The air in our bedroom crackled with tension. I didn’t ask. I commanded. “Bend over the bed, Natalie. Now. Naked.” My voice was a low growl, leaving no room for debate. Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and defiance, met mine before she slowly complied, presenting her bare, pale cheeks to me.

I moved behind her, one hand clamping on the back of her neck, pressing her face into the duvet. With my other hand, I produced my prize: a wad of black lace, damp and musky. Laura’s panties. I’d swiped them from her laundry basket that very afternoon.

“Smell it,” I ordered, shoving the fabric over her nose. The scent was potent—a tangy mix of her sister’s pussy juice and the earthy, intimate trace of her asshole. Natalie jerked her head back, a gagging sound tearing from her throat. “Get that away!” she cried, but I held firm, grinding the dirty gusset against her nostrils. “It’s Payra’s,” I hissed, using Laura’s childhood nickname. “Smell your sister’s cunt.”

Her struggles were futile, her tight little body writhing. Perfect. My cock was a rigid, angry rod, throbbing and untouched. I didn’t bother with lube. I wanted her to feel every inch. Gripping my shaft, I aligned the swollen head with her clenched, untouched rosebud.

With a brutal, single shove, I buried my entire length into her ass.

A raw, shattered scream ripped from Natalie