The Spaned Step-Sister

I swear, it didn't start out like this. A month ago, I was a normal girl with a boyfriend at a different college. The most scandalized my family ever got was when I told them I still hadn't decided my major. But last Winter Break was different... totally different.

You have to understand.

*****

Okay, I'll start at the beginning. My mom and dad split up when I was five. I don't really remember it that well, so I don't think it really bothered me when my dad started dating. A few years ago, he sat me and my sister down in the living room with this really serious expression and told us that things were getting 'serious' with this lady named Diane who lived down the road. He explained that he'd never brought her over because he wanted to make sure it was right first -- he'd had a strong feeling about it for a while, but he hadn't wanted to rush things. We were both like, 'Sure dad, that's great, can we leave now?' not realizing that we actually already knew Diane. More specifically, we knew Diane's son, Jason Hanes.

God. Jason Hanes. All the girls I know in the neighborhood used to lose their fucking minds over that guy. He was a few years older than us, so, at the time, I never paid much attention to it. Martin and I started dating at the end of high school, so I wasn't really doing a lot of looking around. All I knew was that he was a lifeguard at the local pool during the summers, that he went to the local college, and that my friends would basically cum in their panties just talking about him. The first time I saw him -- like, really saw him -- was the first time he dropped off Diane for lunch. He was heading to his job and basically only stopped in to say hi.

But from that moment on, I knew I was fucked.

I think what did it for me in particular was his shoulders: he has these broad, muscular shoulders, that make you just want to press your face against them, plus a wide chest you just want to stroke with the back of your hand. Or maybe it was the hair: Jason has this lush hair the color of black coffee, long enough on top that strands of it fall over his forehead for him to sweep ahead. Or maybe it was his voice: soft and deep, smooth like the silt at the bottom of a cold river. Just hearing him speak made you feel like you'd been dropped into a pool of ice water -- I'm shivering all over, just thinking of it...

I don't know. Maybe it was a few things. But whatever it was, I was smitten.

Then, about a year ago this month, Diane moved in. And so did Jason.

For a while, I just tried to avoid him. That was easy enough at first, given that I was at school all the time. Still, that's not to say that I wasn't seeing him: as hard as I tried to keep him out of it, especially on those lonely evenings after a house party or long weekends of tense studying, I found Jason kept showing up in my... stress relieving activities late at night. He even made appearances in a couple of my dreams. I knew it was wrong, even just imagining it. I tried using Martin as an outlet for all of those desires, calling him every other night for phone sex or snapchatting him pictures of my breasts in the bathroom mirror. He tried, but he couldn't keep up. On some nights I'd be so horny that I'd just keep sending pictures of my pussy, over and over again, even after I knew he'd definitely fallen asleep.

Honestly, it was just sad.

Of course, though, it didn't work. Jason was still there at home, still smiling at me from across the backyard at our summer barbecues, still making me quiver with that. Fucking. Voice. That whole summer was torture: sleeping just down the hall from Jason was like trying not to eat the last piece of the best cheesecake you've ever had. This one time, I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, right, and he comes in wearing only a towel, his hair still wet from the shower. His bare abs glistened with wet: as I watched, a single droplet slid down from his pectorals to the fine hairs just above the cut-off of the towel. I think I watched it all the way down. Oh god -- I think I might have bit my lip.

"Sorry," he says, out of breath. "Left my razor in here." He grabbed a razor from the countertop and ducked back out the doorway, leaving me wide eyed and speechless. A moment later, he stuck his head back in. "Hey," he said, "I like your pajamas."

And I looked down at my pink flannel bottoms, then slowly back up at him, toothbrush still jammed in my mouth, and said -- like a fucking idiot -- "Y-you too." He laughed, tapped the doorframe, and ducked back out leaving me standing there ready to wring out those pajamas bottoms into the sink.

Now, I think I know what you're thinking: Lindsey, what the fuck? He's your step-brother! The two of you are practically related! Well, if you think it's bad that my pussy was getting wet from seeing him in just a towel, you aren't going to like what I tell you next....