My sister Kathleen is a real bitch. I don't know where she got the idea that she is the center of the universe, but she acts like anything she does is the most important thing going on. Everyone has to do what she wants, and she gets all huffy when they don't.

Case in point: one afternoon, a few weeks ago, Kathleen came home after shopping, as I was getting ready for work. I'm eighteen, and I work at a fast-food restaurant while going to college. Conversely, Kathleen, twenty-one years old, doesn't work and has a ton of boy-toys that she strings along. She makes them buy her things, teasing them with her body (even I had to admit that my sister was pretty hot). But I knew from some pretty reliable sources, however, that my sister almost never puts out. She's a cock-tease in the strongest sense of the word.

Anyway, Kathleen came through the door, seeing me in my work polo and jeans. She snapped her fingers as she sucked on the straw of a frozen mocha from one of those over-priced coffee houses. "Oh, good, you're home," she said. "I got some bags in the car. Go get 'em and take them up to my room."

I gave her a look like, fuck you. "I gotta get to work," I said annoyingly, even though I knew, even if I took my time, I'd get there ten minutes early.

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "Just go get them, Joey!" she snapped. "God damn it! Not like your job's important or anything! You sell fried chicken!"

I stared at her. "At least I earn my money," I said pointedly, but I nevertheless headed down to my sister's car as she huffed behind me.

I came back in with the bags, carried them up to her room. More clothes, I thought. Like my sister didn't already have a wardrobe as big as the selection at Macy's. Kathleen gave me an annoyed look as she stood by the window of her room, chattering away on her cell.

"Just leave them on the bed, Joey," she ordered.

I dropped the bags unceremoniously on her bed. "Anything else, princess?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yeah," she said. "Get the fuck outta my room!"

I shook my head. I stomped out of my sister's room, headed back downstairs. I would still be early getting to work.

I noticed my sister's iced mocha sitting on the coffee table. It was about a third finished. I sneered. Hmm, I thought. Tabasco, chili powder, castor oil?

Or . . . I laughed softly to myself as the most incredibly perverse and twisted idea came over me. I stared at the mocha. Go on, do it! It'll be the sickest thing in the world!

I stood still for a moment, faintly listening to my sister prattling upstairs. Mom and Dad weren't home.

"Fuck it," I said to myself, and unzipped my jeans. The kinky thought that had entered into my mind had made my cock hard. It sprang out at its full length. Pre-cum was already shiny at the tip.

I didn't have much time, so I grabbed my dick and started stroking fast. I squeezed it hard, fondled my balls. The perversity of my idea really turned me on as I jacked off. I didn't even have to fantasize about shooting off in Brittney Anderson's mouth or banging Tina Ramirez' big tits to get off.

It took only about three or four minutes before my cock was tingling and I was ready to shoot. I bent my legs, pointing my dick down, sticking the head through the wide opening of the plastic dome lid of my sister's iced mocha. I shuddered, held back a moan as my cock twitched and throbbed and spurted long, thick streams of ball juice right into the dark liquid.

I squeezed out every drop of sperm, shaking them off my dick and into Kathleen's drink. My cum was a thick puddle on the surface of the brownish liquid. Finally spent, I tucked my cock away, zipped up. I stirred my sister's mocha, mixing in my seed.

I heard Kathleen coming down the stairs. Quickly, I stepped back, taking up one of the free advertisements that always came in the mail. Kathleen came into the room, flipping her long dark hair back.

"I thought you had to be at work," she said acidly, giving me a look.

"I was just leaving," I said, watching as Kathleen leaned over the coffee table and took up her drink. I tried not to grin as she sucked on the straw.

My sister smacked her lips, gave me a look. "Enjoy your piece of shit job," she said haughtily, then turned away, sucking more of her drink through the straw. She obviously did not taste anything different in her drink as she unwittingly drank down her own brother's semen.

Enjoy your cum-flavored mocha, I thought, then left, chuckling to myself.

***

I was in a pretty good mood as I headed to work. Getting back at my sister the way I had – even if she was clueless about the whole thing – gave me a smug feeling. I thought about my pretty, bitchy sister slurping down my load along with her coffee drink.

I got into an even better mood when I realized that I was closing with Michelle that night. She was a real cute, voluptuous little blonde with short, light-toned hair and a cute, round, freckled face. She had a pretty nice rack that pushed against her red work polo, a cute little pudge to her belly, and wide, flaring hips. She stood all of five feet tall and looked like a cute little pixie. The only things missing were the wings.

We flirted with each other as we always did. Michelle only went so far when she flirted (and she flirted with everybody), but I always thought that maybe, if the circumstances were right, I might get to one day find out if she really was a natural blonde (and I was pretty sure she was).

But then, the night took a sour turn after the dinner rush. The dining room emptied out, and with only an hour left in the shift, our manager sent the other two employees home, leaving just me and Michelle. She started cleaning up the dining room and I took care of the stuff in the back.

And she came in. Mrs. Gould. The bitchiest, most annoying customer we got, and she came in damn near every day. Chicken Caesar salad, extra dressing, no croutons, and the chicken better be fresh-grilled!

She was as bad as my sister, the way she treated us, even worse. Talking down to us because we worked in a fast-food restaurant, telling us we were the bottom rung of the ladder. She was so full of herself because she married a rich guy twice her age and acted like her last name was fucking Rockefeller or something.

"Hey, can I get some service?" she asked indignantly, after she had been at the counter for all of three seconds.

I rolled my eyes at the grating sound of her voice. Mrs. Gould was a hot piece, no doubt about it, no more than six or seven years older than me. She had big, fake tits and a slender body, and always wore clothes that made her look like a topless dancer. Hell, she probably had been one before she trapped her unlucky husband.

I saw Michelle, sweeping up in the dining room, giving me an amused look as I approached the counter. Her expression seemed to say, 'better you than me.' I tried to stay as professional as I could as I stepped up to the register.

Mrs. Gould rattled off her order, which never changed. "And get it right, this time," she said arrogantly, giving me a superior look. "There wasn't enough dressing last time. Damn it, you kids never get anything right."

I forced a smile. "It'll be right up," I said distastefully, giving Mrs. Gould her cup.

I headed back to the grill, tossed a fresh chicken breast on it. It would take several minutes to cook through. I heard the flap of the door from the dining room, looked as Michelle came toward me. She slid up pretty close to my side.

"God, what a bitch," Michelle said in a low tone. The grill was visible from the front counter.

"She's worse than my sister," I said.

Michelle glanced over her shoulder, looking back toward Mrs. Gould – the only customer in the dining room – as she mixed her iced tea. Michelle looked back to me, her wide blue eyes mischievous. "We should spit in her salad," she said. "Or, like, mix in some Imodium or something with the dressing."

I chuckled. "You happen to carry around diarrhea medicine?"

Michelle shook her head ruefully. "I'd put battery acid in her food if I had any," she said.

I suddenly remembered the dirty trick I had played on my sister, and my cock instantly twitched in my jeans. "I know something we could put in it," I said.

Michelle's eyes flashed. "Yeah?"

I looked to her. "It's kind'a . . . kinky," I said.

Michelle stared at me, eyes narrowing for a moment. Then, suddenly, her eyes flashed down to my crotch, and she got this big grin on her face. "You serious?" she asked.

I couldn't believe what I had talked myself into, and that Michelle seemed so excited by it. I smirked. "Let me, uh, use the bathroom for a minute," I said. "I'll take one of those little plastic souffle cups and—"

"Why do it in the bathroom?" Michelle asked, interrupting me. "She can't see you from the salad table."

I gave Michelle a surprised look. "You're kidding, right?"

Michelle giggled, gave me a suddenly sexy look. "I'll help," she said suggestively. "Come on. Dana's in the office. You know she doesn't come out 'till closing time. It's just you and me. Come on, Joey."

Now, that idea really got my dick throbbing. Jack off in front of Michelle? Hell, yeah! I shuddered a little, incredibly turned on. Michelle giggled, and pushed her tits out a little. I could make out the nipples of her C-cups, pushing against the fabric of her shirt.

"Come on," she said urgently. "If you're gonna do it, you gotta do it now."

I moved on automatic, feeling a little dazed. I crossed the kitchen, approached the salad table as Michelle followed me with her excited eyes. I glanced to her as I took out one of the big metal bowls, tossed in lettuce and tomatoes and mushrooms and capers, added some dressing, and mixed it up. Michelle looked impatient, watching me. her freckled round face was blushing with excitement.

I hesitated only a brief moment, glancing back to the closed manager's door. Michelle better be right, I thought, and unzipped my jeans. I tugged out my dick. I was already hard.

I heard a slight gasp from Michelle, looked to her. Her eyes were locked on my cock. She smiled widely, and looked impressed. That only inspired me. I wrapped my hand around my dick and started pumping, staring at Michelle.

Slowly, she walked toward me, drawn like a glutton to a buffet. Her eyes were fixated on my thick, stiff dick as I jacked it. She moved up beside me, very close. Those firm, full tits pressed against my arm as I pumped it.

"Damn, Joey, I wish I knew you had such a nice dick," she whispered. She was obviously turned on. She licked her soft pink lips. Her attention and arousal inspired me, and I smacked my hand along my penis as I masturbated furiously.

"God damn, that thing's bigger than my boyfriend's," Michelle was saying. She settled a hand on my butt, casually squeezing my cheeks as she watched me jack off. "And I thought he was big."

"I'm glad you like it," I said, my voice straining. Fuck, was I turned on!

Michelle grinned, watching me pump my dick. She squirmed a little, pressed a hand between her legs. She made a little sighing/grunting noise, bit her lip. Then she looked up at me, her wide blue eyes glowing.

"Can I do it?" she asked softly.

I stopped stroking instantly, my dick twitching. The head was shiny and wet from pre-cum. I all but swooned at the thought of Michelle stroking me. "Please," was all I could say.

Michelle grinned, then looked back to my throbbing, hard cock. I pulled my hand away, and slowly, tentatively, Michelle lifted her own, wrapping it around my shaft.

I sighed at the touch of her hand. Michelle shifted her fingers, getting a good grip. She smiled excitedly as she started pumping my dick. I held back a moan, slipped my arm around her. Michelle leaned against me, those wonderful tits mashing against my side. She stroked me faster and faster, squeezing my cock more tightly as I told her to do so.

"What is taking so long?" came Mrs. Gould's exasperated voice from the other side of the counter.

I sighed in frustration, and Michelle rolled her eyes. She took her hand from my cock, and for a moment, licked her fingers, tasting the pre-cum that had dribbled down over them from my penis. She turned away, glancing to the front as she headed to the grill. "He's chopping some fresh greens for you, Mrs. Gould," Michelle said. "It'll just be a minute. You wouldn't want wilted salad, would you?"

I heard the bitchy woman huff. "Whatever."

Michelle flipped the chicken, moved it to a cooler area of the grill, where it would simmer, but not overcook. Then she came back, eyes locked on my dick once more and smiling broadly. She giggled as she grabbed my dick and resumed pumping. I sighed in pleasure.

"Fuck, you look so hot with your thing sticking out like that," she whispered. Her eyes blazed. "Now, just try to stay quiet, baby," she said.

I was about to ask what Michelle was going to do when she sunk to her knees before me and, without a moment's hesitation, slipped her hot, warm, wet mouth around my dick, sucking hard and eagerly.

I trembled, so totally turned on. Fuck, Michelle had a nice mouth! She sucked hard and deep, gliding her sweet soft lips back and forth, getting my cock nice and wet with her mouth. She mumbled faintly, apparently enjoying the taste of my dick, the way it filled her mouth. I was stupefied by the erotic sight of her hungry mouth gobbling my rod.

"Is it gonna be much longer?" asked impatient Mrs. Gould.

"It's coming right out!" I called out, trying to sound calm. I pushed against Michelle's mouth, holding her soft-haired head in my hands. God damn, this was the best blow job I had ever gotten! Michelle was a hell of a lot better than Brittney Anderson, that was for sure!

I felt my balls tighten and my body tense, and then . . . oh, my God . . . I was cumming. And cumming hard. My sperm shot into Michelle's mouth, and she moaned softly as it surged over her tongue, gushed to her throat, making her cheeks swell. Michelle moaned appreciatively, sucking tenderly, slipping her lips up to the head of my spasming cock and pumping her mouth just a little. Frothy little bubbles of cum emerged from between her lips and were smeared along my slick shaft. The sight had me shaking with pleasure.

I finally had to push Michelle's head away, and she laughed softly through her nose, looking up to me. Her pink lips glistened and dripped with cum. She worked her jaw a little, rolling my salty load in her mouth. Then she looked to the salad bowl and cocked her head meaningfully.

I realized her intent, and took up the bowl, holding it down under her face. Michelle tilted her head down, parting her lips. I watched in astonishment as my thick sperm flowed out of Michelle's mouth, dripping down into the bowl, coating the lettuce and tomatoes and mushrooms. Michelle spat a couple times, then licked her lips, leaning back with a grin.

"I'll get the chicken," she said, pushing to her feet. She gave me a devilish grin, wiping the corners of her mouth and making a show of sucking her fingers. She pranced across the kitchen, scooped up the chicken filet with a spatula, and brought it over to me. I didn't bother with tucking my dick away – especially since Michelle was tickling it with her fingers – as I sliced up the chicken breast and served it into the bowl.

I made sure to toss the salad really well, mixing in my sperm with the Caesar dressing. Every little leaf glistened by the time I was done. I scooped the salad into a plastic tray and sprinkled on some parmesan cheese and croutons. Michelle grinned, her lips still a little glossy from my cum. The aroma of semen wafted around her cute little face. She took up the salad, gave me a naughty look.

"All of a sudden, I'm kind'a jealous of Mrs. Gould," she said meaningfully. "She gets to eat it."

I looked back with a grin. "Oh, I think I can work up some more special dressing for you," I said.

Michelle grinned, biting her lip. Then she turned and headed back to the counter with the salad. "Here you go, Mrs. Gould," I heard her say. "And we made sure to put lots of dressing on it."

***

Michelle and I watched from the counter as Mrs. Gould sat in the dining room, devouring her salad. She did not seem to notice the 'extra seasoning' Michelle and I had given her meal. Or, if she did, she liked the flavor. She ate every single bite, licking her lips. Then she got up, leaving her empty plastic plate on the table, and gave us a haughty look as she headed to the door.

"Clean up after me, will you?" she said in her self-impressed way.

Michelle and I just smiled. We busted out laughing after Mrs. Gould left.

"She fucking ate it!" cried Michelle, her pretty eyes blazing as she grabbed my hands and jumped up and down. "Holy shit! Mrs. Gould ate your fucking cum!"

I gave Michelle a look. "And you're next," I said.

Michelle suddenly stopped jumping, and gave me a sexy look. She breathed in deeply. "Mmm, you got more dressing for me?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Much as you want."

Michelle bit her lip, smiling, and tilted her head back. "Suck me, first," she said.

My heart flipped at the idea of tasting Michelle's sweet honey pot. "Well, I usually don't eat pie before dinner . . . ." I said teasingly.

Michelle giggled. "Make an exception?" she asked, jumping up on the counter and starting to unzip her jeans. "Come on, baby, have a slice of my pie. I guarantee you'll like it."

***

Michelle and I sucked each other off through the remainder of the shift. Michele truly was a natural blonde, as I thought, with just a little strip of golden pubes above her succulent cunt. She had a puffy, fleshy little pussy, and she tasted so divine as I dug my tongue deep in her tight tunnel. I got her off a couple times as she squirmed on the order counter, then she returned the favor, sucking me until I spurted in her mouth again. But this time, she gulped down every drop of my gooey seed.

Our manager, Dana, came out for the end-of-night inspection, and found everything to her satisfaction. Michelle gave me a ride home, and we sucked each other off again in her car as she parked along the curb before my parents' house. I loved the way she tasted when she came, and she gulped down my warm cum eagerly, telling me afterward that I had the 'tastiest juice in the world.'

Michelle and I hook up almost every shift we work together, but she's still with her boyfriend (he's a few years older and has a 'real' job). We never fuck ("That would be cheating," she says). Still, she gobbles my prick like she's desperate for it, always swallows my creamy load, and holds her legs open wide when I suck on her slick little cunt.

And now and then, when Mrs. Gould or some other bitchy customer comes in, Michelle helps me add some 'special seasoning' to their order.