Natashas Journal Messy Anal
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Natasha's Turn free porn video
NATASHA'S TURN by Kandi Kox
I tried to make it last, really I did. But I was just too turned on. I'd
been on the verge of coming from the moment she'd fumbled with my
zipper. This was the hottest girl I knew, the one I'd been lusting after
for as long as I could get hard. And now this goddess was kneeling
between my legs, struggling to free the biggest erection I could ever
remember producing. When she finally engulfed it with the warm, wet
mouth I had so enthusiastically been exploring seconds earlier with my
tongue, it was all I could do not to lean back against the wall of the
alleyway outside the bar, close my eyes and just pour my seed down her
throat.
But this was too big a moment not to savour. It had cost me a lot of
time and effort to get here. Six months of being nice to my bratty
sister before I could get her to introduce me to her gorgeous best
friend. And then another six months of building my target's trust, being
a pal rather than a suitor, becoming the boy she could talk to, the only
one who wasn't trying to get into her pants. All while I plotted to do
exactly that.
And then the moment finally arriving, a night out to help me take my
mind off my latest failed relationship,plus some bad news about illness
in my family that was too painful to discuss. (I'd dumped one of two
current girlfriends because I was bored of her, and a cat I'd never
liked had been put down.) Getting her sufficiently drunk to loosen her
defences while I stayed sober enough to breach them. The hammer blow
when she regretfully told me that she had her period - and then the joy
of realising that she was so keen to get it on with me that she was
willing to do "the next best thing."
Only it wasn't, not where I was concerned. Because nothing could beat a
blowjob. Oh, I liked the regular kind of sex just fine. And being
blessed with good looks, quick wit and self-confidence, I'd got plenty
of that from an early age, for all that I was shorter and skinnier than
my competitors. But I'd also had enough experience to realise that while
coming inside a girl was nice, there was something extra special about
both feeling and watching her suck me off. About the way I could choose
to let her do all the work, or just as easily grab her head and fuck her
face. About the control it gave me over her.
And now, i had the beautiful Bella between my legs, her lustrous black
tresses tumbling down past her bare shoulders, her small but perfect
breasts peeking out from her unbuttoned blouse, the nipples still stiff
from my caresses, and those wondrous almond eyes turned up to me as if
in supplication. I wasn't sure what was more arousing, her exotic beauty
or her submissiveness. But I knew exactly what both she and I needed.
It was her turn. Her turn to get the gift that, sooner or later, I had
given to every girl I'd been with.
As the orgasm rose unstoppably inside of me I groaned and sent a blast
of spunk between her luscious lips and down her throat. Yet lost as I
was in the roar of my climax, I still had the presence of mind to pull
back, grab my spasming cock and send jet after jet of the remaining jism
all over her face and hair.
The feeling of release was exquisite, mixed as it was with the
satisfaction of a well laid plan so perfectly executed. Yet even better
was the tableau I'd created, of Bella's breathtakingly beautiful face
tilted up towards me, mouth agape, eyes reflexively closed against the
torrent I had unleashed, her finely chiselled features not marred but
adorned by the gobs of white cream that now clung to them.
And best of all, I was ready to capture it. I could only hope my hands
weren't shaking too much as I lifted my phone, camera already primed,
and took a quick burst of photos to commemorate my triumph. Then and
only then did I allow myself to slump backwards against the cold bricks
and let the ecstasy wash over me.
"What ... the ... FUCK?"
The last word was almost a scream. I opened my eyes to see Bella looking
up at me in fury, blinking as she tried to loosen the goo that clogged
her long eyelashes.
"What's up babe?" I asked, feigning consternation.
"Did you ... Did you just come all over my fucking face and film it on
your fucking phone?" Moments ago, she'd been slurring every other word,
but now the anger seemed to have sobered her up. And I'd never heard her
swear before.
"I'm sorry Bella, I just ... lost control. You were so amazing!" I
blinked myself, trying to suggest confusion, and looked down at the
device in my hand as if surprised to see it there. "And no, of course I
didn't film it."
"Show me," she snarled, pulling herself to her feet and swaying
unsteadily on her heels. She reached out to grab the phone, but I darted
out of reach. Her expression was furious, but I was still captivated by
the sight of the spunk that coated the smooth brown skin on her face.
She seemed to realise what I was staring at and attempted to wipe it
away, succeeding only in smearing it further.
"Look Bella,really, I'm sorry," I said, holding my hands up as if ready
to ward off an attack. "Why don't we go back into the bar and talk about
it? After you've, um, cleaned up?"
She stared at me and I had the uncomfortable feeling that she was seeing
me for the first time. Holding out her hand, palm up, she repeated:
"Show me." Her voice was quiet now, yet seemed to carry a strange echo,
almost as if it were reverberating inside my head.
To my surprise, I found myself handing over the phone. Not that it
mattered, I reasoned. It wasn't as if I'd done anything wrong. I hadn't
even lied to her. Not explicitly anyway.
She glanced at the device, then back at me, arching her perfectly
crafted eyebrows. I told her the code and she unlocked it, then spent
several minutes studying the display, her finger lazily flicking through
what I assumed were my most recent photos.
The sounds of revelry from the nearby bar seemed to fade into the
distance and an oppressive silence took over the alleyway. I realised
belatedly that my now flaccid cock was still dangling from my open
zipper and hastily tucked it away. Then I stared at my feet, not wanting
to interrupt whatever she was doing, until finally I could stand it no
longer.
"Bella -" I began, looking up.
"Catch," she said. I got my hand up just in time to prevent the phone
from sailing over my head. I opened my mouth to say ... something, I
wasn't sure what. But the intense look on her face pulled me up short.
Frowning in concentration, she extended a hand in front of her, her
delicate fingers and thumb outstretched as if they were gripping a ball.
She glanced at me, gave a half smile and spoke some quiet words in a
language I didn't understand.
"What-" The mystified question was still forming on my lips when she
rotated her hand sharply, as if turning a door knob to open it. As she
did so, the world around me seemed to lurch and grow dim. I was barely
conscious of dropping to one knee to steady myself.
By the time I regained my wits, the alley was empty. Climbing unsteadily
to my feet, I checked my phone was okay and headed off to find a ride
home. I must have had more to drink than I'd thought.
When I woke in the morning, after a night filled with strange dreams
that I couldn't quite piece together, there was no sign of a hangover.
Just a sense that the world was somehow out of focus, as if I were
seeing it through a mist. But I felt no pangs of alarm, just a deep
tranquility. I looked briefly at the phone on my bedside cabinet,
wondering if there was something on it I should check, but then
concluding that there was nothing I needed to know about. I could do
without it and all its attendant distractions for a day.
After a lengthy shower, shaving seemed to take ages. I went through two
razors and several applications of the electric shaver before I could
get my skin as smooth as I wanted it. When I went back to my room, I
also struggled to find the clothes I wanted. Eventually I went and
knocked on my sister's door.
"Alina, can I come in?" There was a grunt of assent and I entered the
darkened room to find its occupant in bed, only the top of her hair
visible beneath the duvet. "Sorry sis, I can't seem to find any
underwear. Can I check your drawer?"
There was a short pause before she responded. "Uh, sure. Second down on
the left. Don't think there's any of yours in there, but knock yourself
out." A hand snaked out to turn on the light, before she buried her head
back under the covers.
I sifted through the drawer, uncertain of what I was looking for, until
I found it. I held up the item in question. "Okay if I wear this?"
Alina poked her head out and peered at me, blinking to clear the sleep
from her eyes. Her expression froze. "Andrei," she said slowly, "you do
know -"
The chiming of her phone cut her off. She reached for it slowly, her
eyes still fixed on what I held in my hand. "Alina," she said, as if
uncertain that was really who she was. She listened for a few seconds,
then snapped her head round as if trying to see what she was being told.
There was a pause, then her eyes flicked back to me. "Yes he is," she
said, "but -"
She broke off, then twirled a finger at me to turn around. I did so and
heard her get out of bed, then the rustle as she pulled on clothing.
"Back in a minute," she called as she scurried out of the room.
I sat down on the bed to wait for her, placidly examining the pink
cotton panties in my hand and admiring the speckled pattern that seemed
to shimmer in the artificial light.
It was a full 15 or 20 minutes before Alina returned. "Sorry about
that," she said. Her expression was one of mild amusement, though
something else glittered in her eyes that I couldn't quite read. "So you
wanted to wear those, yeah?" she asked, indicating the panties that I
still held. I nodded.
"Okay," she said, "but you do realise there's another half?" She rooted
around in another drawer, before throwing me something in a matching
fabric that resembled a crop top. "I'm too big for that now, but it
should fit you just fine. Go on, try them on."
She turned her back on me as I shrugged off my robe and stepped into the
panties. They were a snug fit, though the fabric felt strange against my
skin. Perhaps it was a new kind of material. I struggled to get the crop
top on, until Alina helped me with the clasps at the back. Again, the
feeling of it pressing against my bare chest was odd, though not
unpleasant.
I cupped my hands experimentally on the small padded cups at the front
of the top. "These almost look like breasts," I said. "They do, don't
they!" laughed Alina. She glanced down, then back up. "Um, you might
want to do something though about ..." She made a vague gesture.
"What?" I asked blankly.
"Your, er, bulge?" she said, pointing at my groin. I still didn't
understand. "You might want to ... tuck your ptak away? So it doesn't
show so much?
I followed her gaze. Now she mentioned it, there did seem to be
something wrong about the way that the outline of my package was plainly
visible underneath the taut fabric. While Alina looked away I
repositioned the offending item so that it was tucked between my legs.
There was still something of a bulge there, but it was nothing like as
noticeable.
"Much better," pronounced my sister. "Now, what were you planning to
wear on top of that lovely underwear?"
I frowned and thought about all the clothes in my wardrobe. Suddenly,
none of them seemed suitable, any more than my collection of underpants
and boxer shorts had done. "I'm ... not sure," I confessed. "Do you have
any suggestions?"
As it turned out, she did. She paired faded denim shorts with a short
lavender top that stopped above my belly button and was tight enough to
show the small bumps underneath, and over that a light blue shirt with
attractive flower patterns. At Alina's prompting I rolled up the sleeves
and left the front buttons undone.
She also gave me a pair of navy blue and white striped woollen socks to
wear. I held them up dubiously. "Aren't these kind of ... long?"
"Just try them," suggested Alina. When I pulled them on, they came up
above my knees, stretching so that the fabric became translucent. I
expected them to itch, but they clung very comfortably to my newly
hairless legs. Indeed the feeling was almost sensual.
"Wow," said my sister enthusiastically, "you look great! But there's one
last thing to complete the outfit," she added, handing me a pair of
sandals.
I stared at them. "These have .... heels!"
"So?" ceme the reply. Her tone was light, but there was also a challenge
there. "They're only wedges," she continued, "and not very high ones at
that. You've got a good sense of balance, you'll be fine."
As it turned out, she was right. At least until I tried to walk in them.
Alina had to give me a crash course in the art of walking in heels,
which wasn't so easy because it was something she more or less took for
granted. But I eventually started to get the hang of it and she sent me
outside to practise in the corridor while she showered and dressed.
Getting downstairs proved another challenge, but I felt a real sense of
achievement when I made it without stumbling or having to grab the rail.
With our parents away, we had the house to ourselves, so while I started
making us breakfast Alina was able to put some music on and crank up the
volume way past what we would usually have been allowed.
The next few hours passed pleasantly as we chatted and occasionally got
up to dance to some of our favourite tracks. I wanted to kick off my
sandals, but Alina insisted I got used to dancing in them. Just in case
we wanted to go out later, she said. So I persevered and while I did
have to take breaks from the heels to prevent my calves and feet from
getting too sore, I found I could manage okay on our improvised dance
floor in the hall.
While we were chatting and my sister was showing me an Insta post from a
singer and producer she'd just discovered, something prompted me to ask:
"Alina, do you think I could look like that?"
She squinted at me. "What, you mean the hairstyle?"
"Ye-es," I replied slowly, "the hair and ..."
"The makeup?," she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. I
gave a sheepish nod and her smile broadened. "Not all of it," I hastened
to add. "Maybe just, you know, the eyeliner or whatever you call it."
"Sure," she responded. "I could do with the practice. Come on." She led
me upstairs and into her bedroom, sitting me down in front of her
dressing table. Alina was training to be a hairdresser and she'd used me
as a model before, so she knew my hair well. But she also loved doing
makeup for her TikTok videos, which had gained quite a following.
She didn't do a lot to my tousled dark brown hair. But a few judicious
snips here and there, a light use of the curling iron and some strategic
hairspray produced a cut which she described as "something like a French
bob." It left me with curls that framed my face in a way that was both
unfamiliar and a lot more appealing than I would have thought
After that, it was on to my eyes. Alina got out something that looked
like a felt tip pen and was about to apply it when she stopped and gave
me a searching look.
"Look, I can just do eyeliner if you like. But it would be so much
better if you let me use some eyeshadow as well. And maybe some mascara
to thicken up those lovely lashes of yours. Do you think you can handle
that?"
I wasn't sure that I could and opened my mouth to say so. But as quickly
as the thought came, it seemed to slip away into the haze that had
surrounded me since I got up that morning. And all of a sudden, what my
sister was proposing seemed not just sensible, but the most natural
thing in the world.
"Of course I can sis," I answered with a smile, "whatever you think
would look good."
So, one thing led to another and more than an hour later not only had my
eyes been worked on but the whole of my face - a process that seemed to
consume astonishing quantities of creams, powders and liquids, applied
by an amazing array of brushes of varying sizes.
The final touch saw my lips being coated with what seemed to be an
astonishingly bright pink lipstick - fuchsia, I think Alina called the
colour. "We're going bold," she said with a grin.
"Okay," she said when she had finished, "are you ready to meet the new
you?" I nodded, a knot of trepidation forming in my stomach. Alina had
been careful throughout the process not to let me get a glimpse of her
work. But she turned me round now to face the mirror. "What do you
think?," she asked, with just a touch of anxiety to match my own.
I blinked, conscious of the heavy feel of my eyelids and the strange
taste on my lips. But as the image in the mirror came into focus, all
that was forgotten.
For a brother and sister, Alina and I didn't look much alike. If you
squinted, you could see the resemblance. But where she was closer to our
father, I had our mother's looks. (Alina always insisted that I'd had
the better deal, and I was never inclined to disagree.) But if I'd ever
had a twin sister, she would be staring at me right now. Either that, or
a younger and much hotter version of our mother - a thought I pushed
away as quickly as it arrived.
"Fuck me," I breathed.
"Yes," said Alina with a chuckle. "That is exactly what that look is
saying!"
She was not wrong. The girl I was looking at was ... well, pretty wasn't
quite the word, because the shape of the face wasn't right, somehow. But
attractive, striking, even glamorous - certainly. Part of that was the
fantastic job Alina had done to highlight my eyes, which combined heavy
black lines with glittering gold shadow to create a sultry, smouldering
look. But best of all were my brightly painted and naturally plump lips,
especially parted as they were right now in a perfect O of surprise that
made me blush just imagining what they seemed to be inviting. As I
watched, they came together to rest in what could only be described as a
pout.
"You know," mused Alina, her tone suddenly more serious, "I don't think
that's Andrei, do you?" I shook my head. She laid a hand on my arm,
leaning in alongside of me to peer at the reflection. "So who do you
see? Give me her name."
The slight but perceptible emphasis on "her" sent a shiver through me,
but I considered the question all the same. "Tash," I said slowly
thinking of one of my favourite musicians - and not just because we'd
listened to one of their songs not fifteen minutes earlier. I frowned.
That didn't sound quite right though. "No, Tasha."
"Natasha!" squealed Alina,straightening up and clapping her hands with
glee. "Yes - it's perfect!"
I wasn't sure whether she'd misheard me or just preferred the longer
form. Either way, I didn't mind. "Natasha," I repeated softly, then
watched a delighted grin break out on "her" face. Alina pulled me into a
hug and planted a tender kiss on my cheek - although being careful not
to disturb her handiwork.
We spent the next several hours just hanging out, enjoying some "sister
time" as Alina put it. She took every opportunity to call me Natasha and
the name didn't once fail to put a smile on my face. At some point we
had pizza delivered and raided our parents' wine collection for a nice
bottle of red to drink with it. Another followed and our mood first
mellowed and then grew boisterous.
We were just debating whether to crack open a third bottle when Alina
grabbed my hand and announced in a dramatic voice: "I know! Let's go
out!"
I goggled at her. "What?" I said incredulously, and gesturing at myself,
"Looking like this?"
"No, silly!" she giggled. "Looking waaaay better!" I tried to argue with
her, but she overrode my objections. We'd go somewhere dark, quiet and
out of the way, she insisted. She'd been moping at home for the past two
weeks since breaking up with her last boyfriend and was keen to get out
again - plus, it was clear, she was dying to show off her "new sister."
I shouldn't have agreed. And when she told me I'd have to clean off all
my makeup, I was ready to stage a full blown revolt. For some reason the
thought of "losing" Natasha was just too much to bear. But I relented
when she explained that she just wanted me to take another shower and
then shave again to get rid of what little stubble I'd acquired since
the morning. She also promised faithfully that she'd restore my look,
fuchsia lipstick and all.
Showering again gave me an opportunity to use Alina's soap and shampoo
rather than my own, producing what she pronounced to be a much more
appropriate set of scents. She was as good as her word too in
reproducing her earlier efforts with the makeup - although it took her a
lot longer, partly due to my insistence that she explain everything she
was doing, but mostly because the amount she'd drunk made it hard to
keep her lines straight and several parts had to be repeated. All the
giggling didn't help either.
Eventually, it was done, though only after a thrilling last-minute
addition, with my fingernails brightly painted to match the colour on my
lips.
Dressing was a lot quicker, because Alina had already figured out what I
should wear - and by now I had stopped even trying to argue. I got to
keep my pink panties, but paired this time with a black crop top, over
which I wore a very sexy looking mesh top. Underneath that I wore a
short red tartan skirt that was intended, according to my sister, to
show off my "gorgeous legs." I wasn't so sure about that description,
but I certainly enjoyed having them encased in black tights. The woollen
stockings had felt good, but the feel of nylon was something else again.
The outfit was completed by black ankle boots with manageable heels -
and I gave thanks again for having grown to more or less the same size
as my sister. I'd have hated to have to go looking in my mother's closet
instead.
With the addition of a purse, some bangles for my wrists and a spray or
two of Alina's favourite perfume, we were ready to go. My heart started
pounding as Alina opened the door and led me out into the cool night
air. At my request she'd left the porch light off and when the car
arrived to pick us up I scuttled as quickly as the unfamiliar boots
would allow me round to the far side of the car, then slid over to sit
behind the driver so he couldn't see me too readily.
In terms of our destination, Alina delivered on two of her promises. It
was well away from our usual haunts, and it was certainly dark, both
outside and in. But quiet it wasn't. The music inside was deafening and
it was crowded as well. I nearly panicked when I saw how many people
there were. But Alina had got me this far and she wasn't going to let me
bolt now. Besides, I didn't even know where I was, and had no way of
looking. I had failed to retrieve my phone and put it in the purse,
which was devoted instead to more essential items, like lipstick,
tissues and a hairbrush.
After a pep talk from my sister, she disappeared to the bar to get
drinks while I propped against a pole and tried not to let my anxieties
show. And as I stood there, I slowly realised that the only looks being
directed my way were admiring or at worst appraising, not reproachful.
By the time Alina got back with two very large vodka and lemons, I was
starting to relax. And when I dutifully swallowed the little tablet she
also pressed into my hand, and started to feel its effects, I chilled
even further.
Alina had been looking around, as if searching for someone. After a few
moments, she nudged me and gestured towards a group in a booth off to
one side of the club. "Hey," she yelled into my ear over the din, "they
look your type, right? Want to go and see if we can hook up?"
They certainly were my type - though to be fair, they'd probably be
anyone's type. Tall, athletic looking, with clothes that showed off
their tanned bodies, I could easily imagine them on a catwalk. My first
thought was that they were out of my league. I certainly couldn't
imagine them sparing any time for Andrei, even with all his confidence.
And I'd have to be crazy to think that Natasha could do any better. But
even as I thought that, the cutest of them, a tall blonde, seemed to
flash me a smile.
"C'mon," said Alina, "let's go try our luck. But the redhead is mine,
you got that?" I shot her an astonished glance, but she was already
pushing through the crowd to get to the booth. I saw her strike up a
conversation with its occupants, as I hung back uncertainly. At one
point she gestured towards me and they all seemed to exchange amused
glances. But when Alina beckoned me over I went all the same.
As she joined the redhead on one side, two members of the group on the
other stood up to let me in, then squeezed in around me. There were
shouted introductions, though I caught none of the names. Drinks
appeared, as if by magic, and we clinked glasses and toasted one
another.
And at that point ... everything became very fuzzy. Thinking back on it
later, I could remember only flashes. I don't think I said much, but I
do recall laughing a lot - or giggling, to be more accurate. What caused
all the mirth I couldn't say, but my companions evidently proved to be
as funny as they were good-looking. There were more drinks, and also
trips to the dance floor, I think with everyone at one point or another.
But it was the blonde one I was most keen on partnering and whom I can
recall staring at with barely concealed longing.
Later, we must have left the club, because we were back at somebody's
house. Alina and her new red-haired friend had disappeared. But it
didn't matter, because the drinks kept flowing and there was still music
playing, though no longer as loud. I think I was more talkative at this
stage, though I have no clue about what. Eventually though joints were
passed round, the lights were dimmed and everything became a lot more
mellow. I think someone was sitting on my lap, or maybe I was on theirs.
After a while there was kissing too, quite a lot of it, and I remembered
being struck by the taste of lipstick and wondering whose it was. I was
unhappy at one point, because it was really just the blonde that I
wanted to be kissing. But then I was, so it was okay after all.
There were hands too, stroking my nylon-clad legs - and didn't that feel
good? I can remember the hands sliding up under my skirt, until I
grabbed them and pushed them down between my legs because I wanted them
to feel me and stroke me. And my own hands were busy as well, probing
and stroking until I heard the moans that echoed my own.
None of this was in a coherent sequence, it was just a collection of
sounds, and tastes and feelings. Until suddenly, it was as if I had
woken up, or the lights had come back on, as reality returned in a rush.
And I found myself kneeling in a dimly lit room, two hands up in front
of me, holding the engorged, throbbing flesh that I was about to feed
into my mouth.
My gaze travelled up, past the taut stomach and the powerful chest,
until I locked eyes with the handsome blonde boy. He gave me a look that
was filled with lust and need. "Suck it Natasha," he ordered. "Take it
all."
"That's right Natasha," said a voice by my ear. "It's your turn. And
it's going to be your turn again quite a lot from now on. You
understand?"
I swivelled my head to see a beautiful brunette, holding up a phone. I
wanted to scream, as I realised who she was and what she'd done to me,
even if I had no idea how.
But all I said in response was a quiet, submissive, "Yes Arabella." Then
with a sob I turned back to the huge cock in front of me, opened my
bright pink lips and closed them around the quivering flesh.
As my mouth and throat filled with the blonde boy's manhood, I could
sense his friends around me stripping off their clothes. By the time one
of them started pulling down my panties, the first load of hot, sticky
cum was already raining down on my painted face ...
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