "Ow, ow, ow! -- fuck, shit-- oof--"
"Summer told me you like to get bullied. Is it true? Do you get wet from being bullied, f-f-ffucking loser?"
You grin in defiance, even through the pain of having your hair pulled and the residual sting from your bruised ribs. "Cute. An F bomb. Is that a world first? You're usually so fuh-ricking PG-13."
Winter hocks a wad of spit from the back of her throat, all over your face. You grimace at the hot, slimy sensation of it oozing from your forehead, over your eyelids, and down across your cheek. You reflexively reach up to wipe it off, but Winter grabs your wrist and pins it, at the same time tugging even harder on your hair. You gasp in fresh agony. She meanwhile writhes on top of you, shifting her slender thighs, and you become acutely aware of her wet pussy against your leg. You're also acutely aware of her thundering heartbeat, so fast and so hard that you can feel it just from her lying chest-to-chest with you.
"Why did you come spying on me," she demands.
"I was trying to bring you some ice cream. Crazy bitch." You meet her gaze. Even with her saliva stinging in your eyes, you smile and say, "look, if you wanna smell my pussy that bad, pull down my pants and take a sniff. I'll only charge you $10. Since you're so sweet."
"BS. If you were bringing me ice cream, where is it?"
"I left it in your room."
She rises to her knees on top of you. Considers this. "I'll be right back."
As she stands, you sit up on your butt and peer at her. From this vantage, she seems so much larger and more intimidating than she really is. You again try to wipe the mess from your face, but she swats your hand. "Don't. You're cuter covered in my spit."
You're face-to-cunt with her. You can see her juicy pussy, the trail it leaves on her inner legs, and the dark tuft of hair above. Her twat is absolutely drooling.
So is yours.
"I want you naked when I get back," she says as she steps into the hallway.
There's no way you're going to let some bratty little runt like Winter boss you around for her own sexual thrills, right? You unbutton your jeans. Yeah, granted, you like to get bullied -- but only by people who are actually imposing, and who you actually admire in some way. People like Summer and Amelia. Not pipsqueak basket cases like Winter. You pull your hoodie off, careful not to let it wipe too much of Winter's still warm, gooey saliva from your face. You're not some turbosub who'll bend over and take it from just anyone. You shimmy free of your jeans. You hate Winter. The absolute last thing you want is to see her smug expression as she makes you submit to her... as she makes you obey her sick, twisted demands...
You pet your sticky pussy through the stained fabric of your panties, feel how well-defined the contours of your cleft are through the wet cotton. Grunting, you pull them down.
"I knew it. You do like getting bullied."
Winter comes back with both bowls of the now mostly-melted ice cream. Her voice conveys wonder as much as anything. She sits on Summer's bed, crossing her legs at the ankles. You stay on your knees on the floor, hands folded in your lap, naked at her feet.
But there's a lingering silence, and you realize that as with her older sister, you will need to take the lead with Winter too. Denalis are hopeless...
"Have you ever done this before, Winter?"
"No! So what?"
You're surprised at the candor. You bob your head side to side, considering that. Maybe she isn't quite as hopeless as Summer was. "Well. I'm on my knees. What are you gonna do now?"
"This one must be yours," she says. She hands you down your ice cream. But she keeps the spoon. She must see your confusion, because she explains: "put it on the ground. Eat like a dog."
You set the bowl down, but you don't bend over and eat, not right away. She'll have to work for it if she wants to take charge. It's more fun that way. Winter twirls her spoon in lazy circles around her own ice cream, watching you with a pleased expression that morphs into impatience and then anger as you silently refuse to comply with her orders.
"Did you hear me?" She says. "Or are you just stupid? Eat it like a doggy! Come on!"
"Or what?" You say.
Winter's face puckers. "Or... what?"
"Yeah. Or what."
Winter sets her bowl aside, stands, and in a fit of pique, grabs you by your hair again -- you're getting really sick of this shit. She brings your face down hard. Right into the bowl. You gasp at the cold, sticky sensation of the ice cream, and the hardness of the porcelain bowl slamming back against your forehead. The bowl tips forward, and the ice cream sloshes, getting all over your hair as well.
"When I give you an order, you listen! Stupid doggy! Eat your food!"
When she lets you go and you come up gasping for air, she laughs cruelly at your distress. You swipe the sugary mess from your eyelids so you can see, as shivering, you heave through the chocolate-flecked spittle dangling from your lips: "Jesus -- fucking -- you psychotic cunt!"
Winter settles on the bed once more. "Don't make me hit you. Eat."
Genuinely a little terrified now, you do as you're told. You get on all fours, like a bitch, grip the edge of the bowl, and start to lap. Winter giggles. She's just so pleased with herself. And you're beyond humiliated. You're defeated -- Winter has real control now, not the roleplayed control you were nicely granting her minutes before. Obedient, you lick up your ice cream as it drips off your sticky face, and you can feel your cunt getting wetter by the second from this abuse.
Your eyes bulge, then, as you see Winter's toes wiggling at the edge of your vision. This can't be real. She's dipping her toes, literally, into your dish. You pause mid-lap, watching as they breach the syrupy surface of the melted cream. Her foot is small and slender enough to fit into the relatively shallow bowl. You look up at her in disbelief; she looks down, grinning, as she licks her own spoon clean.
"Did you just--"
"I didn't tell you to stop eating, doggy."
"Fuck off. You put your FOOT in my i--"
Winter swings a leg up and presses the sole of her other foot against the top of your head. She forces you back down, and with nowhere else to go, your lips are back in this now tainted bowl of ice cream. She wiggles her toes, making tiny ripples in the cream, coating them in chocolate. "Lick me clean." Her dark, smooth calf flexes as she lifts her ankle a bit and lets her foot dangle above the surface, the ice cream running in rivulets off her skin.
She's making it clear that you have no choice in the matter. You're her bitch and you'll do as ordered.
You wrap your hands around her foot, just above the Achilles, and pull it towards your face. You're revolted. But there's no way you'll deny her. You dart your tongue out, test the streak of fudge on the ball of her foot. It's like a chocolate-covered pretzel. Sweet and salty. You want to retch.
"That's it. Gross bitch. Thank me."
"Thank you," you moan, dragging your tongue in a long slow path across her arch, all the way to her heel, and back again. She coos at your total submission, and eats her own dessert. A born sadist. Soon she presses her toes against your lips. You let you jaw hang open so she can slip them inside.
Winter has been outside all day. You can tell. Even coated in sweet-smelling ice cream, you can taste the sour tang of sweat beneath. She's merciless, raking her toes across your tongue, spreading them wide, forcing you to lick between them. You lips curl in disgust. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You're aware only vaguely that you're making noises like a pig. You keep her held about the ankle and suck her foot clean, as instructed. She makes you suck every square millimeter, and then again, for good measure.
Winter enjoys the slavish attention. More than enjoys it. She takes Summer's vibrator in hand again and sits on it. With her pretty pussy getting buzzed with her own sister's used sex toy, she giggles stupidly and calls you demeaning names. "Gross dyke. Slutty little doggy whore. Lick my feet, bitch... smelly, stupid, ugly bitch... yeah... yeahhhh... ooooohhh~"
She leans back, supporting herself on one hand. With her other, she drizzles her cake batter ice cream on herself -- from her thigh, up around her belly button, and then back towards her quivering pussy. "Lick me, doggy, lick me," she goads, excited and breathless. You're more than happy to stop licking her feet, so you comply instantly, drawing your lips sensually up her calf, across her supple thigh, and finally sucking on her navel. You run your hands along her body. She's small and hot, and her muscles are tight. But her little belly is squishy. You press down on it as you lick it. She laughs in a small, girlish voice. "Down, doggy, down. Lick me here... be a good bitch for mistress..." she drizzles a little extra cream on her pussy, and it starts to froth as the magic wand's ridged head oscillates against her mound.
You bury your face there, at the junction of Winter Denali's pussy and Summer Denali's sex toy. You're awash in a panoply of different smells -- Winter's feminine arousal, the remnants of Summer's also, and the chocolatey scent of ice cream, and the lingering stink of Winter's feet... it's overwhelming. You can't help yourself, and reach down between your legs with both hands to masturbate.
You eat Winter out. Virgin that she is, she can't handle the intensity of this sensation, and starts to buck her hips while moaning like a whore. She might mock you for being smelly, but she's just as bad, and her sweaty pussy almost makes you woozy. It has that same cloying tang her foot did, only also tinged with her cum. She slides her scrawny ass back and forth, riding the vibrator as well as your mouth. Her pubic hair is just a small patch directly above her clitoral hood, but it's coarse and it tickles your nose. You suck her clit, lick her pussy folds, and enjoy the knowledge that although she may be on top, you're the one in control of her orgasm.
Not for long. She drags you onto the bed without warning, tossing the vibrator to the floor and letting the remainder of her ice cream spill across the sheets.
"Winter--!!"
Pussy clenching, Winter rests her butt against one of your legs and starts to grope you. There's a crazed glint in her eyes, and a crazier smile on her lips. She kisses your sugar-sticky face, moans in your ear: "I'm gonna lick your pussy. Don't fight me. If you try to get away, I'll hurt you."
She spins around and latches her mouth on your pussy. Winter has never eaten a girl out before, that's for fucking sure -- and she does it in a way that's plainly for her own enjoyment rather than yours. Wrapping her mouth around your entire mound like she's biting into a peach, she buries her face in your crotch and inhales like she hasn't taken a breath in five minutes. She whines into your cuntmeat, voice high and shrill, practically cumming just from licking you out, and then her eager tongue is swabbing all around your intimate spots, exploring your folds and crevices. She even takes some curious but lingering licks at your tender asshole. She spares you no dignity, and there isn't any intimacy in her demented suckling.
You decide not to warn her, then, when you cum. If she wants to act like a pig, you'll treat her like a pig. You just squirt all over this bratty, perverted little bitch. It makes her pant. Her flat chest heaves. She basks in your squirting cum like she's standing under the refreshing stream of a hot shower. What she lacks in finesse she makes up for with enthusiasm, and she swallows down your juices with greedy, gulping, slurping sucks. You nut in Winter's face until you're totally empty.
"Dirty doggy~ Bad doggy~" She's gone all far-away sounding and airy -- half-ranting, half-swooning, and 100% incoherent, as she lifts her cum-slick face off your twat and twists around to sit on your chest. "You made a mess on mistress... you need to be punished..."
"Winter-- I can't breathe--"
She presses her feet tightly together, and then mashes them against you, rubbing her soles all over your forehead, nose, and mouth. Without the ice cream to help leaven the smell and taste, all that's left is the nasty reek of Winter's little feet, up-close and way too personal. "Lick me, bitch!" She hisses. "Make me cum!"
You lick her. Degraded, beaten, and exhausted, you let Winter rub her sweaty feet all over you as you lick it up all the grime and thank her for the privilege. That's the worst part, you think to yourself, as you moan "thank you" again and again. The fact that you, without even being ordered, are thanking Winter for treating you like this -- for using you as a human doormat. That's the most shameful thing of all. You wonder what Summer would say if she walked in on you. It makes your pussy flutter.
Winter plays with herself, strumming her clitty and fingering her gash as she gets off from stepping on you. She doesn't cum like her sister does, oh no. Winter's cum is an explosive ejaculation that paints your entire upper half -- not to mention Summer's already soiled comforter -- with her emissions. Of course she ejaculates on her own feet, too, which you dutifully and unquestioningly siphon up for her. That's what a good doggy does, after all. Winter continues to rub her stinky, sweaty feet all over you as she comes down from the orgasm, giggling all the while.
GIRLS FUCKED: 7/9