Our parents' anniversary do downstairs, and where's my stepbrother? Hiding in their room like he forgot his age, controller in hand. I ran up just like I used to. I leaned in the doorway in my party dress, pale skin flushed, mocking him for his pathetic game at his age. He barely looked up. I hitched my dress to readjust my knickers in his mirror, nothing provocative, just a woman fixing her underwear — and told him to get downstairs now. He refused. I grabbed his arm, pulled, felt him resist. Then I felt something else. The bulge. I stepped back, bemused. "Watching porn while they celebrate downstairs? Really?" "Not hard," he mumbled. I laughed. Proper laughed. "That? Not hard?" I gestured at the obvious tent in his trousers. "Is it from me? From me fixing my knickers in your mirror?" I couldn't stop grinning, my natural tits shaking. "That's all it takes? You must be desperate on the dating front." I flashed him properly then, black, lacy stretched over my bush, just to watch him twitch. "What a weirdo," I cooed. "I can see you growing. Right there. In front of your own stepsister." I wobbled my breasts in my dress, letting him see the weight of them, the shift of pale skin. "Not a good look for the family photos, is it?" "Go away," he said. No conviction. 'You could help' he said. He dared. Pathetically. I have to say I was suprised he had the gall. I pounced. "Is that what it takes? Do you think about me?" I took my breasts out, still laughing at him, shaking them so he had to watch. "Show me. Or I'll call them right now. Test me." He tried to cover himself. I pulled his trousers down anyway, his cock springing ridiculous and needy into my palm. I wanked him slowly, mockingly, my fingers slick from my own stroking where I'd slipped them beneath my knickers without him noticing. "How many times? How many times have you done this thinking about me?" I kept wanking, kept laughing, kept my eyes cruel and bright. Laid back on his stupid sheets, legs open, showing him my hairy pussy, making him watch me circle my clit while I denied him any touch. I brought my wet fingers to his mouth, shoved them in, made him taste what he couldn't have. I wanked him harder then, my fist pumping as my fingers worked myself, building us both, making him watch my face contort with pleasure I gave myself while he could only take what I allowed. When he came, I aimed him at my bush, let him spurt over the hair he'd never get inside, the pussy he'd only ever dream about. I fixed my knickers properly after. This is your fault!