Nothing gets me hornier than raiding my stepmother's lingerie drawer.
When she leaves the house, I like to sneak into her bedroom and start trying on stuff. She has everything a woman needs to feel sexy. My favorites are her garter belts, lacy bras and thong panties. They squeeze me in all the right places and make me feel like an irresistible temptress. Sometimes I go for the silky nighties and imagine I'm a horny housewife up to no good. All these fantasies reside in my head, but the lingerie that makes them come to life sits neatly folded in the top drawer of my step mom's bureau. Everything smells like her gardenia perfume. The scent alone is enough to send the blood rushing into my prick.
Ann is 40 but has the body of a supermodel half her age. I can't come close to filling out her 36c bras, but I try anyway. My cock barely fits into her medium panties. All that silk, satin and lace sends me into an uncontrollable lust psychosis.
I snuck into my parents' bedroom last week while they were at work. It was my 18th birthday, and I wanted to give myself a present. Ann has a pair of boy-short panties that fit me well. The elastic material squeezes my ass like a friendly pair of hands, yet leave enough room up front to conceal my cock. I slid them on, then put on a black garter belt and thigh high stockings. Ann had a beautiful assortment of matching bras, but I decided to do something different. I flicked on the walk-in closet light and found a red dress with a plunging neckline. Ann had worn it to a party a few weeks earlier and had looked fabulous. I slid the dress over my head. It was perfect. The fabric clung tight to my tits and poofed out at the bottom like a cheerleader's skirt. It was just short enough to show where the garter belt straps clung to the stocking tops. But the best part of the dress was the material. It was thin, which allowed me to play with my nipples through the fabric. Thick bras and dresses block the titties from the fingers, and what fun is that?
I was feeling so sexy, I decided to go for the whole cross-dressing experience. Ann had a tray of make-up under the bathroom sink. I found a tube of "lusty red" lipstick, black eyeliner and gray eye shadow. With each brush of make-up, I felt more like a woman. My prick swelled beneath my panties. Hardly anything is more erotic than leaning into the bathroom mirror while wearing your step mom's clothes and tracing your eyelids with her eyeliner.
The transformation was almost complete. All I needed was a pair of high-heels. I sprayed myself with some perfume and picked out a pair of red stiletto pumps. I had to force my feet into them, but I made them fit. Walking in them wasn't easy. I almost broke my ankle on my way out of the closet. But once I got the hang of it, I felt like a princess.
A very horny princess.
My chest and ass stuck out. This all felt so perfect. I admired myself in the mirror mounted next to my parents' bed. The longer I looked at myself, the less I felt like a princess and the more I wanted to be a stripper. I tried a few moves I once saw in a strip club. As I ran my hand up my leg and licked my lips, I found that playing stripper wasn't enough. I wanted to be an all-out, do-anything porn star. I crawled seductively on the bed and kneeled in the doggy-style position. My tits hung down and squeezed together, forming a small but definite cleavage. "Yeah, baby," I heard myself saying, "Fuck that ass. Cum on my face. Make me drink your cum."
Then came the flash -- a bright, white light. I thought I was passing out. Was it possible, I wondered, to get so horny your brain short-circuits and puts you down? But then I heard one pair of hands clapping. As I blinked away the spots, I could make out the silhouette of a woman standing in the frame of the bedroom door. The image slowly became clear. It was my stepsister, Dinah. She had a digital camera tucked under one arm.
"Excellent performance," she said. "Really."
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Aren't you supposed to be at college?"
"Christmas break starts today," she said.
"Oh," I said sheepishly.
I sat on the edge of the bed and hung my head. I was busted and there was nothing I could do about it. Dinah would surely tell her mom about this. At a minimum, I'd be kicked out of the house.
"So," Dinah said, "what are we going to do about this?"
"I don't know," I said. "Whatever you want."
What else could I say?
"Good," Dinah said. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Because everybody is going to see the picture I just took -- and I mean everybody -- unless you do exactly what I say."
I was pretty sure she was toying with me, so I offered her a dejected, "Oh yeah? What you want?"
Dinah stepped closer. She was looming over me like a schoolyard bully.
"I want you," she said, "to be my lesbian bitch for the rest of Christmas break. Starting now."
