The Bad Sister

Veronica hunts through the drawers with that sharp, nosy grin, hunting for proof of her sister’s secrets. She cracks the diary open and the words hit her low and hot. Natalie’s own pages confess the girls she’s thought about touching, how boys at school leave her cold, how she’s desperate to fuck but scared to move. Veronica licks her lips, tasting the surprise, decides she’s the one who’ll drag the truth out. She reads until she owns it, reads until the pressure turns hungry. Natalie pushes the door open and freezes. Her diary, in Veronica’s grip. Eyes locked. Veronica stands, voice low, speaking every line she memorized, stripping Natalie bare without laying a finger. Natalie stammers, tries the Canada-boy lie. Veronica laughs once, a soft, filthy sound. It’s not happening later. It’s happening now. Their stepmother, Lisa, walks in to break the argument they fake just loud enough to pull her inside. Veronica cuts through Lisa’s questions quick and mean. "You teach her how to fuck, or Dad finds out you’re only here for the money." Lisa stares, caught, lips parting. Clothes drop one by one. Lisa’s breasts spill heavy compared to their tight, small nipples. The room smells like skin and nerves. Veronica kneels first, tongue dragging up her mother’s slit while Natalie watches, breathing hard. Then Natalie sinks between Lisa’s thighs, copying every lick, tasting every twitch. Lisa comes hard, thighs clamping, soaking Veronica’s chin. She flips them both, pulls Natalie’s legs open, shows her how a woman can be held, edged, ruined with just a mouth. Fingers slide, hips grind, every moan a new command. They move together, slick, trembling, no going back.