Jealous Courtney Ch 02

Two months. It had been two months since my new baby brother, Colton, was brought home, and from that point on I had to deal with my mom and dad being constantly stressed, the house being in constant chaos . . . And the whole business with Courtney. Let me be specific: I had to deal with the whole business of Courtney giving me constant and unending shit. Of course, it's not unusual for Courtney to give me shit — but ever since our moment in the hospital, she's changed how she dishes it out. When we'd be eating takeout together, watching T.V. on the couch, she'd lean over and whisper in my ear beneath the screams of the baby: Soon it'll be our baby making all the noise, Mikey. Bet you'll be a good dad, too, 'cause you know that's the only way I'll let you do it again, let you fill me up a second time. Isn't that right? She'd hear my dad coming down the stairs from the Colton's room, disregard his approaching footsteps, lick my earlobe up and catch it in her teeth, biting down hard before pulling away from me like nothing had happened.

But then a few weeks passed. Courtney went from goading me into wanting her, to refusing to speak to me. Her reason at first was clear. I hadn't done what she'd asked. No period missed, no positive tests, no nothing. I could see it in her eyes when we passed one another, in the way she kept quiet when we were together, or how she went back to spending all her time with her friends as opposed to sticking around the house trying her damndest to get my attention. I'd disappointed her. So much so that she didn't even want to throw it in my face.

The truth, though, was that it was more than that: Courtney wasn't just angry. She was jealous. I should've known, but it took her stomping into my room late one night for me to find out.

"So who's the slut?" she asked.

I was at my laptop, and I turned in my chair to face her at the door.

"The slut?" I asked. "Other than . . . you?" I smiled. I thought I had a pretty good joke there . . . but she was more serious than I thought.

"I'll give you one chance to tell me who this girl you're talking to is or I'll scream my fucking lungs out and you know I'm not kidding around."

"Yeah? And wake the baby? Mom and dad will kill you." I could see the rage in her eyes, knew she was serious. "Look," I sighed. "Either you tell me what you're talking about or there's nothing I can really say."

"The slut." She already had her phone out, my Facebook open up. She pointed to a post on my wall, a girl from her class, Kennedy, who I had tutored once, asking how I'd been doing at college. I looked at Courtney, incredulous, shocked that was she possibly taking issue with this, could be so possessive of her own brother. The girl was four years younger than me, a sophomore in high school, nice enough, but a full on nerd, thick-rimmed glasses and everything . It was ridiculous. Outrageous. And suddenly, without being able to stop myself, I started laughing. It was too much; Courtney had taken it too far. The girl in question wasn't on my radar, wasn't someone that ever even crossed my mind in a sexual sense. Something about my laughter put my sister over the edge — her cheeks reddened, her eyes were ablaze, and with one swift motion she came forward, threw her index finger over my mouth, the single digit alone sending a gust of her scent — it was that strawberry soap I always saw in the shower — up my nose, it's smell powerful enough to quiet me. She leaned down to look me eye-to-eye; her tank top strained as her heaving breasts tilted forward and pushed against my chest, her finger slowly pushing its way into my mouth, in and out, in and out. Then she stopped, pulled her finger out, and grabbed my face with her hand, squeezing it together, fingernails clawing into my cheeks.

She only said two words under her breath: "You'll pay."

It seemed like only an hour later before I saw her update her Facebook: "In a relationship." I recognized the guy — she'd gone to prom with him the year before, starting QB for the football, a square block of a specimen so brawny he could get himself caught in a door frame.

Before the week was up, he was coming over to the house every day. Courtney would come right up to my door and yell to my parent's room: "IS IT OKAY IF BRETT SPENDS THE NIGHT?"

I could hear my mom yelling for her to be quiet, that it was fine, whatever as long as she was quiet.

"YEAH? OK, THANKS MOM." My door would squeak open, Courtney standing there only wearing the flannel shirt she slept in, unbuttoned halfway, her tits practically billowing out . . . and of course she had Brett's snapback on her head like a sign of his possession, his territory.

"You don't mind right, Mikey?"

"Since when do you care what I think?" I asked, trying to keep my cool.

"Hmm. Good point. I don't." She smiled — a glitter of evil in her eye — and walked off towards her room.

A few days later I got an unsuspecting message in my inbox. It was Kennedy. At first it was difficult to see beyond the string of crying emoticons she'd used, but considering the message that came along with them, they seemed justified.

"Mike I know there's probably nothing you can do, but if you could please tell your sister to stop, I'd be really, really, grateful. I swear I didn't do anything to her. This whole thing has gotten crazy, I mean I can't even go to school without people calling me a slut or whore whenever I'm in the hallway. If there's any way you can help, it'd mean so much. . . "

I got up and walked down the hallway, stomping into Courtney's room. She was on her bed, back against the pillows, iPhone in hand, laptop asleep beside her. All she was wearing was Brett's mesh practice jersey tied off at her midriff and some lace panties.

"Uh-uh?" she asked, tapping at her phone.

"What the hell did you do to that poor girl?"

She giggled, shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno what you're talking about."

"I'll give you one chance to tell me before I come over there."

Her eyebrows arched, and she looked at me skeptically. "What's it even matter? I mean if I had, say, happened to spread the word that she fucked half the football team and gave them a couple blowies in the locker room after their last game, would it really be that big of a deal? Or if I told all my friends to yell out 'Slut' whenever she walked by? I mean, Mikey, you said yourself that you don't care about her, so why are you bringing it up?"

I felt myself getting heated. You'd be hard-pressed to find a girl nicer than Kennedy. She was a hundred times the human Courtney was, that's for sure, and now she was getting bullied just because Courtney was mad, because Courtney had the popularity to pull it off.

"How could you--" I began, but she put her hand up, as if to shush me, and then put the phone to ear, receiving whoever was on the other end. "Hey, babe. Yeah, I'm here. Noooo I want you to pick me up. I don't want see that movie. Why don't we just snuggle at your place? Just you and me."

"Court—"

She shot me a glare. "Ok, see you in ten." A pause. "Babe, I already said I didn't want to—"

That was all I could take. I rushed in and jumped on her bed, the same move I'd pulled so many times through the years when we'd be horsing around and I had trapped her in her room. She shrieked out of shock, just like she used to, but before she could make another move I had myself straddled atop her, hand on her mouth, the other grabbing at the phone.

I swiped the call to End. I just sat there on top of her, refusing to move my hand off her mouth, refusing to move anything for that matter. I was pretty comfortable, to be honest. Her legs were warm against the inside of my thighs, and I could feel my dick sitting between the space they'd created, growing with only the slightest proximity to her cunt; I tossed the phone out of my off hand and began pushing her down by the shoulder. By now my cock was rock hard, bulging through the lining of my jeans; I slowly glided it against her panties, her clit growing full, engorged, practically pulsating through the lace there.

My hand was off her shoulder and down at her panties, kneading her nubbin. Her muffled moans reverberated against my hand, and she began licking the creases between my fingers, treating them like she might my cock; her pelvis thrust upwards, trying desperately to meet my dick, her legs still trapped beneath my own.

"What? You getting some bright ideas, sis? What about your little boyfriend coming over?" A sense of reality seemed to take over her countenance, pleasure turning to worry in her eyes.

"But you want my dick, don't you?" I hissed. "You wouldn't care if he walked through the door right now, would you? You'd still want it."

She looked at me callously, a flash of anger there, but then I could feel the slightest nod of her head, her agreeing with me, giving in to the question.

"Who fucks you better, ha, sis? Me or him? Which is it?"

I removed my hand from her mouth, a string of saliva following it. She grinned: "It might be you, Mikey, but at least I know Brett can give me the baby I want whenever I want it. Can't say the same about somebody else who couldn't do the job. . ." She laughed, and I was struck by her comment: I knew she wanted me, but she still had the act up, still wouldn't totally give in, still wanted to embarrass me. She bucked me off her, and even though I could've held her down, I let her go.

I watched her get up and work her panties back into place, her ass shaking as the pencil-thin g-string was devoured by her plump ass-cheeks. We both heard a sudden knock on the door. I stood up, perched myself on the edge of the bed to look as if I'd just sat down to visit — my sister went and opened the door.

"Sweetie . . ." It was my mom. I could hear the sluggishness in her voice. "Me and your dad are going to go for a little walk with the boy. The fresh air will do us some good, I think."

"Whatever," Courtney said.

"Mom," I said, through the door. "If you want to leave Colton so you two have some alone time, me and Court can watch him. It's not a problem."

The door opened a crack, and my mom smiled lightly, wearily, but shook her head. "No, I wouldn't want him out of my sight — besides, we took him on the last walk and he was out like a light. We're crossing our fingers we get more of the same."

"Whatever works," I said.

"Not like I would watch it anyway," Courtney said. "I'm going to Brett's."

"I understand, honey, it's so rowdy here," my mom said, before saying her goodbyes.

We were silent as the front door shut as my parents left, the echo of the door coming down the hallway, amplifying whatever lay between my sister and I, calling attention to whatever it was . . .

"So, like, you can go," she said, nodding to the door. Her index fingered twirled in her hair, her off-hand wrapped around her exposed midsection.

I stood up. "You're going to apologize to Kennedy," I said, defiantly. "You're going to apologize and you're going to stop whatever shit you're pulling."

"Ahh, isn't that cute, Mikey thinks he can make me do as he says? Fuck off."

I approached her.

"Look, I have to get ready, Brett will be here any minute" she said, walking out the door, trying to get to the bathroom. I jumped in front of her and cut her off.

"You gonna stop fucking with Kennedy, then?"

"I don't think your little slut deserves for me to stop fucking with her. Now move out of the way—"

I pushed myself against her, backed her up into Colton's empty room, gently shoved her back, making her stumble onto the carpet next to the crib.

"Seriously, Brett will be here any moment." She sounded worried, looked around. I could practically see her nipples at attention bursting through the mesh football jersey she had on, and her tits made the jersey protrude more than the chest plate on any shoulder pads possibly could.

"You're going to apologize," I told her. "If only because I'm going to make you."

"Mike—"

I unzipped my pants, unbuckled them, and walked forward, my cock limp, slapping against my thigh as I gained ground.

"Stop—" she said, but her hands were already on my chest, scrunching up my shirt, and by then my hands were on her ass, cupping it, pulling her towards me. She looked up at me, pouty eyes and all, and then slowly eased down and took my dick in her hands, holding it there, rubbing the head, feeling the shaft.

A dribble of precum dripped on her index finger, "Look at my big brother, always with the best intentions in mind, ha?" She went to clean her finger by wiping the cum onto my shirt — but I grasped her hand before she could, shoving the finger into her mouth. My dick was at attention now, clamoring for the pussy before it, and before I knew it was lunging at Courtney, pulling her up, locking her legs behind my back, thrusting my tongue into her mouth to meet her own.

I twirled around and pushed her up against the closet door, clawing at the jersey she had on, forcing it up to reveal her massive tits, the jersey sitting atop them like they made for the perfect shelf; I grabbed at her throat, kissed her neck and moved down to them, gorging on each nipple as she moaned.

When I came back up for air she gasped at my having stopped, grabbed my face and whispered in my ear: "Brett's never even touched me, you know that? I've just been waiting for this. I knew you would take me again. I knew you weren't done trying to fill me up, Mikey."

I pulled her down off me, led her by hand over to the crib, and bent her over. Her back arched immediately, her shaved pussy revealing itself. "Do it," she said. "I want to feel your cock in me. Stretch me out with your fat prick."

I slid in slow, like last time, but wouldn't give her time to recover this time around — it was only seconds before I was fully in, her back arching even further to accommodate the sensation, to open herself up to me.

"Yes! Just like that, Mikey, don't stop now, don't stop giving it to me."

Her cunt-juices eased the pathway to her cervix, and mixed with my precum, my dick was seamlessly flowing in and out, touching every crevice of hers along the way. Her done-up nails, glittered and silver, clawed into the side of the baby's crib, her grip so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

I took both of my hands and gripped onto the mesh jersey to gain even more momentum, the material grinding up against the top of her tits, only causing them to bounce even harder below, back and forth, slapping into the crib itself.

"FUCK, NO ONE'ES EVER FUCKED ME LIKE THIS, MIKEY. DON'T STOP, WHATEVER YOU DO."

Her tits were irresistible, and I couldn't help but reach over and grab them both, cupping them in my hands as her pert ass bounced back and forth on my shaft, her pussy eagerly engulfing my cock.

I was grunting against my will, biting my lower lip, something barbaric stemming from deep within me revealing itself.

"USE ME AS YOUR FUCK-DOLL, MIKEY. DUMP YOUR LOAD IN YOUR SISTER LIKE YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO. FILL ME UP. BREED ME. BREED ME LIKE THE SLUT I AM."

I grabbed her hair with both hands, practically pulling it out at the root. I could feel my load building — I hadn't come since that fateful day with her. I'd been waiting for this just as she had been. There was nothing else worth cumming for unless it was in her, unless it was for the sole goal of getting her knocked up once and for all.

"GIVE ME OUR BABY, MIKEY."

My cock exploded within her, plastering her insides, streams of cum filling her as my dick planted itself against her cervix, causing her to squeal in joy and pain; she rubbed against my groin to get every last centimeter of cock inside her that she could.

"Yes, Mikey," she cooed, "Yes, yes, thank you. Fuck that was good."

But I wasn't done.

"Lock your legs," I said. "What do you mean--"

I pulled out and immediately grabbed both of her legs, crossing her ankles together, making sure nothing would come in or out of her pussy for the time being as it lay clenched shut.

I reached around, and immediately began rubbing her red, puffy clit. It was slow, rhythmic, an unerring climb towards her orgasm.

She could barely contain her moans, and one of her hands found the back of my head, clawed into my neck, the other aided the hand I had on her clit, cupped it, encouraged it to proceed.

"Mikey, fuck—" her voice gave out as I increased the pressure, the motion—

"Are you going to apologize to that girl?" I whispered.

She nodded, groaned.

"Say it," I said.

"Whatever. I promise, I'll never —" she shuddered — "I'll never say another word. I'll apologize tomorrow. First thing. Just don't — stop —"

It was like a buzzing taking place within her, throttling her, taking over her being; she shook violently, buckled, collapsing onto her knees, her hands clutched desperately onto the top of the cradle, her only means of support.

With her legs undone, her pussy canal opened, and the excesses of my cum slowly leaked out into a puddle on the carpet beneath her crumpled body. She seemed stuck in that position, exhausted, spent, and totally mine.

I leaned down and whispered into her ear: "That's a good girl."

There was a loud knock at the front door. I walked out to find Brett standing there, asking for Courtney.

"She won't be seeing anyone tonight. It's been a long day and she's very tired."

He seemed confused, his jaw agape like some sort of ape. "But she was going to come over to spend the night—"

"Not anymore," I said. "Have a good night, Brett."

He couldn't get another word in before the door slammed shut in his face.

I went back into Colton's room to find Courtney in the exact same spot I left her in. I didn't say a word: Instead, I grabbed the jersey she was wearing, shimmied it off of her, and ran back out the front door and out to the driveway. Brett's truck was sitting there, idle. I tossed the jersey through the window.

"You might want that. My sister's done with you."

Back inside, I stood before my sister in complete silence, a sense of harmony overtaking the house. "Clean yourself up," I said. "I want you decent when are parents are home."

"Whatever you say, Mikey. Whatever you say."