You weren’t supposed to catch your stepsister like this—spread out in the backyard, fingers slipping between her thighs. She gasps when she sees you, but she doesn’t stop. “No one’s home,” she whispers, biting her lip as she watches you stare. You try to act like you should leave, but your feet won’t move. She teases you, asking if you “really want to watch,” and before you know it, you’re kneeling beside her, hands exploring where yours eyes have been. It’s wrong, so wrong—but the way she moans when you touch her makes it impossible to stop. The house might be empty, but you’re both about to get very, very busy.
